NEGOTIATING AMERICAN INDIAN IDENTITY IN THE LAND OF WAHOO
A dissertation submitted to the Kent State University College of Arts and Sciences in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy
by
Michelle R. Jacobs
August 2012
Dissertation written by Michelle R. Jacobs B.A., University of Akron, 2002 M.A., Kent State University, 2007 Ph.D., Kent State University, 2012
Approved by
______, Co-Chair, Doctoral Dissertation Committee (Clare L. Stacey)
______, Co-Chair, Doctoral Dissertation Committee (Kathryn M. Feltey)
______, Members, Doctoral Dissertation Committee (James V. Fenelon)
______, (David H. Kaplan)
______, (Tiffany Taylor)
Accepted by
______, Chair, Department of Sociology (Richard T. Serpe)
______, Dean, College of Arts and Sciences (John R. D. Stalvey)
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ...... ix
INTRODUCTION ...... 1
LITERATURE REVIEW ...... 8
Racial Formations ...... 8
Race as an Accomplishment ...... 10
Identity, Power, and Agency ...... 11
Macro-Historical Processes and the Construction of American Indian "Race" ...... 13
American Indians in the City ...... 21
American Indian Pan-Ethnicity...... 23
American Indian Ethnic Resurgence ...... 24
Ethnic Options ...... 26
Collective Identities, or "Groupness" ...... 27
Controlling Images of Indianness ...... 29
Invalidated Urban Indian Identities ...... 33
(Non-Native) NE Ohioans' "Indian" Identity ...... 35
III. RESEARCH METHODS ...... 36
Critical Ethnography ...... 36
My Social Location ...... 38
Could I Be Trusted? ...... 40
iii
Methods...... 43
Data Collection ...... 43
Data Analysis ...... 46
Two Pathways to Urban American Indian Identity ...... 47
One Pathway: Native People Reclaiming Indian Identities (NatPride) ...... 48
A Second Pathway: Relocated Indians of Ohio (RelOH) ...... 49
A Final Reflection ...... 50
IV. BECOMING INDIAN ...... 53
Indianness, "In a Nutshell" ...... 53
Group Emphasis vs. Individual Emphasis ...... 54
Age vs. Youth ...... 57
Spirituality as Way of Life vs. Religion as Segment of Life ...... 58
Becoming American Indian in NE Ohio ...... 60
Reclaimers: Becoming Indian Is a Struggle...... 60
Reclaimers' Complex Choices ...... 64
Reclaimers' Experiences of Homecoming ...... 68
Relocators: Indian Is Simply What We Are ...... 72
Relocators' Childhood Confusion ...... 75
Increasing Salience of Relocators' Indian Identities ...... 77
Summary ...... 81
V. ACCOMPLISHING INDIANNESS ...... 83
What Does It Take To Be Indian in NE Ohio? ...... 84
Reclaimers and the Importance of Practice ...... 84
iv
Learning to "Do" Indianness from Indian Mentors ...... 86
Indianness as a "Balancing Act" ...... 88
Relocators and "Embedded" Indianness ...... 89
Appreciating the Opportunity to Simply Be ...... 90
Young Relocators' Desires to Learn Tribal Traditions ...... 91
Reflections of Reservation Life ...... 92
Reclaimers Imagine that Accomplishing Indianness Is Easier on the Rez .... 92
… But They Recognize that Rez Life Isn't Perfect ...... 94
What Is Traditional? ...... 95
Relocators Do Not Think that Anything Is Easier on the Rez...... 98
Relocators and Experiences of Discrimination in Reservation
Environments ...... 100
Northeast Ohio Is Not Perfect, but It Certainly Has Its Perks ...... 102
Relocators and Experiences of Discrimination in the Urban
Environment ...... 104
The Troubles with Accomplishing Indianness in NE Ohio ...... 106
Stereotypic Images Make It Difficult to Accomplish Indianness in NE
Ohio...... 106
Interactional Invalidation of Reclaimers' Indian Identities ...... 109
Reclaimers' Vulnerability when Indianness Is Denied ...... 113
Relocators' Experiences of Racial Misclassification ...... 118
"Wannabes" Are the Real Problem with Accomplishing Indianness in NE
Ohio...... 122
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Will the Real "Wannabes" Please Stand Up? ...... 125
Summary ...... 128
VI. INDIAN COMMUNITIES ...... 130
Two Pathways / Two Communities ...... 131
A History of Repression: NatPride Origins ...... 131
NatPride Today ...... 133
NatPride and the Problem with Affirmative Action ...... 134
Reclaimers' Organizational Priorities ...... 139
A History of Community: RelOH and Its Predecessor ...... 144
Early RelOH Goals: Increasing Cultural Awareness ...... 147
Relocators' Organizational Priorities ...... 149
"Being," "Feeling," and "Doing" Indianness in NE Ohio ...... 155
Indian Politics and Inevitable Boundaries ...... 158
All Are Welcome at NatPride ...... 158
NatPride Defined in Contrast to RelOH: We're Not Political! ...... 160
NatPride and the Perils of Expanding the Boundaries of Indianness ...... 163
RelOH and the Perils of Contracting the Boundaries of Indianness ...... 166
Tensions between RelOH and "Another Indian Center" (AIC) ...... 167
Concerns about the Future of RelOH...... 170
An Exciting and Momentous Time for NatPride ...... 174
Summary ...... 175
VII. INDIAN MASCOTS ...... 177
Resistance to NE Ohio's (In)Famous Indian Mascot ...... 178
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Native Protestors on Why They Protest Indian Mascots ...... 180
Indian Mascots Provoke Hostility toward Native People ...... 180
Inevitable Encounters with a Demeaning Mascot ...... 184
False Indianness = Invisible Indians ...... 185
Chief Wahoo and the Self-Esteem of Native Children ...... 187
Native Non-Protestors: Why Chief Wahoo Is Not a Priority Issue ...... 192
Ambivalent Attitudes toward Indian Mascots ...... 194
Native Support for Chief Wahoo ...... 196
Controlling Images: the "Good," the "Bad," & the Ugly ...... 198
A Common Biography and a Shared Perspective: Native Protestors on Why
Context Matters ...... 201
An Anomaly: Gertrude's Perspective on Chief Wahoo ...... 204
Additional Support for the Biography Hypothesis ...... 205
Some Final Thoughts: Indian Mascots and "Authentic" Indianness ...... 206
Summary ...... 211
VIII. DISCUSSION AND CONCLUSION ...... 213
Two Pathways to Urban Indianness ...... 213
The Reclamation Pathway ...... 213
The Relocation Pathway ...... 214
Pathway and the (Racial) Formation of American Indian Identity ...... 216
Becoming Indian ...... 218
Accomplishing Indianness Intrapersonally ...... 221
Accomplishing Indianness in Interactions with Others ...... 224
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Do Ethnic Options Result in Symbolic Ethnicities? ...... 226
Indian Communities and Boundary Work ...... 228
"Strategic Essentialism" ...... 232
Indian Mascots: It's All Related ...... 235
Final Thoughts on the Communication Gap between Reclaimers and
Relocators ...... 239
Limitations ...... 242
Project Summary and Future Research ...... 244
REFERENCES ...... 247
APPENDICES ...... 270
viii
ACK OWLEDGEME TS
I offer heartfelt gratitude to the Native participants in this research project. Their warmth and wisdom have been an amazing inspiration to me, and the lessons they have imparted will be with me always. I also wish to express thanks to Joanna Dreby, whose enthusiasm, encouragement, and sociological prowess provided me with the energy and insight necessary to complete this project. Clare Stacey and Kathryn Feltey also were incredible mentors, and I am deeply appreciative of their contributions. I also thank
James Fenelon, David Kaplan, Tiffany Taylor, and Thomas Norton-Smith for their assistance and feedback. I simply cannot thank David Merolla enough for his willingness to discuss this project with me over the course of many, many months. And finally, I am utterly grateful to Mom, Dad, Roy, and Dave for their eternal support.
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CHAPTER I
I TRODUCTIO
One of the most troubling aspects of “being Indian” in the contemporary era is
“reminding other people that you are still here” (Fixico 2006: 227). Although U.S. society is inundated with stereotypical images of Indianness, American Indians remain an
"invisible" racial/ethnic group (Fryberg and Stephens 2010; Gonzales 1998). Many non-
Native residents of the United States are unaware of the continuing presence of American
Indians, and people who acknowledge their existence often associate Indians with reservation lands far removed from the hustle and bustle of contemporary North
American life. American Indians also tend to be viewed through the lens of antiquity; they are seen as a (singular) people who retain “primitive” rituals and worldviews and who, consequently, are unable to make important contributions to U.S. society (Norton-
Smith 2010).
Despite the marginalization of American Indians in the contemporary United
States, Nagel (1997) documents the resurgence of American Indian identity and culture in the late twentieth century. In only one decade (1970 – 1980), the number of people identifying as American Indian and/or Alaskan Native on the U.S. Census nearly doubled. The most substantial population increases occurred in non-reservation environments. Contemporary estimates suggest that more than 60 percent of American
Indians live in urban locales (Ledesma 2007; House et. al. 2006; Lobo and Peters 2001;
1 2
Snipp 1992). Although social scientists have conducted demographic studies to determine how and why the American Indian population has grown at unprecedented
rates (Leibler 1996; Eschbach 1995, 1993; Harris 1994; Thornton et. al. 1991; Snipp
1989; Passel 1976), sociologists have rarely explored the specific racial/ethnic
experiences of U.S. urban indigenous populations (Ledesma 2007; Krouse and Howard-
Bobiwash 2003; Castle 2003). Lobo and Peters (2001: xiii) attribute the seeming lack of
academic interest in experiences of urban American Indian race/ethnicity to two different divides – one being a "rigid rural/urban dichotomy" that pervades North Americans' consciousness about U.S. indigenous people, and one resulting from another dichotomy that exists within the social sciences. Because sociologists claim the urban setting as their "turf" and anthropologists claim Indians as theirs, the experiences of urban Indians are overlooked. My research resists these trends by elucidating the racial/ethnic experiences of self-identified American Indians in the urban environment of Northeast
Ohio.
Northeast Ohio provides a unique context to explore American Indian identity because it is not home to any federally recognized tribes, nor do its borders contain any
Indian reservations or federal trust lands. American Indians comprise only .2% of the NE
Ohio population (United States Census Bureau 2010), yet American Indian identity persists in this region. Accomplishing Indian identities in NE Ohio, however, is
complicated. Long histories of colonization and ahistorical representation have produced
false notions of Indianness within U.S. social, cultural, and political spheres. Embedded
in these ways of thinking (or not) about American Indians is the idea that Indians who
3
thrive in modern metropolises of the United States are no longer "real" or "authentic."
These “sidewalk Indians” are frequently snubbed by “traditional” Natives and non-
Natives alike (Lang 2002). Often, they are regarded as the disingenuous and
discreditable by-products of the federal government’s assimilationist policies.
Urban Indian lifestyles, however, do not correlate with inauthentic Indianness. If this absurd notion was true, in fact, "real" Indians would be disappearing from the U.S. sociocultural sphere at alarming rates. Nevertheless, this “biased view” certainly affects the racial/ethnic experiences of American Indians living in “the Cid” (Lang 2002: 110).
Within the urban environment, U.S. indigenous peoples must negotiate the often
discordant terms of their racialized ethnic status. They may self identify as American
Indian, but the salience of this particular identity does not necessarily affect the way they
are perceived by others. If Native people in the city do not have brown skin and long,
dark hair, or if they do not wear "Indian" accoutrements, such as beaded jewelry and feathers, they tend to be overlooked and/or racially misclassified (Campbell and Troyer
2007). On the other hand, if they do in some way personify images of Indianness that pervade U.S. culture, they are likely to be placed into an overly simplistic and stigmatized category of Other. Consequently, urban Indians are forced to navigate the tenuous disjuncture between how they identify racially and/or ethnically and how others locate them within U.S. racial/ethnic schemas.
This dissertation explores the various meanings urban American Indians attribute to their racialized ethnic identities and the strategies they utilize to negotiate their identities in the Northeast Ohio region. Using ethnographic methods, I document
4
experiences of American Indian identity in two NE Ohio Native communities. I find that
members of both communities define Indianness similarly, but that experiences of Indian
identity differ across community groups. These differences illuminate two pathways to
urban Indian identity, which I refer to as reclamation and relocation. NE Ohio Natives'
strategies for negotiating Indianness in the urban sphere are affected by whether they are
reclaiming previously hidden or lost Indian identities or whether their Indian identities
were relocated from reservation to urban environments.
In Chapter Two, I discuss the academic literatures that serve as the foundation of
this research. My work is grounded in the racial formation perspective of Omi & Winant
(1986), which accentuates the social construction of racial and ethnic categories. These
categories are imbued with meanings that shift as they engage with social, economic, and political forces in society. Because American Indian identities are rooted in these macro-
historical processes, I necessarily explore the histories of people who identify as
American Indian in NE Ohio today. Knowledge of the innumerable racial projects that
have shaped and legitimated Indian identities is essential to understanding how reclaimed
and relocated identities are experienced in the urban sphere. In this chapter, I also
explore the impacts of micro and meso level actors/actions on the construction of
contemporary American Indian identities.
Chapter Three explicates the methods I utilized to explore American Indian
identity in NE Ohio. My ethnographic approach was necessary to understand how NE
Ohio Natives experience and negotiate their "invisible" racial/ethnic identities. I participated in and observed two NE Ohio Native communities, referred to as ative
5
People Reclaiming Indian Identities (NatPride) and the Relocated Indians of Ohio
(RelOH)1. These community groups represent the reclamation and relocation pathways,
respectively. I also conducted formal interviews with 39 self-identified Native residents
of NE Ohio. Eighteen interview respondents participated in NatPride and thirteen
respondents participated in RelOH.
Chapters Four and Five introduce critical themes that elucidate individual (micro)
level experiences of American Indian racial/ethnic identity in the NE Ohio context:
becoming Indian and accomplishing Indianness. Chapter Four begins with respondents' perspectives on what it means to be Indian. Interestingly, both "Reclaimers" and
"Relocators" defined Indianness according to three values: prioritizing community,
respecting elders, and living spiritually. Despite their shared definitions of Indianness,
Reclaimers' and Relocators' divergent pathways led them to experience becoming Indian
in unique ways. Early racial socialization experiences contributed to these differences.
Whereas Reclaimers struggled as adults to adopt Indian identities that made them feel proud, Relocators felt pride in their taken-for-granted Indian identities from an early age.
Pathway not only shaped experiences of becoming Indian, but it also resulted in distinct strategies for accomplishing Indianness in the NE Ohio sociocultural sphere.
Chapter Five focuses on Reclaimers' and Relocators' different strategies for accomplishing Indianness intrapersonally and in interaction with others. Reclaimers emphasized their commitment to Native practices that affirmed their intrapersonal experiences of Indian identity. Despite their devotion to "doing" Indianness, they found
1 To protect the confidentiality of project participants, I replaced the names of these community organizations and the names of Native respondents with pseudonyms.
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it extremely difficult to achieve Indianness in interactions with NE Ohio residents.
Relocators, on the other hand, did not believe that they had to "do" Indianness to "be"
Indian; rather, Indianness was experienced as an essential identity. Relocators
experienced less resistance than Reclaimers to their Indian identities, but they still had to
engage in "identity work" in interactions with NE Ohioans, whose "common sense" notions of race and place contributed to their inability to recognize Relocators as Indians.
Chapter Six explores NE Ohio Natives' experiences of Indianness at the meso level. Reclaimers' and Relocators' divergent histories and contemporary realities led them to participate in distinct community groups – NatPride and RelOH, respectively – with different priorities. Reclaimers desired a community that affirmed their Indian identities and provided socialization into Indian ways. In contrast, Relocators yearned for a place to be Indian without having to "do" Indianness in any particular ways, as well as a community that provided the same emotional and material supports as the kinship networks they left back "home" on Indian reservations. These differing priorities led to organizational strategies that either expanded (NatPride) or contracted (RelOH) the boundaries of Indianness. These strategies, in turn, accentuated the differences between
NatPride and RelOH members and strengthened the boundaries that separated NE Ohio
Indians who followed different pathways to urban Indianness.
In Chapter Seven, I examine Natives' perspectives on a particular image of
Indianness that inundates the NE Ohio region. Chief Wahoo, the red-faced "Indian"
mascot of Cleveland's Major League Baseball (MLB) franchise, evoked a variety of
responses from participants in the NatPride and RelOH communities. Although the
7
majority of interview respondents agreed that Indian mascots such as Chief Wahoo were
harmful to American Indians, they disagreed on whether the elimination of Indian mascots should be prioritized over other issues that U.S. indigenous people face.
Different perspectives on Indian mascots cut across community lines, but NE Ohio
Natives who most vehemently resisted their use shared a critical facet of their biographies: They had experienced life in both reservation and urban settings.
Finally, Chapter Eight summarizes and elaborates upon the themes presented in
the previous chapters. In this final discussion, I further elucidate the cumulative effects
of innumerable racial formations on the day-to-day lives of NE Ohio Natives. Despite
the constraints imposed by macro level definitions and controlling images of Indianness
in the lives of Reclaimers and Relocators, NE Ohio Natives use a number of strategies to
accomplish urban Indian identities at the micro (individual) and meso (community)
levels. At the conclusion of Chapter Eight, I discuss project limitations and provide
suggestions for future research.
CHAPTER TWO
LITERATURE REVIEW
Race is omnirelevant in the United States. How people are racially defined affects every aspect of their lives, ranging from how they are treated within (racialized)
U.S. institutions to how they are treated by other (racially defined) individuals and groups. Even conceptions of self and interactions with others are influenced by the meanings inscribed on racial categories. Race is such a powerful conceptual schema for organizing reality, in fact, that its "natural" existence is viewed as "common sense" by the majority of U.S. residents (Omi and Winant 1986). Contemporary sociological theories of race, therefore, necessarily investigate race and race relations at the macro, meso, and micro levels. A number of scholars have indicated, however, that additional work is needed to articulate a coherent theory of race that incorporates all three levels simultaneously (Winant 2000; West and Fenstermaker 1995; Bonilla-Silva 1996; Essed
1991; Omi and Winant 1986).
RACIAL FORMATIONS
My dissertation responds to this theoretical impetus to investigate race as a macro,
meso, and micro level phenomenon. I do not attempt to formulate a new theoretical
framework for investigating race relations, but rather, focus on the experiences of one
8 9
racially defined group, American Indians, to highlight the ways in which race is
established by ideologies, built into social structures, and reified and/or resisted in group and individual level interactions (Essed 1991). My work is grounded in the racial formation perspective of Omi and Winant (1986), which asserts that race is a socially constructed, macro level phenomenon. Although it is built into the social structure, it is not static. Omi and Winant (1986) recognize the processual quality of racial meanings, which shift and change over time and across space as they engage with social, economic, and political forces. As such, racial formation theory acknowledges that racial meanings are rooted in history, but are also continuously creating (new) contemporary realities for racially defined members of society.
In addition, racial formation theory recognizes the role of historically rooted macro level notions of race in contemporary micro level manifestations of race-making and race relations. It does not "place the individual outside the institutional" (Essed
1991: 36), but rather, illustrates how these spheres influence one another. Too often, scientists segregate these spheres for analytic purposes, and then fail to reintegrate them when discussing their findings. This critical oversight denies the "continuous and reciprocal" effects of macro and micro level forces on "lived experience" (Omi and
Winant 1986: 67). Yet, macro level ideologies and structures cannot be maintained without the "everyday practices" of individuals, and individuals cannot develop and/or sustain micro level identities without the macro level structures and ideologies that create and confirm them (West and Fenstermaker 1995; Essed 1991; Omi and Winant 1986).
10
Race as an Accomplishment
West and Fenstermaker (1995) further elucidate the affects of macro level racial forces on micro level interactions. Individuals participate in race-making by sorting themselves and others into otherwise "arbitrary" racial categories. Despite the fact that race is not real in the biological sense, certain phenotypic traits are associated with particular racial groups due to historical processes of racial formation. Appearance, therefore, has become central to racial categorization. People who "look" a certain race are also expected to "act" in certain ways. They are expected to "do race" appropriately.
As West and Fenstermaker (1995: 23) state, "virtually any action can be assessed in relation to its race categorical nature." When people fail to meet the race based expectations of others, they risk "race assessment" (24). Because "common sense" notions of race deem whites to be inherently/"naturally" superior to people of color (Omi and Winant 1986), people of color are expected to act in ways that contribute to their subordinate status in U.S. racial hierarchies. For instance, students of color may be accused of "acting white" when they succeed in school (Fordham and Ogbu 1986).
Likewise, middle class white girls who are "too loud, too tough, and 'too proud of their sexuality,'" such as the "Puerto Rican wannabes" in Wilkins' (2004: 108) study, are scrutinized for acting in ways that do not accord with whiteness. Holding people accountable to constructed racial norms (or rules of "racial etiquette") reifies racial hierarchies by reinforcing the boundaries between whites and racialized Others (Omi and
Winant 1986). To West and Fenstermaker (1995: 24), this interactional process is "key to understanding the maintenance of the existing racial order."
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Identity, Power, and Agency
Recent theories of identity and identification processes accentuate the conditional and multiplicative nature of identities that are constructed and reconstructed “across different, often intersecting and antagonistic, discourses, practices, and positions” (Hall
1996: 4). Identity construction, or the capacity to create and maintain boundaries through processes of differentiation and exclusion, is an act embedded within structures of power. Although powerful groups in society are able to construct identities that relegate less powerful groups to the category of Other (Hill Collins 2000; Said 1979), less powerful groups also are able to claim identities that assert their own definitions of self and/or collective selves (Khanna and Johnson 2010; Hall 1996). As the powerful group in U.S. society, whites/European Americans have been able to construct essentialist notions of American Indian race that contribute to the subordination of the members of this racialized group. American Indian racial identity, however, is not simply imposed by those in power. As creative agents, American Indian people also participate in the construction of American Indian identity. They are not passively "shaped by society"
(Khanna and Johnson 2010), but rather, can manipulate and transform the meanings assigned to Indianness. It is this active process, referred to as "identity work" (Schwalbe and Mason-Schrock 1996; Snow and Anderson 1987), which creates the sociopolitical space for new definitions of Indianness to emerge.
Whether racial identities are constructed at the macro or micro levels, they are both supported and constrained by racial formations. Processes of racial formation create the ideologies and structures within which individual thoughts, identities, and actions
12
occur. In addition, race is configured in localized contexts, such that specific, local formations result in constantly shifting racial meanings and identities (Lewis 2003).
Racial meanings applied in one social sphere may differ from racial meanings applied in other spheres of life. For instance, race may be perceived differently in different group settings or in different regions of the United States. American Indian identity, therefore, must be considered in both historical and localized contexts, because the meanings applied to American Indian race are both historically and locally constructed (Lewis
2003; Omi and Winant 1986).
In the following pages, I first explicate the role of colonial policies and other racial projects in the construction of American Indian "race." This history elucidates the ideological and structural processes by which some but not all U.S. indigenous people acquired an "American Indian" racial identity that is (generally) recognized in social, political, and economic spheres (Garroutte 2003, 2001). These processes constructed
legal definitions of Indianness that constrain individual agency in adopting and asserting
Indianness in contemporary contexts. Next, I look at how the urban migration of U.S.
indigenous peoples enabled them to engage in "identity work" that opened the symbolic
(but not legal) boundaries of Indianness (Nagel 1997). Indian pan-ethnic formations
inspired pride in subjugated Indian identities and spurred collective actions that defied
false representations of Indianness. Subsequently, I discuss the ways in which these false
representations, or historically based cultural constructions, of Indianness continue to
affect perceptions of American Indian race. Although these fictions do not affect the
legal status of U.S. indigenous peoples, they constrain the agency of American Indians to
13
accomplish (urban) Indianness in interactions with others. Finally, I conclude with a
brief introduction to Chief Wahoo – a localized cultural phenomenon that redefines
Indianness in the NE Ohio environment.
Macro Historical Processes and the Construction of American Indian "Race"
Racial ideologies and racist structures have profoundly affected the indigenous peoples2 of the American continents since European explorers first landed in the “New
World.” The persistence of this misnomer for a land purported to be “discovered” when
it already was inhabited by millions of indigenous peoples provides us with some idea of
the enduring Euro-centrism that has framed and continues to frame the colonial and racial
ideologies of U.S. residents of European descent. Until recently, the precontact North
American Indian population was purported to be between 1 and 2 million people.
Stiffarm (1992), however, suggests that approximately 15 million people lived on the
North American continent (with approximately 12 million residing in what is now the
United States) prior to the arrival of Europeans. By 1900, the U.S. Census revealed that
only 237,196 indigenous peoples lived within the borders of the United States (Stiffarm
1992). The earlier “estimates” – taught to generations of U.S. students – covered up or
minimized the genocide of North America’s first peoples by European colonizers and
United States policy makers who used a number of tactics, including the introduction of
disease, forced migration, warfare, and state-sanctioned slaughter, to annihilate them.
2 Throughout the proposal, I utilize the terms “indigenous peoples,” “American Indians,” “Indians,” and “Natives” interchangeably to refer to the first residents of the American continents. Although lengthy debates concerning the most appropriate racial and ethnic identity labels for these diverse populations have occurred within the social sciences, no consensus has been reached (Yellow Bird 1999). I use these four designations because they are used most frequently by the indigenous peoples with whom I work.
14
Although the concept of “race” as an identifying attribute did not exist prior to
colonization (Hirschman 2004), it began to take shape as a justification for the
unconscionable abuses of power which allowed European-descended peoples in the
United States and elsewhere to decimate indigenous civilizations. The concept of “race” originally was used to distinguish between different religious and/or cultural groups, such as “civilized” Europeans and “primitive” American Indians or Africans, but over time this simplistic dichotomy developed into a more thorough system for classifying human diversity and origins. With the valorization of science, biological understandings of
“race” that distinguished between hierarchically ordered varieties of the human species
(the groups of which had cultural belief systems and life ways believed to naturally align with their placement within this hierarchy) came to dominate other conceptualizations
(Outlaw 1990). This definition of race – which assumed the superiority of the white races and the inferiority of those populations with darker skin tones – provided the desired (pseudo)scientific justification for the spread of European colonial rule across the
Americas and the globe.
Although racial and racist ideologies have been used to oppress all peoples considered to be “of color” throughout the last centuries, colonization and distinct processes of racialization have contributed to the unique political and sociocultural location of indigenous peoples within the contemporary United States. As an internally colonized population, American Indians experienced the purposeful destruction of their value systems, social structures, and ways of life (cf. Blauner 1972). Although
Euroamericans consistently have defined the continent’s indigenous inhabitants “in fact
15
and in fancy as a separate and single other” (emphasis added, Berkhofer 1979: xv), contradictory federal policies enacted in the eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth centuries shifted from assimilation to annihilation and back again. In the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, U.S. policies aimed to “civilize” and assimilate Indian peoples, who were represented in the social sphere as ungodly, primitive peoples who could be molded into the image of their (culturally superior) European brethren. The rapid expansion of the Euroamerican population, however, created a land hungry white citizenry who deftly supplanted images of the simple-minded, unsophisticated Native with depictions of American Indians as ferocious “bloodthirsty savages” who were not only “uncivilized,” but resolutely inassimilable (Trimble 1988; Steinberg 2001). In the following paragraphs, I explore the historical uses to which the U.S. government put these (re)constructions of Indianness. It is essential to note that indigenous peoples resisted U.S. colonial efforts at every step, but I highlight only those resistance strategies that profoundly affect contemporary constructions of American Indian identity in the urban sphere of Northeast Ohio.
Forced migration: The image of Indians as ruthless savages justified their harsh and inhumane treatment, paving the way for Euroamerican westward expansion. In the first half of the nineteenth century, the U.S. government devised a strategy for stealing and "settling" coveted Indian lands in the east. Initiated in 1830, Indian Removal sought to forcibly remove eastern tribes from their traditional homelands and place them on
Indian "reservations" west of the Mississippi River. Despite straightforward accounts depicted in history textbooks, Indian Removal did not succeed in removing all indigenous
16
people from the eastern United States. A number of remnant bands of Indians remained behind (Perdue 2012). For instance, when the U.S. government forcibly relocated the
Five Civilized Tribes3 to Indian Territory in Oklahoma, countless Indians refused to leave
their homelands (Foreman 1932). This aspect of Indian Removal has been neglected in
historical accounts, but research shows that as many as 4000 Choctaw Indians remained
in the southeast after emigration (Akers 1999). In addition, members of the Eastern Band
of Cherokee claim direct descendancy from Cherokee Indians “who were able to hold on
to land they owned, those who hid in the hills, defying removal” (Cherokee-NC 2010).
Also of note are the assimilatory processes that already had taken hold in indigenous
communities prior to 1830 (Paredes 1995; Baird 1990). The Five Civilized Tribes were
referred to as such because they had adopted many "white" practices. Tribal nations on the eastern seaboard also had a history of intermarriage with Europeans (Paredes 1995).
These features of Indian life undoubtedly proved advantageous to Natives hiding "in the hills" by making it easier for them to "pass" as whites. Moreover, a rigid black/white
"color line" existed in the nineteenth century U.S. south. As Perdue (2012) keenly observes, Indians who avoided removal necessarily "whitened" to protect themselves from further racial discrimination. We know very little, however, about the Indians who escaped removal and used their knowledge of white ways to blend into the periphery of white society – in large part because these Indians (and many others) did not participate in the subsequent racial projects used to define Indianness today.
3 Cherokee, Choctaw, Chickasaw, Creek, and Seminole
17
Forced assimilation: Despite the imperfect nature of Indian removal, the federal
government successfully segregated large numbers of indigenous peoples on barren,
isolated reservations by the late 19th century. In the west, U.S. military and paramilitary
forces massacred any indigenous peoples who resisted "being dispossessed of their lands,
subordinated to federal authority, and assimilated into the colonizing culture" (Stiffarm
1992: 34). Even these “solutions” to the “Indian problem” were short-lived, however, because the federal trust relationships established with American Indian tribes proved to be an unwanted expense for government officials. The U.S. government wanted
indigenous peoples off the public dole, and consequently, a number of policies were
designed to (once again) force American Indian peoples to adopt European cultural and
economic forms. In 1871, Christian churches became the proprietors of reservation- based Indian education and in 1882 federally regulated Indian agency courts enforced the prohibition of spiritual ceremonies, feasts, and other practices deemed a “hindrance to the
civilization of the Indians” (Harjo [1985] 1999). The Dawes Act of 1887 (also known as
the Allotment Act), marks the beginning of the federal regulation of Indianness by blood
quantum (Lawrence 2003), and therefore, is of particular import to this discussion of the
racial formation of American Indians currently living in NE Ohio.
