Husband & I once visited an Indian church in Oklahoma. They took us to a pow-wow (which they weren’t very enthusiastic about). I asked one Indian fellow in feathers what was meant by the act of handing out money to the dancers. He sniffed & told me, “YOU wouldn’t understand!” - Well, kiss my grits. My sixth great grandmother was a full-blooded Cherokee Indian woman who married my sixth great grandfather; so I reckon that makes me a teeny little bit Indian. - In fact, I looked more “Indian” than a lot of the women dancing in the pow-wow. One woman was a light skinned redheaded carrot top. I have dark hair & tan passably well for a “paleface”. That was years ago. I didn’t know the story of my much-removed gggggg grandmother then. Oh well; I don’t dance anyway.
My great, great GM was full blooded Cherokee and one of the tribal leaders in Cherokee, NC snubbed me.