From Frybread to Filet Mignon—How I Turned My Humble Beginnings into a Life Full of Meaningful Connections

Let me level with you: growing up, dating advice wasn’t exactly a standard dinner table topic in my family. When your upbringing is filled with the scent of frybread sizzling in cast-iron skillets and your elders telling stories rich with wisdom, you don’t get lessons on swiping right or delivering the perfect pickup line. Relationships, in our home, were more about reciprocity, respect, and showing up for the people you love—less about candlelit dinners and grand romantic gestures.

But here’s the thing about humble beginnings: they teach you foundations. And things like love, connection, and fulfillment—those are built on strong, solid foundations. My life has been a journey of blending these lessons with modern experiences, whether it was wading through “it’s complicated” moments, deciphering mixed signals, or embracing the occasional face-palm-worthy dating blunder. Through it all, I’ve gone from ordinary to extraordinary—not necessarily in the “perfect lives Instagram reels” kind of way, but in the ease I’ve cultivated when it comes to building meaningful connections. So, let’s dive into what I’ve learned.

Lessons from a Life Lived in Tight Quarters

Growing up on the reservation, I learned early on that relationships of any kind require teamwork. Whether it was my cousins and me assembling tamales around a crowded table or my aunts deciding as a collective tribunal what constituted “bad behavior,” the idea of collaboration was etched into everything we did. Lesson one? Love isn’t a solo project. It’s co-created.

When I got older and stepped into my Anthropologie-wrapped New England college life, though, I realized the world outside my small community leaned into individuality—sometimes to a fault. There were “rules” I didn’t know about: wait three days to text after a date, play it cool so you don’t seem too eager, and above all, never (under any circumstances!) double-text. On the rez, showing immediate interest was endearing; here, it read as desperate.

But connection works best when we’re not hemming or hawing or curating responses that look like we stole them from a late-'90s rom-com. Not every move needs to be strategic. Sometimes, just saying, “Hey, I enjoyed getting to know you,” is enough.

Upgrade Your Love Language Fluency

Fast forward to adulthood, and I discovered the concept of love languages. They’re all over pop psychology these days, but on the rez, we didn’t call them “languages.” We called it knowing how to take care of someone.

  • My dad showed love through acts of service, driving six hours to drop me off at college my freshman year without once complaining about the long journey.
  • My grandmother’s “gift giving” wasn’t about shiny things; it was about practical offerings—extra wool blankets in the winter or a bundle of sage to sort out life’s chaos.

These lessons taught me that communication in relationships starts with recognizing how your partner expresses care—and adjusting your own dialect when needed. The act of paying attention, those small, ordinary gestures, can be way more extraordinary than grand overtures.

So, before you panic about how to sweep someone off their feet, ask yourself: what does care look like to this person? A good morning text? A cup of coffee made just the way they like it? You don’t need Pinterest-level creativity here—just mindfulness.

Embrace Awkwardness

Here’s the part no one loves to talk about: building meaningful connections involves a lot of awkward moments. Like the time, mid-college, when I tried to impress someone at a bonfire by telling them the Navajo myth of the coyote and the stars. My delivery didn’t exactly make me the next great storyteller; the only spark that caught was the firewood I accidentally lit too quickly. They looked confused, I fumbled through an apology, and my face burned hotter than the flames.

But that moment taught me the greatest secret of all: a little vulnerability goes a long way. Awkwardness is real, and it’s relatable. Whether you trip over your words or accidentally reveal that your go-to comfort movie is The Mummy (1999, obviously superior to its reboot), the important thing is to show up as you. Most people aren’t looking for perfection—they’re looking for connection. Awkwardness fosters trust because it’s impossible to fake.

Crafting a Connection Blueprint

So, how does one turn everyday interaction into something deeper and more extraordinary? Here’s how to start:

  1. Find Shared Stories.
    Connection thrives on common ground. If you don’t have a lot of obvious shared interests, ask about the ones closest to their heart. For me, that might be hearing someone’s take on indigenous land recognition or trading embarrassing “dating horror stories.” As my aunt once told me, “The easiest way to start is to ask someone about the dance their life is in right now. Are they just learning the steps, or are they leading?” Translation? Find their rhythm, and try stepping into it.

  2. Let Go of “Perfect Timing.”
    Romantic comedies love telling us that there’s a perfect time to shoot your shot—a moment straight out of a Taylor Swift song, filled with golden-hour lighting and perfectly un-tousled hair. Spoiler: life’s not a Nora Ephron movie. The best moments for connection usually don’t look perfect; they look like you bravely saying what you need to say when the time feels right.

  3. Be Curious—but Not in an Interrogator Way.
    Think of connection less as a checklist and more like weaving a friendship bracelet. Each thread—anecdote, question, shared laugh—adds color and strength. Notice I said weaving, not tying in knots. There’s no need to force anything. Good conversations are flowy, not sticky.

  4. Laugh. Often.
    Never underestimate the power of humor. My grandmother always insisted that laughter kept people close; it was like mending a tear in the family quilt. Nothing says “extraordinary” quite like sharing a belly laugh over something as silly as Dad jokes or failed attempts at parallel parking.

Small, Constant Sparks

There’s a saying among Diné people about keeping your fire tended, not letting it burn too dim or too bright. To me, this is the perfect metaphor for how relationships thrive. You don’t need fireworks every day—those big moments are thrilling, sure, but they’re not sustainable. What keeps love alive, romantic or otherwise, are the small, steady sparks: a soft smile exchanged during breakfast; a quiet but meaningful “I see you” moment while folding laundry together. These ordinary acts are the building blocks of something extraordinary.

No matter where or how you start, your path to deeper connection isn’t about being someone you’re not or chasing ideals that don’t resonate with you. It’s about showing up as the person you already are—full of care, a touch of awkward charm, and the willingness to discover the rhythms of someone else’s dance right alongside your own.

And if you ever feel like getting there is impossible, remember: the frybread my grandmother taught me to make started as a simple ball of dough. It’s what you do after the starting point that turns it into something extraordinary.