The Dawes Act of 1887 aimed not only to assimilate American Indians, but also
to strip them of previously allotted lands. By partitioning reservation lands into
individual agricultural plots, the federal government conducted "an all-out attack on the
collective nature of American Indian life" (Lawrence 2003: 16). Indians who refused to
forsake communal practices for private property ownership were not listed on the Dawes
18
Rolls, which later were used to determine who "counted" as Indian (Garroutte 2003). In
addition to the tribal traditionalists who willfully chose not to be listed on these rolls, vast
numbers of others were turned away by federal agents intent on reserving as many
allotments as possible for whites4. During the allotment period, any means necessary
were used to deny Indians their identities and lands. For instance, at the start of the
allotment process, the federal government provided as many "mixed bloods" as possible
with land; it was believed that these "more acculturated" Indians would positively
influence tribal affairs. Approximately twenty years later, the U.S. government passed a
law forcing the sale of Indian lands handled by the same "mixed bloods" to whom they previously had allotted lands (Lawrence 2003: 17). Ultimately, over 90 million acres of
reservation lands were stolen from approximately 100,000 Indians by the end of the
allotment period (Hirschfelder and Kreipe de Montano 1993). The Dawes Act also
reconfigured Indian families by recognizing Indian men as land owners and cultivators
while simultaneously relegating Indian women to the roles of homemaker and domestic
servant (Janiewski 1998).
Federal policies also aimed to assimilate American Indian children. Indian boarding schools, specifically designed to “kill the Indian, and save the man [sic],” had
monumental impacts on American Indian culture and identity. American Indian children
were forcibly removed from their families and communities and placed in institutions of
education designed to purge them of their “savage” and “immoral” ways (Harjo [1985]
1999: 66). Severe punishments were meted out to Indian children who attempted to
4 Despite these known deficiencies, proving direct descendancy from someone listed on the Dawes Rolls continues to be a requirement for membership in the Oklahoma Cherokee.
19
speak indigenous languages or practice traditional forms of spirituality. American Indian parents and grandparents of the contemporary era are most likely to have experienced
these boarding schools first-hand, but the significant and disastrous consequences of
Indian boarding schools continue to affect Native families and communities due to elder
generations’ inability to transmit once forbidden and ultimately forgotten cultural practices to their children and grandchildren (Jackson 2002).
The Indian Reorganization Act (IRA), passed in 1934, finally stopped the process
of land allotment. It also "proposed self-governing systems among tribes," but these systems were devised by the Bureau of Indian Affairs and unabashedly mimicked
"European political structure models" (Langer 2005: 21). Thus, traditional Indian governments were supplanted by federally recognized tribal governments. Constitutions
drawn up by these new entities often adopted the federal standard of one-quarter blood
quantum to identify tribal constituents (Churchill 1998). As a consequence, the "IRA began to congeal the question of what or who is Indian" (Langer 2005: 22), by advancing
"genetics as the linchpin of [Indian] identity" (Churchill 1998). The United States
government benefited from genetic definitions of Indianness, and more specifically, from
tribes' adoption of blood quantum distinctions, which were intended to "determine the point at which various [federal] responsibilities … to Indian peoples ended" (Garroutte
2001: 225).
Termination: In the early 1950s, the federal government devised a new strategy
for resolving the "Indian problem." Termination policies were developed to divest the
government of its “trust” responsibilities to American Indians once and for all.
20
Proponents of termination suggested that American Indians were capable citizens who no longer needed paternalistic oversight by the U.S. government’s Bureau of Indian Affairs
(BIA). Thus, these policies were legislated under the guise of affirming American Indian
rights to citizenship. As a consequence, beginning in 1953 and continuing into the mid-
1960s, federal recognition, aid, and protection were terminated for more than 100
(previously) sovereign tribes and bands (Fixico 2000).
This brief account of late nineteenth and early twentieth century U.S. colonial policies is critical because it illustrates the processes through which the U.S. government
devised a specific formula for determining American Indian racial identity.
Contemporary legal definitions of Indianness require the fulfillment of at least one of
three criteria: enrollment in a federally recognized tribe, proven descendancy from an
individual who lived on a reservation in 1934, or demonstration of at least one-quarter
(and sometimes one-half) Indian blood quantum (Garroutte 2003). Yet, termination policies retracted federal recognition from numerous Indian tribes, quickly expunging the
(recognized) indigenous identities of thousands of Native people during the termination
era. Natives who escaped federal agents intent on their removal during the period of
forced migration, as well as Natives who resisted the assimilatory allotment of tribal
lands, were not listed on tribal rolls developed in 1934. As a result, their descendents
often are unable to prove Indian ancestry. Finally, blood quanta requirements, which
have taken on "tremendous significance in tribal contexts" (Garroutte 2001: 230), also
extinguish Indianness in myriad ways. First, initial inventories of Indian blood are
commonly provided by "base rolls" (such as those developed as a result of the Dawes Act
21
and/or the Indian Reorganization Act), meaning that, the blood quanta of unknown
numbers of Native people were never recorded. Second, individuals of "tribally mixed
ancestry" are often denied Indian identities simply because their bloodlines do not derive
from a single Indian tribe, and therefore, their quantum of tribal blood is not high enough.
As Garroutte (2001) notes, many individuals with relatively high total Indian blood
quanta are denied tribal membership. For instance, someone with a white father and a
half Navajo, quarter Zuni, and quarter Dakota mother is half Indian, but may be denied
membership in the Dakota tribe because he or she has only one-eighth Dakota blood
quantum.
AMERICAN INDIANS IN THE CITY
It is clear that innumerable Indian people are unable to conform to federal
definitions of Indianness. In effect, their Indianness has been bureaucratically
extinguished as a result of institutionally defined Indian "race." Yet, despite federal
efforts to eradicate or at least diminish Indianness in the United States, indigenous peoples survived to become the targets of a new initiative called Indian Relocation. This
1950s and 1960s era program was designed to move Indians from impoverished
reservations to bustling urban centers where they were promised housing and on-the-job
training (Fixico 2006). Although relocation was promoted as an opportunity for
indigenous people to achieve independence and financial security, it aimed to assimilate
American Indians into the dominant society by removing them from Native kin and
culture. In significant ways, relocation failed to “change the Indian into a white-Indian”
(Old Dog Cross 1982 quoted in Gunn Allen [1986] 2001: 42). However, it encouraged
22
American Indian participation in the urban migration occurring throughout the country.
Due to a booming post-WWII economy, Northeast Ohio became a Bureau of Indian
Affairs (BIA) sponsored relocation destination for American Indians. Employment
opportunities in the rubber and steel industries attracted a number of other migrants to the
region as well, including Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, Cubans, Blacks, and people from
depressed areas of Appalachia (Grabowski 1998). Not coincidentally, Native people who
were not recognized by the federal government, including the descendents of Indians
whose ancestors "hid in the hills" or refused enrollment on federal allotment rolls,
migrated north as well – gradually working their way from the Carolinas to Kentucky or
Virginia, then to West Virginia and Ohio.
The relocation and urban migration of Native people had countless and enduring
effects on American Indian identity. Perhaps most significantly, it hastened the
cultivation of Indian pan-ethnicity (also referred to as pan-tribal, supratribal, and/or
national identities). Historically, American Indian identity was grounded in tribal culture
and community relations (Fenelon 1998). Many "undocumented" Natives already had
forsaken their community ties to better protect themselves from government-sponsored
assimilationist programs. Relocated Natives, on the other hand, were removed from their
tribal groups for the first time, and were placed squarely in utterly foreign and often
intimidating urban metropolises located thousands of miles from "home." Despite the
temporal and spatial distance that separated these (now) urban Indians from their tribal communities, many refused to embrace the dominant U.S. culture and assimilate
23
seamlessly into mainstream society. The presence of other Natives eased their adjustment to urban life, and together they established a space for Indians – one that
eventually reached far beyond the perimeters of relocation cities.
American Indian Pan Ethnicity
Although the development of a unified Indian identity may have begun within the context of Indian boarding schools, where children of different Indian nations shared living quarters, it was the movement of diverse American Indian peoples to urban settings that spurred the establishment of pan-ethnic Indian identities (Hanson 1997; Nagel 1997).
The history presented heretofore outlines the racialization of the United States' indigenous people. American Indian identity, however, is not only a racial construction; it also reflects the evolution of an ethnic formation. Ethnicity theories have developed in ways similar to theories of race. As such, biological notions of ethnicity have been replaced by social constructionist perspectives that recognize the processual nature of ethnic meanings that are revised and re-constructed over time and across space (Winant
2000; Nagel 1997; Omi and Winant 1986; Outlaw 1990). The works of Weber ([1968]
1978) and Barth (1969) initiated this transformation from essentialist to constructionist forms by suggesting that previous scholars of ethnicity placed too much emphasis on common ancestry. Weber ([1968] 1978) maintained that ethnicity was not biologically based, but rather, feelings of ethnic group membership resulted from shared culture, shared memories, and political community. Barth (1969) implored scholars to eschew the study of culture and to focus instead on ethnic groups’ boundary-defining and boundary-maintaining processes.
24
Pan-ethnicity denotes a shift upward in the level of group identification, or an
opening up of the boundaries used to define an ethnic group (Espiritu 1992). Indian
Relocation and urban migration brought American Indian peoples into more intimate
contact with different ethnic groups, and as a result, the urban environment became an
ethnic identity “construction site” (Cornell and Hartmann 1998). American Indians who participated in the Indian Relocation program were provided with government housing in
urban ghettos. As a result of living as neighbors in these small enclaves, American
Indians from different nations began to form common identities grounded in their similar
experiences and mutual oppressions under U.S. colonialism. Although the cultures and
specific relocation experiences of Indians from different nations varied, the political,
social, and cultural factors that oppressed relocated American Indians as a collective were
similar. Thus, relocated Indians drew upon their shared experiences to construct new
identities that emphasized their common social and political goals. According to Nagel
and Snipp (1993), pan-Indian ethnic reorganization, or American Indian ethnic
aggregation, has been politically expedient for the members of U.S. indigenous groups,
which singularly did not constitute the critical mass necessary to influence social policies.
In fact, Nagel (1997) credits the Red Power movement, an identity-based movement
initiated in the urban sphere, with the resurgence of American Indian culture and identity.
American Indian Ethnic Resurgence
Despite the federal policies created to annihilate, segregate, and/or assimilate
American Indian people, the number of people identifying as American Indian and/or
Alaskan Native on the U.S. Census increased exponentially in the twentieth century.
25
Less than 240,000 people identified as Native in 1900, compared to 4.1 million people in
2000 (Ogunwole 2002; Nagel 1997). The most dramatic increases occurred after the
1970s. Because these increases cannot be wholly explained by advanced enumeration procedures5 or improved health outcomes, Nagel (1997: 94) posits that the only remaining explanation of American Indian population growth is “the stuff out of which ethnic constructions are made – shifts in self-definition, changes in ethnic identification, ethnic and racial switching, and fluidity in the boundaries surrounding Indian ethnicity”
(see also: Eschbach 1993; Snipp 1989). The urban migration of large numbers of
American Indians, coupled with (relatively) high rates of Indian-white interracial marriages (Qian and Lichter 2007), increased the permeability of American Indian ethnic boundaries. Nagel, however, attributes American Indian ethnic revival to the Red Power movement of the 1960s and 1970s, the volatile political period during which Native peoples, along with Blacks, Latinos, women, and LGBTQ, organized to assert pride in historically subordinated identities. The Red Power movement spurred indigenous action amongst relocated Indians living in urban environments. At the same time, it created the social and cultural space necessary for individuals with American Indian ancestry to reconnect with previously concealed histories (Nagel 1997).
5 Census instrumentation errors, however, may account for some increases in American Indian ethnic identification. In reviewing 1990 Census data, Leibler (1996) found that more than three-quarters of people who identify racially as American Indian but do not identify a tribal affiliation may not have understood the question and/or found it inappropriate for their racial or ancestral heritage (which may be West Indian, Asian Indian, and/or American Indian of Central or South American descent).
26
Ethnic Options
Historically, American Indian identity was hardly an ethnic option (Waters 1990).
Processes of racialization defined some members of this group, particularly those who remained in tribal communities, as quintessentially Other. Moreover, the spatial segregation of these American Indians on isolated reservations accentuated their distinctiveness from the rest of the United States population. American Indians who were disconnected from tribal communities, perhaps due to previous generations' responses to federal policies that attempted to forcibly migrate and/or forcibly assimilate them, necessarily "whitened" to evade discrimination (Perdue 2012). Thus, many of these U.S. indigenous people would not or could not safely "opt" for Indian identities – that is, until
American Indian identity politics created an environment in which identifying as
American Indian became socially acceptable or even desirable.
Thus, Northeast Ohio became an ethnic identity “construction site" for two different groups of American Indians: the descendents of Indians who "whitened" to survive in the nineteenth century and Indians who relocated to survive in the twentieth century. In contrast to members of the latter group, who are more likely to retain phenotypic traits (e.g., brown skin, dark hair) commonly associated with Indianness, members of the former group are more likely to have fair to light brown skin. Many of these Indians easily could "pass" as white due to their appearance. They opt instead for the Indian identities relinquished (at least publicly) by their forebears. That they are able to choose American Indian identity from a variety of ethnic options is significant, and
27
distinguishes the members of this ("whitened") group from Indians who relocated to NE
Ohio. As brown people, relocated Indians do not have the same ethnic options as Indians
reclaiming their racial/ethnic identities (Waters 1990).
Collective Identities, or "Groupness"
Because the members of these groups followed distinctive pathways to urban
Indianness, they encountered state sanctioned racial projects differently. U.S. colonial policies set in motion the circumstances that contributed to their collective subordination and subsequent migration to NE Ohio (where they hoped to create better lives for themselves and their families), but their histories and experiences differed for more than a century. As a result, their contemporary, meso level experiences of "groupness" also diverge. The significance of collectivities and/or organizations to identity formation is well documented in the literature (Jones 2011; Brown 1998; Kleinman 1996; Schwalbe and Mason Schrock 1996; Espiritu 1992; Omi and Winant 1986; Coser 1956). Espiritu
(1992: 15) distinguishes between two facets of groupness: "conceptual groupness," which refers to the ways in which group members perceive themselves as similar, and
"organizational groupness," which refers to the ways in which group members organize to address common concerns. Conceptual groupness leads to the formation of collective identities, in which new meanings are produced from the accumulated knowledge and experiences of individual group members (Jones 2011; Omi and Winant 1986).
Hegemonic constructs that assert group members' subordination are inverted to establish new, positive definitions of collective selves. These new definitions provide the
"foundation from which groups can define boundaries and a sense of belonging" (Jones
28
2011: 142). This collective boundary work enables group members to identify which
external threats should be at the center of their organizing efforts, as well as which tools
should be utilized to resist these threats (Jones 2011). The conceptual and organizational
facets of groupness constantly interact and produce ever-changing meso level identities
and actions.
In NE Ohio, collective Indian identities exist in (at least) two conceptual and
organizational forms as a result of the two pathways to Indianness. Indians who followed
the reclamation pathway have a specific set of political, social, economic, and cultural
experiences that coalesce to form a specific collective identity – one that underscores the
historical erasure of their Indian identities and the contemporary revival of their
Indianness. Distinct threats they face are others' inabilities to recognize them as Indian
and others' refusals to acknowledge their Indian identities. As a consequence, engaging
in work that authenticates their Indian status, like conducting genealogical research that proves their relatedness to Indian forebears and learning traditional Indian practices that
distinguish them from whites, are at the center of Reclaimers' organizing efforts. Indians
who followed the relocation pathway also have similar experiences that contribute to
feelings of solidarity with one another. Their collective identities are grounded in the
historical traumas faced by their ancestors and their own relocation to the strange
environment of NE Ohio. Perpetual racialization is one of the primary threats they face,
and consequently, their organizing efforts revolve around decreasing the stress of being
continually Othered.
29
Thus, the different pathways to urban Indianness result in two different urban
Indian collectives/groups in NE Ohio. Their different historical encounters with processes of racial formation lead to different contemporary experiences of racialization,
which enables the development of "conceptual groupness" within each American Indian
collectivity, but not across the two groups. In turn, these processes lead each group to
develop differing forms of "organizational groupness" as they create strategies for
successfully negotiating Indianness in NE Ohio. As the members of each group engage
with one another in strategic actions devised to alleviate threats imposed on them within
the NE Ohio environment, they continuously construct and strengthen their (within
group) collective identities at the same time that they reinforce the boundaries between
groups.
CONTROLLING IMAGES OF INDIANNESS
I began this chapter with an explication of how racial/racist ideologies were used
to justify the ruthless genocide and subsequent colonization of U.S. indigenous people.
Subsequent political and economic projects differently affected two groups of American
Indians – those who were catalogued on Indian rolls and forcibly moved to Indian
reservations, and those who evaded removal by "hiding in the hills" and adopting practices that enabled them to blend into white society. The federal regulation of Indian
identity restricts legal definitions of Indianness to members of the former group, who are
able to validate their identities by satisfying the requirements of certain tribal and/or
federal agencies. Because American Indian identity also is controlled, to some extent, by
cultural constructions that imbue Indianness with particular (fictionalized) meanings,
30
efforts to accomplish Indianness at the interactional level is difficult for the members of
both groups.
Constructing Indianness and representing Indians has been somewhat of an
obsession of European descended peoples since before the formation of the United States.
As Green (1988) points out, even the Boston Tea Party, the act of defiance that set the
stage for the Revolutionary War, was conducted by colonists dressed as Mohawk Indians.
This "mythic American act," according to Green (1988: 48), served to "formalize playing
Indian into a national pastime." Soon after American Indians were massacred and/or
corralled on reservations by U.S. military forces in the west, Wild West Shows, which portrayed Indians as "noble savages" who fought to the death to protect their homelands
(or "ignoble savages" who mercilessly attacked innocent white women and children) became supremely successful (Green 1988; Hanson and Rouse 1987).
Romantic characterizations of American Indians, in particular, captured whites'
imaginations. By 1920, U.S. citizens participated in more than 800 secret fraternal
organizations "where Indian history, lore, prayers and ceremonies were adapted and promoted" (Hanson 1997). The members of these "bands or clans" had "councils," possessed "totems," and received "Indian names." Before long, the Boy Scouts of
America and the YMCA joined in the charade, initiating "educational" programs for
youth who wanted to learn Indian survival skills (Green 1988). Innumerable other
examples of "playing Indian," or as Green (1988) also refers to it, "wannabe" Indianness,
can be seen throughout U.S. (and European) society in hobbyist groups, hippie
countercultures, and new age spiritual guides and gurus. All of these examples (and
31
more) have convinced Green (1988: 48) that "playing Indian" is one of the "most subtly
entrenched, most profound and significant of American performances."
The problem with whites' love affair with make-believe Indianness, according to
Green (1988: 31), is that it "depends upon the physical and psychological removal, even the death, of real Indians." The romanticized story of how the west was won certainly provides U.S. citizens with a blatantly false re-interpretation of Indians' treatment by brutal colonizers. These fictions allow white North Americans to deny their role in the
atrocities described earlier in this chapter. Furthermore, popular and educational media
have primarily served to reinforce a fictionalized history of U.S. – Indian relations and
false representations of Indianness. Cinematic portrayals of Indians reify one-
dimensional Indianness, basically nullifying all Indian cultures except for those of the
Great Plains. The images of Indianness that come to many North Americans' minds –
teepees, war bonnets, and the ever-present Indian greeting, "How" – are derived from
Hollywood's amalgamation of all Indian tribes and cultures into only one, which, of
course, also is misrepresented (Green 1988; Trimble 1988; Hanson and Rouse 1987).
Empirical studies document the degree to which textbooks contain "misinformation,
distortions, or omissions" of critical aspects of American Indian history (Trimble 1988:
189; see also Hanson and Rouse 1987). Even university educators and researchers have
contributed to the misrepresentation of American Indians. Social scientists have
consistently portrayed American Indians in the "ethnographic present," meaning that they
have produced historical "snapshots" that relegate Indian people and cultures to a single, static moment in the past, making it difficult for people to conceptualize contemporary
32
Indianness (Paredes 1995; Hanson and Rouse 1987). Behavioral scientists, on the other
hand, have honed in on "stereotypical" Indian attributes, and as a result, frequently portray Indians as self-destructive drunks (Smith 1999; Trimble 1988). These phenomena collectively create fictive "Indians" who have very little if any connection to
American Indian people living in the United States today.
In much of the literature on this topic, false representations of Indianness are
referred to as "stereotypes." This term is not analytically useful, however, because it
"invokes an individualistic and psychological argument" for something that is inscribed
in social structures (Bryson and Davis 2010: 162). Stereotypes about the Other do not
spontaneously appear in an individual's thoughts; rather, social processes create the
conceptual boundaries that normalize persisting inequalities between groups (Bryson and
Davis 2010). False perceptions of American Indians – however "stereotypical" these perceptions may be – are, as Hill Collins (2000: 69) put it, part of a "generalized
ideology of domination." Thus, they are more aptly referred to as "controlling images"
(Hill Collins 2000). They are images that control because European/white colonizers have the "material power to make reality fit their ideas" (Sampson 1993: 27). Said
(1979: 44) refers to this same process in his discussion of "Orientalism" as "a historical phenomenon, a way of thought, a contemporary problem, and a material reality."
"Knowledge of the Orient," he noted, "in a sense creates the Orient, the Oriental, and his
world … in each of these cases the Oriental is contained and represented by dominating
frameworks" (Said 1979: 40, emphasis in original). And much like "the Orient and the
Oriental," American Indians are denied the "very possibility of development,
33
transformation, human movement – in the deepest sense of the word" (Said 1979: 208).
In contrast to the "Oriental," however, American Indians are not only created, contained,
and represented; they also are continuously enacted and re enacted by U.S. citizens (and
Europeans) who so adore their Indian creations that they cannot resist "playing Indian."
In reflecting upon the limitations this phenomenon places on the agency of U.S.
indigenous peoples to construct authentic Indian identities, Green (1988: 50) poignantly
asks, "Would Indians be freed to be something new entirely if they did not have the
obligation to play Indian?"
Invalidated Urban Indian Identities
The pan-ethnic reorganization of American Indian identities empowered Native people to demand equal rights and access to resources necessary to their survival in urban
environments. In the 1970s, the American Indian Movement (AIM) and allies engaged in
radical public actions, such as the occupation of Alcatraz Island, the Trail of Broken
Treaties, and the takeover of BIA headquarters, that increased American Indian visibility, particularly in metropolitan areas (Smith and Warrior 1996). This short-lived visibility,
however, did not substantially alter popular conceptions of Native peoples. Rather,
American Indians continue to be viewed through the lens of antiquity; they are expected
to conform at all times to archaic images that have come to define Indianness in the
United States (Berkhofer 1979; Black 2002; Fixico 2006; Garroutte 2003; Lobo and
Peters 2001; Trimble 1988). One factor is the placement of Native peoples on the “rural” side of a rigid rural/urban dichotomy (Lobo and Peters 2001). Such processes of racial
34
formation "parameterize identity options" for American Indians in the United States
(Rockquemore, Brunsma, and Delgado 2009: 30).
Thus, NE Ohio Natives must negotiate a discordant status resulting from
dissonance between their racial and ethnic identities and others’ inabilities to recognize them as American Indian people living in the city. As West and Fenstermaker (1995) note, people are held accountable to racial categories when they interact with others. Due to processes of racial formation – including both the federal regulation and the cultural construction of Indianness – non-Native NE Ohio residents have preconceived notions
about where Indians live, what Indians look like, how Indians act, and even whether
Indians continue to exist (West and Fenstermaker 1995; Omi and Winant 1986)).
American Indian race/ethnicity, therefore, is not "meaningfully available" in NE Ohio at
the interactional level (Rockquemore, Brunsma, & Delgado 2009: 230). As a
consequence, Indian identity is either deemed inauthentic or "illegitimate" (Rockquemore
and Brunsma 2004: 86). The interactional invalidation of Indianness makes it
exceptionally difficult for Native people to accomplish authentic Indian identities in this
context (Rockquemore and Brunsma 2004; West and Fenstermaker 1995). In addition,
the miscategorization of American Indian people potentially leads to psychological
distress (Campbell and Troyer 2007). Although the interactional invalidation of
American Indian identity is problematic for all Native people living in urban
environments, I conclude this review of the literature with a brief look at one specific problem that American Indians face in NE Ohio.
35
( on ative) E Ohioans' "Indian" Identity
American Indians who migrated to NE Ohio were exposed, often for the first
time, to a particularly egregious representation of Indianness. In fact, prior to the
migration of Indians to this urban region, the word "Indians" already signified a highly
esteemed entity in the NE Ohio environment – the Cleveland "Indians" Major League
Baseball (MLB) franchise. The word "Indians" has been synonymous with Cleveland baseball since 1915, and consequently, (non-Native) Clevelanders' identities are fused
with the ball club’s “Indian” identity (Staurowsky 2001). Moreover, the team's mascot –
affectionately called "Chief Wahoo" by Cleveland baseball fans – is a red-faced "Indian"
with a broad nose, toothy grin, teepee-shaped eyes, and protruding red feather. When
relocated American Indians began organizing in NE Ohio, Chief Wahoo did not escape
their attention. Under the leadership of Russell Means, the newly established American
Indian Center sued Cleveland's MLB team over Chief Wahoo. As Means (1995: 155)
relates, the 1970 lawsuit "pointed out, among other things, that if the team were called,
say 'the Blacks' or 'the Jews' and had a mascot dressed as a grotesque ethnic stereotype
come to life, there would be rioting in the streets." Means was spurred to take this action
as a result of his recent involvement in the American Indian Movement. As King and
Springwood (2001: 11) attest, Indian mascot protest emerged from this "broader
movement to reclaim sovereignty, redress historical inequities, and assert a sociopolitical
identity in American public culture." Reclaiming the right to name and define Indianness
was crucial to asserting power in white dominated society (Cornell 1988). Means and
36
other relocated Indians believed that eliminating "Chief Wahoo," the distorted vision of
Indianness that (still) inundates NE Ohio, was essential to this process.
Scholars widely agree that Indian mascots must be eradicated to designate an
equal space for American Indian people in the United States. Much of the literature on
Indian mascots focuses on the social, cultural, and historical fictions propagated and perpetuated by false representations of indigenous peoples in the sporting realm (King et. al. 2002; King and Springwood 2000, 2001; Connolly 2000; Staurowsky 1998, 2000;
Fenelon 1997, 1999; Davis 1993; Pewewardy 1991). The central theme is that Indian
mascots relegate Native peoples, identities, and cultures to a fixed (and fictitious)
moment in Euroamerican history, thereby erasing indigenous experiences of genocide
and colonization. Indian mascots also dismiss continuing processes of racialization and
the richness and diversity of contemporary American Indian cultures. As Green (1988:
42) asserts, Indian mascots are firmly rooted "in the mental and cultural construct of playing Indian." Constructs such as Chief Wahoo expunge any notions of authentic
Indian existence in twenty-first century U.S. society, and ultimately, complicate the
"identity work" of NE Ohio American Indian residents.
Thus, NE Ohio is fertile ground for exploring how urban American Indians
negotiate their racial and ethnic identities. Not only is it home to Native people who
followed different pathways to urban American Indian identities, but it also is home of
the "Tribe" – an affectionate name for Cleveland's Major League Baseball franchise. In
the following chapters, I explore a number of themes that elucidate the critical role of
macro, meso, and micro level phenomena on experiences of American Indian identity in
37
NE Ohio. First, however, I provide a detailed account of the methods utilized to conduct this research.
CHAPTER III
RESEARCH METHODS
In this chapter, I provide a detailed explanation of the research design and
methods I used to explore American Indian life in NE Ohio. I begin with a description of
critical research methods and the basic assumptions upon which they stand. Next, I
reflect on my social location as a white female graduate student engaged in this research
– a critical ethnography of American Indian life in NE Ohio. I then describe the two
forms of data collection in which I engaged, including participant observation of two
Native community organizations and dialogic interviews with American Indian participants (and non-participants) in these groups. Following a brief explication of my
comparative analytic process, I invoke the concept of pathway to elucidate critical
distinctions between the two Native community organizations in this study and the ethnic
experiences of their respective memberships.
CRITICAL ETHNOGRAPHY
To explore what it means to be American Indian in Northeast Ohio, I used a
critical ethnographic approach. I describe my research as critical because it was
conducted with an eye toward injustice and with the goal of exposing and resisting
oppressive social forces (Madison 2012: 5). I initiated my research with an explicit
intent: to draw attention to indigenous people living in urban spaces. Processes of
36
37
colonization have contributed to American Indian invisibility in contemporary times
(Fryberg and Stephens 2010; Gonzales 1998), and urban American Indians, in many
ways, are even less visible than their reservation-based counterparts. Thus, my research
seeks to expose the realities of American Indian life in NE Ohio. Although my research
details many aspects of American Indian life that can and should be celebrated, it also
illuminates the damaging consequences of historical events experienced by the members
of this group. In addition, it reveals the effects of colonial processes and racial
formations on two distinct subgroups of American Indians living in the urban sphere.
As feminist scholar Cancian (1996: 188 – 189) notes, critical research also
"challenge[s] inequality within the research process.” My basic assumptions about social
inquiry encouraged my adherence to this essential tenet of critical research methods.
First, I assume that pure objectivism is not possible in scientific research, which is
situated within social institutions that privilege the epistemologies of dominant societal
members (Fonow 2005: 2223). Claims to objectivity and "value-free" science, therefore,
only reify the status quo (Taylor 1998). Second, I acknowledge my position as a non-
neutral observer of the world "out there" – the world beyond the boundaries of my personal experiences. To move beyond the limitations of my biography, I chose
ethnographic methods that necessitated my immersion in the life worlds of the American
Indian persons and communities under study. By participating in the day-to-day affairs
of research participants, I was better able to understand their experiences as people who
were unlike me (a white woman of European descent) in significant ways. To further
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challenge inequality within the research process, I reflexively examined my standpoint
throughout the research process.
