The First Strawberry
This particular story holds special meaning in my heart. My family lived in Nevada at the time and so whenever my grandpa would visit, I would always ask him for more stories. Eventually, as I got a little older, I asked my grandpa for a book with a Cherokee story—something to keep me entertained between his visits. It was on his next visit he brought me this book—which I still have in my possession today.
The First Strawberry was a tale shared with me by page, instead of orally as most of my family’s stories were. The significance of this particular book came at a time when I loved Disney movies (as most young girls in the 90s did) but the only representation I had was Pocahontas and Tiger Lily from Peter Pan.
Little did I know the impact this simple picture book would have on a younger me. It was one of the few illustrated mediums where I saw an Indigenous couple represented and to see them in a human way—not something that relied on the tired tropes of Native Mysticism. They fought. They made up. They were not white. And when so many picture books were of white children or animals, to that young girl who was the only Native in her class, it was profound.
To those of us in the know, representation is not a box you check on your list.
2022 saw a multitude of videos of young Black girls reacting to the reveal that Ariel in the Little Mermaid was going to be Black. The reactions range from excitement to tears. As they passed my timelines, my heart soared because we were privy to something so beautiful and joyous. The feeling of being included.
For anyone who believes one side is trying to divide the country by bringing more representation to our media, they fail to grasp the true impact these moments have on children. Children are more aware than many give them credit for, even if they lack the experience or vocabulary to describe it. They know when they’re not included in something and they glow when they see their own qualities or those they want to embody reflected back at them.
– The First Strawberry (Retold) –
A long time ago, a man and woman lived together.
Together, they explored their mountains, hunting and farming together. They swam in the rivers and shared meals. They found happiness in each other and the things they shared.
However, like every couple, they eventually fought. This fight was something neither was willing to let go. While past arguments could be discussed and eventually resolved, neither felt the urge to budge, believing the other was in the wrong.
And they did the one thing all elders advise against doing: they went to bed mad at each other.
That night, while the man slept, the woman decided to leave. On silent feet, she packed her things and crept out of their home.
The next morning, the man awoke to an empty spot behind him. Placing his hand upon it, he realized the woman had been gone for quite some time.
While at first he had shrugged and gone about his morning, as he moved about their home he came to see her absence in everything. The basket she had woven for him to carry back berries and nuts, the pelt she had tanned with him for the long winter hunts, the broken cooking spoon she insisted was why all her stews tasted the best and that was a part of all their meals. He saw the shape of her in his life and realized it was a piece he couldn't bear to do without.
Grabbing his gear, he set out, picking up her tracks. With a stone in his heart, he realized how far behind he was. Every valley where the man thought he would find her, was empty. Every mountain carried only faint traces of her steps. The streams had already swallowed her sounds.
So the man looked up to the Sun and said,
"Please help me. I realize how much she means and I want to apologize. Help me slow her down?”
And the Sun, who had often watched them flirt in fields and share the setting of her dance, said she would. She had grown fond of them and their love for one another.
The Sun turned her gaze east, where she had last seen the woman. There she found her, her steps loud and careless, her heart and head in turmoil.
The Sun decided the woman looked hungry, and so she danced and sent down a ray that hit a patch of earth in front of the woman. From it sprang beautiful blackberries, clusters near bursting with sweetness.
Yet there they sat, unnoticed as the woman continued by.
The Sun tried once again. She danced in the sky, sending her rays down upon a new patch where a cluster of huckleberries sprang. They caught the lien of the Sun, plump gems against full green leaves.
And again, the woman passed this gift by.
It was then the Sun realized, she would have to create something new—something that would catch the attention of the woman.
And so the Sun sent down her rays again, dancing with the same passion she had seen the man and woman have for one another.
From the ground sprang a deep red fruit, unlike anything else that had been made yet. They hung playfully from vines, heavy and ripe next to delicate white petals that danced in the warm summer breeze.
The woman stopped, surprised by this new plant and enticed by the tantalizing heaviness of the red berry.
She bent down to inspect the fruit and with a glance up at the Sun, she picked one and took a bite.
The woman was overcome by this new flavor, so light and sweet. What's more, the shape of the bitten strawberry reminded her of a heart. The heavy shape echoed the thud in her own chest as she was reminded of the man and the time they had spent berry picking. Did he know she had left? Was he worried?
So the woman decided to return home with the new fruit, to share and hopefully reconcile. She began to fill her dress with the strawberries.
It was there, bent over the berries and gently rolling them off the vine, that her husband found her. They both apologized, realizing their enjoyment of each other meant so much more than their fight, and shared the symbol of their love together.