Oh Armie Hammer. The guy who played twins in the Social Network, the guy who’s name sounds like baking soda. Now he’s playing the Lone Ranger opposite our good friend Johnny Depp as Tonto, and recently he said in an interview about the movie that all the Natives he talked to were SO SUPER STOKED that the film was being made. Guys, that’s the movie equivalent of “but I have a black friend!”

Tonto recap, if you haven’t been following along. My posts are here: my initial reactions, why you should care about Tonto when there are “bigger issues” out there, tearing apart Depp’s reasoning over his costume choices, and finally the controversy I dealt with for writing about Tonto.

So back to Armie. Here’s his quote in the LA times, defending the casting of Tonto, saying there were plenty Natives he talked to who loved it, and only white people were upset:

“They were nothing but excited about it. They loved it — they’re thrilled. It’s so funny, because every Native American we talked to was like, ‘This is awesome! I’m so excited.’ And every white person we talked to was like, ‘How dare you cast a non-Native American?’ It’s like, the white people are the one who have the problem, but the Indians — the Native Americans — are like, ‘This is great. We love it.’”

A few things.

So. The casting of a non-Native thing has kinda gone by the wayside for me. While I was initially super mad that they cast JD and didn’t give the role to a Native person (blah blah Johnny has Indian heritage blah blah he was adopted by the Comanche Naiton–Not the point right now. That doesn’t excuse anything.), the more that has come out about the film, the more I’m glad that a Native actor isn’t embroiled in this mess. So Armie, the casting is only part of the issue. The bigger issue is the mountain of stereotypes Depp’s portrayal of Tonto represents–from his hot mess of a costume with a freaking dead crow on his head, to the horrible stereotypical mystical warrior BS that we can see in the trailers, to the ridiculous and demeaning use of Tonto-speak broken English that has haunted Native communities since the first spaghetti westerns.

Also, let’s put this in perspective. You know how contemporary Natives are completely and totally invisible to the vast majority of the world? You know how we get ignored by all areas of mainstream media unless we’re doing something wrong or playing into stereotypes? Well let’s say one day a big fancy production company and really famous actors that we only see in the movies roll into our Rez and say they want to make a movie–and we can be extras in the background! and we can get paid! and our kids will be able to eat because of this movie!

Of course you’re going to say it’s awesome. Because it is. For a moment your community isn’t invisible, you’re going to be on the big screen with all those fancy white guys that get to walk around on red carpets all day. And most importantly, in a community struggling poverty and unemployment, you’ve got a job.

I’m not hating on these folks. Do I wish we lived in a society where Natives were more visible and it wasn’t such a freaking novelty that someone wants to make a movie with us? Do I wish we the resources and publicity to get the same amount of attention on our own media? Do I wish that we had other economic ventures on our reservations that could provide jobs without having to become a Hollywood stereotype? yes, yes, and yes. I think we deserve much more.

But back to Armie’s comments. The second part really bothered me as well–that only “white people” were complaining about the movie. I’m sorry dude, but I know PLENTY of Indians that are not happy with this film. Circling back to our invisibility, just because the white voices are louder and get more publicity, doesn’t mean that we aren’t pissed off too. And I’m sorry, if “every white person” you talked to had an issue with the film, you might want to listen. Additionally, if the only Indians that you talked to were the ones getting paid by your film or from the reservation benefitting economically from your film’s presence, you might want to rethink your sampling method there. The comment also just feels so patronizing–”but the Indians love it!”–and invited a host of comments on the LA times and others about the “whiny, overly sensitive, hyper ‘PC’” culture we live in. Which is nothing new, but still no fun.

This film is going to be a mess. There’s no two ways about it. Every picture that has been released, every trailer where we hear more of JD’s horrible Indian-pirate-I-don’t-even-know-what accent, I roll my eyes even harder. They’re clearly realizing that this was maybe not the best idea, given JD’s sudden interest in Indian Country and Indian causes, and all these super defensive comments coming out. I feel like they’re on a damage control tour.

So in conclusion:

Hey Armie Hammer–I’m an Indian, and I’m mad about this film. I think Depp’s choices around Tonto’s costuming and speech are demeaning, stereotypical, and set us back a bunch of years in the small gains we’ve made in Hollywood. I don’t feel “honored” that Johnny has decided to make Tonto less of a sidekick and more of a main character. I don’t appreciate that Native protest against this film has been all but ignored. I’m glad you chatted with some Indians, but I’d encourage you to chat with a few more. Because I can promise you not all of us are “thrilled” about the Lone Ranger.

LA Times: Native Americans on Set ‘Loved’ Lone Ranger

AK note: Thanks for all of your love and concern over the last week, it was so nice to feel love from all over the US and world. As you may remember from my last post about Boston, I live in Watertown–so things were a little tense here, to say the least. My apartment was outside the perimeter where the search was occurring  but not by much. I’m sure I have plenty more processing to do about the experience of being on lock down with a terrorist up the street, but right now I’m happy for a return to normalcy, and thankful for all of the (thousands and thousands of) law enforcement officials who kept us safe.  

AK note: I know I’ve been away for a long time. I have lots and lots of exciting things to share with you, and I have many updates as to where I’ve been and where we’re going. I promise we’ll get there. Today, I need to write about Boston. This post has nothing to do with Native communities, other than the fact that I happen to be a Native person navigating this. So bear with me–I need to process, and the way I process is through writing. I wanted to come back with a happy, excited update post, but all in due time. 

Yesterday, I woke up in my apartment in Watertown, a town on the border of Cambridge, across the river from the city of Boston.  I was excited, and a little nervous, to head out and watch one of my best friends from college run his first Boston marathon. I had volunteered to deliver pedialyte at mile 20–and was worried that I would fail in my job. How would I find him in the crowds of runners? What if he missed me? Would I mess up his whole race? He needs his electrolytes! I even rented a car to make sure I would get there on time.