My Social Location
I am a white, female, heterosexual, able-bodied graduate student in sociology. I
grew up in a working class family in a small, predominately white, suburban community
in Northeast Ohio. As a child, the only "Indians" that penetrated my consciousness played baseball for Cleveland's Major League Baseball (MLB) team. It was not until I
entered college that I became aware of American Indians as a racialized and subordinated
group in the United States. As an undergraduate student in anthropology, I completed
several courses in Native studies, and when I decided to serve as an AmeriCorps*VISTA
after graduation, I applied to positions on American Indian reservations. At this point, I
was aware of some of the struggles of U.S. indigenous peoples. For instance, I knew that poverty, alcoholism, and violence were significant problems on Indian reservations.
When I received a VISTA assignment on the Navajo reservation, however, these issues seemed hardly relevant to the great adventure upon which I was about to embark. In
November 2002, I packed up my car, bid farewell to my family and friends, and made the
long drive from Ohio to Tuba City, Arizona, a small town in the heart of the Navajo
Nation. The three day road trip gave me ample time to imagine future possibilities. At
no point during my travels, however, did I entertain any notions that paralleled the
realities I encountered on "the rez."
Throughout the first weeks and months of my stay, I was consistently bewildered by phenomena that seemed out of place in the reservation environment. For instance, I
39
thought I left McDonalds, Taco Bell, and Kentucky Fried Chicken behind in mainstream
USA, yet here they were on Main Street in Tuba City. I was surprised by the numerous
invitations I received to Thanksgiving Day dinners and the prevalence of American flags prominently displayed outside Navajo homes. As 2002 drew to a close and a U.S. war
with Iraq seemed imminent, I was baffled by the frequent marches and rallies to honor
the troops (rather than protest the war). All of these things seem commonplace now that I
am better acquainted with American Indian people. Of course Native people eat fast food
and celebrate Thanksgiving! Who in the U.S. does not? And yes, many Native people
are fiercely patriotic. This land is their land, too – and they serve in the U.S. military in
greater numbers (per capita) than any other ethnic group to protect it. Looking back, I am
embarrassed by the naiveté that muddled my thinking in the past. Despite my
anthropology degree and my background (albeit limited) in Native studies, I arrived on
the Navajo reservation with deeply embedded, stereotypical notions of Indianness
dancing in my head. I had internalized a romantic image of Indians – the "noble
warrior," or staunch traditionalist who resists U.S. decrees – and I had expected Tuba
City residents to conform to it.
My year on the Navajo reservation was eye-opening. I discovered the power of
controlling images to define persons deemed Other, and I realized how effectively these
images, once implanted in the mind, penetrate and distort the thought processes of even
the most well-intentioned individuals. If I had fallen for the fictions portrayed as
"Indian" in U.S. society, then I was sure that almost anyone could. I returned to NE Ohio
and started graduate school, where I focused on issues of racial inequality. When I
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became aware of a small social movement organization called NAIME – atives and
Allies for Indian Mascot Elimination – I participated with them in protests against the
Indians name and Chief Wahoo mascot of Cleveland's Major League Baseball (MLB)
team. My Master's thesis, a case study of Indian mascot protest in NE Ohio, grew out of
my participation with this group. I also became acquainted with several Native people
who had participated in Indian Relocation programs sponsored by the federal government
in the 1950s and 1960s. They were active in NAIME and another community
organization called the Relocated Indians of Ohio, or RelOH. Thus, it was my participation in NAIME that provided me with a point of entrée into RelOH, and
ultimately, led to my current research project – an ethnographic study of American Indian
life in NE Ohio. My decision to conduct this research, however, was a difficult one.
Could I Be Trusted?
Lofland and Lofland (1995: 26) suggest that any serious researcher ask her- or
himself, “…should this particular group, setting, situation, question, or whatever be
studied by me?” I spent innumerable hours thinking about this critical question before
initiating my research. It is true that the gaze is "always filtered through the lenses of
language, gender, social class, race, and ethnicity” (Denzin and Lincoln 2005: 21). Thus,
my standpoint inevitably would affect my research. I had to ask myself: Was I, a white
woman, capable of asking the right research questions? Could I be trusted to collect and
interpret data on American Indian life? Furthermore, why did I think Native people
would share their experiences with me, someone whose history more closely aligned with
the colonizer than the colonized? As a white woman and an academic, I certainly
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resembled the "ideological vultures" to whom Deloria (1969: 95) referred in his Indian
Manifesto – the purveyors of "nonsensical scholarly dribble" (87) that exploited rather than assisted Indian people. And finally, if Native people were willing to share their stories with me, how could I, a woman with racial privilege, understand their experiences as a people oppressed by the cruelties of U.S. colonialism?
Yet, I knew that this research would be a critical ethnographic endeavor and that the act of asking such questions meant that I was at least on the right track. I would have to use the utmost caution – and take a number of precautions – to engage in this research.
Most significantly, the research had to have Native community support. This prerequisite for research projects involving historically oppressed groups should never be taken lightly; that I was a Native community outsider meant that receiving the community's consent was necessary and urgent (Piquemal 2001). In fact, a number of Native and non-
Native scholars suggest that consent is not enough. Rather, both consent and community members' participation in every step of the research process – from formulating research questions, choosing research methods, collecting and interpreting data, and discussing findings – is optimal (dè Ishtar 2005; Denzin 2005; Kievit 2003; Smith 1999). Although
I did not formally enlist RelOH members to perform these specific roles, I received verbal consent to conduct this research from prominent community elders and remained cognizant of the informal means by which they communicated their expectations for and concerns about the research project.
I honored Native community members' perspectives throughout the research process in a number of ways. For instance, the relationships I formed through my
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participation in NAIME provided me with a unique outsider-turned-insider status within the RelOH community, whose members accepted me as a white antiracist activist committed to their emancipation as Native people. It also exposed me to a matter of vital concern to many RelOH members: the Cleveland baseball team's Indians name and Chief
Wahoo mascot. Some RelOH members had struggled for decades to eliminate these stereotypical representations of Indianness in the NE Ohio environment. Not only did I participate in this struggle – attending conferences & demonstrations organized to resist the imagery – but I also made the Indian mascot issue a focus of Chapter Seven. In my final year of data collection, I worked with a second Native community organization, which I refer to as NatPride (see below). In contrast to my gradual acceptance by members of the RelOH community, NatPride members immediately welcomed me to participate with them in community events. The executive director of NatPride, in particular, was eager to share his experiences with me, as an American Indian resident of
NE Ohio and as a Native community organizer for nearly 2 ½ decades. He was hopeful that my scholarship would draw attention to issues plaguing the members of his community. As such, the voices and concerns of NatPride members also figure prominently into this research.
Throughout the process of collecting data on American Indian identities, I also remained committed to the establishment of a reciprocal relationship between the members of both Native communities and myself. I tried to always be available when an extra set of eyes, ears, or hands were needed. For example, I participated in countless community events, during which I engaged in a number of volunteer activities, such as
43
bringing needed accoutrements for Native community potlucks, selling Indian tacos at community fundraisers, and soliciting donations for holiday parties. It is essential to note, however, that I received much more from the Native people who participated in this research than I will ever be able to give back. The volunteer hours I contributed to
Native community efforts can never balance the incredible support and insight I received from Native community members, who welcomed me into their lives and shared with me their deeply personal experiences as American Indian people.
METHODS
Data Collection
To understand the experiences of American Indian people in Northeast Ohio, I
necessarily utilized a qualitative/inductive research approach. I engaged in two forms of
data collection, for which I obtained approval from the Kent State University Institutional
Review Board (IRB). First, I participated in and observed the activities and events
sponsored by two Native community organizations: the Relocated Indians of Ohio
(RelOH) and ative People Reclaiming Indian Identities (NatPride). Although my
occasional participation in RelOH events commenced in February 2006 – a serendipitous
result of my participation in atives and Allies for Indian Mascot Elimination (NAIME) –
I conducted field observations for this research project exclusively from August 2008 to
August 2010. Thus, I already had begun collecting data on urban American Indian
identity when a RelOH participant introduced me to the executive director of NatPride in
July 2009. I conducted field observations in this second community organization from
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July 2009 to August 2010. A fuller description of the types of activities in which I participated and observed is provided in the next section, which elucidates important differences between the two community organizations. Between June 2009 and August
2010, I also observed fourteen NE Ohio events that were sponsored by different Native communities (e.g., powwows) and/or that spotlighted Native concerns (e.g., multicultural fairs). Altogether, I accrued data from approximately 400 hours of field experiences.
Frequently, I was able to take brief notes, or "jottings," in the field. I also took pictures, when appropriate. In addition, I recorded voice memos on the way home from field sites.
I transcribed the jottings and digitally recorded voice memos into detailed field notes within a day or two of the event and often relied on pictures taken in the field as memory aids.
Second, I conducted interviews with 39 self-identified American Indian residents of Northeast Ohio. I engaged a stratified purposive sampling method that enabled me to explore the differing characteristics of subgroups of American Indians living in the region
(Patton 1990). Of the 39 respondents, 13 participated in RelOH and 18 in NatPride. I also interviewed 8 persons of American Indian descent who lived in NE Ohio but who did not participate in either of the noted community groups. Although I used an opportunistic sampling strategy in the selection of these particular respondents (Patton
1990) – in which I followed leads developed within and/or outside the field and took advantage of opportunities for interviews as they arose – I also sought maximum variation on the variable of interest (i.e., community membership). As a result, the community affiliations of these interview respondents ranged from membership in a
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federally recognized tribe to membership in (what might be deemed) a "new age" men's spiritual group to the absence of any affiliation with a Native-identified group. I conducted these interviews to explore the range of experiences of American Indian identity in NE Ohio and to increase my understanding of how participation in one of the
focal organizations influenced the experiences of American Indian identity for either
RelOH or NatPride members.
Interviews lasted 1 to 4 hours and were conducted at locations selected by
research participants. They were dialogic (Frankenberg 1993), meaning that I participated in conversational dialogue with respondents and also encouraged respondents to discuss any relevant topics, whether or not I inquired about them.
Although my identification as a white woman appeared to be widely known amongst the most active participants in RelOH and NatPride, interview participants occasionally asked if I was Native during interviews; typically, this question arose when the respondent hoped I could relate to and/or understand an experience she or he found difficult to describe. In general, the interviews covered six broad topical areas, including: early racial/ethnic experiences; family influences on racial/ethnic identity; current lifestyle and ethnic community practices; feelings about and identification with American
Indian race/ethnicity; societal perceptions of American Indians; and experiences with prejudice and/or discrimination. (Please see Appendix A for the full interview guide.)
Interviews were digitally recorded for transcription purposes. Prior to the interviews, respondents completed consent forms and a demographic information sheet; following the interviews, respondents were compensated with a $20 gift card. Providing
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compensation to research participants, particularly members of historically oppressed groups, is a practice encouraged within some critical and/or feminist research circles.
The intent is to equalize power relationships between the interviewer and her or his interviewees (Thompson 1996). Because the researcher ultimately decides what
information is included and how this information is presented in scholarly endeavors, the balance of power always tips in favor of the researcher. Compensating the researched,
therefore, only allows for a slight adjustment in the distribution of power. The
compensation I provided interview respondents was made possible by two small research
grants ($1000 and $500) from the Kent State University Graduate Student Senate.
Data Analysis
I performed analytic procedures throughout the data collection process. In the
initial stages of the project, I wrote descriptive, analytic memos that enabled me to
document and reflect on emergent themes and patterns in both the field note and
interview data (Saldaña 2009). Throughout the duration of the project, I continued to
write analytic memos about the field note data, refining and revising my original thoughts
and interpretations of field experiences. Although I originally drafted memos that
reflected on experiences in one of three field scenarios – RelOH-sponsored events,
NatPride-sponsored events, or powwows and multicultural fairs (sponsored by other
organizations), I progressively incorporated comparative analyses into my memo writing.
These latter, more fully developed memos represent my final analysis of field note data.
In contrast, I coded interview data more formally. I began by transcribing,
reading, contemplating, and writing analytic memos about a first set of interviews. Once
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I attained an appropriate level of familiarity with the data, I used Atlas.ti, a qualitative
data analysis computer software package, for coding and analysis. Initially, I applied
“open” codes to the data, allowing the data to "speak for themselves” (Warren and Karner
2005). During this part of the analysis, I remained open to new ideas and discoveries that provided an all-encompassing view of urban American Indian ethnic experiences. For
example, a number of Natives discussed actions such as "laying tobacco," "making spirit plates," and "smudging with sage." I coded each mention of these actions accordingly.
Eventually, however, I developed and applied "focused" codes, which broke the data into
more manageable pieces (Warren and Karner 2005). For instance, I subsumed the above
noted codes under a more focused code category labeled "practices." Such focused codes
contributed to the development of themes and these emergent themes enabled my
investigation of patterns, relationships, and other points of connection in the data.
Eventually, I sorted the interview transcripts according to respondents' participation in
either RelOH or NatPride. This process allowed me to explore the connections and/or
contradictions between themes emerging from interviews conducted with the members of
either group.
TWO PATHWAYS TO URBAN AMERICAN INDIAN IDENTITY
American Indian identity is incredibly complex and might be theorized in myriad
ways. As Peroff (1997: 487) notes, Indian identities are "internal, intangible, and
metaphysical," and consequently, "studying Indianness is like trying to study the innermost mysteries of the human mind itself." It is critical to note, therefore, that I do not suggest that the pathway model I develop in this dissertation wholly explains
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American Indian identity in NE Ohio. Rather, I offer it as an analytical tool that
increases understanding of urban Indian identity in this particular region of the United
States. Early in the research process, critical distinctions between Reclaimers and
Relocators emerged. Perhaps even more importantly, NE Ohio Natives who followed
these different pathways to Indianness generally were segregated in two community
organizations – NatPride and RelOH, respectively. These Native communities vary
across a number of important dimensions, including organizational structure, sponsored
activities, and leadership. Most significantly, the members of each community group
have divergent family histories. Members of both groups identify as NE Ohio Natives, but their experiences of Indian identity are affected, at least in part, by the unique pathways traveled by either themselves or their forebears.
One Pathway: ative People Reclaiming Indian Identities ( atPride)
NatPride is a struggling 501c3 nonprofit organization that relies on donated spaces for meetings and events. In addition to monthly community meetings, NatPride sponsors a monthly craft and regalia night and twice monthly meetings for drum practice.
The latter activities only recently became NatPride mainstays, due to the persistent urgings of a small group of young adults (between 30 and 40 years of age). During my participation in NatPride, the organization benefited from donated office space. Having a physical address and designated hours of operation allowed enthusiastic members to assist with organizational tasks. Furthermore, the office space encouraged contact between NatPride members and members of the broader community; it provided the
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opportunity for NatPride members to respond to requests for Native speakers made by
NE Ohio area businesses, churches, and schools.
The majority of NatPride members, like the organization's director, are “mixed blood” Indians born in and around Ohio. They are the descendants of Indians who were bureaucratically extinguished by U.S. colonial policies of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. Most of their families originated in the Southeastern United States, but someone – typically the grandparent or great-grandparent of a NatPride member – eventually migrated to Ohio looking for work in the post-WWII era. Often, the family's
Indian heritage had been hidden, and in some cases, forgotten over the generations.
Consequently, NatPride members seldom had direct ties to Indian reservations and only a few NatPride members were enrolled in federally recognized tribes. Only two of eighteen NatPride respondents had phenotypic traits portrayed as “Indian” (e.g., dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes) in mainstream society. Although most NatPride members did not possess the tangible or "socially visible" features commonly attributed to Indianness, they shared a strong desire to reclaim Native identities and practices that had been lost over the generations. They also focused on educating whites about Indian histories and
Indian ways, and therefore, encouraged white participation in the group.
A Second Pathway: Relocated Indians of Ohio (RelOH)
RelOH also struggles to survive as a 501c3 organization in NE Ohio. In contrast to NatPride, however, it is comprised of several small community groups that augment and/or support the work of a central organization. I conducted the majority of my fieldwork at functions sponsored by this latter organization, which was comprised
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primarily of community elders. [Married] men participated in the group, but women tended to steer the decision making processes. Despite its 501c3 non-profit status, the core organization was informally run. The group did not have a permanent structure or location, so meetings and events often were held at free or donated spaces. Meetings generally occurred “as needed,” and therefore, took place more frequently when any of four annual events (a harvest dinner, a Christmas party, an Easter egg hunt, and in some years, a powwow) required immediate planning and preparation.
RelOH's informal leaders were predominantly “full blood” Natives born on Indian reservations and enrolled in federally recognized tribes. Many of these core members came to NE Ohio as a result of relocation programs enacted by the federal government in the mid-twentieth century. RelOH members who did not participate directly in this federal program often followed family members and/or acquaintances who did. A number of other participants “relocated" to Ohio after marrying someone from the area.
Core members of RelOH, therefore, comprised a close knit group of people who had worked together for several decades. They believed that educating whites about
American Indian peoples and cultures was important, but the group’s primary concern was creating spaces where Native people could gather together comfortably.
A FINAL REFLECTION
The rest of this dissertation explores experiences of urban Indian ethnic identity, with an emphasis on how these experiences differ across the two community groups.
Like other scholarship on contemporary American Indian life, my research necessarily documents and deals with issues of authenticity that arise within and between Native
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people and communities. I am aware of the potential for backlash – from Native people and Native scholars alike – that may result from the analysis I present in the following chapters. Inevitably, some people will doubt the wisdom of including both members of
NatPride and RelOH within the broader category of American Indian residents of
Northeast Ohio. Debates about who counts as American Indian have proliferated since the 1960s, and every side of this issue has been rigorously defended by intelligent and articulate proponents. The point of my research is not to weigh in on this debate, but rather to expand knowledge and understanding of the colonial processes and racial formations that have contributed to the incredible divisiveness to which I refer.
I believe that understanding how all of the participants in this study experience
Indianness provides deep insight into the enduring effects of colonization on U.S. indigenous people. As Wilson (quoted in Kievit 2003: 23 – 24) maintains, "a critical examination of the ongoing colonization process" is necessary "to address meaningful ways to resist" its effects. Wilson further denotes that academic discourse portraying a
"rose-colored reality [for American Indian people] does a real disservice to people who are fighting for survival – physically, psychologically, spiritually, and culturally." In the spirit of engaging with Native people in this fight, I choose to present the findings that emerged for me, a white woman who can never fully comprehend experiences of indigeneity. I can only convey these experiences as they were revealed to me, in the days, months, and years I spent in close contact with members of both Native communities. I present the rosy and the not-so-rosy findings here, and I also intend to share them with interested members of both community groups. Like Mihesuah (quoted
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in Kievit 2003: 5), I believe that researchers "absolutely do have a responsibility to the
[indigenous] people they study." American Indian people too often have been the
subjects of repetitive and/or unnecessary research that more often benefited the
researcher (through article publications, book contracts, assistance with tenure and/or promotion, etc.) than American Indian communities (Kievit 2003; Smith 1999). My
research was designed to assist Native communities by increasing their visibility not only
within academic spheres, but also within the sociocultural spheres that exert the most
influence on their lives. Due to ongoing debates surrounding Indianness and authenticity
in NE Ohio Native communities, sharing this work with NatPride and RelOH members
seems a daunting task, but one that I must accomplish if I am to remain true to the tenets
of antiracism and anti-colonialism in my research and in my life.
CHAPTER IV
BECOMI G I DIA
Chapter Four begins with a brief look at Reclaimers' and Relocators' similar
definitions of Indianness. Across pathway, NE Ohio Natives describe "being Indian" in
ways that distinguish Indianness from whiteness. Specifically, they emphasize the
importance of community, respect, and spirituality to Native people. Next, Chapter Four
explicates the effects of pathway on experiences of Indianness, particularly with regard to
NE Ohio Natives' accounts of becoming Indian. Due to distinct childhood racial
socialization experiences, Reclaimers and Relocators grow into Indian identities in
different ways. For Reclaimers, becoming Indian is a difficult choice, and the decision to
identify as Indian is typically made in adulthood. Relocators, on the other hand, do not
experience their Indian identities as an option. Cultural constructions of Indianness,
however, complicate their youthful experiences of Indian identity.
INDIANNESS, "IN A NUTSHELL"
The ability to see one’s self as only one constituent within a broader community
of people typically was celebrated as the overriding philosophy guiding Native existence.
All study participants associated Indianness with a willingness to assist persons in need,
and this ethic of responsibility toward others was used to define a boundary between
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54
Native people and “mainstream” U.S. citizens, primarily whites. Other boundaries
drawn between whites and Native people focused on elements of respect and spirituality.
Group Emphasis vs. Individual Emphasis
Perhaps the most important way in which Indianness is distinguished from white ways of being is through discussions about the appropriate relationship between an individual and her or his community. For instance, Bly, a Relocator, talked about the importance of sharing within the community:
We know that it’s important for community – that’s number one. We’re not supposed to be at all complacent. We’re supposed to think of others all the time. It’s not about us. That’s what … has been a problem with the European way of thinking and us. You know, to think about keeping, like say, a whole deer to ourselves. That’s unheard of. No, you don’t do that. You’re supposed to share it. Everything you share. So that’s basic.
Bly refers to this basic philosophy as “spread[ing] the wealth around.” When a family is blessed with an entire animal on which to feed, they are expected to share this blessing with people in their extended networks.
This idea was important to most of the respondents. For instance, Neville, a
NatPride member, said that whites follow the “way of greed, which is the worst thing in the world.” In Native culture, however –
[W]e’ll give the shirt off our back to somebody who needs it. If somebody’s hungry and they need something? We don’t have much, but we’ll give it. We try to do, and we try to be who we are. And if somebody needs something, they can come and ask. So I mean, that’s it in a nutshell.
To Neville, sharing what one has with others in need is essential to “doing” Indianness, and consequently, to being Native. One’s willingness to give “the shirt off [one’s] back,”
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defines Indianness “in a nutshell.” In another NatPride respondent’s words, being Native
“comes down to the fact that I may not have much, but what I do have I’ll share.”
Importantly, this ethic of responsibility for others was not simply noted frequently
as a defining characteristic of American Indian people; it was noticeably engaged by
individuals in both Native communities. Providing guardianship for children and sharing
housing with adult members of the community were common practices amongst research participants. For instance, Melissa, a member of the core RelOH group, grew up with her
cousin, whom her family had taken in, and currently has guardianship of a friend’s
daughter. She stated – “I never gave it a second thought to take her in when she needed
me.” Similarly, Berta said that her parents “were always keeping people” and she has
several white “sisters” with whom she grew up. In keeping with this tradition, Berta and
her husband, Greg, raised “so many kids” – including two biological children, a number
of “boys from the streets,” and male foster children “aged 10 to 18, because that was the
age that was real hard to place.” Berta and Greg also adopted and raised two of Berta’s
nieces.
NatPride members discussed similar ideas about caring for others and reported
similar experiences with semi-communal living arrangements during the interviews.
Sasha, a young mother who recently re-engaged with the NatPride community, said that
among Natives, taking care of others and “treat[ing] everyone like family” is a “duty.”
She learned this value during childhood because “taking in strays” was “kind of a tradition” in her mother’s family –
[…] and I don’t mean animals. I mean, we always had …, I think almost any time period I can think of growing up, there was someone who was staying with us
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because they needed a place to stay. They were having a rough time or they were going through a divorce. […] I don’t know why that is with my family, but, I mean, like I said, there was always someone.
Like many Reclaimers, Sasha did not grow up in a home environment that emphasized pride in Native ways of being, thinking, or doing. However, she connected her childhood experiences to the Native values she now holds, and consequently, referenced the resilience of Native traditions that seem to be passed down whether or not they are recognized by family members as Native.
"Spreading the wealth around," as Bly stated, or sharing and/or pooling resources with other Native community members – biological or fictive kin – is essential to being
Indian, or "doing Indianness," in contemporary society. NE Ohio Indians' emphasis on serving the community, rather than the individual, is a quality found in other studies of urban Indians, and is deemed a critical component of persisting American Indian ethnic identity (Stiffman et. al. 2007; House, Stiffman, and Brown 2006; LaFramboise and
Dizon 2003). This practice also parallels those of other historically subordinated groups in the United States. For instance, Stack's (1974) influential work on black community life illustrates a similar interdependence operating between kin, fictive kin, and community members who rely on one another to fulfill basic needs, such as child care.
As Stack (1994) indicates, sharing resources helps to alleviate the burdens placed on individuals as a result of their location within the social structure. People who experience oppression based on race or class improve their chances for survival when they participate in the give and take of community life. These reciprocal relationships not only reinforce and strengthen community life, but they also ensure that the needs of
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individuals and families are met. As Fixico (1991: 112) contends, the "collective life" of
American Indian people "exists to defend against the difficulty of surviving in harsh
conditions."
Age vs. Youth
Respondents also stressed the importance of listening to and honoring community elders whose wisdom came from life experience. As Floyd, a Reclaimer, clearly articulated – elders have “lived life,” and consequently, “you learn a lot of stuff” from them by “just letting them talk.” A different NatPride member told a classroom full of university students, “if you get a chance to talk to an elder, do so” – because their life lessons may be more valuable than the education you are receiving here. Not only is this respect for elders integrally related to Natives' emphasis on valuing and supporting kin and other community members (Stiffarm et. al. 2007), but it also reinforces the boundary between American Indians and whites (House, Stiffman, and Brown 2006). Natives from both communities recognized that valuing elders was not commonplace in our
“throwaway” society. Berta (RelOH) said that when she and her husband moved from
the reservation to NE Ohio with their ten year old boys –
[I]t was really hard for them at first because they would come home and say – “Mom! The kid at school yelled at the teacher!” I mean, that was unheard of because our number one thing we teach our children is respect, so for them to hear some other little kid at school yell at the teacher, that was unheard of, you know?
As Berta noted, she and her husband “bombarded [the children] with both sides of our
culture so they could keep it” even as they experienced life in NE Ohio.
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Other Native community members feared that this essential aspect of Native tradition is being lost in the urban environment, as younger generations of urban Natives feel pressured to adopt white ways. This concern about the "susceptibility" of Native youth to
"white influence" also was noted by elders who participated in Fenelon's (1998: 280)
study of indigenous identity in Chicago's Native community. In this study, Bly (RelOH)
specifically maintained that the failure of youth to learn respect for elders – for the
“grandpas and grandmas, even though they’re not blood ties” – was a direct sign of
culture loss. Valerie (NatPride) also lamented the loss of traditional Native teachings.
Because she was taught to grant the “utmost respect” to anybody older than herself as a
child, she finds it “really hard nowadays to see the young people be so quick to pre-judge
elderly or feel that they have nothing to give or nothing to contribute.” Similarly,
Tabatha (NatPride) was “aggravated” by the lack of respect shown elders by today’s
youth, who “say things to their grandparents I would never even say to my worst enemy!”
Spirituality as Way of Life vs. Religion as Segment of Life
Native spirituality also was frequently noted as one way in which Native ways of being, thinking, and doing are different from whites’ ways. Whereas white religion was determined to be something attended to only on Sundays, Native spirituality was described as omnipresent – it influenced each and every moment of a Native person’s life. As Berta (RelOH) stated:
[…] I believe in spiritual ways, but you know, I believe in doing it every day, not just on that Sunday, you know. People set it aside to be bad all week and then on Sunday to be good? No, I don’t believe that.
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Sadie, a young mother of twins and an active member of NatPride, similarly stated that
Native people did not “just go pray and do spiritual things one day a week or three days a
week”; rather, Native spirituality was “so entwined to daily life that it’s hard to separate
it.” Kenai (NatPride) also mentioned this aspect of Native spirituality when discussing
his initial resistance to engaging in a Native spiritual tradition known as Sundance6:
I didn't want to do that. I like being Catholic, you know what I mean? You get to do whatever you want all week, go to church on Sunday, and it's all better. You know? Screw up all week and it doesn't matter what you do and then Sunday comes around.
Now that Kenai is a Sundancer, he is committed to spiritual living. He noted, “That’s
why I sing at my desk at work. ‘Cause if I don’t, I’m gonna be just like every other
freaking brain dead white dude out there.” The majority of Relocators and Reclaimers
agreed that spirituality was a full time and primary commitment for Native people. As
Daniel, a young Reclaimer noted – “We put God first.” Bly, a middle aged Relocator
agreed, stating – “that’s what makes us different. Because we all know that we’re
spiritual first, and because of that, we’re real, very basic.”
In addition to these key attributes, American Indian identity was associated with
strong feelings of pride in one’s ancestry and cultural traditions. In general, Relocators
and Reclaimers developed feelings of pride in their Indianness at different life stages. In
the next section, I discuss how the different pathways leading to Indian identities affect
NE Ohio Natives’ experiences of Indianness.
6 Sundance is a spiritual practice that originated amongst Plains Indians. Its adherents are expected to participate in a three or four day “Sun Dance” ceremony that takes place each summer, during which they fast, sing, dance, pray, and undergo ritual piercings and purification ceremonies that symbolize death and renewal.
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BECOMING AMERICAN INDIAN IN NE OHIO
“American Indian” seldom is recognized as a viable ethnic option by non-Native
NE Ohio residents. Consequently, people who identify as American Indian struggle to
negotiate this racialized ethnic terrain in the NE Ohio environment. Although the
experiences of some Reclaimers and Relocators overlapped, Reclaimers had more
“diluted” Indian bloodlines and were more likely to be socialized in families that at one
time disassociated with their Indian ancestries. As a consequence, these Natives were
more likely to experience American Indian ethnicity as an option (Waters 1990), at least
at some point during their life courses. Once they reclaimed their Indianness, they
experienced feelings of deep satisfaction and pride. Often, Reclaimers spoke about their
return to Indian identities and Indian ways as a “homecoming” – one that reunited their bodies and minds with something essential to their spirits.
Reclaimers: Becoming Indian Is a Struggle
During their childhoods, many Reclaimers learned to disguise and/or discount
their Indian identities. Their great-grandparents and their grandparents survived federal policies of Indian Removal by removing Indianness from their lives – at least outward
expressions of Indianness that might be recognized by non-Native people. Thus, many
NatPride members were only vaguely aware of their Indian ancestries as children; those
who were aware of Native bloodlines often were warned not to speak about their
Indianness to anyone outside the family. Growing up in this environment inevitably
stunted the growth of Native identities in some Reclaimers, who were more likely than
Relocators to identify ethnically as something other than Native in their early lives.
