Know Your Neighbor: Standing Rock brings activism back to Sheryl Romero's life
Born to a politically active mother, Sheryl Romero's issue-oriented activism remained dormant for many years. However, as situations in the world changed, so did her desire to place her thoughts into action.
“I was busy pursuing my life, family, education and career, so I wasn't as active as I am now. That doesn't mean that I wasn't thinking about issues," Romero said. "Then everything fell into place. The events at Standing Rock created awareness in me. I was helping with the cause and I never thought I'd go physically, but I went at the last minute."
Background
The youngest of three children, Romero was born in Chicago, Illinois, to Del and Inez Romero. Her oldest brother, Joseph, is deceased. Her brother, Del Romero, and his family remain very close to Romero, her husband and daughters.
Family life included picnics and other gatherings, and when Romero turned 6, her mother returned home to her native Taos Pueblo with her children following her divorce. “We were greeted by a wonderful, huge family. Our grandma, Reyecita Romero, made certain we followed our beautiful traditions,” Romero said. She attended Taos Day School, Taos Junior High and graduated from Taos High in 1994.
Sheryl Romero earned an associate degree in introduction to computers at Northern New Mexico Community College and then moved to San Diego to join the Job Corps. These experiences taught her two things: Her credits from community college were not transferable, and the latter activity was not to her liking. She attended San Diego State College to study child psychology and returned to Taos Pueblo for spring break. At that point, her father passed away in Chicago and she did not return to school. Instead, she decided to live at Taos Pueblo once again.
Several events occurred before and after her relocation to Taos. Her mother remarried, and she and her new husband, Del Concha, taught Romero about democratic politics. Romero gave birth to a daughter, Simone Williams. At the time, she didn't know that this daughter would eventually make her a grandmother to little Rowe. After a short stint of employment at Taos Mountain Casino, Romero entered law enforcement. Her duties included a six-year service in detention and dispatch at Taos Pueblo. She received several certifications and also met officer Joseph Rodriguez Jr.
The two married, moved to Albuquerque in 2010 and became parents to daughters Santana and Selena. She worked for Wells Fargo in 2011. “I always came home to Taos to have my girls,” Romero said.
In the meantime, her mother was diagnosed with cancer and she moved to Albuquerque with the Rodriguez family. “I put my life on hold to care for my mom. Caring for her was one of the most life-changing things I've ever done. It was hard juggling two full-time jobs — Joe's, mine and our life that resembled two ships passing in the night. I traveled quite a bit for my job. My family was my backbone,” Romero said. When her mother's condition worsened, Romero took her mother home to die. “She joined her people Sept. 25, 2015. We never thought we'd move back, but we did so. It was good because we've been able to spend time with Joe's dad and his wife, Patricia Ripley Rodriguez, before she died recently. We were happy to reconnect and rekindle friendships.”
As Romero's mom completed her journey, the daughter recalled humbling, memorable childhood experiences when her mother assisted with tribal programs, which Romero wanted to replicate. “I think of my mother every day,” she said.
Awakening to environmental issues
Romero soon began to focus on activism.
“Environmental issues in the native country were never published or discussed," she said. "Bills and resolutions regarding the use of water were being passed at the tribal and federal levels – and not for the people's benefit. I paid more attention to the problems I heard about the youth and engaged in smart conversations with old sisters and friends. I began to volunteer to help people obtain food, finding people who are willing and able to help and give. My help to people on the [reservation] extended to providing them with wood.”
Viewing a You Tube video of three teens from Standing Rock led to conversations about the pipeline in North Dakota. Before long, residents in the area requested help, asking others to "stand with us at Standing Rock" to end the desecration of their land. “The call really hit home,” Romero said.
Local organizers formed a "Water Warriors" group, which Romero joined. She worked at first, gathering food and blankets to send to the protesters in North Dakota. Since Romero raised her daughter to have opinions — awareness of women's roles within their culture and information about tribal law and government — Romero was ready to spring into action. Her past involvement with the annual Easter egg hunt at Taos Pueblo and activities sponsored by the tribal police department, in addition to keeping abreast of Native American issues, provided a background of involvement. “Moving here, we weren't with our hands down in the grindstone of work. However, because there was not time due to career work, such issues remained on the back burner for a time,” she said.
The group marched to the Capitol in Santa Fe to create support and awareness. On Nov. 19, 2016, the Taos Pueblo "Water Warriors" left to help organize against the DAPL (Dakota Access Pipeline) project. At first, Romero began as her camp's cook. “We got there at its prime. The camps were at full capacity, but still tripled in size within a week. It was like stepping back in time — people from many tribes setting up tents and tipis,” she said. The activist felt satisfied answering the call of the people at Standing Rock, comparing it to the last call in 1890 during the days of Custer, Little Big Horn and Wounded Knee. Rules included honoring a prayerful camp, helping one another, practicing selflessness and respecting the host (Standing Rock residents). Romero met many women she was proud to call sister and quickly noted the power of women that she says is passed down the family lineage through their DNA.
When organizers discovered Romero's past involvement in law enforcement, she received a new role: camp security. The 1806 bridge, or Backwater Bridge, remains a historical symbol of past confrontation. Participants wanted to cross the bridge and pray. Here, Romero experienced a shock. “I was on the front line of security, and law officials did not want the prayer marchers to cross. Also, at the camp, we experienced hostility from these officials. In my study for law enforcement from a tactical level, I learned that force was only for people presenting danger, not prayer. I was in such disbelief that we were on American soil because of law enforcement's violence toward the peaceful protesters. Drumming and singing doesn't warrant the use of tear gas, cold water from hoses, rubber bullets and concussion grenades. I took photos and videos of what I saw at camp. Eventually, the prayerful marchers were allowed to cross the bridge and pray,” said Romero.
The activist returned to her peaceful home in Taos with much reflection, empathy and sympathy. She encourages members of the public to speak out for their ideals and to help others. “That's what we can do for any cause in our own small way,” she said.