I drove out to the affluent suburb of Newton and set up shop right under the mile 20 marker, on the right side of the road, exactly where I told him I’d be. I was constantly refreshing my phone to track his progress–10k, 20k, 25k–amazed as he flew through the course, averaging 6:40 miles. The hand-off went smoothly, I should have known that his 6’5″ frame and enormous grin would be easy to spot. He waved hello as he approached, grabbed the water bottle, shouted, “Thank you! You’re the best!” and was gone. I let out a sigh of relief, laughing with fellow race-watchers about my earlier anxiety. Since my duty was done, I settled in to cheer on the runners.

My friend J met up with me, and we proceeded to cheer and clap as the brightly colored runners surged by. Everyone was excited, there was almost a festival atmosphere–horns, cowbells, balloons, kids selling $7 hotdogs (like I said, affluent area), and it was just fun. We took to yelling for the runners by name, as many of the runners wear their names taped to their chest or written on their arms in sweat-smeared sharpie. “Go Dave!” “Go Angie!” “Go Michelle!” We continued to yell until the crowd thinned, and it was only the slower runners carefully plodding along the course. We clapped, cheered, and offered encouragement, with our name-dropping eliciting smiles and tired thumbs ups. I talked to my superstar runner friend on the phone. He had finished in 3 hours, was happy with his performance, and said he was headed back to a friend’s apartment to take a shower. We made plans to eat an early dinner in Back Bay.

The original plan was for me to wander down to the finish line and watch the end of the race, but J and I stayed to wait for his friend’s dad to pass the mile marker, knowing he would be one of the last runners. We waited, gave him and his support crew a triumphant cheer, with J even jogging backwards in front of them for several yards to snap some pictures–a fairly entertaining sight.

Afterward, we parted ways, heading back to our cars, agreeing that it was a fun and inspirational afternoon. “I want to start running again!” I exclaimed as we were leaving, “maybe a marathon is in my future!” The community at the race and the community of runners had made be long to part of something like it.

Then I got a phone call from my sister, and I could hear fear in her voice from the moment I answered. “Hey sees, are you ok? You’re not at the finish line, are you?” and then I heard. I heard about the two explosions at the finish line, the reports of mass casualties, the chaos and confusion. “Just get home safe,” she told me. My hands were shaking as I started the car, and my phone began ringing and buzzing off the hook as floods of concerned friends and family called to check in. My head was cloudy as I drove toward home, and in a panic, I ended up taking a wrong turn and was suddenly on the Mass Pike–headed towards the chaos, rather than away from it. My phone was dying, I didn’t know where I was going, and I was scared. Helicopters roared overhead, emergency vehicles flew past, lights flashing and sirens blaring. I ended up right where I didn’t want to be, and each wrong turn seemed to bring me closer to the exact place I wanted to get away from.

In a moment of clarity, looking at my dying phone, I found a CVS, and pulled into the parking lot. Several more police cars raced by, and cars blared their horns as stressed pedestrians tried to cross the street against the lights. I walked inside, and the contrast was so strange. While the world outside felt chaotic and wild, inside was cool, and eerily calm, with the same awkward muzak playing over the speakers, the same rows of the products found at any CVS in the country. The store brought such strange normalcy, I almost wanted to cry. I wanted to browse the shelves and stay in there until someone told me it was safe to venture back outside. Instead, I bought a car charger for my phone, and asked to use the restroom. After letting me in to the restroom, the pharmacist, a sweet older woman, gave me a hug, and told me to get home safe.

I finally got home, but not without getting turned away by police at multiple junctures. All bridges in and out of the city were blocked, along with most of the race route. I ended up driving all the way back out to Newton and circling back. My route took me across the road where only an hour earlier I had stood with J, cheering on the racers. It now was deserted, with police walking along the street, litter and caution tape fluttering in the wind. There wasn’t a civilian in sight.

It wasn’t until I got home and turned on the news until the full weight of what had happened hit me. The images were so gruesome, so horrific–I was in total disbelief. My roommate spoke to her friend in Afghanistan, and she said the images looked like those from the war zone she inhabits everyday. I spent the next few hours checking on all my friends, making sure everyone was alright. Miraculously, they all were. Even friends who had been at the finish minutes before the blasts were fine. I processed slowly, seeing the images as if they were from somewhere else, not the joyful place I had been that morning. Then reading the New York Times, a line jumped out at me–”There are reports that additional unexploded devices were found along the route, including in Newton, a suburb 6 miles from the finish.” It was then that I began to panic. I felt my heart pound and tears well up in my eyes. The report has since been removed, but in that moment, it all went from something that happened to others, to something that could have happened to me.

I am so lucky, and so grateful. My story isn’t one of chaos, smoke, and injury–but one of simple uncertainty and fear. I feel strange even writing about it–It could have been so much worse. My friends are safe, I’m safe–but there are so many who are not.

We hear of bomb blasts everyday in the Middle East. We hear the numbers killed by drone strikes, of IED’s killing hundreds of soldiers and civilians. But we’ve become numb to it. We’ve forgotten that these bombings are about people, people with families, lives, stories, hopes, and fears. We debate about whether this heinous act is an “act of terrorism” and madly tweet when the president uses the phrase. We’ve forgotten that terrorism is the use of violence to reach political aims–there is nothing in the definition that includes the word “muslim.” I was so saddened by the rush of initial tweets implicating a “Saudi national,” or a “dark skinned man with a hooded sweatshirt and a backpack.” I was hurt by this quick racism and xenophobia that followed the event–an event that started as a day so full of communal joy. Now communities of color continue to hold their breath, praying those responsible are not one of their own. I am also disappointed in the way this has been covered in the media, a glorification of blood and mutilated bodies, the sharing of images that are not necessary to understand the weight of what happened. We are a nation obsessed with consumption of information in real time, and I, as someone who spends all day online, am a part of that culture. But it feels so hurtful and insensitive when the images are of my own backyard. A double standard, to be sure.

