Abiding Love Does Not Wait for Perfect Conditions

By Beth Kelly

There’s a couple seated at a table sipping ice cold beet and pineapple juices, nearby a woman admires a coral bead necklace and learns from CJ Bernal, the man behind the counter, about the trade history between Native Americans, Spanish settlers and European traders. More people file in and now a line is forming. CJ moves efficiently without looking hurried as he makes lattes, serves quiche and occasionally hollers over the crowd to check in with Diggy and me — we are here to photograph the café for RHIZO. 

I step outside for a moment and I’m relieved to overhear one of those customers confide to his friends, “That was amazing. That was like stepping into a café in New York City.” 

Because here’s the deal: The Dawn Butterfly Café is a paradox.

Not only because Dawn Butterfly Café is a legitimate espresso bar in the heart of the Pueblo — a Native American community and UNESCO world heritage site that has been famously — and continuously — inhabited for a millenia. And not only because CJ serves artisan drinks and pastries within ancient walls, where modern amenities such as electricity and running water have never, and will never, be found. 

Although, that was my first question, when I wandered into the House of Water Crow & Red Coral Flower, the gallery that the Dawn Butterfly Café is nested within, last fall. “How is this even possible?” 

My second and third questions were “may I please try the pine-infused latte?” and “do you make these syrups yourself?” Followed by, “how long has your business been here?” 

The answers were “of course,” and “yes” and “this is our first day of business.” It was November 4, 2022 and I haven’t stopped asking CJ questions since. 

CJ is a font of information and wisdom. He’s an artist, a chef and an accomplished contemporary and modern dancer, and above of all, a devoted son and brother. He’s also the grandson of Paul J. Bernal, a World War II veteran, a Tiwa and English interpreter, and lifelong diplomat who famously and successfully advocated in Washington D.C., on behalf of his people, for the ultimate restoration of Blue Lake to the Taos Pueblo in 1970. 

But here in the café, on the day we met, it was his sister Coral Dawn, the namesake of the café, that CJ spoke to me about. We’ve never had a conversation that didn’t include Coral. Everything CJ does is a tribute to his sister.

“We used to joke as kids about a coffee shop in the Pueblo,” he tells me on that first day we met, the first day he opened the shop. I sense grief but remained hopeful this sister of his was just around the corner. I ask “what does your sister think about this now?” CJ paused. She would have liked this, he says. 

The next time we talk it’s over the phone and CJ’s quick to apologize for being distracted. He tells me he is making plates for an event he’s catering later that evening at the annual Taos Pueblo Artist Winter Showcase at Millicent Rogers Museum. I assume CJ means he’s making food that will later be plated, but he says, “I think I’ve gotten a little carried away,” and that’s how I come to understand he’s literally making plates from wood slabs and slate rocks he’s collected. 

That night I joined the line to experience his winter bluecorn themed menu, which also profiled piñon, lavender and calendula and other native ingredients. I knew from our earlier conversation the menu was aimed to pay homage to his ancestors “and the farmers and artists who continue to acknowledge the importance of food sovereignty and arts in society.” The food that night was unique, gorgeous and tasted divine. I notice some guests grapple with where to put their slate plates when they’re through — certainly not in the trash! And right then someone from CJ’s team sweeps through and collects the stone and reclaimed wood. CJ thinks of everything. 

But most of all he thinks about his sister.

Coral Dawn Bernal died unexpectedly in July of 2020. She was only 33 and yet left an enormous legacy as a poet, prolific writer and activist. The tragedy found CJ in British Columbia, Canada, where he had been waylaid since March, when the borders were closed. Before his trip to Canada, which was supposed to have only lasted two weeks, CJ had been living in Los Angeles. Today, somewhere in the City of Dreams, his friend’s hold on to his belongings for him. He’s not been back. 

Home at the Pueblo, CJ threw himself wholly into first putting his beloved sister to rest, then to getting his parents, Rose and Carpio, and his brother Kwantlen back on their feet. For months the family agonized over the questions and deep indignations regarding Coral’s death, emboldened and bereaved they called for health reform within the native community. 

Slowly CJ and his family move beyond the hope for accountability and answers, to seek out a broader and deeper understanding of Coral’s life, and their own.

With his professional dancing career left on the coast, CJ gave himself over to his grief and “took a pause on reality,” while he waited for a new future to take shape. 

He’d been humbled before, but never like this. 

“When you lose someone in your life, everything changes. I can’t explain it, I’ve lost many friends. Sadly I’m part of this generation where there are these problems with substance abuse. So I went into deep contemplation, and learned what I really want, and that is to provide for my family and for us to build something together.” 

