PROBLEM

I think there’s a human tendency to be more scared of success than failure.

After my “freshman year in college” catastrophe, I returned home to the rez with my tail between my legs. School was tough and I really didn’t want to work that hard; my grades sucked, the weather was sticky and humid, and basketball wasn’t as easy (or as fun) as it had been in high school. I got homesick and craved “home” – good food, a comfortable bed, my girlfriend, sunny weather. So in May when school ended, I eagerly escaped thinking home was the answer to my problems.

Yet, when I actually got home, it was different than what I pictured while I was away. Yes, there was good food, but my family was still broke and we had a badly insulated HUD house which made it hard to sleep in the summer. Plus, my girlfriend and I argued all the time, my car broke down and western Washington’s weather was rarely sunny. And while I loved getting back to my close friends, family and familiarity of the Rez, I realized that I hated coming back to all of the “Rez drama” – the same dysfunction and apathy as before.

Home hadn’t changed a bit – and that wasn’t always a great thing. Heck, sometimes it wasn’t even “good.”

Still, after my freshman year debacle, I sometimes honestly didn’t even require “good.” My expectations were low – all I needed was to not feel like a miserable failure (e.g., the way I felt at college). The outside world was too unforgiving and my mom certainly didn’t want me to leave – she would have liked me to stay home forever. I told myself that I was “taking care of my family” to make myself feel better about settling for mediocrity. Understand that where I’m from adult children who live with their parents – assisting their elderly parents and grandparents – are not considered scrubs. It is honorable to take care of your family.

But I wasn’t being honorable. My reasons for staying, of course, were not to take care of my mom or my step-father or my little brother. Strong and stubborn to a fault, they were perfectly able to take care of themselves. In fact, they ended up taking care of me most of the time while I stayed with them.

The truth was that I was just plain scared to leave the stability of my mom’s house – free food. I was scared to leave the little rez that I call home – no mysteries, everyone knows each other’s business. I didn’t want to grow up. I didn’t want to pay rent. I was scared to get out into the real world. Plus, my grandpa had recently passed and a close friend left this physical world as well. The idea of another major life change was not comforting to me.

I covered up my fear by saying “I need to be at home.” I was a dishonest coward.

It took an especially honest friend to point out the obvious: I wasn’t staying to protect my family. He said that “I was full of beans,” and scared (his words), “like a little girl.” He said that I would never accomplish any of the things that I wanted as long as I was scared. He said that my fear of leaving the Rez was my “Fear of Flying.”

“We all have them,” he explained.

But just because we all have them does not make them “normal.” They are stupid and immature and have very real consequences – those fears would cause me to miss out on new and beautiful experiences. He said my fear of leaving the comfort of my predictable and dysfunctional surroundings would keep me from doing what I want to do and what my Creator intended me to do. He told me I needed to stop being a wuss, “This reservation will always be here. It’s not going anyplace. You can come back.”

The funny thing was, as soon as he told me that, I knew exactly what he was talking about. I also knew that he was 100 percent right – I saw it a million times growing up. Indian country is a fertile garden of amazing basketball players. I grew up watching and idolizing all these extremely talented Skin athletes that could have played at many colleges around the country. Still, they always seemed content to stay at home and run the “Native Circuit” and be rez ball legends.

I remember saying “that will never be me.” Now, I was doing exactly the same thing! And although I didn’t leave right then, that conversation planted the seed. One day I got the courage and finally left.

And eventually I came back. He was right – it didn’t go anyplace. And as much as I love my home, I think about how many opportunities I would have missed out on if I had simply stayed home. I think about friends I wouldn’t have met and foods I wouldn’t have eaten if I hadn’t gotten past fear.

I also realized leaving the rez wasn’t my only Fear of Flying. I have many.

For example, I’ve always had a fear of looking like a fool. I’ve used that fear as an excuse many times. That fear prevented everything from pursuing jobs that I knew that I would love to pursuing women in whom I was very interested. Who knows where I would be without that silly little fear?

Another fear – I always had a tendency to not try too hard at things that came naturally to me. So I would, for example, not work all that hard in basketball games just in case I really sucked. Then I would always have the built-in excuse, “Well if I woulda tried, I would have done better! I didn’t really try that hard.”

These are all Fears of Flying.

RESOLUTION

I resolve to not be such a wuss. I resolve to work on conquering these Fears of Flying in baby steps, like “What About Bob?” For example – believe it or not – this small, insignificant and silly little blog was a huge step of faith for me. I decided, “Y’know, I’m going to try to make some writings for people to judge and possibly enjoy. I will work hard to make quality content that Native people will enjoy and talk about. Even more, I’m gonna put my honest views – popular or not, insecurities and faults into the public eye for people to hate, pee on, or (hopefully) love.”

And let the chips fall where they may.

This is the result. I worked hard on it. And if someone doesn’t like the blog, it’s because it simply didn’t touch them or speak to them. Such is life – sometimes you fail.

But it’s not because I didn’t try hard. I want everyone to love this. I have no excuse.

More importantly than this blog, however, I resolve to work everyday to be a better lawyer, a better son, a better uncle, boyfriend, friend and father. I will not romanticize mediocrity or allow my fear of failure to prevent me from trying my hardest. I often used excuses to justify not being the kind of man that I should be. I’d joke, “I’m Blackfeet – I’m supposed to leave a bunch of kids around and wander from place to place.” That was stupid – there are many great Blackfeet fathers, just like any other group. Still, when I thought about it, my jokes were merely ready-made excuses in case I sucked at fatherhood.

I resolve to discover what I could accomplish without my crippling fears – what I could do if failure was not even a thought. Do you think you could accomplish more if fear did not exist and failure wasn’t a consideration?

What do you Skins think?

Gyasi “Fancy Skin” Ross is a member of the Amskapipikuni (Blackfeet Nation) and his family also comes from the Suquamish Tribe. His Pikuni (Blackfoot) name is “Oonikoomsika.” He is co-founder of Native Speaks LLC, a progressive company owned by young Native professionals which provides consultation and instruction for professionals and companies. Gyasi is currently booking dates for his newest presentation, “Mother Lovers: Poetic (and Musical) Justice.” E-mail him at gyasi.ross@gmail.com.