Admiration for Native Americans as a Neurodivergent Black Woman
Fire burns thicker than the blood within black moonlight of shiny hair, as a breeze, silent comfort blesses the dawn. Beads, garments, feathers cover the culture in an array, many accessories. These beautiful native beings take Mother Nature into their family, homes, their way of living. Each tribe carries the symbol, the strength of their ancestors. This is exactly what I long to have in my heritage, my community. This is what black people need to understand about us. We are neurodivergent. We are human. We are whole. We are strong. We are black. We are Americans.
I dance in motion from my ADHD.
I dress to share and show who I am.
My autism has a mind for child’ s play.
The sun smiles at me with every ray.
I want to be seen. I want to be considered a unit, not ostracized, thrown away, belittled. I want to experience unity like the first natives, the Native Americans, the very ones who helped birth this nation we call America. Have cried a trail of tears numerous times, but there is nothing compared to walking it. I look to history. I learn how I can heal too. Start a revolution through my words, craft artwork with my tongue, tell stories bursting out of this black body to lead people through the desert lands, find the water to remove every drought, which drains our nation these days.
This land has become foreign, but the Native Americans are my reminder. They remind me to never forget those who fought, who forged, who formed. Never forget the road, the paths, the danger they had to travel on. Never forget the sacrifices they made, so I, so you could be here in this singular moment, this present time. This land is not just for us to live in. This land is our teacher, what deserves our respect. A land for us to replenish the riches we have received from it. I know this by the Native Americans, their example, and I have made it my own. This is how our land is made for all.
I dress to share and show who I am.
I dance in motion from my ADHD.
The sun smiles at me with every ray.
My autism has a mind for child’ s play.
Traci Neal is a neurodivergent poet residing in Columbia, South Carolina. Neal has shared her poetic journey and late diagnosis in USA Today, Newsweek, Good News Post- UK, and The New York Times, to name a few. In 2025, she had over 50 poems published in 40 different publications. On March 11, 2026, an excerpt of Neal's poem, along with writers A Memi Sei and Brittany J. Green, was part of the Letters to America project to highlight America 250 from the black woman's perspective. The words were composed into a song sung by Soprano Karen Slack at Carnegie Hall.