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For instance, Floyd and Tabatha discussed similar instances of undisclosed
Indianness during their childhoods and how it affected the way they and their siblings relate to Native identities today. Floyd now identifies as a “mixed blood” Native who is
German, Blackfeet, and Ojibwa. His paternal grandmother was full blood Blackfeet and one of his maternal grandparents was part Shawnee, but according to Floyd, “the blood quantum wouldn’t even touch [him]” on the maternal side. Despite knowing about his
Native ancestry, Floyd identified as German when he was a kid. He explained that his family came from “the hills of Kentucky and West Virginia, where a lot of the Native people hid out” because “it was illegal to be Indian.” Living much of their lives in fear of being discovered strongly affected his (Shawnee) grandparents, who passed their distrust of unknown others onto Floyd. As a young boy he learned not to tell anybody he was
Native American. When he was around 10 years old – and not coincidentally, when the
“American Indian Movement was going pretty good” – his mother determined that he and his sister should learn about their Native ancestry, which was associated with their estranged father’s side of the family. Floyd’s mom arranged for her children to accompany other Native youth in the neighborhood on visits with a Native elder. As a pre-teen, Floyd appreciated the opportunity to learn Native songs and dances and it made him “feel good” to know “there [were] other people out there” like him – a mixed blood
Native. As a teenager and young adult, however, Floyd began using drugs. He was alienated from the Native community until his early thirties, when his (adoptive) Ojibwa uncle brought him back into the circle. Now, Floyd refers to himself as “a simple man.”
He tries to “pray in a good way every day” and “remember [his] teachings.” He
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participates regularly in NatPride meetings and events, during which he often drums and sings, and he is married to a mixed blood Cherokee woman – not in the “white traditional way,” but according to her traditions. Although Floyd identifies strongly with his Native heritage, he describes his only biological sister as “totally white” because she “wants nothing to do with” her Indian ancestry. Floyd explains his sister’s rejection of her
Indianness by stating, “We all have our own path.”
Tabatha is a middle-aged woman and occasional participant in NatPride events.
With two full-blood Cherokee grandmothers and a half-blood Cherokee grandfather,
Tabatha’s Native bloodlines are less “mixed” than Floyd’s, but this biological reality did not always invigorate a sense of pride in her Indianness. In fact, Tabatha said that her maternal grandmother –
… hid her Native past, her Native American status, because she was just fearful that her property would be taken away. Because that’s what they were told, you know? That’s what they were told growing up. You know, her mother practiced her Native American heritage … but they had to keep it hush, hush. Because … back then … they would take everything away from you and they would stick you on a reservation.
During her youth Tabatha spent her “fondest days” in West Virginia, where three of her grandparents resided, but she remembers how secretive her maternal grandmother always was. Her paternal grandparents simply “turned [her] loose,” to play on the hills and in the creeks. At her maternal grandmother’s house, however, she “had to stay in the house” and “couldn’t play with the neighbor kids” because her grandma feared discovery.
It was not until this grandmother was nearly 70 years old that she felt comfortable disclosing her Native identity.
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Although Tabatha and her sister reclaimed Native identities and Native ways in
adulthood, three of their siblings do not identify as Native. Tabatha recalled a
conversation she had with her brother years ago, during which he rejected the family’s
Native ancestry, stating – “Why you always talking about the Native ways? We’re hillbillies. We’re born hillbillies.” Although her brother is “usually a pretty smart guy,”
Tabatha had to explain to him that “hillbilly” was not a country and that their family members were among “the only really true American[s]” because they were “born, raised, and lived here on this continent all [their] lives.” According to Tabatha, her brother was a little embarrassed that he “never even thought of that part of it”; despite this revelation, he remains wholly absorbed in the white man’s world.
If self-identification is used as an indicator of race and/or ethnicity, both Floyd and Tabatha were born and raised in families that also produced “non-Native” children.
This fact may seem surprising, but it is not uncommon within the families of Reclaimers.
Long histories of oppression caused many Natives to turn away from their violent pasts.
They believed that if they successfully “passed” as poor white folks, they and their grandchildren might look forward to (relatively) privileged futures. In some families, the
“old ways” inevitably were lost; they were abandoned by grandparents who feared attracting unwanted attention. Many Reclaimers were told by fearful and suspicious grandparents to deny their Indian ancestries, but having come of age during or after the rise of the Red Power Movement, they understood that Indianness did not necessarily lead to a life of sorrow. They felt drawn to their Indian blood and their Indian heritage.
Sometimes persons with pride in their Indianness, however, were denied the right to
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celebrate it. Conversations with Reclaimers revealed a gendered pattern of dulled or
diminished Indianness among women Natives born late enough to benefit from the Red
Power Movement.
Reclaimers' Complex Choices
Three Reclaimers shared with me the stories of their mothers – all of whom experienced denials and/or dismissals of their Indianness by the men they married. In another instance, one Reclaimer described her ex-husband’s outright refusal to acknowledge her Native ancestry. In all of these cases, the women’s families already had experienced culture loss, due to past generations’ efforts to blend into the mainstream. In
each case, the women, quietly and not so quietly, protested further separation from the
family’s Indian roots. For instance, Casey is a “mixed blood” participant in the NatPride
annual powwow, where he sells hand-carved Native American flutes. When I asked him
how he describes himself racially and/or ethnically, he reflected on how his identity
“evolved” over the years:
I remember, you know, when the Census people would come around? I remember my mom and dad actually having arguments because she wanted to put down “Other” or “Native American,” or “Indian,” and my dad would, you know, he’d say – “No, don’t do that. Just go white, Caucasian.” So I mean, I was obviously raised to say that and I’m predominantly Caucasian. My dad was full blood Russian, where my mom was like half Cherokee and half Irish.
Unfortunately and “shamefully,” according to Casey, his Native ancestry “became lost” because his Cherokee ancestors hid their lineage. For generations, no one in Casey’s family was enrolled in the Cherokee tribe. In many ways, the family’s persistence as a coherent unit depended on members’ abilities to pass as white. Casey’s grandfather, for
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instance, would not talk about his Native ancestry “because in his generation, he would be sent to a boarding school just for being Cherokee.” Unlike Casey’s grandfather,
Casey’s mom recognized the family’s Native heritage. As the above quote illustrates,
however, she was not always able to assert her or her son’s Native identity. Casey’s
father, who was Russian, determined his family’s “race” on Census forms. As an adult in
his sixties, Casey finally feels confident enough to claim a “Native American” identity, but this identity did not arise casually. As Casey stated,
[A]fter a lot of, uh, consultation with elders that I know and, um, various other people, and following my Cherokee roots and my traditions – I follow the Native American path as far as my religions go now. And they told me that you either are Cherokee or you aren’t. It doesn’t matter about blood quantum. So, I’ll tell people that I’m Native American.
Even during the interview, which was conducted because Casey identified as American
Indian, Casey seemed somewhat insecure about claiming a Native identity. He drew on
Native tradition by recognizing the prominent role of Native elders in his decision- making process. Furthermore, he carefully constructed a definition of Indianness that relied on culture rather than biology.
For Kenai, an active participant in the NatPride, choosing to identify as Native involved a similarly complex process. Because he was the son of a Lebanese father and
American Indian mother, throughout most of his life Kenai checked “Other” when asked to select a race or ethnicity on surveys or Census forms. Kenai always had a close relationship with his mother, who was proud of her Indianness. Her husband’s disapproval of her ethnic heritage, however, forced her to relay it in subtle and secretive
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ways. Kenai talked about the identity confusion he felt as a result of his mom’s
“undercover” lessons:
I remember when I was young […] I'd always be like – What religion are we? You know? Because my dad's Catholic and my brother and I hated going [to church]. It was just, like, my mom would sneak us behind the garage and burn sage and stuff and my dad would flip when he found out, so we were like – What religion are we? My mom said, ask your uncles. Talk to your uncles. It's for them to talk to you about. And she was planting that seed young, you know?
Kenai’s mom was unable to resist her husband’s religious authority over the family outwardly, but she devised other means by which she could “plant the seeds” of her son’s
Native spirituality. Like his uncles, Kenai became a Sundancer. But he neither reached the decision to adopt this identity easily, nor did he continue on this course without experiencing some doubt. As Kenai stated, “A lot of days it's not good to be Indian, you know, so to speak. It's easier just to slip, because I can slip in under the wire, you know?” Despite the seeming effortlessness of adopting a non-Native identity, Kenai now
“lean[s] more towards being Indian.” He was ready to “walk away” from his Native heritage, but his son, Chay, is “waking it back up.” When I asked Kenai what it meant to him to be Indian, he said – “This is all the stuff that I’ve just gone through.” He explained:
I came to a point where I was like, well, what am I going to do? I just finished a 27 foot sailboat, you know? And I’m like, I’ve got all my stuff that I’ve accumulated because I work hard and I like stuff. And now I’ve got an eight year old – just turned eight – who wants to powwow. […] So now I’m not making the decision for myself. […] So I had to pray about that for a long while. I had to think about it and look at everything I could, and I was like [takes a breath], if I go – it’s funny, I broke it up between sailboat route … or camper route. Because I’m going to sell my boat to buy a camper to take him powwowing, basically, so which path am I going? […] And see, I’m even still reluctant to admit, but I chose the camper.
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Kenai’s reluctance is due to what he perceives as hardships that go hand-in-hand with
choosing to identify as Native. Kenai recognizes that he does not “look like a ‘skin,” so
he “could just blend” into mainstream society. He could “buy the next distraction,”
rather than be “a real person.” His son could wear his hair short, rather than “go through
what [Kenai] went through” as a young boy called upon by mean-spirited classmates to
defend his hairstyle choice. Despite all of the noted drawbacks to being Indian, Kenai
consciously reaffirmed his Indian identity just weeks before our interview when he chose
“camper route.”
In some ways, Cheryl’s early experiences of Indianness parallel Kenai’s.
Although she now identifies as Indian and three generations of her family participate in
NatPride meetings and events, her Indianness was not affirmed throughout her childhood.
Cheryl grew up with an abusive father who, according to his mother, was Indian. “But
he’ll deny that until the end of the world,” Cheryl told me. Her father also denied her
mother’s Native ancestry. A number of things cued Cheryl into the family’s Indian past,
however – at least on the maternal side. First, whenever her father was physically
abusive toward her mother, “because I am [or, you are] Indian” consistently was uttered by one of them. Second, her mother, whose skin was “bronze” year round, frequently
was approached by strangers wanting to know her nationality. Finally, Cheryl’s mother
sometimes told stories about her Native past, and according to Cheryl, “my dad would
kind of, not actually beat it out of us, but beat it out of us. [He would say] ‘She doesn’t
know what she’s talking about. That’s not true.’” As she got older, however, Cheryl
grew more and more confident in her Native identity. For several years, she served as a
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board member for a local Native organization. With encouragement and assistance from her daughter, who decided as an adult to seek tribal recognition, Cheryl applied for and received her “Indian card” in 2005.
Reclaimers' Experiences of Homecoming
For many Reclaimers, history and biology (i.e., intermarriage with members of
other ethnic groups) coalesced to place innumerable obstacles along the path to their
Indian identities. Despite these antagonistic forces, NatPride respondents who identified
as non-Native during youth talked about being drawn to Indianness during adolescence
and/or adulthood. Reclaimers commonly referred to their inclinations toward Native
spiritualities, Native lands, and even Native practices – despite growing up in a home that provided little or no exposure to these things.
For instance, Reclaimers brought up in religious homes sometimes felt boxed in by mainstream Christian practices. Even during their childhoods, they thought something
was amiss. For instance, Valerie, a middle-aged woman of Cherokee descent, explained,
We were taught that you had to go to church when we were little. And we would go to church, but yet, it didn’t quite make sense. I mean, what they were talking about, that you had to go to church in order for God to accept you […] that wasn’t what I felt. […] I mean, I felt the most spiritual relaxing acceptance when I was in the woods … just talking to the plants and the animals, as some would say.
Similarly, respondents raised by non-religious parents experienced an inexplicable
attraction to the sacred. Like Valerie, these Natives often associated their affection and
respect for the natural world with their innate Indian spiritualities. At the risk of
sounding “hokey,” Sasha, a young mother who did not learn Native ways as a child,
talked about her experience of Native spirituality:
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When I was a teenager […] I was drawn to more earth based philosophies and that was, that was really basically it. […] I met [my ex-husband] when I was 20 or 21 … [and] that really kind of directed it more toward the Native American side. And then I just started learning a lot and everything felt, uh, it just felt right, you know? It felt natural. I mean, learning things was less like learning new things. It was more like remembering stuff I had forgotten – which doesn’t make sense, because I’d never learned it in the first place!
Casey, the Cherokee flute-maker quoted above, talked about finding himself through
Native spiritual practice in a manner analogous to Sasha’s. Casey said that when he was
young, he studied and experimented with different religions and spiritualities, but
“nothing really worked for [him].” When he finally turned to Native spirituality, “it just
clicked.” Casey noted, “It’s how I felt inside and didn’t even know it.”
In addition to experiencing inherent knowledge of and/or connectedness with
Native spiritual traditions, Reclaimers discussed unexpected feelings of homecoming
when they visited Indian reservations. Valerie, for instance, visited the Cherokee
reservation in an effort to obtain tribal recognition. For the duration of the visit, Valerie
“felt such peace, at home, just as though [her] inner spirit was where it was supposed to be.” Although Valerie learned that a gap in her genealogical records disqualified her
from tribal enrollment, ultimately, she believes she found “exactly what [she] was after”
on her sojourn. Similarly, Sasha communicated her own experience of homecoming
when she visited a reservation in South Dakota:
You know how when you go to your parents’ house, the house you grew up in? You know that feeling you get when you pull in the driveway or walk in the door? It’s like – Oh, wow. I’m home. I had that feeling the moment we hit there.
Reclaimers even talked about unknown or hidden talents that connected them to
their Native ancestry. Valerie cannot explain why, but she intuitively knows how to find
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and use herbs for healing purposes. When friends or family members are sick, she can
“make up a brew of yellow root and ginseng … and then in a couple days they feel better.” Valerie also talked candidly about her unexplained ability to accomplish a feat
that she did not even know she wanted to accomplish until the opportunity arose. She
was driving home from work one day when she saw “road kill” and suddenly thought – I
want that! So she proceeded to “[t]ake it home, pound a couple nails in it, stretch it out,
and smear salt all over it, dip it in ash, soak it in water” and much to her surprise, the hair
fell off and in a few days she had a nicely tanned hide hanging in her garage. Having
never tanned a hide before (or seen anyone else do it), Valerie could only say – “I don’t
know where I got that!” Similarly, Casey described his affinity for flute-making as “kind
of weird” because no one in his family had been a flute-maker, yet he “kind of knew
subconsciously” that he would carve flutes one day. When he embarked on his new
trade, the knowledge and skills required “[came] from I don’t know where,” Casey said.
Interestingly, this phenomenon, repeatedly mentioned by Reclaimers, also was
noted by Bly, a Relocator. Bly talked about how sad it is that “so many of the Natives
who are urbanized” lose touch with their Native selves. They forget how important it is
to honor the ancestors and to participate in Native community life. “It’s so funny,” Bly
added, “[because] a lot of them will say to you, they feel like they’re … missing
something. And once they get back again to the Native community, they’re like – Oh my
goodness! Now this feels right, this feels good. Now I’m okay!” Thus, Bly does not
think the above noted sentiments of Reclaimers sound “hokey” – an expression used by
Sasha as she tried to articulate feelings and experiences she thought might be described as
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clichéd or nonsensical. Rather, Bly believes that the sense of homecoming and the
accompanying feelings of relief or relaxation experienced by Native people who enter (or
re-enter) the Native community is spiritual – “It’s just a spiritual tie you have with each
other because you understand.” According to Bly, it is this deeply rooted spiritual
connection between Native people that draws them back to their identities and into
Native community life. Lucero (2010) labels this homecoming experience "returning to the people."
As the above illustrates, Reclaimers undergo a number of internal processes as they begin to associate more strongly with their Indian ethnicities. Often, their Indian heritage was hidden from them early in life. When their Indianness is revealed to them, they have a complex choice to make – whether they will continue to identify as white
Americans of German or Russian ancestry (for instance), or whether they will begin to identify as Indian. Interestingly, none of the Reclaimers contemplated bi- or multi-ethnic identities. They seemed determined to place themselves within one ethnic category or another. The work of Gans (1979) and Waters (1990) explores the experiences of white ethnics who similarly make a conscious choice to foreground ethnic heritages that played only a minimal role, if any, in their early socialization experiences. Many Reclaimers, like the white ethnics in Waters' (1990) study, changed their ethnic identification in adulthood. They chose an Indian identity from a variety of ethnic options, and their decision to do so illustrates not only their desire to be something other than "vanilla," but also a certain amount of desirability regarding the acquisition of an Indian ethnic label.
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Nagel (2000) attributes the increased desirability of Indianness, or Indian
identities, with the Red Power movement of the 1960s and 1970s. She suggests that Red
Power and other race-based identity movements imputed "cultural value" on ethnic
identification, and as a consequence, "started a tidal wave of Indian ethnic renewal …
revitalizing cultures, restoring Indian ethnic pride" (Nagel 2000: 87). The Reclaimers in
this study neither participated in the Red Power movement, nor did they associate this
macro-level phenomenon with their own decisions to identify as Indian (although Floyd
notes the potential influence of the American Indian Movement on his non-Native
mother, who decided that he should reconnect with the Native heritage from his father's
side of the family). Rather, Reclaimers talked about their adoption of Indian identities in particular and personal ways. Like Kenai, who reluctantly chose "camper route" (or
Indianness) after a period of deep introspection, many Reclaimers carefully weighed the pros and cons of identifying as Indian before they made up their minds to do so. That
"Indian" is a more socially desirable ethnic category today than it was several decades
ago was not noted or recognized as a factor in their decision-making processes. At the
same time, Reclaimers always attributed earlier denials of their Indian identities to the
macro level, historical forces that prevented previous generations of family members
from identifying as Indian and from passing Indian identities and traditions on to them.
Relocators: Indian Is Simply What We Are
In contrast to Reclaimers, Relocators were less likely ever to consider “blending” into mainstream society. Among the members of this group, adopting a Native identity typically was not deemed to be a conscious choice; rather, this identity was taken for
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granted from an early age. In part, Relocators' Indianness was never questioned because approximately half of the persons interviewed – all but one RelOH respondent over the
age of fifty – grew up on Indian reservations, where they were surrounded by other
Native people and by their own tribal cultures. In addition, these older Relocators have
less “diluted” bloodlines, and consequently, are more likely than Reclaimers to be
recognized as persons of color (if not as American Indians). As such, the members of
this specific population are not able to “blend” into society to the same extent that
Reclaimers are.
Because older RelOH members learned to be Indian in reservation environments,
I focus on the experiences of younger RelOH respondents here (i.e., persons younger than
fifty). Significantly, these young people grew up in primarily urban environments
located some distance from reservation life; only one young RelOH respondent was
raised in a city near his family’s reservation. Despite their urban roots, young RelOH respondents were socialized by relocated Indian parents, and consequently, grew into adulthood with Indian identities already in place. Samantha, for instance, is a 23 year old woman with a full-blood Cherokee mother and an Italian and Irish father. Although her older brother does not identify as Native, Samantha has “always had an interest” in her
Indian heritage. She thinks her pride in her Native ancestry may have resulted in part from childhood visits with her grandmother in Oklahoma. In addition to these visits,
Samantha’s mother took her to stomp dances and entered her in Little Miss Cherokee pageants. Samantha also started dancing at powwows when she was five years old.
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According to Samantha, her Native identity “just developed more and more as I got more
involved with my culture, through powwows and beadwork and things like that.”
Sandra is a 24 year old woman who identifies as Hispanic and Native. Her
mother is Italian, but she never identifies as Italian because her dad and her grandparents
were “so strong in [her] life.” In fact, Sandra grew up in the home of her grandparents’,
who have been devoted members of RelOH's core group for decades. I knew Sandra’s
grandparents for several years within this context before talking with Sandra, and thus,
was surprised to learn that she noted her Hispanic ethnicity prior to her Native ethnicity.
Sandra explained:
It’s complicated! I don’t know how to describe it any better than – most Mexicans who live in northern Mexico are Native, but just where the border was drawn, people got crossed over and our families must have been right there at the time. So they were Native living there, but yet they were considering themselves Mexicans, so it’s kind of a weird line there, all depending on where that border was drawn and, you know, what sides the family picked.
Sandra’s grandparents did not pick a side. As a result, Sandra says that her family is identified by other Native community members as Native, but when non-Natives ask if they are Mexican or Puerto Rican –because, as Sandra states, they “would never ask if
[we are] Native” – Sandra’s family members just say Mexican. Sandra says that her
Native ancestry was “prevalent” throughout her young life, however, due to her grandparents’ steady involvement in the Native community. Something Sandra “always did, from day one” was attend “Native Thanksgiving” and “Native Christmas.” Sandra also recalls “Nana and papa constantly traveling to powwows and bringing stuff home from New Mexico and Arizona.” Even in her “littlest pictures” she is wearing a turquoise ring. When Sandra grew older, her grandparents took her with them to
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powwows and put her to work, cleaning silver, dusting pottery, and wiping down display cases.
In addition to having some sense of their Indianness from an early age, Samantha and Sandra detected their differentness from non-Natives as well. As Samantha stated, “I always knew my mom was darker and didn’t look like my dad, so I think I kind of knew that I was different from other people who just had white parents.” Samantha also remembers her mom saying “come here” in Cherokee, which distinguished her from other mothers Samantha knew. Sandra talked about the distress she felt upon realizing that she did not look like the other girls at her predominantly white elementary school.
She fondly recalled her father’s words of encouragement when she confided in him about her insecurities. She felt much better after he told her – “You’re cuter than the other ones anyways. You’re something special and different.”
Relocators' Childhood Confusion
Younger RelOH respondents also discussed childhood experiences that indicated some confusion about their Indianness. These multiracial individuals knew that they and their family members were “Indians,” but their conceptualizations of what being Indian
meant were confused by cultural representations of Indianness and “common sense”
ideas about race in the United States. Their accounts illustrate that Indianness was not
experienced as an unproblematic ethnic option, even when early socialization experiences
confirmed their Native ancestries.
For instance, Deborah was raised in Southeast Michigan by a white father and
half Native mother. Referring to her almond complexion, Deborah noted, “I could easily
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pass as white if I wanted to, but I never really did. My mom had pretty much instilled in me at a young age that I was Indian and I should be proud of it.” Although Deborah knew she was “Indian,” as a young girl she thought that “Indian in my family was totally different from Indians we read about in class and school and Indians on tv.” It was not until Deborah’s first grade teacher assigned a project on Indians that Deborah learned otherwise. She quickly volunteered to report on the Aztecs, but this choice was frowned upon by her mother, who told her – “You’re Indian, you’re Odawa. You should have picked Odawa.” As Deborah recalled this incident, she noted, “I felt kind of bad, but at the same time it was like this huge revelation to me.” Another revelatory moment in
Deb’s life occurred when she got in serious trouble with her mom for mimicking the
“Indians” she saw on Peter Pan. Deborah stated:
Like, I got the worst beating of my life when I went “woowoowoowoowoowoo!” because I learned it from Peter Pan. Oh my God, I got the crap kicked out of me. It was like – we don’t do that! What are you doing? And I’m like, I don’t know! It was on Peter Pan! And I had, like, no idea! And like, those Indians were totally different from our Indians and it just didn’t click for me as a kid that, like, it’s totally wrong to do that.
Deborah’s romantic partner, Kevin, agreed that cultural images of “Indians” confused him during childhood. Like Deborah, he had a difficult time distinguishing between his experience of being Native and the “crazy” Indians he saw on television.
Kevin stated:
See I think I always thought that those Indians weren’t, like, our people. So I don’t think I really mimicked them so much, but I had the stereotype that I was Native and we were all like [my tribe] and, uh, every other Indian I thought was exactly like the Indians on tv. […] I thought there was us, and then there was all the other people – and they all acted crazy.
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Both Kevin and Deborah experienced their Indianness as something different from portrayals of Native peoples in popular culture. Societal representations of Indian ethnicity were so dissimilar from their experiences of Indian ethnicity, in fact, that they placed television and textbook Indians into a completely different category of human beings than the Native people who graced their lives.
Berta, an active member of the RelOH core organization, relayed a story about her granddaughter’s confusion regarding the family’s Native ethnicity. According to
Berta, her granddaughter “first realized she was Native American” while they watched a program on the History Channel together. Berta recalled the impact this realization had
on her young “grandbaby”:
It was a program that we were watching and they made a mention that all of the buffalo were extinct, just like all of the Native Americans are extinct. She asked me what that meant, so when I explained it to her, she just cried and went to her mother and told her mother – “Grandma said we’re extinct!” [Laughs.] It was just cute.
As a full blood American Indian thriving in NE Ohio, Berta saw humor in the program
narrator’s inaccurate statement and the effect it had on her granddaughter. For the young
child, however, it must have been quite bewildering to learn simultaneously that she was
“Native American” and that Native Americans were “extinct.”
Increasing Salience of Relocators' Indian Identities
Over time, young Relocators grew out of their childhood confusion. They talked about the increasing salience of their Native identities as they reached adulthood. When they began to understand the consequences of their Indianness, they became determined to learn more about their Native selves and to participate more fully in Native community
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life. For instance, since Samantha went to college, she has gotten “more into Indian
activism and reading about that and learning more about that in our history.” To illustrate
how she has grown into her Native identity, Samantha recalled a Thanksgiving Day
activity in which she participated as a student in elementary school. At the time, she was
not particularly bothered by the event, during which she received an “Indian name” while wearing a macaroni necklace and construction paper headdress. Now that she identifies
as more of an “activist type person,” she is upset by the teacher’s cultural insensitivity and factually incorrect “lesson.” Like other young Relocators, Samantha expressed
determination to make a difference in Native peoples’ lives. At the time of our interview,
she was preparing to leave for graduate school in Albuquerque, where she would work
with a Native psychology professor who conducted research on a nearby reservation.
Kevin and Deborah grew up in urban environs outside Ohio, but they described
very similar experiences of transition into adulthood. Kevin said, for example, that
Native identity is “always with you, but it’s just like, it’s just a part of you. You don’t
have to think about it all the time.” He did not think about it nearly as often when he was
younger because “when you’re a kid, you’re … in your own little world […] You’re
almost a little self-centered, maybe a little bit naïve about everything that’s going on around you.” Most importantly, “You’re not really thinking about how your actions impact everyone else around you.” Likewise, Deborah said that her Native identity is more significant to her now than it was in high school. She explained:
[I]n high school, I mean, I was a basketball player, I was a cheerleader, I was a woman … I was, you know, on student council. I was a whole bunch of things before I was Indian, and I think [pause], I don’t know if I necessarily took it for
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granted, but I was more interested in doing other things and pursuing other things in my life because, you know, I’ll always be Indian, no matter what.
When Deborah went to college, however, she “caught back up with” her Indian identity by immersing herself in Native American studies and Native activities on campus.
Similarly, when Kevin learned that the only Native student group on his campus had disbanded, he sprung into action. He founded and/or co-founded no less than four campus organizations that addressed Native students’ interests and concerns. Kevin soon realized that he was “very fortunate to be where [he] was, and that not everyone else was getting the same opportunities that [he] had.” He continued:
And there was definitely a feeling that you needed to give back. And starting those groups not only helped me get through school, but I strongly felt that it would make it easier for other people to get through school […] It became a little more important, a little more prevalent, to not only let people know I was Native, but that I was also accomplishing these other things.
For Kevin, it was important to reach out to Native youth and tell them that “they could easily do the same if they wanted.”
Although Relocators' (particularly those raised in urban environments) felt more deeply connected to and/or invested in their Indian identities in adulthood, they always identified as Indian. They tended to explain their Indianness as a taken-for-granted reality, but the literature suggests that a number of critical early life experiences contributed to their development of stable Indian identities. For instance, Demo and
Hughes (1990: 365) assert that the familial context is a particularly "important socialization setting" that impacts "children's dispositions toward self and others." Ethnic and racial identifications, preferences, and reference group orientations all develop in response to interactional cues provided by socialization agents (Spencer and Markstrom-
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Adams 1990). From an early age, Relocators were told by parents and grandparents that they were Indian and that they should be proud of their Indianness, which contributed to their ethnic identifications and preferences. They also participated in Native community events, such as stomp dances, Little Miss Cherokee pageants, and powwows, which helped to solidify their ethnic group membership. Their interactions with other Natives in Native-specific contexts allowed them to experience a certain level of "fit" between themselves and their environments (Spencer and Markstrom-Adams 1990: 292).
Despite strong racial socialization in familial and community contexts, young
Relocators experienced some confusion about their Indian identities. In particular, they found it difficult to resolve inconsistencies between their personal experiences as Indians and societal representations of Indianness. Ecological models of racial identity, which take into account the interrelatedness of macro level forces and micro level identities, are useful for understanding young Relocators' experiences. As Spencer and Markstrom-
Adams (1990: 293) attest, Indian stereotypes – such as those portrayed in Peter Pan and other media depictions of Native people – "emanate" from the macro level and "are given structure and reality" in the various environments within which American Indian people operate. In NE Ohio, stereotypical representations of Indianness abound, whereas few accurate portrayals of contemporary American Indian people exist (Whitewolf-Marsh
2003). A number of RelOH respondents pointed out, for instance, that ignorance of
American Indian people and cultures is perpetuated even within educational arenas. It is not surprising, therefore, that young RelOH members who identified as Indians did not
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associate themselves or other Native community members with the weird, wild, and one-
dimensional "Indians" they encountered on television or in the classroom.
In one sense, the inability of young Relocators to understand the implied relationship between "crazy" Indians and themselves may have prevented them from disassociating with Indian identities at an early age. Particularly for bi- and multi-racial youth, experiences of psychological trauma can have adverse affects on racial and ethnic identification (Root 1998). If Deborah had recognized that the Indians on Peter Pan were socially accepted representations of the people with whom she identified, for instance,
she may have experienced a traumatic awakening to the societal devaluation of Indians,
and consequently, steered clear of identifying with the members of this stigmatized
group. Instead, she (and others) simply separated personal experiences as Indians from
societal portrayals of Indianness, and in doing so, remained committed to Indian
identities. As noted by a number of RelOH respondents, their commitments to
Indianness and Indian people grew stronger as they matured and developed greater
awareness of structural inequalities affecting American Indian people. Demo and Hughes
(1990: 372) also observed this phenomenon amongst blacks, whereby racial inequality
seemed to "promote black identity" in the sense that black people recognized their
common struggles in a structurally racist society.
