Had a kid in my office today, seven years old, Oglala, been in three foster homes in two years. His caseworker—good person, trying hard—kept calling him by a nickname the last white family gave him. I asked her to use his real name instead. She looked at me like I'd asked her to move a mountain. It's a small thing, and it's everything. That kid's name is a word his grandmother taught him before she lost custody. When we stop saying it, we're finishing what the boarding schools started. I told the caseworker this wasn't negotiable. She'll do it now.
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