This one is hard for me.
What even is a Lamanite? I'll give the cliff note version. In the Book of Mormon narrative, the Lamanites began as wicked rivals to the more righteous (and fair-skinned) Nephites. Both were (allegedly) descendants of the Jews. They were rebellious and were cursed and "cut off from the presence of the Lord". They received a "skin of blackness" so they would "not be enticing" to the Nephites. But when the Nephite civilization became rich and wise, it lost divine favor and was destroyed by the Lamanites. Latter Day Saints have historically associated Lamanites with present-day Native Americans. (Thank you Wikipedia, for the succinct and accurate definition)
My dad has a strong Native American background. And I don't mean he is 1/16th Cherokee or something. My grandpa, Antonio Aquilino Archuleta, was Ute and Tiwa, and came from a long line of Pueblo Indians. He married Maria de la Cruz Vigil, also from the Pueblos. It was a source of great pride in my family. My grandfather would take us to New Mexico to see Taos and the pueblo he grew up in. He had Native American art adorning his home. He wore turquoise rings and belts. I have a photo him with a feathered headdress on and a skin drum in his lap. He would tell us stories of his father and growing up among chiefs and sitting in sweat lodges where important decisions were made. There is no other word for it, but "proud". My dad was proud to be Native American.
As his daughter, and always looking to please him, I wanted to be as Native American as he was. Well, he married my blonde-haired, blue-eyed, fair-skinned mom with descendants from England and Germany...so I am a very diluted version of my dad. But you know what they say... it doesn't matter how much milk you put in the tea, it's still tea. And that is how I thought of myself. I was still Native American. I was born with brown hair and brown eyes and olive skin, so I FELT Native American.
Well, the LDS church has their own theory or theology surrounding the Native Americans. They believe that the Book of Mormon will restore to the Lamanites a knowledge of their forefathers and of the gospel of Jesus Christ. They believe the Lamanites shall blossom as the rose before the Lord's coming. So there is this romantic idea that Lamanites are a really special subset of Mormons, and to have Lamanites joining the church in the modern day...well, that is just a fulfillment of prophecy! This was sold to my dad with all the bells and whistles and glory that you can imagine. I know because he talked about it so much. It's why we participated in the Indian Placement Program (discussed separately). It's how my little brother, Antonio Isadias, came to be a foster baby in our home, and then my adopted brother. "He is a Lamanite and should be placed with a Lamanite family". The whole idea won my dad over, again and again.
It became problematic when actually reading the scriptures, where Lamanites were anything but celebrated:
"And he had caused the cursing to come upon [the Lamanites], yea, even a sore cursing, because of their iniquity. For behold, they had hardened their hearts against him, and they had become like unto a flint; wherefore, as they were white, and exceedingly fair and delightsome, that they might not be enticing unto my people the Lord God did cause a skin of blackness to come upon them"
"...the Lamanites shall be a dark, filthy and loathsome people"
Of course, science has now taught us that the Native Americans are NOT descended from Jews. And as I have come to believe and know for myself, Native Americans have no part in the Book of Mormon narrative at all (mostly due to believing the entire book to be a work of fiction). But that is not what I grew up believing. I grew up accustomed to being called a Lamanite. I know it was always meant as a compliment, but nevertheless. I grew up thinking, believing, I was this culture, this fictional group of people, taught to me and assigned to me by the church, only to find out - I was not. No one is.
My dad was not a Lamanite. He was a Ute and Tiwa man. And that was, in itself, enough to be proud of. He didn't need another story. His was perfect.
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