SUMMARY
This chapter illustrates that Reclaimers and Relocators have different ethnic
experiences due to the distinctive pathways leading to their Indian identities. Members of both groups define Indianness similarly, but they arrive at Indian identities in unique
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ways. Reclaimers often chose Indian identities from a number of ethnic options. As adults they knew that identifying as Native would complicate their lives, and consequently, decisions to identify as Native were not made without deep thought and
reflection. Once they decided to be Indian, however, these respondents were rewarded with feelings of "homecoming." Because Relocators presupposed their Native identities from an early age, their acceptance of Native identities preceded their understandings of what it meant to be Indian. Racialized images of Native people in the cultural sphere prevented them from recognizing their relationship to the “crazy” Indians portrayed on television. As they grew older and learned more about the histories of Native peoples, their pride in their identities and their devotion to Native communities became stronger.
CHAPTER V
ACCOMPLISHI G I DIA ESS
Chapter Five elucidates the different effects of pathway on Reclaimers' and
Relocators' experiences of accomplishing Indian identities in NE Ohio. For Reclaimers, being Indian is often equated with "doing" Indianness. Thus, Indianness frequently is regarded as a labor of love that requires sacrifice and devotion. For instance, Reclaimers talked about the efforts they exerted to learn and then maintain practices that promoted their cultural and spiritual growth as Native people. Relocators, on the other hand, were less likely to talk about specific practices; rather, they spoke more abstractly about Native ways. According to many of these respondents, being Native did not require daily vigilance because attributes of Indianness simply defined them. They knew no other way of being. Many Relocators also noted their appreciation for past struggles, such as those assumed by the Red Power movement, which made it possible for them to simply be
Indian. In addition, this chapter looks at the role of reservation life in Reclaimers' and
Relocators' perceptions of Indianness in NE Ohio. The chapter concludes with a
discussion of the particular phenomena that make it difficult to accomplish Indianness in
this context.
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WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO BE INDIAN IN NE OHIO?
Reclaimers and the Importance of Practice
Reclaimers discussed a number of cultural practices they incorporated into their
day-to-day lives. They talked about the significance of saying morning and/or evening prayers, making spirit plates at meal time, and smudging, or burning sage to cleanse
themselves and their surroundings. Of particular import to many NatPride members
was the spiritual use of tobacco. They offered or "laid down" tobacco as a means of
giving thanks to the Creator. Tabatha and Floyd, for instance, both talked about offering
tobacco when they said their morning prayers. They also discussed how critical it was to
carry tobacco with them always – in case they needed to thank the Creator for an
unexpected gift. "You never know when you’ll see an eagle, or a hawk, or you know,
something hits ya […] so, yeah, you keep tobacco with you all the time," said Floyd.
Tabatha said she carries her tobacco pouch with her in part because she is a "big rock
collector." "Everywhere I go, I've got to have rocks," said Tabatha. "When I find
interesting rocks, I give back. You know, you don't take without giving." Laying
tobacco is how Tabatha "gives back" to the earth and the Creator for the gifts she
receives. To Sadie, part of what it means to be "traditional" is "lay[ing] down … tobacco
all the time." When I asked her what that meant, she described a recent occasion on
which she "gifted" tobacco. When she moved into a new residence, she discovered two
cross orb weaver spiders in two different windows of her house. She was always drawn
to spiders and had recently dreamt of spiders, so she knew this creature was one she
should be "working with or learning from." "So … I took a little shell and I put some
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tobacco in the shell outside the window," said Sadie, as a way of saying "thanks for
coming to visit me." In return, the spider permitted her to observe and learn from its
actions.
Reclaimers also gave tobacco to people they wished to show respect and/or
gratitude. A number of NatPride members taught me, for instance, that asking Natives to
respond to questions without first "gifting" them tobacco was disrespectful. One evening
at a NatPride Community meeting, Kenai and I teased Floyd about backing out of an
interview he had scheduled with me earlier in the week. Floyd shrugged, indicating his
lack of interest – really, his complete disinterest in being interviewed. Suddenly Kenai
excitedly said – "Give him some tobacco! Then he'll have to do it." The rest of the story
is described in my field notes:
But it seemed a little strange to me to just hand Floyd some tobacco right after Kenai said this, so I didn’t say anything. I did think to myself – well, I’ll just be sure to bring some tobacco with me the next time I see him. That way my gift won’t seem so canned or inauthentic. But when we were cleaning things up after the meeting, I jokingly mentioned the interview to Floyd again and he said – in an almost exasperated way – give me some tobacco. [At the time, I rolled my own cigarettes and just happened to have a pouch of tobacco in my purse.] So I pulled my personal pouch of tobacco from my purse and handed it to Floyd. […] I was a little nervous because I felt strange handing this man my tobacco and yet he had asked for it and I really wanted to interview him. So as soon as he took the pouch from my hand, he asked – when do you want to meet? He agreed to meet me the very next day and he insisted that I pick the time and the location, saying that it didn’t really matter anyways because I gave him tobacco, so he was obliged to meet me on my terms (personal observations, 20 October 2009).
After this interaction with Floyd, I felt embarrassed that I had not picked up on the importance of gifting tobacco to members of this community sooner. I never again showed up for an interview with a NatPride member empty handed. Although I felt a bit
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awkward gifting tobacco to interview respondents in the beginning, they so graciously
received the gift that I soon learned to enjoy the ritual.
Learning to "Do" Indianness from Indian Mentors
In addition to maintaining daily practices, such as laying and gifting tobacco,
NatPride participants also participated in weekend-long powwows throughout the summer months. Even traveling regionally strained their pocket books, but a number of them bore the additional burdens and costs of traveling far beyond Ohio’s borders to participate in Native events, such as Sundances and ceremonial powwows, held on distant
Indian reservations. Although the Reclaimers I interviewed did not have biological
family members on these reservations, they visited adopted family members and other
mentors. As Krouse (1999) notes, establishing kinship ties through adoption is a common
strategy used by urban Indian mixed bloods to increase cultural proficiency and to
confirm their status as Indian people. From these “rez Indians” and Native elders,
Reclaimers of all ages learned traditional ways.
Because most Reclaimers were not socialized as children into Indian identities or
Indian ways, it was important to them to learn tribal traditions from “real Indians,” or as
Sasha stated – “quote/unquote real Indians. You know, straight off the rez, born and
raised and practicing their traditions their entire lives.” Otherwise, persons reclaiming
Native identities that had been concealed and/or forsaken by their forebears ran the risk
of “bastardizing traditions,” a practice despised by Reclaimers and Relocators alike.
Reclaimers were aware that “doing Indian” in inauthentic ways outside a reservation
setting was a surefire way to attract negative attention, and one interview respondent
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named Khourey, who participated in neither NatPride nor RelOH (but rather, belonged to
a Native community organization in western Ohio), even remarked that Ohio is “kind of
notorious among a lot of the national [American Indian] groups” because it is home to “a
lot of groups … that do not follow the traditional ways … [and] people that claim to be
Indian, but can’t prove their ancestry at all.” For this reason, the urban Indian community
in which Khourey participated was adamant in its belief that “the center of the culture is
on the reservations.” Many NatPride members felt the same way.
Thus, in striving to be as authentically Indian as possible, Reclaimers exerted
immense efforts to be privy to real cultural knowledge, which they also predominantly believed was necessarily obtained in reservation environments. For instance, Kenai talked about his (adopted) uncles on the reservation, who used physical tasks, such as cutting wood, to instill him with traditional teachings. Kenai, therefore, “suffered for everything [he] learned.” Casey learned the craft of flute-making the “old way” as well, which necessitated “gifting lots of tobacco to elders.” Sadie and Neville, a young couple whose combined ancestries include Lenape, Blackfoot, Nanticoke, Cherokee, and Lakota, also sacrificed to learn the “old ways” – of the Anishinaabe. Due to their NE Ohio residence, they did not have contact with elders practicing their ancestral heritages. Their decision to learn Anishinaabe traditions was not made for the sake of expediency, however. During the interview, Sadie talked about how grueling it was to plan a trip to a
Canadian reserve, where she occasionally visited her Anishinaabe elder:
[I]t’s like 600 bucks to and from, like the whole round trip in gas, and then it takes 24 hours if you drive non-stop, and you have to have a passport or equivalent now. […] And you have to have somewhere to stay. And you’ve got
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to be careful what you take, because if you don’t have papers for your [eagle] feathers, you run into that whole thing.
Although Sadie preferred more frequent visits with the elder, she resigned herself to making more frequent phone calls when she needed guidance.
Indianness as a "Balancing Act"
Reclaimers also talked about Indianness as a “balancing act.” Their efforts to incorporate traditional Native practices in their day-to-day lives proved difficult when combined with the work of day-to-day living in contemporary society. Sasha said she always felt like she was “yo-yoing back and forth” because –
[…] whenever you focus on your spirituality, it seems like that part suffers because you spend your spare time doing that instead of working to make more money. And whenever you try to focus on getting all your bills paid [laughs], it seems like you, you know, you stop doing spirit plates at every meal because that’s just, it’s a big pain and who has time for all of that?
Neville also talked about negotiating the uneven terrain between “white ways” and
“traditional ways,” stating:
Because in society right now, we have to live within the white way – no offense! […] And you have to live with traditional ways. […] It’s a balancing act, just like the guy with the plates. You’ve got to balance a plate, run over here, balance this plate. It’s a balancing act, and sometimes it gets really hard.
These statements indicate that Reclaimers consciously "shift, at will, between the cultural
norms, traditions and styles of two cultures" (Jackson and Chapleski 2000: 249 – 250).
Thereby, they assume bicultural ethnic identities (Brown and Smirles 2005; Moran et. al.
1999). Unlike the Indian elders in Jackson and Chapleski's (2000) study, who "mastered"
the ability to shift back and forth, however, Reclaimers experienced tensions between the
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tribal/traditional cultures in which they wanted to participate and the mainstream culture
within which they felt obligated to participate.
In contrast, Relocators talked more abstractly about what it meant to be Native.
They rarely mentioned daily practices, such as “doing spirit plates at every meal.” If they prayed with tobacco or smudged at home, they did not share these personal practices with
me. Unlike Reclaimers, Relocators did not talk to me about the spiritual significance of
tobacco. Despite learning to gift tobacco to NatPride interview respondents, I never
offered tobacco to RelOH members. I sensed that Relocators might be weary of such a
gift. Perhaps they would think I was trying too hard to gain their confidence? Or, maybe
they would think I was faking Indianness to gain their affections? Regardless, the actions
of Relocators did not indicate that they felt slighted by my failure to offer them tobacco.
Relocators, after all, did not place nearly the same emphasis as Reclaimers on daily practices, such as laying and/or gifting tobacco. Relative to Reclaimers, in fact,
Relocators were more likely to talk about Indianness, in 21st century NE Ohio, at least, as a state of being requiring little beyond early childhood socialization.
Relocators and "Embedded" Indianness
Some Relocators found it challenging to explain what about Native ways was
distinctive. For instance, when asked this question, Berta simply said, “your thinking is
different from society’s way.” Similarly, Gertrude stated that being Native “is a way of
life, how you’re brought up.” She continued – even if you disagreed with certain things
your parents taught you, they “are going to come back to you” because they are
“embedded.” For Gertrude, living some distance from any Indian reservation and even
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“marrying white” could not prevent her from “doing the Indian thing.” She stated, quite
matter-of-factly, “It’s in me, you know? It’s just there, and that’s it.”
Like Reclaimers, Relocators participated in regional powwows and traveled great distances to visit reservations. These Natives similarly noted the high costs of traveling to these locales, but they were more likely than Reclaimers to dismiss these expenses as inevitable to their “way of life.” Additionally, Relocators most often traveled to reservations to visit relatives, who provided any necessary accommodations. For Berta, making the long drive “home” was not a struggle at all; she described the 22 hour trip – one way – as an opportunity to “be together as a family”.
Appreciating the Opportunity to Simply Be
For Relocators, being Indian alleviated, rather than amplified, many ills associated with living in mainstream society. Having the right to be Indian, in particular, was celebrated by interview respondents who were old enough to experience life as a racial minority prior to the 1960s. Berta, for instance, grew up on a reservation when
“white equaled right.” When asked what being Native meant to her, she answered, “the right to be who I am […] without people bothering me about it.” When I asked Gertrude, another RelOH elder, the same question, she similarly replied, “Wow, that’s powerful, because … I’m just proud of my heritage and where I come from, and […] that really sums it all up, you know?” Gertrude told me, however, that being Indian was not always easy. There was a time in her life – when she lived in Oklahoma as a young girl and
“went through the prejudice thing” – that she “didn’t want to be Indian.” Amongst
RelOH members, those who grew up on Indian reservations agreed that relative to their
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early life experiences, being Indian in NE Ohio today seemed to require less effort. The
experiences of their children and grandchildren, however, are different.
Young Relocators' Desires to Learn Tribal Traditions
Urban Indians of the second and third generations often take their Indianness for
granted, but assuredness in their Indian identities does not always translate into
knowledge of their tribal customs. In fact, the children and grandchildren of relocated
Indians experience problems similar to those faced by young NatPride members in the
urban context. For instance, Deborah and Kevin tutored school-aged Native children
who knew very little about their tribal cultures; they “don’t have their specific tribal
connect,” Deborah said. The children wanted to learn more, but the appropriate resources
did not exist in NE Ohio. Deborah understands the ways of her own people, but her
limited knowledge of Navajo, Ponca, and/or Seminole cultures (for instance) preclude her
from giving urban youth the education they want and deserve. Melissa, a woman in her
late thirties who was very active in the RelOH core group, spoke openly about her lack of
knowledge of Native Hawaiian7 culture. Although her mother instilled her with pride in
her Native Hawaiian identity, she did not raise her with Native Hawaiian traditions.
Despite her lack of cultural awareness, Melissa always felt accepted by RelOH elders.
They “made it okay that I didn’t know,” said Melissa, “and let me know that it was okay
to want to know more.” They also taught Melissa to be weary of resources, such as
7 It is important to note that Native Hawaiians are generally not included in the American Indian racial/ethnic category. Melissa, however, began participating in RelOH in high school. She also has an American Indian daughter who is tribally enrolled. Today she plays a critical, administrative role in RelOH and is whole-heartedly accepted (and appreciated) by the group. As such, she is included in this research project as a Relocator/RelOH member.
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textbooks, that were not written by Native Hawaiians; for this reason, Melissa is resigned
to the fact that she will “probably never know [her] whole history.” She has learned that
the urban sphere is home to many Indians “who have no clue.”
REFLECTIONS OF RESERVATION LIFE
Reclaimers Sometimes Imagine that Accomplishing Indianness Is Easier on the Rez …
For both Reclaimers and Relocators, reservation life – as it is imagined to be or as
it has been experienced – plays a critical role in evaluating experiences of Indianness in
NE Ohio. Despite knowing that the majority of Native people in the United States live in
non-reservation settings, research participants frequently imagined reservations to be the
centers of Indian life and culture. Although such ideas are grounded in popular
knowledge of American Indian histories, they deny the possibility of persisting
Indianness in spaces not designated as Indian territories by the U.S. government.
Furthermore, they deny that Native people are able to adapt to change, and thereby,
contribute to the devaluation of Indianness in urban spheres (Paredes 1995; Baird 1990).
Interestingly, respondents’ experiential knowledge of Indian reservations informed them
that reservations were not always conducive to practicing Indianness or to experiencing
Indianness in positive ways. These contradictory ideas resulted in ambivalent attitudes
about reservation life for both Reclaimers and Relocators.
Reclaimers’ devotion to learning Native traditions from “real Indians … straight
off the rez” illustrates their respect and admiration for Native people who continue to live
in reservation settings. At the same time, however, many Reclaimers have some
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familiarity with at least one reservation, which has created some awareness of the
extreme conditions of poverty that complicate reservation Natives’ lives. Commonly,
these two ideas were presented by the same NatPride member at different points in my
conversation with her or him; tensions between the two ideas, however, were rarely
addressed. Rather, reservations were adulated as the only place to learn about a Native culture by many NatPride members who simultaneously expressed pity for Natives who lived on reservations. Occasionally, NatPride members even evaluated reservation
Indians negatively for their cultural losses.
Reclaimers often talked about reservation life in idyllic terms. Sasha, for instance, quite consciously suggested that reservations, compared to urban environs, are the meccas of tribal cultures. Almost apologetically she stated:
It seems to me, from the time I’ve spent out on the reservation, that – and this sounds horrible, but it’s not – that it’s easier to be Indian out there because it’s all around. But you’re kind of isolated here, so it’s hard to hold on to your traditions and hold on to your teachings and the history and the stories and stuff like that.
Danna referenced a similar idea when talking about her son’s efforts to learn traditional
Native dancing. Living in an urban environment is “a disadvantage to him,” Danna said, because “nobody really has time” to teach him here, in NE Ohio. They are too busy with their own lives. “And it’s not like we’re immersed in this [Native culture] every day,”
Danna continued, not even quite conscious of the inference made by her words – that reservation Natives are immersed in the culture every day.
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… But They Recognize that Rez Life Isn't Perfect
These comments seem to depict Reclaimers' romanticized notions of reservation
environments, but overly idealistic images of life on the rez are countered by Reclaimers
as well. Sasha, for example, is fully cognizant of the privileges she receives as an urban
Indian. In fact, when I asked Sasha at the conclusion of our interview if she wanted to
address anything we had not discussed, she was quiet for a moment and then, choosing
her words carefully, she responded:
Um, the only thing is, I think that as an urban Indian you have a responsibility to people who are still on the reservation. Because, regardless of what problems or issues that we may have, I think that they are miniscule compared to what you see on the reservation … [where] there is abject poverty and alcoholism and abuse. And there’s just this apathy and indifference that is so prevalent on the reservation. It’s heartbreaking.
Sasha even provided an explanation for the apathy she attributed to Natives on the reservation. “They’re facing issues that we don’t,” she said, and that is why “they forget things – like litter.” Litter is a “big deal” at Ohio powwows, where it is customary for
Natives to “leave the place better than [they] found it.” On the reservation, however, this
detail is eclipsed by more immediate concerns. Oda also talked about the urgent needs of
children on Indian reservations. “They don’t have enough food to eat, they don’t have enough clothes to wear,” Oda said, and yet they do not receive the same media attention as underprivileged children "in Third World countries." “I could get on a soapbox about that,” she said, “but I won’t.”
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What Is Traditional?
During my interview with Kurt, Executive Director of NatPride, it was evident
that he had granted considerable attention to the question of urban versus reservation
culture, and for good reason. He knew that the reputability of NatPride was dependent on public knowledge of and respect for “urban Indians.” Yet this respect was difficult to
come by, due in part to the fact that, as Kurt put it – even “reservation Natives tend to
look at those [Native] individuals outside of the reservation as being corrupt and
influenced by the white society.” A plethora of research on devalued urban indigenous identities substantiates Kurt's claims (Warren 2009; Dela Cadena 2000; Krouse 1999;
Gonzalez 1998; Turner Strong and Van Winkle 1996; Paredes 1995). As a consequence,
Kurt made conscious efforts to counteract ideas regarding the superiority of reservation- based cultures and traditions. “If you go on a reservation today,” Kurt said, “you’ll find
McDonald’s sometimes, you’ll find convenience stores. So my question is – what is traditional?” Kurt then told me about a man who called the NatPride office and asked to speak with a “real traditionalist.” When Kurt asked him to define traditionalist, the man answered – “it’s someone who still has a connection to the reservation.” Kurt was somewhat befuddled by the man’s response. He explained:
Because in my theory, in my mind set, a traditionalist is somebody who still practices on a reservation, still lives on a reservation, is not somebody who is outside a reservation living in a city saying that they’re traditionalist, because how can you be? […] Do you see where I’m coming from? So my thing is, what we have here today is a polluted culture where even individuals on the reservation have taken the beliefs and customs of another tribe and intermingled it into their own. So I really feel like our true traditionalist died in the early 1900s.
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Initially, Kurt places the Native “traditionalist” on the reservation; he then quickly points
out that even reservation-based tribal traditions have been “polluted” by other cultures,
and therefore, the “true traditionalist,” in his opinion, died at the turn of the twentieth
century. It was at that time that Natives were forced to practice their traditions
“underground,” resulting in cultural loss. To Kurt, the cultures that emerged after this period of hiding were forever altered, and consequently, pure traditional forms are few
and far between.
In making these statements, Kurt exhibits some understanding of an idea that
academics have engaged for years – that culture and traditions are in a constant state of
flux (Hobsbawm 1983; Linnekin 1983; Eisenstadt 1973; Linton 1943). Linnekin's (1983:
242) research on Hawaiian identities, for instance, illustrates that traditions are
"invented"; they are "molded and reformulated according to the demands of ethnic politics." She shows that Hawaiians consciously emphasize certain elements of their
culture and portray them as "authentic." For instance, the ukulele was introduced to
Hawaiian islanders by Portuguese immigrants in the late 1800s. The fact that Hawaiians
did not always have ukuleles, however, does not preclude ukulele playing from being
regarded "as very traditional and definitively Hawaiian" – amongst urban cultural
revivalists and rural taro growers alike (Linnekin 1983: 243). As Linnekin (1983: 242)
makes clear, accepted traditions do "not correspond to the experience of any particular
generation." Paredes (1995) argues that anthropologists are partly responsible for rigid
standards dictating what counts as "authentic" American Indian traditions today. By
representing Indian people in the "ethnographic present," a scientific convention that
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analytically holds time constant for the purpose of making cross-cultural comparisons,
Paredes (1995) asserts that scholars within this discipline have reified notions of timeless, and therefore "authentic," Native traditions. Nonetheless, culture change has been ongoing since before American Indians came into contact with European cultures. A majority of non-Natives and many Natives tend to overlook many of these changes, and as a consequence, they often deem "inauthentic" anything that does not fit particular
(reconstructed) images of Indianness (Paredes 1995).
To some extent, Kurt acknowledged the fluidity of American Indian cultures and
traditions. He was slightly perturbed when an unknown caller insinuated that he was not traditional enough because he was not connected to an Indian reservation. Kurt's use of
the word "polluted" to describe cultural adaptations, however, reveal his resistance to
conceptualizing "traditional" culture as a symbolic construct that continually shapes and
is shaped continually by individual and group experiences (Linnekin 1983). To Kurt,
"pure" American Indian cultures and the "traditionalists" who practiced them existed prior to the 1900s. He does not consider the changes occurring prior to this time period
to be cultural "pollutants." And despite recognizing that reservation cultures have
adapted and changed over time, Kurt told me that he and his son will never know “true
Choctaw tradition” because “we’re not on that Choctaw reservation.” Kurt’s
contradictory statements illustrate how deeply embedded are notions of reservation
cultures’ purity and superiority.
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Relocators Do ot Think that Anything Is Easier on the Rez
Relative to Reclaimers, Relocators were more likely to emphasize the general hardships of day-to-day living on the reservation. In fact, these hardships were perceived by Relocators to prevent the day-to-day practice of Native culture that one might expect in a reservation environment. For instance, Gertrude got her first taste of “rez life” after marrying her now ex-husband and moving with him to his family’s lands in Ponca City8.
Gertrude grew up an orphan at an Indian boarding school, but she described her
experiences in Ponca City as being even more challenging than her youth. “I never had it
that rough being raised,” she said. Her husband’s family had electricity, but no running
water, so Gertrude hauled water from a nearby farm. “And I remember being pregnant,
still hauling that water!” she said. Gertrude has no interest in living on a reservation ever
again. "There’s a better side of life than that,” she stated.
Susan, who grew up on a reservation, agreed with Gertrude. Susan was adamant
that she will never live on a reservation again and she cannot comprehend why her sister
continues to do so. According to Susan, government corruption has prevented Indian
access to basic resources on her reservation of birth. Although her tribe’s casino is
rumored to make millions annually, she said no one knows what the tribal government
does with the profits. Susan stated: it is clear that “they didn’t use it for housing, they
didn’t fix up the streets, they didn’t put up a recreation center.” Furthermore, the tribe’s beautiful casino is stocked with “brand new bedding, linens, furniture, […] brand new
8 The Ponca Indians of Oklahoma do not have a reservation, but they have tribal jurisdiction over Ponca City, where most Ponca Nation citizens live.
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everything,” while threadbare sheets adorn the only hospital beds in town. Susan noted
that health care on the reservation has always been and continues to be a joke. She talked
about her poor nephew, who once waited all day for care only to be turned away when
IHS (Indian Health Services) staff discovered that they mistakenly had pulled the records
of his deceased father. In addition to these burdens, Susan said that living on the
reservation is prohibitively expensive. The cost of gas and groceries has skyrocketed because one or two store owners have a monopoly on rez business. She expressed disappointment in tribespeople who willingly “take advantage of their own people for profit,” but from Susan's perspective, this behavior is commonplace in reservation environments.
A number of Relocators agreed that desperate living conditions prevent reservation Natives from practicing the traditions of their ancestors. “A lot of the younger kids … can’t even identify themselves,” said Greg; “they just take it [their
Indianness] for granted.” Additionally, Indians on contemporary reservations are too busy surviving to concern themselves with tribal, federal, or global politics. Berta said she does not “fault anybody on the reservation” for their lack of political engagement, even with regard to the fight against Indian sports mascots and other stereotypes (a fight in which she has been engaged for decades). She explained, “they’re doing survival. We got a 80 plus unemployment rate on our reservations and … you know, a lot of them don’t have the time.”
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Relocators and Experiences of Discrimination in Reservation Environments
RelOH members who experienced reservation life firsthand talked about another serious problem faced by rez Indians: discrimination. Part of “doing survival” was protecting one’s self and one’s family from potentially dangerous discrimination on or near Indian reservations, particularly in border towns. Gertrude, who was 72 at the time of our interview, recalled her encounters with legal discrimination when she lived in
Ponca City. “They were very prejudiced in that town and I seen it,” she said. “I mean, you could go into a restaurant, and you would have to go way in the back, like black people. […] And there were some places that had ‘No Indians Allowed.’” Greg, a full blood Indian from North Dakota, said that even with the advent of Civil Rights legislation, Indians continue to be treated in this manner in the cities “around the reservations.” “The people there are so prejudiced,” he said. “It’s bad like it was back in the South when the whites were prejudiced against the blacks.” To illustrate this point,
Berta, Greg’s wife, relayed a story about the family traveling “home” to the reservation
(from NE Ohio) in the summer time. On the way, the family stopped at a “little cowboy town in South Dakota” to buy some snacks. When they placed their items on the counter, the store clerk ignored them. Berta was talking with her children, so she did not notice the clerk’s rebuff until a white man entered the store and promptly was served by the clerk. “He waited on that guy,” Berta said, “and didn’t even look at us.” When Berta realized that she and her family were being discriminated against because they were
Indians, she asked the clerk, “What’s going on?! We were here before him!” She then told the clerk, “Oh, I see what’s going on here!” At this point, the clerk tried to collect
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payment from Berta, but she told him she no longer wanted the items. Berta said, “I refused to buy anything in that store” even though her children were disappointed and crying, “I’m thirsty! I’m hungry!” Sasha, a Reclaimer with dark brown skin, relayed an almost identical experience during our interview. She was ignored by a sales clerk in
South Dakota when trying to make a pawn shop purchase.
A few Relocators relayed more sinister stories of discrimination near reservations.
Bly, for instance, said that whites are very protective of “their area” near the reservation.
“You know, they kill our people,” she said, “[but] you don’t hear about that. They don’t want you to hear about that.” And unfortunately, according to Bly, Indians in border towns cannot rely on border town police for protection. Rather, the Indians “are the first ones that’ll be [put] in jail,” said Bly, “and a lot of time, they’ll get beat up while they’re in jail by police officers.” Bly said that it was “serious business” when one of her family members was taken into police custody. "[W]e just prayed God they got out of there alive,” she said. Bly assured me that her family's concerns were not unwarranted.
Although American Indian Movement leaders focused on ending the use of brutal, unjustifiable police force against urban American Indians in the late 1960s (Nagel 1996),
Bly insisted that the same discriminatory processes were at work in border communities.
Deborah also talked about Natives’ distrust of police officers in border towns. Although she grew up in southeast Michigan, she spent many months of her childhood visiting
Native family members in northern Michigan’s Indian territories. It was here that she witnessed racial tensions between police officers and Native peoples. In fact, her mother had an appalling encounter with the police officer who arrived on the scene of a car
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accident. Deborah’s mother was driving home from the grocery store when she hit a patch of ice, fishtailed, and rolled her van. She was eight months pregnant at the time, so when the police officer asked if she had been drinking, she looked down at her pregnant belly and responded, “Obviously not.” The officer replied, “Well, that doesn’t stop you people,” and then proceeded to write her a ticket for driving on tires with low tread. The officer “left and didn’t even call an ambulance,” Deborah said; her mother had to drive herself to the hospital to have the baby checked.
ortheast Ohio Is ot Perfect, but It Certainly Has Its Perks
In addition to visiting family and friends, Relocators return to the reservation for spiritual ceremonies and tribal gatherings. When talking about the rez, most Relocators mentioned both positive and negative aspects; a few, however, spoke primarily about its deficiencies. After all, many RelOH members chose to relocate to NE Ohio, and all of the interview respondents over the age of fifty voluntarily remain in Ohio today.
According to the majority of RelOH respondents, NE Ohio offers some perks to its
Indian residents. For instance, simply being Indian generally is not dangerous; in fact, it rarely attracts negative attention. As Berta said, “When you live in a city like this, you don’t see the prejudice as bad. You hear prejudice, but you don’t see it as yourself, targeted on you.” Likewise, Gertrude stated – “As far as prejudice [against Indians] in
Ohio? I’ve never seen it.”
In fact, NE Ohio whites are likely to have romantic ideas about Indianness, rather than thinking of Indians in purely negative terms. Deborah, the young woman from
Michigan, remarked upon the positive associations that accompany being Indian in a
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Midwestern city. “You’re like this rarity,” she said, “such a gem kind of thing.”
Although Sasha was a Reclaimer rather than a Relocator, she clearly explained this phenomenon – “Because there’s not a huge population [of Natives in NE Ohio] … there
is not a standard negative connotation.” As a woman with dark brown skin, Sasha has encountered the same racism as Relocators traveling between their urban and reservation homes. What she encounters in NE Ohio is quite different from the discrimination to which she has been subjected out West. In Ohio “I get stupid questions,” Sasha said,
“but it’s not anyone being malicious. It’s ignorance.” Similarly, the majority of
Relocators quickly forgave NE Ohioans for their limited understanding of Native peoples. Gertrude, for instance, told me about a co-worker who once jokingly referred to
her as a “squaw.” “I don’t think he really meant it,” she said, so "I told him, you know,
‘Don’t you ever call me that again.’” In reflecting on this incident, Gertrude said that it is
important to approach this kind of situation with caution. “There’s some people that do
make fun of a Native American, and then there’s some that … are just naïve,” she said.
