Carpio Bernal is a chef, entrepreneur, artist, and contemporary and modern dancer. CJ, after his sister died unexpectedly during the COVID-19 Pandemic, returned to Taos Pueblo, New Mexico. It is a UNESCO World Heritage Site that has been continuously inhabited for a thousand years. He opened the first full-service espresso and juice bar inside the ancient walls where there was no running water or electricity. Bernal uses the former art store of his family to not only serve food and drink but also to hold conversations about Native Americans’ challenges and raise money for an arts center. Bernal discusses how Indigenous voices were suppressed for generations in this edition of Voices in Food. He also discusses how these communities can begin healing themselves through self-expression.
In 2020, I lived in Los Angeles and worked in restaurants while doing film choreography. I was on a planned two-week vacation in Canada to visit my family when the border suddenly closed, and the pandemic began. Because I was born and raised in Canada, it took me six months to be allowed to return to America. While I took shelter with my extended family, my friends had to get rid of my apartment and salvage all my belongings. I had been dealing with a great deal mentally but was not prepared for the next step.
One morning, I received a phone call from my father, and I had the unmistakable feeling that there was something really wrong. He could barely speak and said: “You must be strong for your families up there.” I was told that Coral, my 33-year-old sister, had died unexpectedly.
We don’t have the funding to make positive changes.
In two days, I had returned to Taos. I sought immediate help from the local tribes. It was a very emotional funeral, especially because of the pandemic. We were not only dealing with the loss of a loved-one, but also had many questions. Rumors and speculations about what happened were not helpful. It was finally declared an “accidental” health-related death, but she was seen in an Indian Health Service Clinic 24 hours before her death. The doctor refused to admit her after the nurse practitioner had analyzed her bloodwork. She said she was sick and should be hospitalized.
We were already fighting for health reform and went through a long and drawn-out process to seek justice, with everyone involved – the clinic, sheriffs, and boyfriend, as well as the behavioral health care systems. We considered going to federal court, but it would have taken years. As a family, we decided that we did not want to re-traumatize our own experience. Instead, we wanted to use it to help others.
Two years after Coral’s death, my family and I held a media conference to discuss the issues of sexual violence, addiction, and domestic abuse that Native people, especially Native women, are faced with.
Coral was an accomplished poet, activist, and writer. We decided to create the Coral Dawn and Paul J. Bernal Center of Arts and Literature, named after her and our grandfather. This center would be a place for healing through art. We didn’t have structured programs after school when we were growing up. The funding was not there to build a recreation center, gym, or art center for children. Many of us resorted to drugs and alcohol.
The next question that arose was how we were going to raise the money for this new facility.
It is hard work to open up the business every day. “I charge my batteries at home and plug them into the fridge and coffee maker.”
My expertise was in the hospitality sector. I’d worked in every restaurant job imaginable: waiter, dishwasher, mixologist, and restaurant manager. In November 2022, I opened a café in the place of my art shop, located at the Pueblo. The Pueblo has no running water or electricity. A full-service café is impossible without modern amenities. Taos Pueblo had been closed to visitors for over two years. This was my new passion, and I wanted it to be a tribute to my sister, who had passed away. I named it the Dawn Butterfly Cafe because my sister and I had always discussed opening a cafe in the pueblo one day.
With my mother’s help, I applied for and received a grant of $8,000 from the Regional Development Corporation. This private nonprofit is dedicated to improving the economic development of northern New Mexico. I bought solar-powered battery packs, an inverter, and a commercial coffee machine with the seed money. Opening the business every day is a big job. I charge my batteries at home and plug them into the fridge and coffee maker.
The cafe is a more social enterprise than just a place to drink and eat. A portion of the profits will be donated to help fund the new center.
Cafés are social centers where people can gather and converse. Taos Pueblo has a large international following, so you’ll meet people from around the globe. We are always happy to share our stories and talk with visitors. My family and other residents of the Pueblo will be glad to do so. We can heal our pain and share the stories of our tribes that have been silenced for years.
We have been oppressed and violently repressed, so many of us believe that we cannot express what we feel or see. Western mentality was forced on us in all areas, from education to health care and food. We are suffering from systemic trauma, which is being passed on through the generations. And we lack funding to make positive changes.
After the art center opens, I plan to extend the program to the Dawn Butterfly restaurant, where diners can learn about Indigenous foods and ingredients. At the same time, young Natives have the opportunity to learn cooking skills. In one of the bars where I worked in Los Angeles, we were encouraged to be ourselves and speak out. These establishments in Taos Pueblo are where I hope to teach youth how to communicate, express themselves, and navigate complex environments.
