Article by Maggie O’Brien; photos courtesy of CC Special Collections

“Colorado College does have some skeletons in its closets,” begins former Colorado College Professor of History, Anne Hyde, in her 2005 article published in the Southwest Studies newsletter la Tertulia. “And like many other institutions in the United States, some of its skeletons were the remains of Native American people.” 

Simon’s oven mitts hadn’t been washed since 1998. They were originally patterned with clusters of blueberries and chickens, but time had splattered them with streaks of spaghetti sauce, grease from Sunday morning bacon breakfasts, wine from the fight about wedding silverware and soot from having burned the right thumb when he found Lucy crying upstairs on Thanksgiving.

Deepa was 13 when she found blood dripping between her legs and staining her underwear. She was terrified. She didn’t know what was happening to her body.

I was also 13. I walked home from school after a field trip, went to the bathroom and discovered the symbol of womanhood on my jeans. I remember sliding down the blue wall in my kitchen, shaking, as I called my mom on the phone.