Opinion: Juvenile detention programs fail because youth need ancestral healing

After the recent election cycle, anxieties are high in communities of color. 

Generations of trauma from discriminatory policies have disenfranchised our communities and left us at risk of becoming a permanent underclass. We need to heal and realize our sacredness to move forward. Our cultural values provide us with guidance. 

Ignacio is one such example. 

The smell of the cedar leaves burned on the hot rocks in the sweat lodge. Those sitting in the Sacred Circle smudged themselves before the ceremony began. A worried mother asked for the ceremony for her 17-year-old son, Ignacio, as he was recently released from Juvenile Hall. 

I worked for the juvenile justice system for 25 years as a Diversion Officer and facilitated the curriculums of the passing trends in “cognitive” groups such as the outdated SRT (Social Responsibility Training) and MRT (Moral Reconation Therapy), a cognitive-behavioral treatment program that aims to improve decision making, moral reasoning, and behavior. These programs focus on the individual and their thoughts and actions. So I have seen the many sides of society’s attempts to address the public health epidemic that is youth violence, substance misuse and trauma. 

Ignacio completed all those programs as requirements of diversion and probation, but to no avail, as there was no aspect of healing in those groups. The groups assume each person is a robot that can be reprogrammed to run more soundly and not disrupt society once released. This is how juvenile detention facility programs fail Indigenous kids just like old boarding schools did --  they dislodge them from communal healing practices.  

I am a Danzante (Aztec dancer) and ceremonial leader, as well as the Executive Director of a Denver nonprofit that uses culture as a vehicle to facilitate healing in communities of color. During my work in both capacities I have observed that where there is no healing, there is no transformational change. 

Let me describe what healing in community looks like in practice.  

A young person comes to us confused and undisciplined. Like Ignacio, they bear their inner turmoil alone. So they’re introduced to cultural healing practices.  Practices that are rooted in our ceremonial teachings. For example, take our summer solstice ceremony, Xupantla. It’s hot outside, and we dance on the concrete for up to eight hours straight in Denver’s La Raza Park. We dance in a circle around the kiosko (pyramid) placed there to honor the local Chicano community. And no matter the intense heat, which can reach 95 degrees, we dance in our trajes (regalia), stopping only for short water breaks.  

There is a tale about the founding of Tenochtitlan, the capital of the Aztec empire, now known as Mexico City. The ancestor Mexica had to leave their drought and famine-burdened land, what is now considered the southwestern United States. They received a vision of an eagle perched on a cactus. As they traveled south through deserts and rough terrain, the Mexica got tired and wanted to give up. A hummingbird messenger came with the phrase “Mexica Tiahui”(meh-SHEE-cah tee-AH-wee) – meaning  “Mexica people, keep moving forward.” They eventually arrived in the valley of Mexico and found an eagle perched on a cactus – the symbol we see on the Mexican flag today. 

Over 80 dancers from all over the country come to Denver to celebrate the solstice event. We are hot, sweaty, tired, and dehydrated, so we all periodically scream out “¡Mexica Tiahui!” as a reminder that we come from the Mexica people who made their exhausting trip through the desert and only endured by staying together and chanting encouragement to stay strong and keep going. We eventually complete our ceremonial journey together and finish with a meal, feeling accomplished and content. 

Movement is important in our traditional ways. Everything is movement. Science tells us that every object in the space around us is made up of subatomic particles which are localized vibrations of energy fields. Everything is movement. The Mexica have a symbol for that movement described by science. They call it the Ollin (oh-LEEN), which symbolizes constant movement, like the spark that starts a baby’s heart in the womb. Ollin symbolizes the life movements that we all make. It reminds us to not get “stuck.” Being stuck can be interpreted as depression and anxiety. As a community moving and dancing in the Xupantla ceremony, we remind each other, and ourselves, to keep moving.  

As I sat in the lodge with Ignacio and his mother, we reminded him that he is on a journey. Perhaps he has felt stuck, but as a community, we are here to support him on his journey. We have our sacred ancestral teachings to guide him along his path, something that was lacking in the years he spent locked up and unsure of how to move forward on his road of life. We reminded him of the inspirational power in the ancient phrase, “Mexica Tiahui” and that healing will happen within the embrace of his community, not isolated from them as had been the case in detention centers apart from community.  

Going through these ceremonies, from the sweat lodge to the dances in the heat, are metaphors for life that offer us the lesson that life might be hard right now but if you keep moving then eventually you’ll find your way home. Three years ago Ignacio, his mother and I, sat in that sweat lodge. Since then he has graduated college and works with youth in the community. He has found his way home.