Giovanni Thompson’s hair sometimes draws unwelcome attention. “Why is it so long?” people ask him. “You’re not a girl.”
Saturday, nobody seemed bothered by the 8-year-old’s thick black mane. Instead it drew smiles and approving nods. His hair was braided and topped by a feather headdress, part of the colorful regalia that marked Giovanni as something special: a Native American dancer.
He and his mother, Leonarda Thompson, were among hundreds of people gathered for the 35th annual Balboa Park Pow Wow, a two-day celebration of Indigenous culture and traditions.
“He just has this passion for dancing,” Leonarda Thompson said as her son swayed and marched to the beat of nearby drummers.
Dancing is one of the main attractions at the event, which draws participants from throughout the West and Southwest: Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, even Oklahoma. A late-morning gourd dance featured a member of that state’s Pawnee Nation.
There is also singing — Kumeyaay bird-singing started the day’s festivities — and traditional food like frybread. The Pow Wow continues Sunday from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m.
Pow Wows date back centuries and are a popular way for tribes to share and preserve their customs. There’s another one scheduled for Father’s Day weekend in Imperial Beach.
“For me, they are a source of rejuvenation,” said George Serrato Jr., a 42-year-old Valley Center resident with family ties to the Yaqui in New Mexico and the Opata in Arizona. “They help bring a sense of balance to my life.”
Serrato sat in with the bird singers Saturday morning, shaking a gourd rattle filled with palm seeds. He said they sang tunes about Kumeyaay life that have been passed down through the generations — songs about travel, about the weather, about death.
“It’s an honor to be with the elders and help keep these traditions going,” he said.
The Balboa Park Pow Wow, hosted by the San Diego American Indian Health Center, set up on a grassy area at the corner of Park Boulevard and President’s Way. Pop-up shelters formed a circle in the middle, surrounding a performance space that was blessed by tribal elders before the day’s events began.
“This is our church,” said emcee Randy Edmonds.
Along the perimeter was another circle of booths, occupied by vendors selling jewelry, clothes, blankets, and other items.
“Native Pride,” one of the T-shirts read. “You Are on Stolen Land,” said another, a nod to Kumeyaay holdings that once stretched from the Pacific Ocean north to Warner Springs, east to the Imperial Valley and south to Ensenada.
Leonarda Thompson said relocation is a painful legacy for Native American families, including hers, which has ties to the Hopi and Luiseño tribes. A grandfather was forced to attend a school where administrators changed his name and cut his hair. She’s happy her son has better options.
“You rock long hair,” she told Giovanni as he swayed in his regalia. “You rock long hair because your ancestors weren’t allowed to.”