“They don’t understand.” Gertrude prefers responding to folks who are artless but not
insensitive with humor. For instance, when someone asks where her feathers are (a
question she has fielded regularly), she sometimes responds, “Oh, I’ve got them on.
Can’t you see them?” Just thinking about this ridiculous scenario makes Gertrude giggle.
Still laughing, she tells me, “Or else I’ll say – Oh, I left them at home today. I thought
that I’d just dress like you guys!”
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Relocators and Experiences of Discrimination in the Urban Environment
Although Relocators generally agreed that they were less likely to encounter race- based discrimination in NE Ohio than in near-reservation environments, several respondents discussed encounters with both subtle and blatant racial discrimination in the region. Attracting unwanted stares, for instance, was a common occurrence in NE Ohio, where people were not familiar with American Indian faces, and consequently, felt compelled to scrutinize them. Barbara explained, “They just kind of look at you because you’re different, because you’re not white or something like that. It’s kind of aggravating in that regard. Like, I’m a human being! You know?” Berta said that often NE Ohioans
“don’t realize they’re being prejudiced or talking prejudiced,” but when they say something inappropriate, all of her “sirens go off.” For example, she once recommended an “all-Indian crew” of roofers to a white female friend who needed some work done on her roof. Immediately, the woman asked, “Do they know what they’re doing?” Berta continued the story:
And I thought – what a thing for her to say! You know? She wasn’t a prejudiced woman, but just that remark alone made it sound like – ‘Well, they’re Indian, so they mustn’t be that good.’ I was really offended by that and I just looked at her. […] I didn’t say nothing, you know, but just the fact that she said that!
On another occasion, Berta and Greg encountered literal sirens simply for
“driving while Indian." Like other racialized minority group members who are apprehended for nothing more than "driving while black," Berta and Greg had an unnecessary encounter with small town NE Ohio police officers (Geiger-Oneto and
Phillips 2003; Lundman and Kaufman 2003; Harris 1999, 1997). Berta described this NE
Ohio incident as “the worst case [of racial profiling] that we ever had, down and out.”
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Berta, Greg, and several other family members (three children, a grandchild, a niece, and a nephew) performed for a gymnasium filled with students at a suburban NE Ohio
school’s Diversity Day event. Afterwards, they went to McDonald’s for lunch. They were leaving McDonald’s when a police officer approached Berta’s son and asked him if the baby he carried in his arms belonged to him. Berta’s son said yes, the child was his daughter, and then he pointed to the baby’s mother and grandmother (Berta) and told the officer he could verify this information with the women. Once Berta assured the officer that the baby was part of the family, she thought he was satisfied and would leave them alone. The family began traveling homeward. They were interrupted, however, when six police cars surrounded their automobile on the expressway. When Greg pulled over, the officers ordered everyone out of the van and then handcuffed Berta’s adult sons and nephew. Berta immediately protested this action and asked, “What did we do?” An officer informed her that he was going to impound the van because it was not registered in the family’s name and it had thirty day tags on it that expired today. Berta explained
that the van belonged to her daughter-in-law and that a simple phone call would clear
everything up, but the officer insisted on taking the van, which meant that he also had to
take the family to the police station because they no longer had transportation home.
Once they arrived at the police station, Berta was able to call her daughter-in-law, who promptly brought the title to the van with her to the police station and then paid $80 for
the van to be released from impound. No one was ticketed or charged with any crimes.
Understandably, Berta was infuriated by the family’s treatment by these police officers,
whose racist attitudes were so blatant even Berta’s six year old niece picked up on them.
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“They were so down and out prejudiced,” Berta said. “Everything they said and did, you could just tell they were prejudiced.”
Despite having this vexing encounter with the police, Berta and Greg whole- heartedly agreed with the majority of Relocators – Native people are far less likely to encounter prejudice and discrimination in NE Ohio than in cities nearer to reservations.
Widespread stereotypes about American Indian people continue to affect their interactions with others, but the romantic images of Indianness prevalent in the NE Ohio environment tend to be less hurtful and harmful than stereotypes of Indianness more common near the rez (e.g., Indians are drunken, dirty, lazy, mean). As persons of color, relocated Natives occasionally encountered negative stereotypes, but they did not dwell on these experiences. In general, they spoke highly of NE Ohio, a place where they have raised families and grown roots.
THE TROUBLES WITH ACCOMPLISHING INDIANNESS IN NE OHIO
Stereotypic Images Make It Difficult to Accomplish Indianness in E Ohio
In contrast, Reclaimers expressed some annoyance with romantic images of
Indianness that seemed to reinforce peoples' perceptions of them as white. In particular, they noted that antiquated ideas about reservation Indians continued to be the standard against which their Indianness was measured, and against which they inevitably fell short. Kurt articulated this conundrum when he called himself the “urban American
Indian poster boy” and further stated:
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What we’re portraying here is – I am Indian. Hear me roar. Accept me for who I am and not as what you see or portray as Native American. Because I get so upset with individuals who point the fingers, and … I know some full bloods who can’t tell you nothing about their culture. And they’re full blood!
Kurt’s defensive attitude and slight antagonism toward some “full blood” Indians result from years of societal denials of his own Indianness. “Full blood” Indians often are recognized as Indians whether or not they participate in tribal traditions. Kurt is devoted to living according to Indian ways, but his actions seldom receive the same scrutiny as his appearance. According to Kurt, “a lot of folks get this mysterious vision or fantasy of what a Native is – the long black hair flowing in the wind, the feathers waving to you in the air.” When self-identified Indians do not conform to these ideals, they are quickly dismissed by Natives and non-Natives alike (Warren 2009; Weaver 2001; Krouse 1999;
Paredes 1995). Members of other racialized groups experience similar denials of their identities if they do not look "black enough" or "Latino/a enough," for instance (Khanna and Johnson 2010; Golash-Boza and Darity 2008; Rockquemore and Brunsma 2004,
2002; Brunsma and Rockquemore 2002, 2001).
Although Kurt knew he would face consequences for his actions, he decided years ago that he would proactively resist faulty images of Indianness, such as the inaccurate notion that all American Indians (most notably, American Indian men) wear their hair long. “I did portray that look for quite a while,” Kurt said, “because it was a way of acceptance. But I also then got to a point where the Creator told me – You know what,
Kurt? You need to portray the urban American Indian and that urban American Indian no longer looks like this.” Kurt decided that he would not “play into the stereotype” anymore, and he has worn his hair short ever since.
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Kurt’s strategy for combating Indian stereotypes, however, has not been adopted by the majority of Reclaimers. Many of them try to accentuate their Indianness to gain recognition. Sadie, for instance, talked about wearing her “big fat Native sweatshirt,” bone earrings, and beadwork to the food bank; she expected these accoutrements to deflect others’ doubts about her Native ethnicity. Even Tabatha, who is three-quarters
Indian and an enrolled member of the Cherokee tribe, wears moccasins and Indian jewelry to job interviews. She is tired of hearing people say, “Well, you don’t look
Indian,” to which she has been known to respond, “I’m sorry I don’t have my hair up in feathers!” If she dresses according to others’ expectations, she said, “it just eliminates … that part [of the interview] that makes me angry.” Warren (2009) discusses a similar strategy utilized by urban Mapuche women in Argentina, who don traditional clothing when they go on interviews or when they are acting as spokespeople for Mapuche causes.
Danna, another tribally enrolled NatPride member, has a unique way of displaying her
Indianness – her tribal identification number is tattooed to the back of her neck. When people ask her what the numbers represent, they generally are surprised to discover that she is American Indian.
Efforts to increase the visibility of their Indianness seem necessary to Reclaimers who face consistent denials of their Indian identities. As Scott, a NE Ohio resident of
Cherokee heritage, commented – if you are “not part of the purple hair club,” people assume you are white. Reclaimers in general were hyper-aware of others’ assumptions of their whiteness. Yet, despite the relative ease with which many NatPride members could
"pass" as white, they ultimately adopted Native identities. Their understandings of self
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aligned with definitions of Indianness, and therefore, provided a sharp contrast to their
constructions of (vilified) whiteness. The intensity of their internal struggles to claim
Indian identities – to become Indian, however, was matched by the fervency with which
their Indianness was discounted by the people around them. During the interviews,
NatPride members talked openly about others’ denials of their Indianness. Their concerted efforts to incorporate Native practices into their daily lives did not seem to convince classmates, work colleagues, family members, and/or other Natives of their
Indianness. Rather, NatPride members' inability to fit the contextual or visual mold cast for "Indians" within the broader society provoked resistance and/or rejection of their
Indian identities by others.
Interactional Invalidation of Reclaimers' Indian Identities
Some NatPride members' earliest experiences with this resistance occurred in
educational settings. Daniel remembers being teased by kindergarten classmates who
refused to acknowledge his Indian identity – that is, until Daniel's grandfather came to
class dressed in full regalia. “After they saw that," Daniel said, "they’re like – Oh, I
guess, okay, alright. He is Native. Cool.” Another NatPride member faced resistance
from school authorities when she was “busted” with tobacco during a random school
“lockdown,” or locker search for drugs and drug paraphernalia. Sadie had prayer ties
(small bundles of loose tobacco used to pray) from her mother’s funeral in her locker.
She tried to explain that the tobacco was for ritual use, rather than smoking, but school
officials were skeptical. Sadie recalled, “[T]hey proceeded … to say that I’m
unwrapping each little square of tobacco and rolling it up in a paper and smoking it.”
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Only after Sadie’s relatives and several Native community members came to her defense
did school personnel finally decide to forego disciplinary action.
NatPride members' Indian identities were invalidated in workplace interactions as well. NatPride members' talked most often about their inability to get time off work for spiritual ceremonies. Employers are required by law to reasonably accommodate employees’ religious practices, but they often expressed incredulity when NatPride members requested leave. Floyd explained that Native ceremonies take place on "Indian time"; in other words, they tend to have ambiguous end points because “everything’s supposed to have its own flow." Requesting an unspecified number of days off work – in some cases, up to two or three weeks – to attend out-of-state ceremonies run on “Indian time,” however, caused tensions between Indian employees and their non-Native employers. NatPride respondents suggested that employers might be more supportive of their requests if they either lived in an area where Native people and their beliefs were better understood, or if they looked like the stereotypical Indians portrayed in advertisements, comic strips, cartoons, movies, etc.
NatPride members' Indian identities also were negated by family members. These denials of their Indianness were especially hurtful. Valerie, for instance, expressed frustration with her cynical ex-husband, who insisted on referring to her as Mexican in
front of their daughters. Valerie continued:
And I get really angry at that because I am Native American. There’s no doubt in my mind. I mean, I may not have that little card that says I’m Native American, but I know that I am. And yet, for him to still tell them […] You know, your mom is Mexican. And her jokingly, now she says, it’s just a joke to say – “Well, mom, when the Census comes out, I’m marking Mexican.”
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Valerie recognizes that tangible validation of her Indianness, in the form of a "little card" granted by a tribal entity, is needed to assert her Indian identity convincingly to others.
For this reason, she spent over five years trying to obtain the documentation required to become an enrolled member of the Cherokee tribe. She made numerous trips across state
lines to acquire almost all of the birth and death certificates necessary to link her to her paternal great grandfather, a full blood Cherokee who survived the Trail of Tears. During
the interview, Valerie talked about why she worked tirelessly toward her goal of being
"carded":
I’m not doing this to try to get monetary rewards or, you know, anything other than to fill the need that I have, personally, to say that this is why I’m the way I am. This is why I have the colored skin. This is why my hair’s the way it is, my eyes are the way it is. I mean, this is a direct link.
Although Valerie talks exclusively about her personal need for tangible validation of her
Native identity, her prior comments illustrate that others' denials of her Indianness have
had an emotional effect on her. Unfortunately, the loss of her great grandfather’s death
certificate in a fire, a fact Valerie discovered two months after our interview, permanently precluded her from acquiring the documentation needed to validate her Indian identity
not only to herself, but to the world at large.
Like Valerie, Casey identified as Cherokee despite his ineligibility for tribal
enrollment. He spoke exasperatedly about an all-too-frequent interaction that occurred between him and his first wife, who mocked his assertions of Native identity:
Although she knew my mom, although she met my mom’s family, she would tell me – “You’re not Indian. Quit it! Quit trying to act like an Indian!” [That] is how she put it and it would just irritate me to no end because I never tried to force any of my beliefs on her, so, but, uh, you know, c’est la vie!
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According to Casey, his first wife presented “some of the worst problems [he] had with pursuing [his] path.” The negative feedback he received from her about his identity and
his practices became unbearable, and ultimately, their marriage ended in divorce.
In addition to the resistance posed by classmates, coworkers, and family
members, Reclaimers also were denied recognition of their Native blood by members of
other Native communities, including many Relocators. When a respected RelOH elder
informed me that NatPride members were “wannabes,” all of the RelOH participants
within earshot nodded their heads in agreement. NatPride members were keenly aware of their discredited status amongst RelOH members and other “carded” Natives. They
regularly referred to this phenomenon as Indian “politics,” and it was most frequently
noted in reference to powwows. For instance, Kenai said:
There's just so much BS that goes along with being Indian in Ohio. [...] You have the full bloods who don't want, like, the non-enrolled members and then the non-enrolled members are irritated because the 'skins treat 'em bad. It's too political! […] That's why I hide my face when I dance. I cover my stuff up ‘cause you know, I'm just there to dance.
Kenai knows that full blood Natives, or “’skins,” disapprove when they see him dancing at powwows because his Indian ancestry is not immediately apparent. To avoid their discomfiting stares, he dances in an elaborate feather roach9 that covers three-quarters of
his face. A number of other NatPride participants talked about how “powwow politics”
informed their decisions regarding which area powwows to attend. They were not
welcome at some powwows due to their tribal (non)enrollment status. Additionally, they
expressed annoyance at “powwow police," people who, according to Floyd, scoffed at
9 A roach is a dance headdress worn by men.
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dancers for doing things “wrong,” simply “because you’re not doing their traditions.” In the powwow arena, people who did things “wrong” were called “wannabes” by Indians
whose racial identities were less contentious, either because they were "carded" or because their appearance fit the stereotypical "Indian" mold. NatPride members,
however, ascertained that “wrong” might be “right” for some people, depending on their tribal affiliations and traditions. Like Floyd, a number of NatPride members tried to attend mostly intertribal powwows, where “as long as you’re following your traditions, you’re okay.”
At NatPride gatherings, Floyd and Kenai frequently joked with one another by mimicking these so-called “powwow police." They gleefully yelled, “That’s not how my people do it!” when the other was engaged in some tribally specific practice. This running joke became popular amongst youthful NatPride participants. By joking amongst themselves, they alleviated some of the uneasiness they experienced regarding their disputed status as Native people. This close-knit environment could not protect them from the tumultuous emotions they experienced in other settings, however.
Reclaimers' Vulnerability when Indianness Is Denied
A majority of NatPride members encountered persistent denials of their
Indianness. Though deemed unimportant by many Reclaimers, these denials impacted their lives in myriad ways. A particularly compelling illustration of how
“undocumented” Natives are affected by continual negations of their identities occurred while I was talking with Casey at NatPride’s annual powwow. The previous evening, I attended a “Native American” event sponsored by a local parks association, at which
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Casey was the main attraction. He had been invited to play his flutes, as well as tell stories in the Native American tradition. Almost immediately after his introduction to the crowd of approximately 60 park enthusiasts, Casey self-consciously stated, “As you can see, I’m obviously not full blood.” After “confessing” his mixed blood status, Casey seemed able to relax and enjoy his esteemed role as the Native American flutist – or so it
seemed. While talking to Casey at the powwow the next morning, he asked me if I saw
the Native man in the audience the night before. I responded affirmatively and Casey said, “Yeah, that guy was hardcore.” Casey went on to say that the man was making “all
kinds of facial expressions” and he did not look very happy. Did he make you nervous?
I asked. Casey held his index finger and his thumb about an inch apart. “A little bit,” he
replied. Casey then confided, [paraphrased] I don’t think he approved of my flute playing. Within minutes of our conversation, the man we were talking about suddenly popped his head into Casey’s vending pavilion. He held his hand out to Casey and gruffly said, “Hey! You did a nice job last night.” Casey shook his hand and thanked him. After the anonymous Indian walked away, Casey exclaimed, “That just made my day!” Grinning from ear to ear, Casey practically shouted, “I feel great!” and then he repeated, “That just made my day.”
Casey’s euphoria after receiving a compliment from the “hardcore” Indian shows the extent to which his sense of self was affected by feedback he received from others, and perhaps more specifically, other Native people. Like many NatPride respondents,
Casey insisted that “the rolls and blood quantum and all of that, it doesn’t really matter.”
Casey’s actions, however, revealed his vulnerability to dismissals of his Indianness and
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his lack of confidence in asserting his Indian identity in the presence of a full blood
Indian – in this case, a person who belonged unquestionably (in Casey's perception) to the group to which Casey aspired. Although Casey was heavily invested in his Cherokee identity, he knew he did not possess the resources necessary (e.g., dark skin, a tribal identification card) to secure membership in some Indian circles.
Casey's contradictory reaction to his contested identity was common among
Reclaimers. Danna, for instance, is an enrolled member of the Odawa tribe, but people always assume she is “a white girl.” After insisting that she does not “feel like everybody has to know” she is Native, she said – “I don’t care if you know, but don’t assume that I’m white or don’t assume that I’m Hispanic, you know what I’m saying?”
She would prefer that people ask for her ethnicity, rather than “make an assumption.”
She continued:
Because, the funny thing is, that when people make assumptions, that’s their perception of you, just automatic. So if you’re white, then you should almost be like this. Or if you’re Mexican, or whatever, then you should almost be like this. So if that weren’t the case, then I guess it really wouldn’t matter. But if you’re going to automatically make assumptions about how you’re going to treat me based on what you know? Then yeah, please ask me!
Clearly, Danna does not want anybody to assume that she has the characteristics of “a white girl” or a “Mexican” because she does not want to be treated accordingly. Thus, although she claims that she does not care if people know she is Native, she simultaneously wants them to resist any temptation to place her within a racial or ethnic category. Given the import of race in structuring social relations, Danna’s desire for colorblind interactions – a possibility that she discounts in the above statement – cannot
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be realized. As such, her statements illustrate that she ultimately does care that people know she is Native.
During my interviews with Reclaimers, they openly spoke about the tangible obstacles on their pathways to Indianness. From their perspectives, they make considerable sacrifices to be as authentically Native as possible – traveling great distances to learn Native ways from reservation elders and forfeiting time and material comforts to maintain daily Native practices. Additionally, they contend with others’ resistance to their identities. They are forced to manage awkward interpersonal interactions as well as more serious confrontations with authority figures who have the power to restrict freedoms necessary to practicing their beliefs. Reclaimers were reluctant, however, to talk directly about the emotional affects of others’ ignorance and/or denials of their Indian identities.
Like Casey and Danna, a majority of Reclaimers maintained that they simply ignored people who could not or would not recognize their Indian ethnicity. Yet, their actions told a different story – one that is substantiated in the literature on racial miscategorization. Because identity is a two way process, "internal" identities and
"expressed" identities (i.e., how we think about ourselves and what we say we are) are in constant interaction with "observed" identities, or what others assume based on appearance (Harris and Sim 2002). The construction and expression of racial identities, then, are "socially mediated" (Brunsma 2006; Rockquemore and Brunsma 2002). In other words, the perceptions of others play a critical and consequential role in racial and ethnic identity formation. Reclaimers use a number of strategies to accentuate their
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Indianness, but they cannot manipulate the phenotypic traits (e.g., fair skin, blonde hair)
that carry so much weight in the identity attribution process (Khanna and Johnson 2010;
Mullaney 1999). As Mullaney points out, some traits simply "count more than others."
The historical and repeated emphasis on a specific "Indian" appearance, therefore, has
resulted in the frequent racial misclassification of American Indian people (Campbell and
Troyer 2007). According to Campbell and Troyer (2007), this misclassification leads to psychological distress.
Although Reclaimers rarely verbally acknowledged the detrimental psychological consequences of being racially misclassified, others talked about what they perceived as the potential damage caused by mistaken racial categorization. For instance, Sadie is one of only two Reclaimers interviewed with dark brown skin. When asked if her feelings are hurt when others cannot identify her as Native, she replied, “It doesn’t bother me and it might be because of my coloring. No one doubts me when I say it." "Other people, who look white," said Sadie, "get doubted. And I know that’s got to be hard.” Sadie has a number of Native friends “who look white,” which provides her with empathic insight into this potentially hurtful scenario. A final example, which illustrates the subtlety with which this topic is addressed, is from an interview with Cheryl, a middle-aged NatPride member. Cheryl was talking about her previous work experiences when she said –
All my life I always worked with men. And I was always put with the black guys […] and one of the guys, that didn’t have enough sense, said, “Why they put that white girl with us?” And two of the gentlemen spoke out. “Man, don’t you know what she is? She’s as black as us, but she’s red. She’s been discriminated against and […],” and you know what? That hit home so much. Like, oh my God. You understand. This hasn’t been an easy road.
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In this workplace scenario, two black men immediately defended Cheryl when a co-
worker referred to her as a “white girl.” These men obviously recognized the demeaning
and potentially hurtful nature of their co-worker’s comment. In addition to quelling his
complaint, Cheryl’s defenders equated her Indianness with their blackness, drawing
attention to their shared experiences of oppression. Although Cheryl repeatedly said
throughout the interview that she did not care what other people thought of her, this story provides a different perspective on Cheryl’s emotionality wherein her Indian ethnicity is
concerned. Her co-workers’ defense of her Indianness “hit home so much” because her
subordinated status as a woman of color and her experiences as a ative woman finally
were recognized by someone outside herself.
Relocators' Experiences of Racial Misclassification
Whereas Reclaimers talked about the resistance they faced from others who
discounted and/or denied their Native identities, Relocators were more likely to discuss
others’ complete ignorance of the fact that they could be Native. Often, Relocators were
categorized as non-white. Labeling them racially or ethnically, however, proved to be
difficult for non-Native residents of NE Ohio. Relocators were accustomed to being
racially and/or ethnically misclassified, and many attributed this phenomenon to the
limited experiences of NE Ohio residents with American Indian people.
For instance, Kevin was a young man in his twenties who grew up in an area with
a somewhat visible Native population. He moved to central Ohio to attend college and
then was recruited to work for a firm in NE Ohio. Kevin said that he almost always was
mistaken for “some form of Asian” by Ohio residents and that this tendency was “a little
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bit worse now” due to his employment in a “science and technical field.” Kevin posited that his mistaken racialization was the result of the invisibility of Native people in NE
Ohio and widespread stereotypes about both Asian and Native people.
Racial and ethnic misclassification such as that experienced by Kevin occurred so frequently in the lives of NE Ohio Natives that some interview respondents had fun with it. A number of them reported playing guessing games with unsuspecting strangers who naively asked their ethnicities. For Berta, a full blood American Indian woman whose family relocated to NE Ohio when she was a young girl, these encounters typically occurred with “foreign people” –
Sometimes, like, you go into those little corner stores and they’ll ask what type of nationality are you. Are you – ? And then they’ll name every nationality in the book and I tell them no, no, no, no! And then when I’m ready to leave, he says – hey, hey, hey, hey! What are you anyways?
Berta enjoyed drawing the conversation out by allowing the questioner to make a series of incorrect guesses; only when she was ready to leave did Berta respond with the correct answer. Likewise, Melissa and her siblings were Native Hawaiian and white, but people often assumed they were Hispanic. As adults, they started to “mess with” people by challenging them to guess their ethnicities. When they finally told the guesser they were
Hawaiian, her or his response was always – “No! Yeah, I’d have never got that one!”
Experiences of racial and ethnic misclassification were so commonplace, in fact, that one Relocator, a full blood American Indian woman named Bly, talked about how delighted she was finally to be recognized as Native by a man she encountered at the grocery store. When he asked if she was American Indian, Bly replied –
Yes, I am! I said – I am so amazed! You are the first person who actually got it
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right the very first time! [Laughs.] And he just looked at me and he smiled and he said, “I just knew it.” […] And I said – That is so nice. Thank you! You made my day. I think I told him that, too, and he started laughing. Yeah, it was cool.
Bly had only one guess as to how this stranger properly identified her as American
Indian. Before the interaction ended, she asked – “it must be because you spent time out west, huh?” As Bly expected, the man nodded an affirmation. Bly, like a number of other Relocators, associated any level of proficiency about Native peoples with living outside NE Ohio, presumably in an area with a visible Native population. Otherwise, total ignorance of Native peoples was expected and, for the most part, accepted.
As noted above, the racial misclassification of Native peoples in cities near Indian reservations, however, was utterly uncommon. Indians are more easily identified by non-
Natives living in areas with higher American Indian population densities (Campbell and
Troyer 2007). For instance, Greg said that he sometimes had to convince Ohio residents
– who insisted that he was Asian or Hispanic – that he was full blood American Indian, but if he was in North Dakota –
[…] they’d automatically know! Or South Dakota, in the Midwest, they’d know I’m Indian! But out here? They don’t know! Because a lot of them don’t even know there’s Indians around here, you know? It doesn’t make no difference. I just say, yeah, I’m American Indian. [And they respond] “No, you’re not!”
Similarly, Deborah has been mistaken for Latina, Chinese, and Korean in both SE
Michigan, where she grew up, and in NE Ohio, where she lives now. People’s perceptions of her ethnicity, however, were very different the year she lived in northern
Michigan, on federal trust lands. According to Deborah, “everyone automatically knew I was Indian there, which was very different […] You know, there was no dodging it.”
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Because “being Indian” was “cool” in her urban hometown, experiencing her Indian
identity in this more pejorative sense was eye-opening. As Deborah noted, people back
home said, “Ooh, you’re Indian!” But up north, they said, “Ew, you’re Indian?”
Berta, who proudly claimed the “militant” label, particularly when describing
herself as a young adult engaged in the American Indian Movement, was all-too-familiar
with the sentiments described by Deborah. When Berta was growing up, the response to
Native people was generally negative. In both reservation and urban settings, prejudice
against Native people was so prolific that people “were ashamed to be Indian.” Now that
it is “cool” to be Native in the urban environment, Berta said “everybody fights to be
Indian – but they weren’t here for the hard times, you know, when we had to fight to be, just to be who we are.” From Berta’s perspective, the recent development of (now) white
Americans’ latent Indian identities occurred too late. Rather than helping Native
communities in NE Ohio, “wannabe” Indians, according to Berta, pose a number of problems for “real” American Indians living in the region. The literature denotes that
Berta's perspective on "wannabes" – though contested – is not uncommon amongst
"carded" Indians living in reservation and/or urban environments (Lawrence 2003;
Jackson 2002; Krouse 1999; Churchill 1998; Gonzalez 1998; Nagel 1996). In addition to
"wannabe," a number of clever names, such as "thindians" and "delusional Indians," have been devised to convey a speaker's contempt for people trying "to pass themselves off as
Indians" (Paredes 1995: 343).
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"Wannabes" Are the Real Problem with Accomplishing Indianness in E Ohio
A number of Relocators agreed that Indian “wannabes” were problematic because they contributed to non-Natives’ erroneous beliefs about Native people. “White” people who attempted to portray Indianness in NE Ohio were deemed responsible for furthering the impression that “real” American Indians were extinct, at least in this region of the country. At the same time, Indian “wannabes” were believed to have better access to grant monies that enabled them to publicize their inaccurate versions of Indianness.
Melissa, the youngest member of the core RelOH group and the person primarily responsible for the group’s bookkeeping, said she was aggravated that –
[…] they’re always the ones who get all the money for powwows, who apply for grants under the auspice of being Native and get the money. And then, when a Native group actually applies – well, we already funded a group in your area. We can’t help you.
The idea that non-Native people falsely claimed Indian identities to “make money” was widespread among Relocators. Even Bly, who expressed empathy for people who could not trace their roots, but were “really trying to get involved in the traditional ways,” recognized that claiming Indian ancestry was “a game” to some people. Bly stated:
It has nothing to do with that they’re brought up or proud to be American Indian. They see an advantage and that’s what they want to do and I think that’s sad. […] It’s always about that, all the time, ever since the Europeans first set foot on this land. It’s all about advantage. What can I take? What can I have?
In expressing these frustrations, Bly alludes to a critical component of Indianness in the United States. Throughout the history of this nation, European American leaders have strategically imposed definitions of Indianness that reserved the greatest number of political and economic advantages for dominant group members, to the detriment of
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indigenous citizens (Lawrence 2003; Gonzales 1998; Churchill 1994). The federal
government is the primary beneficiary of institutionally defined Indianness, such as the
25% blood quantum requirement that is the most common criterion for membership in
federally recognized tribes (Turner Strong and Van Winkle 1996). Because federally
regulated Indian identities are directly associated with resource distribution and other protections, such as land use rights and religious freedoms (Garroutte 2001), more
stringent definitions of Indian identity result in fewer federal obligations to American
Indian people. Thus, the "blurring and shifting of [ethnic] identities" – which allows
more people to claim Indian identities – seems particularly dangerous to people who want
to assert indigenous rights (Lawrence 2003: 22). Inevitably, more Indians will result in
less access to predetermined and finite resources reserved for Indian people.
Gonzales (1998) refers to this phenomenon as the "political economy of Indian
identity," and asserts that Indian identity is most contested when "benefits are seen as
accruing to individuals newly identifying as American Indian" (211). These new Indians
are frequently branded as "ethnic frauds," or persons who deliberately "falsify or change
their ethnic identities" to "achieve personal gain" (Gonzales 1998: 201). As a
consequence, unknown individuals claiming Indian identities mobilize what Weaver
(2001) refers to as the "identity police" (similar to the "powwow police" alluded to by
Reclaimers). In NE Ohio, Relocators – many of whom confidently assert federally
recognized Indian identities – feel a certain amount of responsibility for "policing" the boundaries of Indian identity in the region. Relocators were particularly suspicious of greedy Indian "wannabes," whom they believed pilfered the funds set aside for "real"
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Native people. When these funds were perceived to be provided to "wannabes" at the community level, they contributed to even greater conflict between urban Indian communities in NE Ohio. This issue is discussed in more detail in Chapter Six.
