There’s something about summer that just feels like freedom.
For some people, summer means vacations and beaches. For me, it means hitting the open road, powwow to powwow, living out of a trailer or the back of a truck, chasing the next beat of the drum. That’s been my life for as long as I can remember. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
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I live a powwow life.
It’s not a hobby. It’s not a phase. It’s a rhythm that runs deep—through my spirit, through my bones, and now, through my family. My kids look forward to summer the same way I used to: counting down the days until they can dance again. Until they can feel that rush.
Because there’s something about being under the stars, hearing that drum rumble through the speakers—that sound that just moves you. You don’t even think. Your feet just go. Your body responds. And sometimes, you get so deep in the flow that you black out. Not in a bad way—more like your spirit took over. And when you come to, the crowd is cheering, and you’re lining up with the other dancers, breathing heavy, smiling.
And you wonder… Did they feel that too?
I’ve been dancing for years. I became a champion dancer a while back. Yeah, there’s prize money on the line, and it’s technically a competition—but for me, it’s never been just about that. I dance to find out where I stand among warriors. I want to know: Did I dance fast enough? Was I strong enough? Did I give it my all?
Truth is, I’m competitive. I’ve been that way since I was a kid—track and field, jumping the highest, running the fastest. I always wanted to push harder. Go further. That energy carried into dancing. Powwow dancing is where you bring it all: speed, power, focus, and heart.
But even with all that—at the end of the day—it just feels good to dance.
And if they call your name to the pay window? That’s just a bonus. A little extra to help you get to the next one. Because let’s be real: you don’t make money dancing when you’ve got a big family. That check turns into gas, groceries, and maybe a motel night somewhere along the way. The reward isn’t cash. The reward is the journey. The drum. The moments.
People call you “champ.” And when you’re seen like that, you have to give back. You give advice. You encourage the younger ones coming up. And they dance hard. They come to prove themselves. They bring fire. And you feel that—and it pushes you to go even harder. To stay sharp. Stay focused. Because you know another one’s coming.
But for now—in this moment—I’m out there. I’m in the circle. The thrill is real. The drum is alive. The crowd is loud. And I’m gonna dance until my body tells me I can’t.
Because this is what I love.
