The Insider it means to be non-binary and femme. Now, in my community, there is a whole explanation, but that does not necessarily equate to being part of the LGBTQ2S+ community. Please explain your educational background. So, I’m a first-year doctoral scholar in higher education. I do not know what my general focus is going to be. Yet, I am interested in social media, memes, collegiate pathways, relationships to land and their influence, and how colleges and universities are organized. I have a Bachelor’s in Ethnic Studies and Sociology. I have a Master’s in Human Development and Family Studies with a concentration in college student personnel, which is essentially student affairs.
Charlie Amáyá Scott Charlie Amáyá Scott–who goes by Amáyá–is a Diné non-binary femme person who’s certainly had extensive experience of navigating the world of academia as a Queer, Trans, and Indigenous student. Ultimately, Amáyá aspires to design equitable and inclusive policies and programs for Black, Indigenous, and People of Color [BIPOC] navigating higher education. In the meantime, they address issues of harm within BIPOC and LGBTQ2S+ communities utilizing social media, blogging, and photography. Although the U.S. is slowly moving towards equality for all, there’s still much work to do, mainly for higher education. In the realm of higher education, there are many challenges that black, brown, and LGBTQ2S+ students still face today. And no one understands these challenges better than Charlie Amáyá Scott, who’s on a mission to make these spaces a much better place for them to succeed. Charlie Amáyá Scott, who goes by Amáyá, is a Diné non-binary femme person who’s certainly had extensive experience of navigating the world of academia as a Queer, Trans, and Indigenous student. Born and raised in the central part of the Navajo Nation, Amáyá graduated from Brown University with an A.B. in both Sociology and Honors in Ethnic Studies as well as the University of Rhode Island with an M.S. in Human Development and Family Studies. Now a doctoral student at the University of Denver in Higher Education, Amáyá aspires to design equitable and inclusive policies and pathway programs that center the experiences of Black, Indigenous, and People of Color [BIPOC] navigating higher education, making these spaces a much better place for them 24 NATIVE MAX MAGAZINE | JUNE/JULY 2020
to succeed. In the meantime, they advocate and facilitate workshops supporting Indigenous scholars’ educational aspirations and speak on various issues that affect them as a non-binary Indigenous femme navigating the educational landscape along with addressing issues of harm within BIPOC and LGBTQ2S+ communities utilizing social media, blogging, and photography. We visit with Amáyá about their journey in academia, their partnership with non-profit organization Breakthrough on a TikTok series, and their mission of disrupting the narratives of colonization while challenging the power dynamics that allow settler colonialism to prosper. Thank you for joining us today, Amáyá. Where are you from? What’s your tribe? I’m from the central part of the Navajo Nation, born and raised in Chinle, Arizona. My mom’s family is from both sides of Canyon De Chelly, and my father’s biological family is from the Teesto/ Dilkon area. I’m an enrolled member of the Navajo Nation and have ancestors from the Zuni, Hopi, and Yavapai communities. What are your preferred pronouns? What would you like us to call you during this interview? My English pronouns are they and them. They are not preferred, and I emphasize English because I come to understand that in my language, Diné bizaad, pronouns do not necessarily exist yet because of colonization and the translation of our language, they “supposedly” do. How do you identify yourself in the LGBTQ+ space? I am Queer, and I am Trans. And I define those terms as being both specific yet also very broad. I don’t necessarily define my queerness; rather, it encompasses our ancestors have once celebrated a sort of marginality, a deviancy that may or may not. Yet, it is personally a play on the English word, a reclamation of a taboo. Now for Trans, it’s very much similar, yet there is such an expansiveness in being Trans that I appreciate, and it is also very accessible. Everyone outside the Trans community has some idea of what we mean by Trans, yet not everyone knows when I tell them that I am a non-binary femme person. It is just easier to say Trans instead of giving a whole lecture about what
What made you interested in pursuing higher education? Well, I initially became interested in pursuing higher education because of my mother, who was the first in her family ever to attend college. For her, education was a means for improving her life and her family’s. For me, though, education is a pathway towards justice, especially for others like me, who are Queer, Trans, and Native. We know of the American Indian boarding school era, in which Native children were stolen from their families and forced to attend these violent schools. They were forced to learn to be an American and forced to recycle logic of colonialism that was antithetical to many Indigenous communities’ way of being and knowing. For me, being in education, being in these elite-white spaces, means disrupting those narratives of colonization and challenging the power dynamics that allow settler colonialism to prosper. I’m interested in continuing my educational journey because I have so much to learn and also so much to give to other Queer and Trans Natives. They are also navigating these violent spaces. Primarily in Rhode Island, where you received the majority of your higher education, there were changes in laws that protected the LGBTQ community in housing, employment, and healthcare, among others. However, when it came to education, there’s not a law yet that addresses discrimination against students based on sexual orientation and gender identity. Being a non-binary Indigenous femme, what was your experience like navigating the educational landscape in Rhode Island? What about Colorado, where you’re going to school currently? I only knew that Rhode Island was quite supportive of the LGBTQ community, yet I was not sure in what capacity. It was actually during my time studying abroad in Ireland that I began to think more about my identity and what it meant to not identify as a woman or a man. Strangely enough, it took me being across the Atlantic Ocean to learn who I was and also to begin falling in love with myself. When I did come back to Brown after my study abroad, I asked people to begin calling me Charlie and to start using they/them pronouns. It took folks a while to get used to it, yet many were quite supportive. I think there was probably one hiccup, yet that was resolved rather quickly; the hiccup was my email and my name on my ID. Brown had very gender-inclusive policies, which was made possible from years of student activism before, so nativemax.com