A number of RelOH members believed that Indian "wannabes" used ill-begotten funds to increase their own visibility, and in turn, skewed peoples’ perceptions of Indians
– particularly with regard to what Indians look like and how Indians act. As Melissa stated, people who claimed to be Native, but could not prove it, “always [got] heard” and
“[were] always seen.” But, according to Melissa, “They don’t look Indian!” For this reason, Melissa was not surprised when people “assume that all the real Indians are gone.” Berta also talked about how physical differences between “wannabe” and “real”
Indians inevitably contributed to this incorrect assumption, which ultimately was harmful to American Indian people. She stated:
People think that that’s what we all look like, you know what I’m saying? There is real Indians. We are real Indians out there. We’re not make-believing or playing Indian for that day. It’s a way of life with us. And yet people will play Indian on weekends just to get money, just to get attention, and stuff like that.
Perhaps even more problematic to some Relocators were ideas about Indian practices that “wannabes” implanted in the minds of non-Native peoples. Two
Relocators talked about being somewhat “offended” by Ohio powwows that showcased
“nothing but white people singing on the drum” and “dancing around.” Berta said that
Indian wannabes "think [they are] honoring us," but “they do a lot of inappropriate things.” According to Greg, non-Natives in the audience who are watching white people dance at a powwow might say – “Oh! That’s the way it goes!” In reality, however,
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"They just make stuff up,” Berta concluded. Greg relayed the following story about
“wannabe” Indians at powwows:
They’ll dance and … when … a song ends, they’ll dance out backwards. I never heard of that! You know? I mean, you just walk the right way. You know? And one time there was a woman that was dancing on the outside, going the opposite way of the dancers […] the arena director didn’t like her dancing and he gave her a hard time.
The actions of this particular “wannabe,” according to Greg, were especially egregious because “she wasn’t even dressed right! She was dressed in a little skimpy mini-skirt jingle stuff with a leather tie over here, open, so you could see her skin all the way
down!” Eventually, the powwow arena director told the woman she had to leave. To
Berta and Greg, this action was warranted and appropriate “[b]ecause you’re not
supposed to show skin.” Furthermore, community elders like themselves were
responsible for putting an end to the “crazy stuff” that “so-called Indians” did.
Will the Real "Wannabes" Please Stand Up?
It is important to note that not all RelOH members were comfortable using the
“wannabe” label. Gertrude, for instance, said that she felt no resentment toward people
who looked white but claimed that their great-great-grandmothers were Cherokee. As
Whitewolf-Marsh (2003) notes, this type of encounter occurs frequently in Ohio. “No, it
doesn’t bother me,” Gertrude said, “because it probably could be so!” Gertrude attended boarding school with blonde-haired and blue-eyed girls who were three-quarter Mohawk
– and they had to prove their Indian blood to enroll in the school. Additionally, friends
and family members who attended New York and Connecticut powwows told her that
some of the tribally affiliated Indians up North look black. After pointing out these
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surprising examples of Indianness, Gertrude concluded, “Native American Indians on the
reservation, coming from the reservation – they like to judge,” but “I’m not going to be
no judge and jury of somebody. I know who I am, you know?”
Interestingly, the idea that Indians “come in all colors” was accepted by all
RelOH respondents. As Berta noted, “I have two grandbabies who are blonde hair and blue eyes, and people say, ‘Those are yours?!’ And I tell them ‘Yup, those are my babies.’ So, you know, I tell people we come in every shade.” Yet knowing about and
even experiencing the many colors of Indianness does not prevent many Relocators from
making assumptions about NE Ohio persons outside the community. Youthful RelOH
members, many of whom are multiracial, are accepted uncritically by RelOH elders who
have known them since birth. It is not surprising, however, that these same youth
experience resistance in other Native communities, where their ethnicities are not taken
for granted.
Consequently, young RelOH members’ experiences of Indianness in NE Ohio in
some ways parallel the experiences of Reclaimers who feel compelled to live up to
idealized and unattainable versions of “Hollywood” Indianness, particularly with regard
to appearance. Berta’s granddaughter, for instance, seemed to recognize her inability to
"do Indianness" appropriately at a very young age. According to Berta, her
granddaughter had “beautiful blonde hair” and “pretty blue eyes,” but “she just hated
them.” “She used to want her hair black so bad when she was little,” Berta said. She told
the following story to illustrate her point:
I used to comb my hair, and then I would brush her hair and I would say, “Okay, now take all of the hair out of it and put it in the trash.” And then when she was
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taking the hair out of the brush, she would see my black hair and she would say, “Ha! My hair is turning black!” She was so happy that her hair was turning black. [Berta laughs.] It was just little, but she was so proud. She just wanted to be like me so much, my hair, you know, she wanted dark hair. “I want your eyes, Grandma. I don’t like my eyes.”
However cute and comical this memory may be, it is almost haunting in its conveyance of a young girl’s discontentment with her appearance. Certainly, this little grandbaby of
Berta’s did not receive direct messages about “authentic” Indianness (and/or her inability to achieve it) from her grandmother, but she must have gotten these ideas somewhere. It does not seem as though her insecurity lessened as she got older, either; when Berta’s granddaughter turned eighteen, she dyed her hair black. “It didn’t look good to me,”
Berta said, “but she really liked that dark hair.”
Sandra and Samantha, two mixed blood RelOH members in their twenties, talked about how their light skin coloring complicates being Indian in NE Ohio. Sandra, for instance, admitted that she was “always kind of envious” of “the girls who looked more
Native” than she did. Even her sisters were objects of envy. “My sisters are so dark and
I’m so light,” Sandra said. “How does that happen? Same parents, yet they are like four shades darker than me.” Due to her somewhat fair complexion, Sandra’s ethnicity is often mistaken for Greek. She does not have this problem when she is in the company of her sisters, however. In these instances, “people don’t think anything of it,” said Sandra.
“It’s like, yeah, she must be Mexican or whatever.” Samantha, who also has a light brown complexion, said that her participation in out-of-state powwows is sometimes
frowned upon. From her and her mother’s perspective, she should have placed at a
number of competition powwows, but didn’t. “We both thought it was because I look
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like I’m lighter,” Samantha said, “so maybe the Native judging doesn’t think that I’m
really Native and won’t put me down even though I’m a good dancer.” To dispel any
doubts about Samantha’s Indian identity, her mother often will “make an effort” to introduce Samantha to people as her daughter. “And I always just found that annoying,”
Samantha said, “because it’s like, I have to prove that I’m Native to them by my mom,
who is dark skinned.” Using kinship ties to assert Indian identities, however, was an
effective strategy for the mixed blood urban Indian participants in Krouse's (1999) study
as well. Ultimately, Samantha concluded that the resistance of others to her Native
identity “has definitely been an issue” for her. At one point in high school, she even
received harassing voice messages from an anonymous caller who said – “You’re really
not an Indian. You’re a white girl.” To this day, Samantha does not know who the caller
was, but she suspects that only a Native person would try to insult her by calling her a
“white girl.”
SUMMARY
The intra- and interpersonal accomplishment of Indianness in NE Ohio is
experienced differently by Reclaimers and Relocators. Despite the efforts Reclaimers
make to adopt Indian practices and live in Indian ways, their Indian identities are
frequently denied by others. Relocators are less likely than Reclaimers to be denied
Indian identities, but they frequently are racially misclassified by NE Ohio residents. To
Reclaimers, romantic portrayals of Indian appearance – depictions of Indians with "long black hair flowing in the wind," for instance – make it extremely difficult for them to
accomplish Indianness in interactions with others. Relocators, on the other hand, believe
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that Indian "wannabes," who reinforce false notions of Indianness, are one of the greatest obstacles they face with regard to accomplishing Indian identities.
CHAPTER VI
I DIA COMMU ITIES
Chapter Six explores American Indian identity at the meso level by illustrating
how different pathways to Indian identities contribute to the development of unique urban
Indian communities with distinct organizational forms. The chapter begins with a history
of these community organizations. Because the founders of NatPride and RelOH are
exemplars of the reclamation and relocation pathways to Indianness (respectively), their
life histories are discussed in detail. Their experiences of Indianness – as well as the
experiences of other NatPride and RelOH members – have affected the development, priorities, membership, and sponsored activities of the two urban Indian community
organizations that are the focus of this research. Next, the chapter examines each
organization's strategies for enacting these priorities, engaging the discourse of "Indian politics," which is used by members of both communities as well as scholars who study
contemporary indigenous issues. Finally, the chapter concludes with a discussion of potential harms and benefits of these strategies, with a focus on the future of American
Indian community life in NE Ohio.
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TWO PATHWAYS / TWO COMMUNITIES
A History of Repression: atPride Origins
Dean, the founder of ative People Reclaiming Indian Identities, is a short,
stocky man with a low, gravelly voice. When he smiles – something he is prone to do –
his black eyes almost disappear behind his round, ruddy cheeks. In his 75 years on earth,
he has witnessed an amazing shift in the placement of Indians within the U.S. social
structure. Dean delights in his ability to “fit into the crowd” now, but he remembers being treated like an outcast in his younger years. “People didn’t take to us like they did
the white people,” he said. In fact, “our kin people told us to tell people we were Spanish
or something like that … because back in them days you used to sit there like a dog. You
wasn’t human, in other words.” Dean never acted on this advice, though, perhaps due to
his father’s enduring pride in his own Indian heritage. “He’d tell you in a hurry that he
was an Indian and he wouldn’t try to pass himself off as nothing but an Indian,” Dean
said. Dean followed suit. When he joined the Marines, he made certain that “Indian”
was noted on his records; it was not long before he faced consequences for this action.
Dean recalled:
Well, when I first got there, the VI looked at me [and] he said, “You an Indian?” I said, “Yes sir.” He said, “Well, some day you going to have to prove that you an Indian.” So I didn’t get to walk on the road like the others. I had to walk on the left flank or the right flank … on swamps and quicksand and all that […] He told me that he gonna make a Marine out of me or kill me, one.
Dean was not the first enlisted man in his family, nor would he be the last. His
grandfather was on a scouting mission for the U.S. Army when he disappeared, leaving
Dean’s grandmother with multiple children to feed in Oklahoma Indian Territory.
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Dean’s father was the eldest of these children, so to relieve his mother’s burden, he
“picked up stakes” at the age of 17 and hitched a ride up north with a white couple who
shared their home and their Christian teachings with him. Dean’s father went on to work
in the coal mines of Kentucky and West Virginia – all the while preaching the gospel and
“help[ing] the Indian people, too, wherever he could.” Over time, serving country, God,
and Indians became a family tradition.
Dean was born in a small Kentucky coal-mining town, and then spent most of his
youth “around coal miners and farmers” in West Virginia. When he got out of the
Marine Corps, his sister invited him to live with her in Ohio. With a mischievous smile
Dean said, “She wrote me and told me there’s pretty girls in Ohio, so when I got out of
the military, I caught the bus and come to Ohio.” In Ohio, Dean worked in the ministry
and sang in a gospel choir while holding the full time job that enabled him to support his
family. Eventually Dean became a board member for a local Indian Center. It was at this
time that Dean started “going to powwows … and picking up things here and picking up
things there and learning more about the culture.” His father taught him “a lot of stuff,” but he could not afford the luxury of travel. As noted previously, the ability to travel long distances has been a general necessity for urbanites interested in reclaiming Indian identities.
Dean raised his boys to be proud of their Indian ancestry, and Kurt, the eldest, followed a path much like his father’s. He served in the military, entered the ministry, and by the time Kurt was 46 years old, he had devoted 25 years of his life to working for the Native community of NE Ohio. He was employed by the Indian Center for which
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Dean was a board member until 2008, after which he became Executive Director of
NatPride, the organization his father founded approximately seven years earlier. Dean was delighted to pass leadership responsibilities on to his son. “That feels real good,”
Dean said, “to have somebody take your place. It’s good to sit back … and watch the young generation take over.” Importantly, according to Dean, Kurt will be able to take the organization “farther and farther and farther” because he has the skills required of twenty-first century leaders. For instance, Kurt knows all about “computers and stuff like that.”
atPride Today
Despite his lack of computer skills, Dean established NatPride and made it into a community organization that lived up to his expectations. In Dean’s opinion, the former
Indian Center – the one for which he had been a board member – “went more or less the white man way more than they did the Indian way.” When asked for clarification, Dean responded, “Well, they, to tell you the truth, they just didn’t do too much. […] They more or less wanted to just sit still.” Specifically, the center did not accomplish two essential tasks. First, it did not adequately present itself to the broader community. As a result, regional Natives did not know that a center for them existed and non-Native community members did not know that Natives existed in the region. In contrast, the members of
Dean’s organization participate in local parades and do educational presentations at local schools and churches in their efforts to “show people that the American Indians are still around here.” Dean added, “A lot of [people] think that we already vanished and gone, but there’s still some American Indians left yet.” Second, the original center did not
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provide a space for community members, both Native and non-Native, to meet and mingle with one another. NatPride sponsors monthly community meetings for this explicit purpose, and it also hosts an annual Christmas party that supplies food, entertainment, and donated gifts for children at no cost to community members.
NatPride initiated a number of other activities after Dean’s son, Kurt, became the
Executive Director. In addition to monthly community meetings, the center hosts a monthly craft and regalia night and a monthly drum practice. These activities became
NatPride mainstays due to the persistent urgings of a small but active group of young adults. NatPride also continues to do outreach in the community, a goal made possible, in part, by donated office space that allows NatPride members to respond quickly to requests for Native speakers. Finally, NatPride has a number of programs devised to assist persons in need. NatPride provides community members with access to the internet, it offers confidential HIV and Hepatitis C testing, and it confers small monetary grants to families in need of emergency funds. These official programs support the organization’s basic mission, which for Kurt, is two-fold: first, NatPride promotes cultural awareness in the state of Ohio, and second, NatPride provides services and/or referrals to services for Ohio’s oft forgotten Native population.
atPride and the Problem with Affirmative Action
Kurt’s devotion to the organization’s mission arises from his life experience as a non-carded Native person living in the urban sphere. He has experienced the heartache of being unrecognized, miscategorized, and even rejected by Natives and non-Natives alike. He recognizes his own precarious position in the realm of Indianness, and this
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insight gives him empathy for similarly situated others. Kurt describes himself as the
“urban American Indian poster boy” – someone whose Native blood and culture may be
“diluted” after generations of wear and tear, but also someone with a genuine desire to
seek out teachings, follow traditions, and support his Native brothers and sisters.
According to Kurt, his work at NatPride is essential because:
What a lot of individuals don’t realize is that a lot of your Natives born today, they’re not full-bloods. They’re not even half-bloods. They may be quarter or thirty-second bloods. […] We blend so easily into society today … because some of us are darker skin, some of us are lighter skin. Everybody expects us all to look the same and we’re not. […] So it’s eye-opening information, that uh, is sort of my job to take out there and teach agencies and governments here in this state to be aware [of] and understand. Most of your Natives may not even be born on a reservation today, but that doesn’t make them any less Native.
Kurt admits that he sometimes is frustrated with individuals who identify as Indian, but
“have no clue about their culture at all.” These individuals, however, are different from
folks who know they have Native blood and are trying to follow tradition, but just “don’t
know where or how. And that is, sometimes, your urban American Indian,” Kurt said,
“whether you want to accept that or not.” Particularly upsetting to Kurt is the fact that
“those same Natives, because they cannot trace back exactly to who, where and when on
that reservation, are left out of affirmative action.” They cannot access, for instance,
minority scholarships, “unlike an African American who doesn’t have to prove they’re
African American.”
The construction of black identity in the United States has followed a course quite
different from the construction of American Indian identity. As Kurt points out, unlike
Native people, black people are never asked to "prove" their African heritage. In fact, people of African descent who do not identify as black often experience denials of their
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non-black self identities in interactions with incredulous others (Rockquemore and
Brunsma 2004; Rockquemore and Arend 2002; Brunsma and Rockquemore 2001). This phenomenon is nearly the reverse of what happens to NatPride members, who are
discredited when they assert non-white (Indian) identities. This difference in
contemporary experiences of black and Indian identities is the result of historical
racialization processes. In Chapter Five, I discussed the economic and political
advantages that accrued for dominant societal members as a result of the federal
government's regulation of Indianness: fewer people recognized as Indian translates into
fewer federal obligations to (a very restricted number of) Indians. In contrast, the "one-
drop rule," which determined that one drop of black blood was all that was necessary to place individuals in the black racial category, was institutionalized in the United States as
a means of preserving the black/white "color line," and consequently, white privilege
(Omi and Winant 1996). This construction of blackness is rooted in slavery. By
designating any persons with African ancestry as black, the dominant (European) group
in society was able to maintain the greatest number of slaves. More slaves meant more people denied the basic rights of citizenship, which, in turn, meant more economic and political power for whites. In contrast to American Indians, therefore, whites in the
United States benefited from expanding (rather than contracting) the boundaries of blackness.
Thus, Kurt is understandably frustrated by the failure of "affirmative action" policies to protect "undocumented" or non-carded American Indian people. He, like
many other NE Ohio Indians, noted that American Indians are the only people in this
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country who have to prove their ethnic heritage. Kurt knows that the people he is trying to help have experienced historical trauma as a result of their Indian heritage and the treatment of Indians by the federal government, yet official government policies deny the colonization of American Indian people, as well as its long term effects. As Executive
Director of NatPride, Kurt interacts regularly with governmental and other non-profit agencies; frequently these interactions unnerve him because so few people understand the history of American Indian people. Those who know something about indigenous peoples' histories rarely know the full story. As a result, they deny the trauma experienced by so many of NatPride's members, as well as the members' rights to claim
Indian identities. "I've been in meetings with high officials who have called me liar to my face," Kurt stated exasperatedly during our interview. He continued:
I mean, we’re kind of living in a society that contradicts itself. U.S. Census is coming up here in 2010. They don’t require me to show a tribal card to prove that I [am Native]. All I got to do is self-identify as Native American. However, if I want to seek after federal funds, I have to prove either my blood degree or I’m tribally enrolled. […] I could go online right now and bring up scholarships for Native Americans and most of them will tell you that you need to have a blood degree or you need to have a tribal number.
Kurt has never been able to find a Native scholarship that was available to non-carded
Natives. "You show me where, I'll be glad to pass it on," he said, "because I've got young people lined up waiting for those scholarships. […] I don't care if they have to prove by DNA testing that they've got Native blood there." The problem, however, is that the presence of Native blood is deemed irrelevant by federal agencies; rather, specific quantities, or "quantas," of Native blood are used to determine who is or who is not recognized as American Indian (Garroutte 2003; Lawrence 2003; Weaver 2001;
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Krouse 1999; Churchill 1998, 1994; Gonzalez 1998; Turner Strong and Van Winkle
1996). As Kurt points out, different agencies with different agendas (such as the U.S.
Census) do not define Indianness in the same way. In fact, a 1978 congressional survey discovered 33 distinct definitions of Indianness in federal legislation (Garroutte 2001).
These contradictions expose the political nature of socially constructed and federally
"validated" Indian identities. These contradictions are particularly frustrating for Kurt, who represents NatPride in numerous governmental spheres, and consequently, is compelled to stay focused on the "big picture." The big picture, in this case, is increasing
NatPride members' access to federal funds. After all, if Kurt successfully convinces
governmental agencies of the need to provide services to non-carded American Indians,
then NatPride’s (scant) resources can be utilized for more than operating expenses and projects providing emergency funds for community members’ most basic needs, such as
shelter, food, and medication.
Interestingly, NatPride members were aware of the organization's mission to provide basic services to Native NE Ohioans, but they rarely commented on this particular NatPride objective. Rather, community members were more likely to discuss
the work of NatPride in terms that reflected their own reasons for participating in the
organization. Thus, from the perspectives of NatPride members, NatPride serves three primary functions. It provides NE Ohio Natives with a community of belonging. It
offers emotional support and technical assistance to Native-identified persons interested
in discovering more about their indigenous origins. And finally, NatPride provides
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members with the Native socialization experiences they frequently were denied in their
early lives.
Reclaimers' Organizational Priorities
When I asked one NatPride respondent what NatPride provides for him and his family, he responded – “One word: community.” A number of NatPride members agreed that NatPride provides them with a community of belonging, or more specifically, a place to be Indian without judgment. NatPride is a safe haven for Natives, regardless of skin tone or (lack of) federal recognition or tribal affiliation. For instance, NatPride
Natives who experience consistent denials of their Indianness in the public sphere, according to Sadie, can “just be” at the Indian Center without people looking at them as if they have “three heads.” Sadie talked about recurring public encounters that deepen her appreciation for NatPride. Recently she had “a weird experience” at the food bank. First, the woman behind the counter checked the box for “white” when filling out Sadie’s intake form – “even though, like, I had my big fat Native sweatshirt on and my bone turtle and my bone earrings and my beadwork.” Sadie corrected the food bank volunteer, stating that she was Native American. When confronted with the woman’s puzzled expression, Sadie reiterated, “I’m Native American.” After this interaction, the woman recorded Sadie’s religion as Catholic although Sadie clearly stated that she practiced
Native American spirituality. In retelling the story, Sadie said, “that’s the kind of crap I have to deal with all the time!” Another common confusion Sadie experiences when dealing with the general public regards her children’s genders. Sadie explained:
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I always get, if the kids are with me, what a beautiful set of girls I have – because Bartholomew has beautiful blonde hair. Even though he’s dressed in camo[uflage]! I don’t get it. I mean, I blatantly put her in pink and him in blue and [sigh], I don’t know. And then I say, “We’re Native American … He’s got long hair just like his daddy.” And then, if I still get the stupid dumb dog look, I say, [loudly] “We’re Indians!”
NatPride offers Sadie and her family respite from the puzzled expressions and “stupid dumb dog look[s]” that all too often are directed at them in public spaces. “For the most part,” Sadie said, “we can go [to NatPride] and we can be ourselves.”
For some NatPride members, NatPride provides a similar respite from quizzical
or condescending others. For Valerie, her light brown complexion (rather than fair skin)
was at the root of her feelings of social isolation. She recalled her experiences as a young
girl, when she tried explaining to classmates that she was Native American, but they
dismissed her. According to Valerie, she had “to be either black or white because there
was no definition between the two.” At the same time, she was not deemed socially
acceptable by members of either racial group. In contrast, NatPride participants “always
made me feel so accepted, that I was special,” Valerie said. She continued, “All of the
things that I wanted people to see me for, they saw … [They] saw more in me than I
could see [in] myself, I guess is the best way to put it.” Sasha agreed with Valerie’s
opinion of NatPride, saying – “It’s a comfort, it’s a community, it’s support.” For Sasha,
NatPride community is “very much about being there for each other. It’s mitaku oyasin,
we’re all related.” The lack of such a support system in her youth contributed to her keen
sense of discomfort with the color of her skin. Unlike NatPride members with fairer
complexions, Sasha’s brown skin gave her a “feeling of separateness, of not belonging”
in white-dominated society. Because Sasha’s “coloring” was inherited from her absent
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Native Hawaiian father, she experienced this sense of differentness even among the members of her family, all of whom had light brown hair and blue eyes. Today, Sasha attributes her youthful discomfort with her appearance to the fact that she did not have what her nieces and nephews involved in NatPride have now – “a community that they can draw from.” Regardless of their skin tone, they can experience feelings of belonging that Sasha missed out on in her early life.
NatPride also provides assistance to individuals hoping to confirm their Native bloodlines using genealogical research. Interested persons can obtain relevant literature
from Kurt and they also can utilize internet-enabled computers at the NatPride office to
conduct their investigations. Kurt makes these tools available to community members because he firmly believes that all people, regardless of ethnicity, should have some knowledge of their personal and family histories. Valerie, a long-time member of
NatPride who also serves on the Board of Directors, expressed gratitude for NatPride’s
encouraging stance on this issue. She remembers feeling somewhat hesitant about
investigating her family’s Native history when Dean told her, “Valerie, just check into it.
I know you can do it.” Her family “had no idea” that she was even interested in
recovering their Native past, but Dean’s words of encouragement boosted her morale and
gave her the courage to follow through with the task. As noted in Chapter Five, Valerie
struggled to obtain recognition of her Indian heritage from the Cherokee tribe, but to no
avail. She experienced innumerable hardships while trying to locate a family members’
death certificate – the last document needed to prove her relatedness to Cherokee
ancestors – and unbearable heartache when she discovered that the certificate had been
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destroyed in a fire. Despite her own frustrations, Valerie expressed excitement about
NatPride’s offers of assistance to people like herself, stating:
I like the idea that we are trying to help our people to be able to identify who they are, where they came from, whether it be from Shawnee or Cherokee or Iroquois or Blackfoot. We’re still of all Indian descent. And it shouldn’t be a matter of … what tribe you’re from. It’s more about, you know, embracing the Indian culture and understanding and being very respectful.
In addition to providing a space where urban Native youth and adults can congregate without feeling self-conscious about their skin coloring and/or their Native identities, respondents emphasized the important lessons they learned about being Native at NatPride gatherings. Tabatha talked about her discovery of NatPride, saying, “All this time I had been going to powwows and talking to people and visiting with people about
Indian ways … and then I find out there’s an Indian Center. I was drawn to it.” She appreciates NatPride because “it gives us a place to get together and learn more about our
Native American heritage.” Sasha believes that one of the greatest concerns of urban
Indians is losing the culture and traditions. She talked about how Indian centers such as
NatPride provide urban Indians with a necessary community of support, stating:
You’re kind of isolated here, so it’s hard to hold on to your traditions and hold onto your teachings and the history and the stories and stuff like that and I think that’s where an Indian center comes in. It gives you that community where you can come together with other people who are also isolated in their own, you know, their own little world. […] I think it’s important to know that you’re not out there alone … [NatPride] gives us that community that we don’t really have out here away from reservations and stuff like that.
Although a number of NatPride Natives occasionally visit reservation communities, the burden of traveling great distances to do so prevents many of them from making trips as
frequently as they would like. Thus, NatPride provides space within the urban
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environment where urban Natives – carded or not – can enjoy the companionship of other
Natives as they strive to learn Native traditions and practices. For instance, Sadie, the mother of two young children, particularly enjoys the fact that the “drums [have] come back out” at the center. “That’s the kind of stuff that helps me,” she said. Because Sadie sometimes has difficulty understanding the words of songs on cassette tapes, being around other NatPride Natives such as Floyd, who has similar teachings, helps her family
“learn those songs better.” Sadie appreciates the support with which other NatPride members provide her because it is nice to know that she is “not the only one trying to do anything.”
Like other NatPride members, Sadie is committed to learning Native ways.
NatPride provides a communal space where Native people can come together to learn and practice the Indian ways that their families failed to pass on to them. Because the individuals who participate in NatPride often do not have Indian-identified families, they rely on one another for the ethnic socialization that they missed out on in their early lives.
RelOH members, on the other hand, typically were socialized in Indian-identified families, and consequently, they come together for a somewhat different purpose. Like
NatPride members, they seek the comfort and companionship of other Native people; they do not feel the need, however, to learn and/or practice Indian ways together to the same extent that NatPride members do. Because the members of RelOH come from a number of different tribes, many of their personal practices are tribally-specific, and therefore, not conducive to practicing in a pan-Indian setting. Additionally, although
RelOH members want their children to experience some ethnic socialization within an
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Indian community, the organization's primary function is to fill the void relocated Indians
feel as a result of leaving extended kin behind on their respective reservations. Berta talked at length about the need for (fictive) kinship ties in the city.
A History of Community: RelOH and Its Predecessor
Berta, a Lakota woman in her sixties, is seen by many NE Ohioans as the backbone upon which the Relocated Indians of Ohio community organization stands.
Her mother was implemental to the community’s development and Berta has been critical
to the community’s continuance. Berta played a key role in founding what is now the primary RelOH organization (herein referred to as RelOH10). Prior to 1990, a different organization acted as the hub for this particular group of NE Ohio Natives. When the former organization dissolved, Berta and a number of other relocated Indians recognized the need for something new to take its place. In particular, the women were spurred to action as they began “realizing that their children didn’t know anything about the cultures.” Thus, Berta noted, one purpose of RelOH was to instill “cultural awareness in our own children.”
At the time, Berta was no stranger to reservation life or urban living. She lived on a reservation in South Dakota until she was thirteen years old. She and her six siblings were at boarding school when their parents picked them up and drove them to Ohio, where they would start their new lives as enrollees in the federal government’s Indian
Relocation Program. Her parents chose Ohio as their relocation destination due to the
10 When necessary, other organizational entities subsumed under the RelOH umbrella will be referred to by a unique pseudonym.
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educational and occupational opportunities available there. At the time, NE Ohio schools
were nationally ranked and the region was brimming with factories that provided middle
class incomes to entry-level workers. Berta’s father worked in one of these factories until
the day it closed.
Despite being young at the time, Berta remembers this frightening and exciting period of her life. She recalls the loneliness she and her siblings felt in the big city, saying – “We grew up in extended families with our grandparents, our uncles, cousins, so that’s how we grew up, you know? So when we moved here, we lived by ourselves. […]
We missed the closeness of the extended family.” She and her siblings also found the city itself to be quite intimidating because back home on the reservation, everything was
“so small.” Berta remembers staying inside the family’s tiny apartment for months after their arrival; eventually, however, she and her siblings learned to navigate big city bus lines and they enrolled in big city schools. In school, Berta and her siblings discovered that they were not the only students experiencing a period of adjustment. “It was hard for people to adjust to us, too,” Berta said; “I remember people would say – ‘You’re Indian?’
And they used to pinch my sisters [and say], ‘I heard Indians don’t feel pain.”
The fact that thousands of other American Indians also relocated to NE Ohio in search of a better life was what made the city a livable space. Relocatees were provided with housing in the projects, memorably described by Berta’s young brother as the houses “all stuck together.” Berta talked about how her family’s living situation, which provided contact with “over fifty nations of Indians … from different areas of the country,” enriched her life:
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[S]o when I moved here is when I first found out we had other nations. I knew about Apaches because we watched them on TV, but I never knew about Navajos, Choctaws, Chickasaws, Seminoles. […] There was a real good educational experience for us to see all the different nations and learn some of their culture from them. They formed an Indian Center … so that’s how we kept our culture going – through each other, from meeting all the other people.
As a teenager, Berta participated in the (former) Indian Center, which bustled with activity. The center sponsored baseball and bowling leagues, dance classes, picnics –
“stuff that kept the Native community together.” Community members were “like family off the reservation,” Berta noted, “because we missed that family, the extended families” that remained back home. Berta’s participation in the center’s youth group made a significant impact on the rest of her life. It was “the time of Russell Means,” Berta said,
“so I always grew up being proud of who I was.” Berta describes her young self as “very militant minded,” stating –
I used to have pictures up on my walls of Indian Power, Huey Newton, Caesar Chavez – all the militant fighters, you know? I really liked their philosophies, like the Black Panthers’ philosophy about community empowerment and stuff like that, you know. […] I was so politically aware of my community, my culture, that I was involved in a lot of different aspects.