But in reading the accounts of the first responders, the folks tearing down barriers to reach the wounded, the googledoc of thousands of homes being opened to runners and families, I was proud of my city–a city that admittedly I’ve been harsh on for the last four years, one where I’ve never completely felt at home.

Earlier in the day, as J and I were getting situated at the race, a big hawk flew overhead, low enough that I could see its markings and the color variations on its feathers. I pointed it out to J, smiling, “It’s a good sign. It’s protection.” I watched it circle over us and the runners for a few minutes, amazed as it lingered. I see hawks often–I’m known for spotting them in the most unexpected and urban of settings–so I wasn’t surprised. But by the end of the night, I realized the importance, and was so grateful for the watchful eye of my ancestors. At the time, I had tried to snap a picture, but ended up with one of just the bright blue sky.

So I’m still processing. I don’t know what to think, I don’t know how to make sense of the tragedy, I don’t know how I feel that I was lucky enough to be 6.2 miles from the explosions. I was so humbled by the hundreds of texts, tweets, calls, facebook posts, and instagram comments from concerned friends I received yesterday, it was amazing to know how many friends, some whom I’ve never even met in real life, cared about my safety. Today in Boston is eerily normal, at least over here on the other side of the river. I was chided for late assignments for Ed Review, my dissertation proposal is still due in two days, and the sun still shined. But folks are a bit kinder–the harsh Bostonian stare I’ve come to recognize has been replaced by nods and eye contact, the bus driver this morning told those of us exiting the bus to “have a great day and stay safe.” The community has come together. The overwhelming feeling I have today is one of community–and a community trying to make sense of a senseless and horrific act.

My prayers and thoughts are with all of the families who were affected, and I don’t know where we’ll go from here. It all still feels foreign and strange. But I know the city will bounce back. Boston is made up of tough survivors, and I know we’ll get through.

My trusty macbook, where I’ve written nearly every post on the blog

This morning my brain woke me up wide awake at 5am, just opened my eyes, ready to go, like this were a normal and everyday experience. The reality is quite the opposite–most mornings I hit snooze more than I care to admit. My brain was whirring from the moment I blinked awake, and I decided to put to paper some of the things I’ve been working on in my head. I’ve been feeling in a very contemplative mood the last few days, maybe brought on by my recent trip to Stanford (my alma mater), where I did a talk at the Native house and followed around one of my awesome dissertation study kiddos. It was a great trip, despite the fact that I came down with a terrible cold, and it was amazing and strange to realize how much and how little has changed in the five years since I’ve graduated. The students there are so incredible, and I admittedly felt extremely self conscious to be heralded almost a hometown hero upon my arrival, interviewed by the new activist blog on campus, given a special shout out at the Stanford American Indian Organization meeting, met with whispers when I walked into the Native center. I am so grateful and still often shake my head in disbelief at the journey Native Appropriations has taken me on in the past three years, and I felt like it was time to reflect and share the origin story of the blog, the path it has taken, and where I hope it will go in the future.

The blog turned 3 years old (it’s just a toddler!) on January 15th, and I’d say it’s not too late to celebrate. Three years ago, I was a petrified first year doctoral student, sitting in the back of my first year doctoral seminar, feeling alone, out of place, young, and in many ways voiceless. I had left the warm safety of my Stanford community, a community where I was surrounded by Native students, a community where I was known and accepted, where I felt that I had support for Native issues and there was always someone wiser, or more experienced I could call upon when a question or issue arose. I arrived in a cold–literally and figuratively–and isolated space where I suddenly was (and still am) the only Native student in my program. I suddenly had no one else to turn to when a questionable comment was made in class or when I encountered classmates at my elite institution who had never met a Native person in their lives. Those experiences, coupled with the fact that I was several years younger than my classmates and the only student in my cohort without a masters degree, left me silent and scared. I often wondered if I had made the right choice in going to graduate school, and this resulted in that my first year, I said–truly–three comments in class. Ever.

It was in this space that the blog was born. I had always felt passionate about representations of Native peoples, but approached it from more of an art and museum context. I interned at museums all throughout undergrad, and did my senior paper on contemporary Indian art that challenged stereotypes and questioned how outside western forces were shaping what constituted “authentic Indian art.” I think this interest came, and still stems, from the fact that I never saw myself, my friends, or my family reflected in images of “Nativeness.” Most of the images of Native people I saw represented people in some mythical past, or as a one-sided stereotype, not the vibrant, diverse community I knew. After a trip to Urban Outfitters right across the square from my school, I felt like something clicked. I felt invisible as a Native person, because the only images my classmates and colleagues ever saw of Native people were the false stereotypes in fashion, advertising, and hollywood. To them, even subconsciously, Indians were flat commodities to be bought and sold, whether as a fake dreamcatcher, beef jerky, or a mascot, not real, living, contemporary people. So I decided to write about it.

Writing the blog gave me a voice. In my semi-anonymous space on the internet, I was free to question, be angry, and fight back–things I struggled to do in “real life.” I watched my notoriety and influence grow online, while in my day-to-day I was still the silent girl in the back of the classroom. Even today, many, if not most, of my classmates don’t know what I do outside our campus. My alter-ego of “Adrienne K.” is (or tries to be) a fierce warrior, though sometimes I feel the real-life Adrienne doesn’t always match up.

Thinking back to those first early posts, where I still didn’t have the proper language to push back on the stereotypes, where I was still learning to use my voice and perspective, it’s incredible to see how far we’ve come. I say we, because I would be nowhere without the community that has developed around Native Approps. The daily emails, the tweets, the facebook posts, and the comments, it is the community that keeps me going and writing. I’ve learned so much from my readers, because I acknowledge that I am still no expert in this field. Through a happy confluence of factors, somehow I’ve emerged as a voice and an activist, but this blog has been a process of learning for me as much as it has been for you. I stand on the shoulders of those who have been in this fight for decades, and I am forever indebted and grateful to the work of the strong women and men who have laid the groundwork for me to be here today. I, by no stretch of the imagination, am the first Native person to write and care about how we are represented, I just have picked up and joined in what has been going on for generations.