Some people wait for abundance to create abundance, CJ can create it from nothing. To support himself as an artist CJ had always held jobs in hospitality. In fact, he’s held every restaurant position from dishwasher and line cook to barista, host, server, bartender, and manager. 

“I’ve been low before, so I knew the only thing I could manage was cutting onions.” And so that’s what he did. CJ, who I’m convinced can do anything, was hired by a local restaurant to do nothing, aside from dice vegetables five days a week. 

On the second anniversary of Coral’s death, her family held a press conference. The Bernal’s issued statement about Coral’s death and the issues of sexual assault, addiction and domestic violence that Native people, most especially native women, face. They also announced the creation of the Coral Dawn & Paul J. Bernal Center for Arts and Literature.

“We want to hold a space for healing,” CJ tells me during one of our conversations. The Center will be a place for artists, education, research and healing. Everyone could feel welcome here, he says, it’s the kind of place his sister Coral and his grandfather Paul would have appreciated. 

Since her death, CJ finds his sister everywhere, but most especially in animals and butterflies that appear, often in pairs. “It’s been this occurrence that is always two. We’ll be sitting outside and we see two hawks around the house, or two eagles, or two hummingbirds, or two ravens, or two deer.”

One critical surge of confidence for the idea behind the café came in one such moment. CJ was working out an idea to leverage his experience in food service to heal himself, heal his family and build the center for arts and literature, when two butterflies appeared. 

“We had already been talking about the Center, just conversation at this point, but the questions in my mind were how do we make money to do this? And how do we get this center financially off the ground? And I could hear Coral saying, ‘just do it bro.’”

CJ felt then he was on his path, and also that the name would be Dawn Butterfly. The future came into focus. “Everything I do now will be to bring justice to Coral and to native women.” 

Not long after, when the Pueblo reopened from the pandemic closure, CJ’s idea caught the next break it needed. With tourism returning to the Pueblo, the café could integrate inside his family’s long-established gallery. 

Having a feasible location also meant CJ’s endeavor was now eligible for an equipment grant from the Regional Development Corporation, a private non-profit dedicated to improving economic development in Northern New Mexico. CJ’s grant application was accepted, and the award was enough to purchase the solar-powered battery, inverter and the commercial espresso machine required to make a café without plumbing or electricity possible. At least in theory.

When the Pueblo reopened in July it had been closed for nearly two and a half years. Just as the loss of Coral had hit his family, the pandemic had also taken a toll on the gallery and morale. 

And yet still, CJ committed himself to the rehabilitation of the sacred space. He painted the walls and built new shelves to display the art Kwantlen was once again producing for the family business. 

Together the Bernal’s worked to make the gallery vibrant, just as Coral, CJ and Kwantlen had known it to be in their youth. 

On another recent visit to Dawn Butterfly Café, Carpio was in the café chatting with some tourists when suddenly he took the buckskin drumstick to the giant native drum that leans against the western wall of the gallery. And then he began to sing. 

Afterward, CJ couldn’t remember what it was he was in the middle of telling me. I pointed out, “well, your dad did just break into song,” and we all laughed. There’s joy here. 

“It’s been pretty great to have people come in, local people are coming back to the Pueblo to grab a cup of coffee and hang at the Pueblo for a bit. It’s really nice to see that,” says CJ. 

Dawn Butterfly Café was built from nothing. “We had a zero dollar budget, but now you can get anything here you could get at any other café. Ice coffee, espresso, lattes, teas, custom blends and a huge variety of local herbs and tinctures with medicinal properties,” says CJ. 

So once again, the café appears to be a café, but isn’t it also a marvel of human ingenuity, connection, resilience, heritage, personal faith and the unbreakable bonds of family? 

It’s also a social enterprise, because again, this café is an unrelenting contradiction and metaphor. 

So now, on a day like this one, with a line winding around the tables, CJ creates not only a living, but also extra capital that can go towards launching the non-profit healing center bearing his sister and grandfather’s names. 

The Coral Dawn and Paul J. Bernal Center for Arts & Literature has secured fiscal sponsorship from New Mexico Community Capital and is slated to open on the family’s property in 2024. CJ intends the location to eventually include a restaurant that can double as a culinary training center. 

In the meantime, CJ’s café within his family’s ancestral home opens its doors to offer coffee drinks yes, but also renewal and rebirth for CJ, Rose, Carpio and Kwantlen and all who cross the threshold. 

For more information about Dawn Butterfly Café or the nascent Coral Dawn and Paul J. Bernal Center for Arts & Literature visit dawnbutterfly.com. 

Photography by Diggy Lloyd
House of Water Crow & Red Coral Flower, The Dawn Butterfly Café, Taos Pueblo, New Mexico 87571