In Indian Country, we don’t romanticize protection. We know what happens when systems fail, when standards soften, or when someone assumes “someone else” is watching. The consequences are not theoretical. They land on real families, real children, and real communities. Someone must stand at the gate, and I have watched women do it all my life.
My grandmother was a lunch lady. She didn’t sit on panels or speak about empowerment. She made extra yeast rolls. She would wrap them quietly so certain kids could take them home. No announcement. No recognition. Just an understanding that some children needed more than what the system provided. She lived across the street from a schoolyard, and from her yard she watched. She didn’t need a badge to guard the gate. She paid attention to her grandchildren as well as the other children playing.
Years later, I found myself in rooms where protection looked different. I have seen women across investigations, adjudications, corrections, court systems, law enforcement, and clerks’ offices carry that moral weight. They know the docket is not abstract. The background check is not paperwork. The intake form is not routine. Each one is a threshold.
When protection is diluted, the consequences do not land on policy — they land on people.
So, these women hold the line. Not because they seek control or distrust others, but because they have seen enough to know vigilance is necessary.
This National Women’s History Month is not about echoing statistics. It is about honoring prevention. It is about recognizing the women who review the file one more time, who ask the follow-up question, who refuse to lower standards because the process is inconvenient. It is about women who understand that compassion and accountability are not opposites.
We guard the gate, so harm does not pass quietly through.
Sometimes that vigilance looks like yeast rolls wrapped in foil. Sometimes it looks like a difficult adjudication decision no one will ever applaud.
My grandmother watched. She fed. She noticed. Women in justice fields investigate, decide, document, and protect. Different settings, same instinct: pay attention and do not assume someone else will. We do not guard the gate because it is fashionable. We guard it because we know what happens when no one does.
So, this month, I offer a loo-loo — a loud, clear cry to the women who have always stood watch. To our Grandmas who saw what others missed. To our Aunties who stepped in when systems stepped back. To our Moms who protected without recognition. To the women in investigations, adjudications, courts, corrections, and law enforcement who hold the line when it would be easier not to. And especially to our Daughters: may you be strong, discerning, and unapologetic in your vigilance.
Protection is not passive. It is powerful.
Loo-loo.
For the women who watched before us, for the women standing now, and for the daughters who will not look away — we see you, we honor you, and we stand with you.
Michele’s Tip for the Month
“Guard the gate and speak for those who cannot speak for themselves.”