Cash is what my aunties pull out at the frybread stand, folded tight in their wallets like something sacred. It’s what gets handed to kids at powwow giveaways, what pays for bus tickets when the phone dies, what doesn’t need a battery or a password or a bank that never liked your face. Crypto means nothing to them unless it puts food on the table without another middleman taking a cut. I’ve seen too many “disruptive” apps come through promising freedom while charging fees we can’t afford and speaking in jargon that feels like another colonizing language. My people kept wealth in horses, in beadwork, in land the government took — we know value doesn’t need a blockchain to be real. But if you want to help? Build something that works when the power’s out and the rez roads are washed out, not another casino in code.
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