Back on Highway 1806, just north of the Oceti Sakowin camp, I jumped out of the car, more prepared, more ready to help those in need. I saw grandmothers crying from pain, grown men in tears throwing up from the toxic fumes, young women shivering from the cold temperatures after being blasted with a water cannon. I stood there almost frozen with my backpack as people rushed in front of me in chaos. It was a state of war. A war being fought on our own land over the protection of water. A war in which a militarized state is treating its own citizens like they’re engaging with the enemy.

At some point after helping multiple people suffering from hypothermia, nausea, and gas inhalation, I got caught up in a blast of three tear gas bombs. The seconds were slow and at that moment I thought, “oh shit.” I looked up and realized how close I was to the barb wire and the physical front line. I closed my eyes immediately and tried to control my breath. “It’s going to be ok, Wendy, you’re gonna be fine” I told myself. I felt the gas come into my lungs, fast, hot and toxic. I opened my eyes for a moment and felt the sting hit. I gagged. I heard all those around me gag, yell in pain and cry out. I kept my eyes shut, I held my breath. At that moment, I remembered the tunnel games I played when I was little, sitting in the backseat of my parents car, hold your breath Wendy, you can do this. I remember pretending to be the Little Mermaid and if she could swim to the surface, so could I. In this moment, this random things I did as a child, seemed to have a purpose. Small breaths, count to ten, stay calm. Blindly I kept walking, hearing the shuffling of people around. “STAY CALM! DON’T PUSH!” I heard someone yell out. When I felt we had walked a safe distance, I opened my eyes again. I was fine, I caught my breath, feeling the cold crisp North Dakota air fill my lungs. I exhaled. I coughed for a good minute. Around me, people were crying, their eyes yellow from the gas. I began to pour more milk of magnesia, someone offered me water, a young women that I helped told her sister, “Don’t tell mom this happened, she’ll be so worried.” I thought of my own family and my own mother who worries so much.

Some twenty minutes later, a flash grenade went off and I felt a slew of tiny pellets hit the left side of my face. Today, as I write this, I’m a little swollen and red, but I’m not deeply hurt.

No longer at the very front of the lines, I kept helping as much as I could. Some people had blankets, someone brought more water and someone else passed some bread. I reached in to my pocket and realized in the mayhem, I lost my phone. I hope it’s found somewhere.

A medic shared that 167+ people were injured tonight. Those are the ones that are counted, at least at the time I’m writing this.

Never in my life have I experienced such raw and vicious human rights abuses. A member of the private security forces held a water cannon directly behind a friends head, it could have given him a concussion. Given the negative temperature, using a water cannon is a human rights violation as the water freezes and can cause immediate hypothermia. Flash grenades where shot directly at people. Rubber bullets were shot at short distances, one I’m told, hit a pregnant woman. This isn’t a war in a developing nation, this isn’t a fight against a terrorist group, this is a blatant display of power in which the American government is allowing these private security forces to treat American citizens as criminals in the name of a pipeline and profit.

They are scared. They are scared of the power of prayer, the power of people. That is why they treated us the way they did.