The Sound of the Rain: Reflections on Indigenous Peoples Day
a personal essay on stories, identity, and freedom to be who we are
by Tristan Dinaawaséi Douville
my mom was always a champion for reading. she read aloud to me before i was even able to speak.
i have vivid memories of sitting in my room in our trailer and trying my best to read a book even though i didn’t actually know how to read. i would trace the letters and envision my mom’s crimson, almond-shaped nail moving along, line by line. i sort of understood the concept of letters, and but i used to think that an exclamation mark was just an upside-down letter i.
so, every time i came across an exclamation mark, i would turn my book upside down and then return to rightside up for the next sentence.
one day, my mom caught me doing exactly this. she giggled and explained to me what an exclamation mark was. i stopped turning the book upside down, but i still didn’t know what the letters meant. my sagittarius optimism kept me from quitting, though. i knew that i would eventually start understanding!
as a kid, i had a tv in my room, but i wasn’t allowed to watch tv after seven o’clock in the evening. i’ve always been a night owl, so having no entertainment in the night was a big problem for me.
i whined and whined. my mom and dad would tell me to read.
i became obsessed with reading because i was allowed to stay up as late as i wanted, so long as i was reading a book.
eleven o’clock would come around, and my parents would open my door, expecting me to be watching tv or playing video games, but i would just be reading.
they stuck to their word, even on a school night.
growing up in a rural village in alaska, being such a voracious reader at any odd hour meant that i was often reading by candlelight, especially in the fall and winter.
it was completely normal for the power to go out. the eighty-mile-per-hour southeast alaska winds would whistle through the small gaps in the doors and windows. my mom would gather all the candles to light in the living room and divvy them amongst us kids for our bedrooms and the bathroom.
i learned to love the coziness that came from reading by candlelight during a power outage. occasionally, i will still try to replicate that same feeling in my own apartment as an adult, even if the power is still on.
i can always find comfort when i get wrapped up in a book and listen to the sound of the rain.
i can always find comfort when i get wrapped up in a book and listen to the sound of the rain.
it’s hard to say happy indigenous people’s day when the state of the world is so grim. however, as a sagittarius, my optimism is relentless, and so i will try my best to find the bright spots and make them the focal point.
we could all use a light light and levity. and, for me, that comes from my lifelong love of reading.
stereotyping zodiac signs is a cliché, but it’s also incredibly fun. i am a typical sagittarius to my core.
i have always loved to travel.
i have always been defiant.
i have always loved to tell a story.
i grew up in a rural alaskan village, so travel was never easy.
i didn’t leave the country until i was twenty-three years old. until then, my fascination with other worlds and cultures was satisfied through reading.
my little body couldn’t go from craig, alaska to europe, but my mind could if i were reading a book.
last week was banned books week,
and i have hundreds of memories flashing through my mind of the solace i have found in books as a young, queer reader growing up in a rural alaskan village.
oftentimes, books featuring characters that represent people like me are banned from classrooms.
bulletin boards from alaska to florida and beyond encourage children with phrases in primary colors surrounded by rainbows and flowers like, “BE YOURSELF~!”
… unless you’re gay…
unless you’re native...
unless you’re trans.
the list goes on, and on, and on of “controversial” book topics.
but they aren’t just banning books. they’re banning our identities.
Queerness has always been a part of who we are as Indigenous nations.
having your culture banned from school is not a new concept to us native people, though.
we are survivors of the u.s. government’s attempt to eradicate our existence.
they forbid our grandparents from being themselves in school for decades but still, our culture persisted, and so will these stories if we share them in spite of these frightened systems of control that want them banned from our classrooms and libraries.
ndn girls book club is by far the not first or last organization to be fighting the war against banned books.
i was so blessed to grow up in a home with a family that never questioned my identity and encouraged me to read books and watch movies that emboldened me to be the big, gay man that i am…
as long as i ate all of the salmon that was on my plate at dinner.
support your local teacher who brings diverse stories into their classroom!
support your local librarian who does drag story time!
if you’re a parent, make your household a sanctuary for free thinking by encouraging your kids to read books about diverse characters and families!
and, of course, Happy Indigenous Peoples Day. here, now, and every day. do yourself a favor and take some time this week to light a few candles, nestle in with a good book, and listen for the sound of the rain.
Tristan Dinaawaséi Douville is Tlingit of the Shankw’eidí (eagle, wolf, killer whale) clan from Hinyaa Ḵwáan (Klawock, Alaska). He assisted in the planning and execution of the 2025 Alaska Book Drop, delivering 6,500+ books to Lingít Aaní (Southeast Alaska) from the northernmost village to the southernmost village. He currently serves as NDN Girls Book Club’s Chairperson of the Board.
