5 min listen · Listen on Substack
As my father always told me, “Son, the Red Road is a good road, but it is a tough road.” I have carried those words with me throughout my life, and the older I become, the more deeply I understand their meaning.
The Red Road is not a road of perfection. It is not a road we walk once and then declare that we have arrived. It is a lifelong journey of learning, healing, forgiving, serving, falling, rising, and beginning again. I am not there yet. I am still walking, still learning, still healing, and still becoming.
This was the path of my beloved parents and ancestors. It is also the path of the Elders, spiritual leaders, peacemakers, mothers, fathers, young people, and humble servants I have had the honor of meeting everywhere I have traveled upon Mother Earth. Their lives have taught me that the Red Road is not something we merely speak about. It must be reflected in how we live, how we treat one another, and how we serve the generations yet to come.
Some call it the Red Road. I also know it as the Kinship Path—the sacred way of remembering that every person, every nation, every culture, every animal, every tree, every river, and every living being belongs within one great circle of life. To walk this path is to live as though this sacred kinship is real.
Walking the Red Road means choosing truth when deception would be easier. It means choosing forgiveness when bitterness feels justified and choosing humility when pride tells us to place ourselves above others. It means standing firmly for justice without surrendering our humanity. It means protecting the vulnerable, feeding the hungry, comforting the sorrowful, caring for our Elders, guiding our children, and defending our sacred Mother Earth.
The Red Road is a good road because it leads us home—to our true nature, to one another, and to the Creator. But it is a tough road because it asks something of us. It asks us to examine our own hearts before judging the hearts of others. It asks us to heal the wounds we might otherwise pass on to another generation. It asks us to speak when silence would permit injustice and to remain peaceful when anger tempts us toward hatred.
The Red Road asks us to become the very change we are calling for in the world. We cannot pray for peace while spreading conflict. We cannot call for justice while acting unjustly. We cannot ask others to live with compassion while refusing to forgive. The path becomes visible only when we begin to walk it. Our lives must become the message we hope to share.
There will be times when we stumble. There will be times when the road becomes steep, lonely, and difficult to see. We may lose our direction, become tired, or wonder whether our small steps can possibly make a difference. Yet even during those difficult times, we do not walk alone. Our ancestors walk with us. Our prayers walk with us. The love of those who raised us walks with us. Every act of courage, compassion, generosity, and forgiveness leaves a footprint for those who will follow.
That is why we keep walking. We walk for the children who are here today and for the generations yet unborn. We walk for those who have forgotten that they belong. We walk for those who have been wounded, excluded, abandoned, or left behind. We walk so that peace will become more than a beautiful word or distant dream. We walk until peace becomes our way of living.
The Red Road does not promise us an easy journey. It promises us a meaningful one. Perhaps our task is not to reach the end of the road or imagine that we have finally arrived. Perhaps our task is simply to walk it with a good heart, to help one another when the journey becomes difficult, and to leave behind a visible path that our children and grandchildren can follow.
I am not there yet, but with every new sunrise, I will rise again, give thanks for another precious day upon Mother Earth, and continue walking. The Red Road is a good road. The Red Road is a tough road. But it is the road I choose.
Mitákuye Oyás’iŋ—We Are All Related.