For those reasons, the “fame” part of the blog has never been something I’ve been comfortable with. I didn’t start writing with some dreams of grandeur, and I still am super awkward when folks I meet in real life mention they read the blog. Actually, I’m just pretty awkward generally. All I am is a big nerd who found an outlet for that nerdiness, I swear. I reiterate again and again that I don’t claim to speak for all of Indian Country, that I just speak for my experience, which is one of several million perspectives that could be represented here. I think that’s one of the hardest things I’ve been learning to navigate–the tension between wanting to be heard, but not wanting to be seen as the only voice on Indian issues.

In the past three years we’ve covered a lot of ground. We’ve discussed young costumed non-Native powwow-goers, broke the story for the Navajo Nation Urban Outfitters lawsuit, talked about Halloween costumes, mascots, and random appropriations in-between. I caused a big stir by discussing my opinions of “Love in the Time of Blood Quantum,” one that’s left a lasting legacy of the now (in)famous term “unicorn” amongst my friends and acquaintances (though it may be time for an update on that post…). There was the (ongoing) Tonto fiasco, Victoria’s Secret, and Paul Frank. But the post that continues to be the biggest hit is my anti-hipster headdress manifesto, re-posted, linked, and reblogged all over the internet.

I would have never dreamed that I’d be on monthly conference calls with Paul Frank assisting in a Native artist collaboration, that I would have been a guest on a Al Jazeera or Native America Calling, interviewed Adam Beach, been interviewed by E! online, CNN, or any of the other “mainstream” outlets I’ve been privileged to chat with. I’ve been invited to speak at universities and conferences all over the country, where I’ve met incredible new friends and colleagues. I’ve gained technology skills, taught myself (basic) coding, learned the ins and outs of wordpress, learned how to manage social media platforms, how to build and cultivate a caring community, and curate content. I think it has taught me more about writing and refining my ideas than grad school ever could alone.

I’m listing this all off to remind myself how amazing it’s been, because admittedly it’s also been hard. I can’t separate the journey of the blog from my journey of grad school, and both have been fraught with tears over identity attacks, feelings of inadequacy, lack of confidence in myself and my ideas, and far too many moments where I thought it would be so much easier to stop everything and try and return to and salvage my previous life back in California.

As for what the future of Native Appropriations will hold, I have some grand plans and big ideas, but I also have to graduate. Since the blog is not exactly a cash cow, I also am balancing taking courses, multiple jobs as a teaching assistant, being an editor at an academic journal, doing my dissertation research, applying for funding for this and next year, and writing my qualifying paper and dissertation proposal. Any of which could be a full time job. But I somehow continue to find time, and will continue to find time, because I care deeply about this work and find so much strength and joy in the real change we are making for Native peoples.

What I hope for the future is that we can continue to learn together, that I can offer my ideas and perspectives as a starting point, but that the conversation will grow outward and not stay within the confines of the blog. I hope that my dedication to this world can bleed into my academic life, where the 1900+ words I’ve written here are more than I’ve written for my qualifying paper in months. Writing on the blog, strangely enough, is freeing. Despite the fact that thousands of people read my intimate thoughts online, and are not shy about sharing their hate for me and my opinions, it doesn’t scare me. What scares me is my dissertation committee, the classmates to whom I felt inferior, and the ivy-covered world I live in. Internet trolls? Bring it. The Committee on Degrees? Excuse me, I’m going back to bed.

For the daily fear that I live in of not being good enough in my academic life, I sometimes forget to celebrate the joy and accomplishments this world has brought. Native Appropriations has given me confidence and a voice when I felt marginalized and silenced in my everyday life. It has connected me on a deeper level to my own identity, and forced me to defend who I am and what I care about, making me stronger and braver. I’ve become an activist and a writer, when I only sought out to share images of what we are not.

I feel that we are on the edge of something big as Indigenous Peoples. If the Idle No More movement is any indication, we are ready to rise up and be seen and heard, not content to be silenced any longer. I know that I’m ready, and feel confident that I am ready to be a part of, or help to create, whatever comes next. Pushing back on Native representations is just the beginning. Our rights, lands, women, and cultures have been violated for far too long, and I know the time is now for things to change.

So thank you for joining me on this journey–for reading, commenting, emailing, and discussing. For spreading these issues to your family, friends, and colleagues, and making cultural appropriation an issue worthy of discussion and change. For making it to the end of this behemoth of a post. Here’s to the next three years and beyond.

Live and learn. I guess the “quick post” model failed–you should see my inbox. Guys, I know the Seminole Tribe of Florida has worked with FSU and offered their approval of the mascot and associated images. I know quite a bit about the relationship, actually, and I’ve been learning quite a bit more in the last day or so…thanks to the strongly worded responses from some passionate FSU fans.

Quick background:

Florida State has been the “Seminoles” since 1947, and have had a “relationship” with the Seminole Tribe of Florida for many years, but it was solidified more recently. In 2005, the NCAA passed a resolution, calling Native American Mascots “hostile and abusive,” and prohibiting schools with these mascots from hosting post-season events. The Seminole Tribe of Florida then officially gave their permission to use Osceola as the mascot, letting FSU get a waiver from the NCAA rule.

Disclaimer, and a big one–I am not Seminole, and I don’t want to speak for the tribe. I am offering my interpretation and perspective, but it’s just mine. I am going to be up front and say that I don’t agree with the choice to give the university permission to mock Native culture (see the billboard and video I posted earlier), and I don’t find a “stoic” dude in a wig and redface throwing a flaming spear “honoring” (see photo above), and I definitely don’t think that the “war chant” is respectful in any way. In fact I find it quite “hostile and abusive.”

I do want to put the decision of the tribe into context, however. From what I understand, prior to the formalized relationship with the tribe in the 1970′s, the image of the university was not Osceola (who is a real person, in case you didn’t know. Though the image is the profile of a white faculty member), but a stereotypical mis-mash named “Sammy Seminole” who was accompanied by “Chief Fullabull,” both of whom wore cartoonish and stereotypical outfits and clowned around at games. Trying to be more “sensitive” they changed “Fullabull” to “Chief Wampumstompum.” I’m not kidding. Osceola and Renegade (the horse) were introduced in the late 70′s.

So, by entering into a relationship with the university, the mascot now represents an actual Seminole figure, and wears (close to) traditional Seminole regalia, made by tribal members. In addition to control and “collaboration” over how the image is used and portrayed, I’ve heard the tribe gets a cut of the merchandising profits, which I’m sure is no small amount of money. The president of the university also established full scholarships for Seminole students (though only 8 Seminole students have graduated in the history of the school), a Seminole color guard brings in the flag at commencement, and the tribe was recently honored at homecoming. The Seminole of FL are also one of the most successful gaming tribes in the US, and my personal opinion is that keeping the state happy on the FSU front can only be good for relations around gaming contracts.

In summary, while the mascot is far from being respectful in my opinion, at least the tribe is gaining both economic and social benefits from engaging in this relationship. At least, at the games, as the student section is tomahawk chopping and yelling “scalp ‘em”, they can look down at the field and see a real Seminole every once and awhile to counter the image of Osceola. But is it perfect? Of course not. In a lot of ways it is similar to Derrick Bell’s theory of Interest Convergence–the idea that whites will only consent to racial progress when it benefits them directly–but turned around. The tribe is consenting to this, because they benefit directly. The interests of the two parties converge.

But the hard thing about FSU is that it always gives fodder to the mascot defenders. “But the Seminole approve of Florida State!  They don’t care!” Hopefully I’ve made a bit of a case as to why they’ve consented to have their image used, but I also want to point out that just because one faction of a marginalized group believes one thing, it doesn’t mean that everyone feels that way. Can you imagine if we expected all white folks to feel the same about a controversial issue…like gun control, for example? Not gonna happen. I also think that it ties back into the dilemma I’ve brought up again and again–is it better to be completely invisible as Native people, or be misrepresented? In the case of the Seminole tribe of Florida, they took the step to at least try and gain some control and power over how their people and community are represented.

Coming back to the billboard that I posted last week, here is the (unsolicited) response I received from the university:

Hi Adrienne,

I work in Florida State University’s Office of University Communications. We’ve become aware of your recent blog post about several of Florida State University’s recent promotions which include Seminole imagery and symbols — and appreciate your concern.  However, we wanted to take this opportunity to make sure you were aware that the relationship between Florida State and the Seminole Tribe of Florida is one of mutual respect.

In 2005, the tribe passed a resolution supporting the university’s use of the Seminole name, logos and images, including Osceola and Renegade. This was recognition of Florida State’s continued collaboration with the tribe, including prominent participation by tribal members in many of the university’s most meaningful events, and our seeking advice and direction to ensure tribal imagery is authentic.

Simply put, Florida State University is humbled and honored by the privilege of representing a group of people whose courage and spirit we admire and respect. Through the years, our administrators have made it clear the university will not engage in any activity that does not have the approval of the Seminole Tribe of Florida.

We hope this background is helpful. Please feel free to write me back if you have any questions.

The word “authentic” in there gave me pause–are they actually arguing that painting a red and yellow stripe of “warpaint” on a non-Native lady is “authentic”? And the language of the letter just feels weird to me–”a group of people whose courage and spirit we admire and respect”? It just feels like a slippery slope and super gray area between “respect” and romanticization.

If anyone knows more and wants to correct my FSU/Seminole facts, please feel free in the comments!

UPDATE: Check out this awesome resource pulled together by Rob Schmidt of Blue Corn Comics/Newspaper Rock–offers more history, counter-arguments, quotes from news articles and Native scholars, and more:
Why FSU’s Seminoles aren’t ok

Earlier: New Billboard for Florida State’s MBA Program

Florida State University (home of the “Seminoles”) has unveiled a new billboard for their MBA program. I always wonder how these types of things make it through so many layers of approval. Kirsten who sent it over said this has been their slogan for awhile, apparently. While we’re at it, have you seen the new commercial made by students in FSU’s College of Motion Picture Arts?:

Yeah. “A spirit roams these parts…a spirit of respect.” Respect for who, exactly? 

Programming note: I’m going to be trying something a bit new (or old, if you’re a long-time reader of the blog) where I share a lot of these “random appropriations” in between longer blog posts. I’m not going to go through and deconstruct all of them, it’s more to share the ubiquity of these images and how pervasive they are in our society. But I always welcome conversation in the comments!

(Thanks to Kirstin for the image, and everyone who sent me the commercial!)

Hi Everyone!

If you hadn’t noticed, something is a little different around here…I finally took the plunge and made the switch over to wordpress and my own domain (omg I know, right?). I’m super excited, and relieved that most of the transition seems to have gone relatively smoothly, though there are still a lot of little things that need fixing and  adjusting.

So please bear with me over the next few days (weeks?) as I try and tweak and refine all the things that have gone wrong (such as the thousands of comments stuck in disqus limbo, the fact that none of the images are centered in posts anymore, there are no more “jumps” in any of the posts, and any youtube video I ever embedded is lost)…but it’ll get done! I’ll definitely need some help to figure it all out, so if you come across any broken links, missing pictures, or anything else that seems wonky or off, please let me know. Email is still the same, nativeappropriations(at)gmail(dot)com.

I’m really looking forward to playing around with the functionality and customizability of wordpress, I already have some grand plans in the works, so please keep checking back as I add and change.

A very happy new year to all of you, I can’t wait to see what 2013 brings!

Much love,

Adrienne K.

PS-I would also like to send a HUGE wado (thanks) to reader C. who sent me a donation that covered all the costs of this move and paid for my theme. It was the best Christmas surprise I could have ever asked for. I am constantly humbled and blown away by all of your support–thank you to each and every one of you!

Dear entitled-full-of-sh*t-not-so-secretly-racist fan of Indian mascots,

I’m pretty sick of your behavior right now. I’ve written a lot of well-reasoned posts about mascots. I’ve provided both appeals to emotion and to science. I’ve shared stories about how people “like you” have changed their minds about Indian mascots. I’ve shared my own experiences about how I, as a Native person, feel when I encounter these images. I’ve been kind-hearted and tried to be understanding. This is not one of those posts.

Because today, I’m mad. Today, Paul Lukas of Uni Watch, who has recently been a big friend to the Native community on the issue of Indian mascots, dared give the Atlanta Braves new racist throwback hat featuring a whooping savage the grade of an “F” in his fictional grading system of the new batting practice hats for the MLB. He dared say:

“Last year the Braves conspicuously avoided using their “screaming Indian” logo as a sleeve patch on their retro alternate jersey — a welcome move for those of us who oppose the appropriation of Native American imagery in sports. Unfortunately, it turns out that the logo hasn’t been permanently mothballed. Disappointing. Grade: F”

Read those vile and fighting words! Clearly he is calling each and every one of you a dirty, stinking racist. Clearly he is saying that you are the scum of the earth and that everything you hold dear is offensive to someone, so you might as well run around naked and live in a hole in the ground to stave off the “PC police” who are coming for you. Yes, by saying that returning to a tired, offensive stereotype of Native people is “disappointing,” that’s clearly what he meant.

Because in the comments, it seems you and your fellow sports fans have lost your damn minds. There are 30 caps in the post, 30 pieces of commentary from Lukas, but somehow, 99.9% of the comments on the article are concerning the Braves cap. You are so original to pretend you are a “pirate” and are offended by the Pirates, or that you are a “communist” and are offended by the Reds. Or Irish, or a Viking, or even more creatively, you’re an elephant who’s offended by the new A’s logo! L.O. effing L. Cause, yep, Indians are just like pirates and Irish and communists and elephants! All those folks are marginalized racial groups who have been historically oppressed and continue to have the highest statistics for poverty, and homelessness, and suicide, and live in third world conditions, while they constantly and repeatedly have their cultures and lives mocked and stereotyped on every corner. Yep! The welfare lines are just full of elephants this time of year.

And I’m so glad there are people like your friend “chrohandhaivey” who can tell me what I should be honored by and how “fierce” I “was”:

Im tired of this native american racist crap…$@%! you should be honored your race is a team mascot…thats a good thing…it shows how fierce you were to be used as a sports team….its not like its the n****rs or something i mean come on…personally i wish there was an Atlanta team named the “White People”…Id rock the $@%! out of that with pride not complain about it like some puddins

Or your friend “canigs013″ who gave us a backhanded compliment by saying we’re “too smart” to care about mascots:

for real. has anyone actually heard a native american complain about things like that? no, because they’re too smart to care about dumb things that do not matter.

Nope, “canigs013,” you’re right. I’ve never heard of a Native American complain about Indian mascots. Nope, there’s not a supreme court case, or millions of news articles, or decades and decades of activism against the cause. Nope.

But I’m stoked that one of your other friends brought up the infamous Sports Illustrated poll that shows that 80% of Native Americans support Indian mascots. A poll from 2002. Here are 20 other things that were popular in 2002, and I don’t think you’d care to argue their relevance today. Though, who knows, maybe you are rockin’ your CD’s on your walkman right now while fearing a boyband anthrax attack. There are also a million other things wrong with that poll, including the fact that they won’t release their polling sample or how they determined who to interview. Read this article to hear all the ways that poll is ridiculous and shouldn’t be used in an argument a decade later. A decade later. 

I really wonder if you know how you sound. Your arguments are tired, are weak, and are getting more eye-roll worthy by the day. How long will you stand by the argument that “PC culture” is ruining “your” America? I’d like to share this awesome quote by Dion Beary that sums up your thought process perfectly for me:

Politically correct” is just a term assholes came up with so they can dismiss people who have the nerve to want to be respected. Demanding not to be stereotyped is not political correctness, it’s a human right, and you are not some hero for refusing to respect people’s right to be treated like humans.

I am a real person. Hi. I am a modern Indian who likes sports and doesn’t want to take away “your” beloved francise. But the images aren’t yours to keep. They’re representations of me, and my people, and my ancestors, and I should have the right to control them. And you see, the thing is, times change. While maybe at one time (though I’m gonna stand by the fact that it’s never been acceptable) these images were deemed “A-ok,” we’re not in that time anymore. In the not-so-distant past, folks were lamenting the loss of the minstrel show as a lovely form of family entertainment, or demanding that black folks use separate water fountains. Which side of the fight do you really want to be on?

You might think “PC lefties” (actual term in the comments) expend too much energy fighting mascots when they “don’t matter”–but, in all honesty, I can’t believe how quickly and ferociously you jump in to decry the “oversensitivity” of Native folks. You’re sure acting pretty “sensitive” at the thought of losing your mascot for someone who thinks mascots don’t matter. I’m just saying. Did someone touch a nerve?

So really, Really think about what you’re defending. You’re defending your “right” to don a stereotypical and offensive caricature of a Native person. A caricature that I know you look at and feel in your gut is wrong. You’re attacking a reporter who dared call the look “disappointing.” You’re showing your insecurities and your roots, and they’re really not pretty.

I want you to take a deep breath, cause there’s some major smoke coming out of your keyboard right now. Take a deep breath and think about it. Call me overly sensitive, tell me I don’t represent “real Indians,” tell me that I’m being “PC” or “a left wing nut,” but I know, and I’m pretty sure deep down in that sports-loving-heart even you know, that maybe I’m right.

-Adrienne K.

PS-I know not all of you are like this. I know that a lot of you do take the time to think, and a lot of you will and have realized that it’s time to abolish Indian mascots once and for all. I know that you love your teams, and that the Indian images have been a part of your families and lives for generations.  I know that you don’t mean any harm. But I’m confident that when you open up your minds to hear the other side, you’ll realize that it’s time. Native people deserve better than to be memorialized or “honored” by stereotypes on a MLB cap.
(So much for not being kind-hearted and understanding. Damn. Blame my new friend who’s a lifelong fan of that-team-in-Washington, though I’m pretty sure I’ve changed his mind at this point…)

The article that started it all:

ESPN: First Look: New MLB Batting Practice Caps

Earlier:
A reminder of why this blog exists, one reader’s experience(Stanford alum who changed his mind about the mascot)
The Fighting Sioux are back, my passionate plea against Indian Mascots
The Fighting Sioux Part 2, the science (citing a study done by Stanford alumna Stephanie Fryberg)
Thanks for the severed head, you’ve proved my point

I wanted to try something different to share my experience at the Idle No More solidarity rally in LA on Friday, so I made a podcast-of-sorts. I give some thoughts on the Idle No More movement, a little background, and set the scene. But then, the exciting part, I was able to interview some awesome folks at the rally: Andrea Landry, Crystle Lightning, Adam Beach (yes, ADAM BEACH), and Kevin Gonzaga. The podcast is about 20 minutes long, and the interviews give background on the movement and legislation in Canada, Chief Theresa Spence’s hunger strike, what this means for Native people in the US, how these rallies and collective action are changing perceptions of Indigenous Peoples, and what the role of settler allies (non-Native allies) can be in the movement. Some really good stuff in their own words. Soundcloud link below, and more pictures after the jump:

Our small but mighty crowd at the Canadian consulate in downtown LA

“IDLE NO MORE!”

Music group Lightning Cloud and Adam Beach

Awesome protest signs, and that’s Kevin (@speakfaithfully) in the corner

That’s me and Adam Beach, nbd.

After our interview

On the way home there was the most spectacular sunset I’ve seen in a long time. I pulled off the freeway so I could snap this picture over the ocean.

I wish you all a happy, safe, and healthy holiday season, and I hope you’ll send prayers and good thoughts to all the Native brothers and sisters who are fighting this fight, especially to Chief Spence who is on her 14th day hunger striking for her people.

If you attended any rallies over the last few weeks, please share articles, video clips, and photos in the comments, and I’ll try and pull together an Idle No More resource list in the coming week. I do encourage you to go out and educate yourselves further–simply following the hashtag #idleNoMore on twitter is a good place to start.

Huge thanks to Andrea, Crystle, Adam, and Kevin for letting me interview them!

I sat in my apartment in a daze today, thinking about the poor babies in Connecticut, and how many families’ lives were irreversibly changed. I kept thinking about my mom, a second grade teacher in California, and how her only responsibility as a teacher for 23 beautiful 7 year olds should be to help her students create, learn, and grow, not to protect them from an armed shooter, or even have to think about such a thing. When you look at the statistics, and see that eleven of the 20 worst mass shootings in the last 50 years took place in the United States–it points to a deeper problem. We live in a culture of violence, and it needs to stop.

Watching the incredible collective action occurring in Canada through the Idle No More movement over the last few days, I’ve become increasingly angry. I’m angry that Indigenous peoples in the US and Canada are in a position that we’ve been forced to march en mass, go on hunger strikes, and blockade roads just to get our voices heard–and that the national and international media is all but ignoring it. Our Native brothers and sisters to the north are fighting against a history of maltreatment and ongoing attacks against Native rights and sovereignty through acts of congress, and have turned to collective action as a means to give voice to the movement.

And I’m angry that here in the US, the Violence Against Women Act is about to expire any minute now, and GOP hold outs like John Boehner and Eric Cantor are keeping the bill from moving forward solely due to the tribal provisions that would protect Native women on reservations.

These are forms of violence. Systemic, real, deep and hateful violence. Violence against our land, our people, and our cultures. The United States and Canada were both founded on violence against and genocide of Native peoples. These nations would not exist were it not for the systematic and government sanctioned attempts of eradication of the Indigenous peoples of these lands. Though we espouse founding values of freedom and liberty, that freedom and liberty came at the cost of millions of Indigenous lives. Is it any wonder that even now, hundreds of years later, we still live in a culture of violence?

The Violence Against Women Act provisions that are holding up the bill are provisions that allow for the prosecution of Non-Indian perpetrators on Indian land within tribal court systems. The current laws state that crimes involving non-Indians are treated as federal cases. But in 2011, the federal government declined to pursue charges in 65% of domestic violence cases on reservations. Clearly this. is. unacceptable. 1 in 3 Native women have been raped or sexually assaulted, a rate 2.5 times higher than the national average, and of those crimes, 80% of them involve a non-Native assailant. This excellent Salon article discusses how these loopholes protect rapists on reservations, because they “know they can get away with it.”

What are Boehner and Cantor saying by not passing VAWA because of tribal provisions? That Native women don’t matter. That they are second-class citizens, who deserve less protection and less justice than their non-Native counterparts. 

I fight against negative representations of Native people everyday on this blog, and these issues are tied up in this fight. Victoria Secret sending a headdressed bikini clad model down the runway, pocahotties on halloween, Blair Waldorf on gossip girl dressing up like an Indian stripper–these images paint Native women as sex objects, as sexual fantasies, as something to be conquered and owned. Yes, other women are highly sexualized by the media, but the problem is that there are no other representations of Native women to counteract these. The overwhelming majority of images of Native women we see are the sexualized “Indian Princess.” 

So I’m tired, I’m upset, and I’m angry. I’m tired of being invisible, of Native rights being ignored, of ongoing and systemic violence going unchecked. I know my thoughts aren’t well formed, and my arguments might not be completely airtight, but we need to stand up. The connections are clear to me, though I know I haven’t found the exact and proper words to lay it out–yet. 

27 people lost their lives today in a needless and horrible act, and for me it became the catalyst for me to start forming thoughts about something bigger. Violence isn’t just individual violent acts, it is much more. Violence is defined by the world health organization as the: 

“Intentional use of physical force or power, threatened or actual, against a person, or against a group or community, that either results in or has a high likelihood of resulting in injury, death, psychological harm, maldevelopment or deprivation.” 

That, by definition, is how the US and Canada have acted towards Indigenous Peoples. We live in an ongoing colonial state that has been defined by violence against Native peoples. And it needs to stop. 

You can start by calling Boehner and Cantor and urging them to pass VAWA:

• Speaker Boehner’s 202-225-0600 or 202-225-6205 and
• House Majority Leader Cantor’s office 202-225-2815 or 202-225-4000

One of the realities of having a blog is getting hate mail. No matter what you put on the internet, chances are, someone is going to disagree with it, and chances are, they’ll want to tell you about it. Now, I get a lot of love-mail, which always makes my day–stories of how you’ve used the blog to educate classmates, family members, and friends, how you’ve engaged with these issues in deep and meaningful ways, your stories of connecting with the struggle and my experiences–I love them. But I also get a lot of hate mail. A lot. So I thought it was high time I shared some with you all. Even though they’re mean and hurtful, a lot of them are just utterly ridiculous as well, and worthy of a laugh. But I also want to share to show you how deeply folks hold on to their right-to-be-racist, and how not at all shy they are about expressing those ideas directly to me.

First up, the tweet above. Apparently “The Juicer” thinks not only am I ignorant, I am, in fact, cancerous. Yikes. I should get that checked out.

Most of the recent gold has come from the Victoria’s Secret controversy, because if you mess with anything, don’t you dare mess with America’s right to watch scantily-clad ladies gallivant across the stage on television. How. Dare. I. First, some selected comments from the VS thread (this post was linked on Yahoo, MSN, and the Today Show blog, so a lot of these were first-time Native Approps readers, if that wasn’t obvious. You can also click to make them bigger):

Oh my. MackA uses both Caps-lock and over 20 exclamation marks. They mean business.

Have you lost your crazy ass mind? Why is the hell do you find that Victoria Secret model offensive? Apparently you don’t look at it as a beautiful art, or appreciate that people still think about Native Americans. I can’t tell you how wrong you are to consider yourself a Native American, if you are even one, or just putting on a show to draw attention to yourself. Where you here when the white man took the land from the Native Americans? No didn’t think so? Where you here to hear the stories of what the Native Americans went through during that time, nope didn’t think so on that either. You have no right nor busy making anyone hate anything people are doing. So it is ok your majesty to have Native Americans taught in public schools or does all the school in this country (which by the way FYI, you don’t own) need your periods permission. I would hate for my daughter to go to school and not learn about the Native Americans cause they are very interesting to learn about and how they live off the land and not technology like today. Let me know so I can let her school know that someone like you finds it offensive. That model had a beautiful outfit on and Im sorry LOL but since when did Native Americans have Leopard print??? Just curious…. since just the hair dress offended you. I don’t see you wearing one in your picture. Do you go around telling people not to dress or talk about the Native Americans?? I know when I was a kid we did a play and a bunch of white and black kids were running around and dancing like them, would that have offended you?? There is a high school not far from where I live that mascot is a Native American is that wrong too??? You can’t change history, no one can, but your a sick minded person to think it is wrong for a company to come up with something that is Native American, and you have no right blasting anything on the internet that proves to the other races that it is wrong too. I have a feeling if you were old enough you would of been burning crosses in black families yards back in the old days, wouldn’t you?? You need to find another hobby and lay off the fact that people are making things that has something to do with Native Americans. I don’t think not one Native American man would have any objections to that model wearing that. This is the land of the free or at least people want to think so but apparently people like you want to stop that from happening. Your not God and you can’t change the world so stop wasting your time and others with that fucken garbage, no one cares what you think or what you want done to make it go perfect. Let people enjoy the colors and the style that the Native Americans created for you and the rest of the world to see and appreciate, let the children of the next generation and many more to follow enjoy it or no one will even know who the Native Americans even were. I was able to understand it in history class but if stupid bitches like you continue to bitch and moan about it then they will terminated forever.  

The irony is not lost on me that they think I should stop wasting my time on these issues, when they clearly have plenty of time to waste making these cartoons and scouring the internet for my personal information. Good times. Am I giving them more fodder to use against me by publishing these? Maybe. But come on, these are awesome. Though I only wish I had a cute little anime outfit like the “Cherokee” above. A girl can dream.

But the bottom line with all of this? Let’s think about what I’m doing with the blog. I’m asking, admittedly sometimes demanding, that Native peoples be allowed to be represented in real and respectful ways. That we be afforded the same basic human right that other groups enjoy, so that we can be proud of our living, contemporary cultures and nations. I honestly have a hard time seeing why you would react so vehemently against that. I get that I’m disrupting privilege, and when folks aren’t prepared for that, they react negatively. But for my Native brothers and sisters who don’t agree with me, I’m sorry. I’m not doing this to mask the “real issues”–I’m doing this so that the facade of Indians-as-fantasy-characters, Indians-as-situated-in-the-historic-past, Indians-as-savages, can be torn away and the real images of who we are as contemporary people, struggles and all, can replace them. Do I argue that this is the only thing we should focus on? Absolutely not, and I never have. This is just one sliver of a multi-pronged fight.

So yay, hate mail. Superhappyfuntimes, right?

Since I kinda brought it down at the end, enjoy one more, just for fun. This one from a Cherokee sister:

With “infinate love and understanding in the universe”,

Adrienne K.