From an early age, Berta worked to increase cultural awareness in NE Ohio through her engagement in multicultural programs. She also participated in innumerable demonstrations, many of which aimed to educate a resistant public about racial injustices
– including Major League Baseball’s use of the red-faced, maniacally grinning “Chief
Wahoo” mascot in a city that was home to thousands of relocated American Indians.
When the factory where Berta’s father worked closed in the mid-1970s, approximately one decade after the family’s arrival in the city, Berta’s parents moved back to their home reservation. As a young woman in her twenties, Berta chose to stay
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behind. She met her future husband, Gregory – a Dakota man who also came to Ohio on relocation – and when the couple decided to start a family, they moved back to Berta’s reservation of birth. They stayed on the reservation until their oldest children, twin boys, were ten years old. It was a difficult decision to move back to the city, Berta recalls, “but the [reservation] economy was so bad that we just, you know, we couldn’t make it.”
With an unemployment rate of more than 80 percent, just getting by was a challenge. As
Berta said, “it was really hard to … live a full life that you really wanted.”
Early RelOH Goals: Increasing Cultural Awareness
When Berta and Greg moved their young family back to NE Ohio, they were sad to discover that the once bustling Indian Center was closed. An informal Native community still existed, though, and the couple knew many of its members. For a time, adult members of the community occasionally gathered at a local bar. Then, according to
Berta, older community members began to think, “Well, if we want to be together as adults, our children probably do, too.” In response, Berta and a few others worked together to create RelOH, an organization still in existence 20 years after its founding. At the time of its formation, the group focused on providing educational activities for the community’s children, who were culturally disadvantaged in the region’s public schools.
As Berta noted, “[T]hey never teach us to be proud of who we are as a people.” Because
Native children were not exposed to information that kindled pride in their heritage, adult members of the community made it their goal to teach the children that “they have a proud race and culture to be proud of also.” They formed a family friendly group that met regularly.
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When possible, the family-oriented group also partnered with area institutions. In
coordination with the Museum of Natural History, for example, RelOH developed a program centered on American Indian contributions to the Americas. Through their participation in the program, Native children learned that their ancestors contributed to the land base, the language, and the agricultural aptitude of today’s North and South
American nations. Such lessons, said Berta, were necessary to instill racial and ethnic pride in the community’s children, who were descendants of a people who “survived over
500 years in the Americas with our language and our religion.” Today RelOH continues
to act as a conduit between NE Ohio institutions and the Native community more
generally. In 2010, for instance, RelOH members were invited by the Museum of Art to participate in planning meetings for an upcoming exhibition that would include more than
800 pieces of North American Indian art spanning 2,000 years. Community members
were invited to participate in the opening day of the exhibit. Alongside the Native
artifacts, contemporary Native artisans were on display to demonstrate skills like beading
and weaving. Dressed in full regalia, community members’ children and grandchildren performed traditional Native dances on stage. Museum-goers could watch a live thirty
minute performance every one and a half hours throughout the afternoon. RelOH
members were pleased with the organization of the event, which allowed the Native
community to increase public awareness of its continued existence (particularly within
the NE Ohio region) and provided community members’ children with the opportunity to participate in a prideful demonstration of their culture and heritage.
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Relocators' Organizational Priorities
In addition to arranging learning opportunities about American Indian peoples for
the community’s children and the broader public, RelOH performs another essential
function – it provides NE Ohio Natives with “family off the reservation.” This facet of
the organization’s work was mentioned often by RelOH respondents, who deeply
appreciate the community’s indelible organizers. Many community participants give
RelOH credit for reviving Native community networks and events that may have
disappeared with the former Indian Center. Bly, for instance, is a full blood Indian
woman of Lakota and Dine descent who grew up out West. She met her (now ex-)
husband when he was stationed at a Colorado military base, and she moved with him back to his home state of Ohio when his military duties expired. For five long years she
endured her new living arrangements. “I didn’t like it,” Bly said, “and the reason for that
was because I didn’t have no family here … so I basically was real lonely and homesick.”
Eventually, however, Bly discovered that she was not the only American Indian living in
NE Ohio. She contacted the (former) Indian Center, and “that’s when things started to
change.” Bly was only 20 years old when she first moved to Ohio; she blames
"immaturity" for her initial lack of concern about finding other NE Ohio Natives.
Once she discovered the Native community, she realized how important it was for
her to be around other Native people. “That’s when I started realizing that [Native
companionship] was something I really needed in my life,” Bly said. She loved working
at the old center, where she performed administrative tasks and assisted with the
distribution of food to Native community members in need. The Indian Center was “a
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social setting, too.” “Our doors were always open,” Bly recalled, “so a lot of our Natives,
and especially a lot of our elders, would come in. And we would make sure we had
coffee going … and they would come, sit and talk with us. […] That’s why it was so
cool, too.” Her Native companions at the Indian Center, both young and old, filled the
emptiness that Bly felt as a result of being so far away from her family back home. She
made friends that she continues to rely on today – the only difference being that she sees
them at events sponsored by RelOH, rather than the Indian Center of her former
employment.
For Bly, a “strong family life” is “just beautiful, and … something that is
definitely the American Indian way for real.” For years she thought she eventually would
move back west to be nearer to her mother and father, but now she thinks she probably
will stay in NE Ohio. She raised her children here and has grown “roots.” Bly believes
American Indian people have “a spiritual tie” to one another because they are connected
through history and ancestry. Thus, members of the Native community act as her
surrogate family. Tribal beliefs and practices may vary, but for Bly, the strands of
similarity that flow through all Native teachings keep indigenous people together. As Bly
stated, “We’re all brought up basically with that respect” for the community and the
elders and Mother Earth.
Bly explained that RelOH's sponsored events – the Harvest dinner, Christmas party, and Easter egg hunt – may not seem particularly "Native" to a non-Native person
like myself. In fact, people of all ethnic backgrounds frequently celebrate occasions in
the same way as RelOH Natives. It is the composition of the revelers – the fact that they
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are all Native – that makes these events special and "spiritual," according to Bly. "You feel like okay, this is just a dinner. We're gonna eat, munch down, whatever, gifts will be involved maybe. But it's more than that," Bly told me. Native community gatherings are occasions for Native persons to come together and simply be in the comforting presence of other Natives, with whom words need not be spoken to communicate ideas passed down through the generations. Samantha, a young Native woman who was raised in
RelOH (but experiences distance between herself and RelOH members now, a point discussed momentarily), expressed a sentiment similar to Bly when she said, “I think when you identify with your group, then you don’t even have to talk about it, being
Indian, but you just feel that. I don’t know how to explain it. You just feel inside that there’s some kind of connection.”
A number of RelOH respondents acknowledged their reliance on the RelOH community, albeit in different ways. Gertrude, for instance, moved to NE Ohio from
Oklahoma with her husband during the relocation era. Although the couple was not enrolled in the federal relocation program, they arrived in Ohio shortly after Gertrude’s brother-in-law, who was. Gertrude has fond memories of the pan-Indian community she discovered upon her arrival. Once she divorced her abusive and alcoholic husband, however, she had to remove herself and her children from the community entirely. “I figured that if I broke away completely,” Gertrude said, “then I’d survive.” She moved with her three children to the suburbs, and gradually, she began participating in out-of- state powwows that provided her with the Native companionship she necessarily had forsaken. After she remarried, Gertrude returned to the Native community. She enjoys
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spending time with other NE Ohio Natives again, “working on things, different things,
you know, bake sales and flea markets and powwows.” Gertrude likes to “get in there
and help out and pitch in and put [her] 100 percent right in” when it comes to planning
and implementing Native community events. She considers the time spent with her
friends reward enough for her efforts because she is so grateful for their companionship and support. “I consider them real good friends,” Gertrude said. “If I ever got way
down, I know that I could depend on them. That’s the Indian community that I know.”
Susan, a Dakota woman who relocated to Ohio with federal assistance, did not talk as
candidly about what Native community members mean to her, but her statement about
NE Ohio Natives who do not participate in Native community life is just as revealing.
After stating that some NE Ohio Natives “don’t get involved” and are, therefore, “just
invisible,” Susan sighed and exclaimed, “I don’t know how they can live like that!” For
Deborah, the young woman who moved to Ohio from Michigan only recently, the Native
community eased the pain of leaving her family by making her feel “absolutely”
welcome. NE Ohio Natives, according to Deborah, were not only “excited to see another
Indian,” but they were enthusiastic about her tribal identification as well. “I don’t think
they have very many Odawas here,” Deborah said. She is appreciative that community
members simultaneously recognized her Indianness and embraced her distinctiveness.
As Deborah infers, RelOH provides (some) NE Ohio Natives with an immediate
community of belonging. In some respects, this function of RelOH parallels a function
discussed by NatPride participants – the community provides members with a space to be
Indian without judgment. In contrast to NatPride members, however, when RelOH
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members gather, they focus less on the celebration of their Indianness (which, in many ways, is taken for granted) and more on the ability to simply be Indian in a safe space,
where they will not attract the unwanted attention of non-Native onlookers. Perhaps
Berta most adequately summarized this function of community life:
Like I tell people, it’s always good just to be with your own people, you know, because you can be free. You don’t have to be under a spotlight, you know? People are usually looking at you under a spotlight, saying – “Oh, they do this! They do that!” You know, looking at us as, I don’t know, they look at us differently. Then when you’re with your friends, you can be yourself, you know? You can be crazy, talk crazy, whatever!
The majority of RelOH members, like Berta, do not blend seamlessly into white- dominated society. Their brown skin and dark hair signify their Otherness, if not their
Indianness. Once their Indian ancestry is discovered, however, they experience further scrutiny from NE Ohio whites who often have romanticized notions about what being
Indian means. For instance, Berta recalled the astounded reactions of white powwow attendees who overheard her use a swear word:
We were all sitting there [at the powwow], talking and everything amongst ourselves, and then somebody said something and I said, “Bullshit!” I said it real loud, you know. I was just making a comment to something that he said. And then they all looked at me, like, what did she say?! Like they couldn’t believe I was cussing and stuff. […] They were all like [takes a deep breath inward, then emits the sound a child would make after witnessing another child misbehaving] – awwwwwwww!
Exasperatedly, Berta explained, “I tell people, we’re just like you. We get mad, we get bad feelings, we get hurt feelings – we’ll say bad words.” Berta’s efforts to draw attention to the common humanity that Natives share with all people, however, often go unrewarded.
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Thus, Berta and other NE Ohio Natives rely on RelOH as a place of refuge. As
Melissa, the administrator for RelOH said, a primary need of urban Native people is “just
having a place to get together¸ to know where you can identify with other people and be yourself and be comfortable.” Deborah, a RelOH newcomer, agreed, saying that she is
“more comfortable” in “a group of Indians.” She continued:
I’m able to say things in my own language and not have them look at me funny. Like when I’m at work, I might say, “Oh, migwech!” You know, that’s something my family does all the time. It’s “Oh, thank you.” And we just kind of passively toss it around. But like, I’m at work and somebody stops me [and says], “What are you talking about? What did you just say?!” […] But if I was in a group of Indians … [they would know] that’s just “thank you” in [my] language.
In recognizing their need for one another, RelOH members hope to provide a comfortable and comforting space – devoid of the incredulous and/or bewildered stares of non-Native onlookers – for their children as well. When asked what her “perfect vision” of RelOH would be, Melissa (the primary administrator of RelOH events) responded –
A self-sustaining organization that our kids aren’t part of a minority. They feel that they’re more of the majority. I mean, just a group that’s actually heard, instead of [people] saying, “Wow! There’s still Indians out there?!” ‘Cause I don’t know if you’ve ever heard people say that, but I’ve heard it – I don’t know how many times over the last 20 years!
In addition, Berta noted that community members want their children “to be identified with other Native children.” Their identification with other Natives is essential and, according to Bly, can only be accomplished through children’s involvement in Native community life; otherwise, members of the younger generation will be “lost.”
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"BEING," "FEELING," AND "DOING" INDIANNESS IN NE OHIO
It is clear that a primary function of urban Indian community organizations is to provide a space where Native people can be themselves and enjoy the company of other
Indians. NatPride members, who rarely experienced the benefits of having Native-
identified kin, sought relationships with other Indians who would support them as they
learned and practiced Indian ways. Many RelOH members, in contrast, missed the
extended families they left behind and were comforted by their relationships with other
Native community members who were “like family off the reservation." In addition,
members of both Native groups felt scrutinized when they interacted with non-Native people, so they appreciated the opportunities provided by their respective communities to
take refuge from the world "out there." They sought refuge for different reasons,
however. NatPride members often dealt with incredulity (or as Sasha put it, "stupid
dumb dog looks") when they asserted their Indian identities. This tension resulted from
their inability to embody Indianness in ways that satisfied NE Ohioans' desires for the
exotic. Consequently, their identity work involved "outing" themselves as American
Indian people, a task they tried to accomplish, at least in part, by "doing" Indianness in
ways they deemed appropriate. RelOH members, on the other hand, attracted unwanted
attention simply because their skin was brown. In addition to being Othered as a result of
their skin color, RelOH members experienced tensions resulting from their inability to
enact the romantic versions of Indianness that NE Ohioans expected. They sometimes conformed to images, but rarely to actions, that NE Ohioans associated with American
Indian people.
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Thus, RelOH provided a space for relocated Indians to "be" and "feel" Indian,
without having to "do" Indianness in any particular way (Verkuyten and de Wolf 2002).
They were mildly annoyed by stereotypical notions of Indianness to which NE Ohioans
tried to hold them accountable. RelOH members' diverse socialization experiences
taught them that there was not one way to "do" Indianness, and consequently, they
respected one another as Indian people without putting too much stake in whether an
individual practiced traditional spirituality or Christianity, danced at powwows or danced
to disco, or ate buffalo burgers or Big Macs (for instance). Importantly, RelOH members'
self-identities (generally) were confirmed by U.S. governmental agencies that recognized
them as Indian people, as well as by the strength of their relations with Indians back
"home" on reservations. As a result, they did not need urban Indian community identities
to substantiate their claims to Indianness. Community membership was important to
them, however, because RelOH community members served as their NE Ohio family.
Native community members took the place of the extended kinship networks that RelOH participants would have relied on back "home."
For many NatPride members, practicing, or "doing" Indianness, in both personal and communal spaces, was a priority. The self-identities of most NatPride members were not recognized by U.S. social institutions, so these Natives relied on community identification to bolster their claims to Indian identities. Within the warm and welcoming
NatPride environment, their statuses were not in dispute. Here, they experienced acceptance, belonging, and encouragement as they discovered and recovered Native traditions. "Doing" Indianness in this community setting also allowed NatPride members
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to "feel" Indian (Verkuyten and de Wolf 2002). At NatPride, they experienced the ethnic socialization for which they longed, as well as the "sense of peoplehood" that derived from their shared histories (Weaver 2001). The federal regulation of Indianness
drastically reduced NatPride members' agency in defining themselves as Indians, so they
emphasized and exercised the limited agency they had: They claimed an active and
constructive role for themselves and each other by "doing" Indianness together.
Thus, Native participants in NatPride and RelOH experience very different
structural constraints and tensions as they assert Indian identities in NE Ohio. They have been differently affected by processes of racial formation, and therefore, it is not surprising that critical distinctions exist in their organizational priorities. Both community organizations wish to draw attention to the existence of Native people in NE
Ohio. They also want to provide NE Ohio Natives with a safe space where they can "be"
Indian and/or "do" Indianness in ways that make them feel good about themselves.
However, who counts as "authentically" Indian and how "real" Indians should act are contested in this environmental sphere. To NatPride members, Indianness is in the blood, but the quantity of Indian blood (relative to non-Indian blood) is irrelevant. Indianness is also something that is achieved through practice. RelOH members also believe that
Indianness is necessarily linked to ancestral bloodlines, but for them, practices take on less significance. In fact, RelOH elders were sometimes suspicious of Indians who engaged in Native practices too publicly. Berta once said, "You can always tell when the
Indian is not an Indian in this area" because they "overkill."
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These conflicting ideas about authentic Indianness have created divisions between
NE Ohio's urban Indian communities, and these divisions are intensified as a result of the
relationship between federally regulated Indian identities and resource distribution. Ideas
about Indianness and authenticity have been repeatedly explored in the literature, but in
rehashing these ideas, I hope to shed light on how "social, economic, and political forces"
have shaped the "racial meanings" imputed on Indianness, which in turn have negatively
affected the relationships between participants in two NE Ohio Indian communities (Omi
and Winant 1996: 61). I examine the rationale behind their organizing efforts, as well as
the potential consequences of strategic boundary constructions in their respective
communities.
INDIAN POLITICS AND INEVITABLE BOUNDARIES
All Are Welcome at atPride
NatPride was an ideal place for persons of Native ancestry to gain exposure to
Native ways. People seeking Native teachings, but who were generations removed from their Native ancestors, could attend NatPride meetings and events without feeling ashamed of their lack of knowledge of their own histories. When asked to describe
NatPride’s central purpose, Matu, a Native male participant in his twenties responded, “If you’re Native and you don’t know how to do it, come! We’ll teach you.” NatPride also encouraged whites to participate in their community. My reception by the group was evidence of this fact. While participating in NatPride events, I never felt uneasy about being white; my interest in learning about Native people in NE Ohio was accepted at face
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value and I was encouraged to participate in any activities to which I felt drawn.
NatPride participants invited me to learn Native crafts, sing Native songs, and dance at
Native powwows.
NatPride respondents had different reasons for welcoming non-Native persons into the NatPride community. Daniel expressed an interest in teaching both Natives and non-Natives about Indian ways as a means of preserving Native culture. He explained,
“even if I don’t teach Natives, if I teach Peter and Paul, as long as they know it, then what
I know lives on for that much longer.” For people like Oda, a woman nearing seventy years of age who became interested in her Native heritage relatively late in life,
NatPride’s “open door” policy is part of its charm. She described the people involved in the center as “very open, and very accepting, and very loving.” Oda continued, “And it doesn’t matter what color you are at all! If you want to be there and you want to learn about the ways, you are so exciting to the rest of us.” Despite Oda’s late introduction to her own Indianness, she is determined to spend her retirement years educating people about Native ways because “the more people understand, the better treatment our urban
Natives are going to get.” Similarly, Kurt, NatPride director, believes that inviting whites to participate in NatPride can help NatPride accomplish its goals. To support this point, he referenced the multiracial composition of the Civil Rights Movement:
[E]ven if you look back through history, at Martin Luther King and them, everybody that walked with them was not black. There were whites mixed in, all kinds of races … and Martin sort of has the same view as I have – if you’re with me, then you’re not against me. And you’re working with me for that same cause. Now, do I look at you as Native? Ah, I can’t really say that. But I look at you as an individual who understands us, who understands what our needs are, and wants to help us get those needs and reach those goals. So I accept you on that part.
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Despite drawing this comparison between NatPride’s work and the politics of the Civil
Rights Movement, Kurt claims that his initial successes as NatPride Director are due to
the fact that he is “not a political man.” According to Kurt, NatPride’s necessary
involvement in political organizations and political processes does not undermine his
apolitical philosophy because politics in the Native arena is constructed differently than politics elsewhere. In the following paragraphs, I illustrate why NatPride’s evasion of
"Indian politics" is deemed both constructive and unproductive by NatPride participants.
atPride Defined in Contrast to RelOH: We're ot Political!
Politics is a word used frequently by NatPride members, who generally believe that Indian politics are something to be avoided. NatPride respondents had a working definition of the term, which typically referred to some means by which the Indianness of
another person or other persons was called into question. In the previous chapter, I
discussed NatPride members’ individual experiences of Indianness, drawing attention to
the difficulties inherent in assuming Indian identities for persons who, like many
NatPride members, do not fit the stereotypical Indian mold. Importantly, they also do not
fit definitions of Indianness provided by U.S. institutions. Indian politics also prevail at
the community level, where the Indianness of all persons affiliated with an organization
is sometimes called into question. According to Sasha, some Native communities dispute
the Indian status of self-identified Natives due to “feeling[s] of superiority.” They “have
a way of making outsiders feel like outsiders,” she explained. Floyd said that dismissing
a group’s Indianness “all goes with that prejudice thing.” He continued, “That’s people
thinking they’re better than other people because they carry a card, you know? They got
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a piece of plastic that says ‘I’m Indian’ and you don’t, you know what I mean?”
NatPride members specifically avoid making such claims¸ setting NatPride apart from some other NE Ohio Native communities. NatPride members both recognize and pride themselves on this distinction.
Several NatPride members discussed different Indian communities’ policies and practices to clarify what they meant by politics. Danna, for instance, loved going to powwows as a young girl because she “didn’t see the politics.” As an adult, however,
she avoided powwows for several years because they are “just too political.” Danna
explained, “In my opinion, a lot of elders think there’s like a kind of a cookie-cutter
Indian. Like, if you do something wrong, then – Oh, you’re so disrespectful! You
know?” The problem with this attitude, according to a number of NatPride respondents,
is that labels such as “disrespectful” and/or “inappropriate” are applied to individuals
who are sincere in their desires to celebrate and practice Indianness, but simply do not
have the resources (such as mentors or money) or credentials (such as tribal membership)
demanded by a select group of “political” Indians. According to NatPride respondents,
RelOH members occupy these ranks. As Sasha stated, “I have noticed that [RelOH
members are more political], but I don’t know why that is at all.” After all, Sasha mused,
where they live is “not the big hot spot for Indians, either! There’s no big rez there or
anything.” Despite living some physical distance from any Indian reservation, RelOH
members and other “political” Indians are able to make some urban NE Ohio Natives feel
like “outsiders.” This deed often is accomplished in the powwow arena.
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In discussing the “powwow politics” of some Indian communities, NatPride
members set their purportedly apolitical community apart from the others. Sadie, for
instance, talked about a hurtful powwow experience from her childhood:
We’re poor, right? And so, I don’t have the fancy, schmancy regalias with the matching everything. And, I had started Eastern regalia, but still had Plains moccasins … and I was told I couldn’t dance because my regalia didn’t match. I have been told I can’t go to powwows or … I can’t dance at this powwow because I don’t have a card. That’s the kind of politics stuff.
Sadie was in high school when “a lot of people walked away” from the powwow circuit
due to the animosity created by such gate-keeping mechanisms. Other NatPride members
talked about the significance with which "fancy schmancy" regalia is sometimes imbued
and NatPride’s renunciation of this specific “political” practice. For instance, Valerie
talked about NatPride’s craft and regalia night, during which people make “you feel that,
you know, the regalia you have on is fine, but if you want to make it better, [they] can
help you.” They “actually [help] you do that,” Valerie noted, “rather than saying – ‘Oh,
that isn’t appropriate.’” Additionally, Oda, one of the primary people responsible for the
NatPride-affiliated powwow, explained why her “open” powwow operates differently
from some regional powwows –
Because sometimes you’ll go someplace and you’re very comfortable with your regalia, but then you’re standing next to somebody that has a whole lot more money than you and has a whole lot flashier costume [sic] than you, and I don’t want my people to feel that way. I want them to come and have fun. […] And you can go and have a good time and nobody cares if you’re a true blood or not.
Most NatPride respondents agreed that being a “blood” or a “’skin” (i.e., a full blood
Indian who embodies “purple-haired” Indianness) should have little effect on one’s
ability to participate in Native culture and community life.
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atPride and the Perils of Expanding the Boundaries of Indianness
The community’s openness was lauded by all NatPride members. As Kenai said,
NatPride’s commitment to avoiding the “bullshit” and “bickering” that pushes a lot of good people away is commendable. At the same time, however, Kenai, Kurt, and other
NatPride members recognized the potential folly of NatPride’s inclusiveness. As Kenai stated, the “dysfunctional” politics that incite arguments about “he’s more Indian, he’s less Indian” are no less problematic than another maligned characteristic of urban Indian communities – “too many fake people.” Native elders, referred to by Kenai as “Red
Road people,” are deterred from participating in urban Indian communities because they are afraid to bring spiritual practices and/or objects into a group that has amongst its membership “fakes” or “wannabes” – people who do not have an earnest understanding of and/or respect for Indian cultures. Kenai and Floyd both talked about respected elders who “[kept] an eye on things” within the urban communities, but who did so from a safe distance. For this reason, the NatPride community has more participants that these men disparagingly referred to as “olders” rather than “elders.” As Floyd stated:
I never wanted to be associated with the [Indian] Center because … I called it the Geritol crew, you know. We need our elders, but there’s a lot of people there that are kind of off kilter, and uh, those are the wannabes that you hear talk about, you know? Where they’re wearing the felt that looks like leather and the fake eagle feathers and they’re out there, going in the parades, going – “Oh, we’re Indian!” You know? And I’m like, well, I’ll just sit over here and be who I am, you know what I mean?
Kenai agreed, saying, “that’s why a lot of the really good people stay away from the community.” Simultaneously, Kenai recognizes that Kurt, the Executive Director of
NatPride, “is in a bad spot because he can’t turn people away.”
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Kurt understands that “certain individuals will take advantage of situations” and
he believes that it is his job “to filter those individuals out.” Occasionally, someone will
call the agency and say, “Hey! I’m Native American. I just learned that the other day.
So how much can I get?” Kurt does not waste any time working with these individuals.
On the other hand, he is sympathetic toward people of Native ancestry who are “at least
trying to practice their culture in a good way.” For this reason, he refuses to assess participating NatPride members’ rights to Indian status. Kurt’s uncertainty about this
“apolitical” maneuver, however, is illustrated in the following quotation, in which he
clearly finds fault with NatPride’s open policies. He begins by stating that anyone is
welcome to “learn about us and partake” in community life, and then he continues –
But, you see, there’s a fine line there, too, because I know individuals who have done that and then get to a certain point where they’ve intermingled with us, learnt the culture, learnt the traditions, and the next thing you know – they’re Native. It’s like, wait a minute! You told me you were never Native. […] And then, next thing you know, they’re teaching everybody … and that’s fine, too, but then you start noticing they’re putting their own agenda in there somehow, and it becomes like that person in Arizona who was leading the sweat lodge.
Kurt was not the only interview respondent to reference this October 2009 tragedy, which
occurred in a makeshift “sweat lodge” in Sedona, Arizona. Both NatPride and RelOH
members referred to this incident when discussing the potentially devastating toll of
unrestrained “wannabe” Indianness. In this particular instance, a “self-help guru” named
James Arthur Ray was charged with multiple counts of manslaughter when three people
died at his “Spiritual Warrior” retreat. Ray desecrated the ancient indigenous practice of
the sweat lodge ceremony by conducting a “sweat” with more than fifty people. He also
charged his participants thousands of dollars to participate in the week-long retreat. Kurt
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described his own reaction to the tragic event, saying, “I looked at that and I thought –
My God. Fifty-something people?! My grandfather would have drug him through the
fire for even thinking that, you know?” Once again, an American Indian tradition had been co-opted by a white man wanting to make a quick buck. The only time I ever heard
Kurt speak the word "wannabe" was during a conversation about this tragic event.
Thus, NatPride members were aware of the perceived advantages that spurred
some people to claim Indianness. Like RelOH members, they found these people to be
reprehensible, not only for trying to take advantage of Indians' colonial histories, but also
for ruining real Indians' contemporary experiences of Indianness. NatPride members
knew, however, that federal regulations revoked formalized Indian identities from a large
number of Indian people. They also understood the heartache of having their Indian
identities rejected. For these reasons, NatPride did not reject anyone who wanted to participate in the group. They maintained that this strategy was "apolitical," but in fact,
even the avoidance of so-called "Indian politics" was a political act. Native writer Gloria
Bird once stated, in fact, that "Being Indian in the United States is inherently political"
(Shanley 1997). Other Indian organizations, such as RelOH, certainly believed that
NatPride was a political entity – and they disagreed with the community's politics. In particular, they accused NatPride (and another NE Ohio Indian organization, which I
discuss momentarily) of using unsubstantiated Indianness to acquire undeserved
monetary resources that they, in turn, used to benefit undeserving constituents. Unlike
NatPride, which strategically expanded the boundaries of Indianness to accomplish
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community goals, RelOH consciously contracted the boundaries of Indianness. This
strategy, however, also has proven to be problematic.
RelOH and the Perils of Contracting the Boundaries of Indianness
Whereas NatPride Natives between the ages of 25 and 40 are particularly prominent in the planning and implementation of NatPride community events, RelOH members in this age range are less visible. The lack of proactive participation of thirty- and forty-somethings in the Relocated Indians of Ohio is notable. They attend large
community functions, such as the annual Easter egg hunt and the Harvest Dinner, but in
general, they do not help community elders with the administrative tasks required to
organize these events. After conducting several years of fieldwork in RelOH, I became
intimately familiar with a number of community elders, but remained only casually
acquainted with the majority of their children, grandchildren, nieces, and nephews.
Melissa, who is in her mid-thirties, is an exception to this general rule, as are Kevin and
Deborah, who are in their mid- to late twenties. None of these young people, however,
are children or grandchildren of founding RelOH members. In fact, Kevin and Deborah both grew up in neighboring states where they participated in tribal, rather than urban,
Indian communities. Since moving to NE Ohio, the young couple has played an active
role in community affairs. In addition to working alongside RelOH elders on established projects, the couple attempted to branch out and create new models for community building. Due to deep divisions in the urban Native community, they first sponsored an
event that focused on healing the community's old wounds.
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Tensions between RelOH and "Another Indian Center" (AIC)
All of the young RelOH Natives I interviewed11 expressed concern about the
“Indian politics” within which RelOH's leaders had been embroiled for decades.
According to these respondents, hostilities between elder RelOH members and the leadership of another NE Ohio Native organization (not included in this study) have negatively affected their experiences of growing up Indian in the region. RelOH members, both young and old, are intimately familiar with the history that produced such animosity between the fighting factions, but they rarely speak about the details. Due to the sensitive nature of the topic, which has created ill will and hurt feelings on both sides of the divide, I was warned by several community insiders not to ask questions about the matter. I was even told not to interview or interact with the members of this third Native group (hereafter referred to as Another Indian Center, or AIC), lest my intentions for conducting this research be called into question. Thus, my accumulated knowledge of the incident or incidents leading up to the great chasm between these Native community organizations is meager and based completely on hearsay; my desire to discuss the issue
– to “air the [collective] community’s dirty laundry,” so to speak – is even less. For these reasons, the following discussion includes only information pertinent to the point I want to make: RelOH young people support the position of their elders in this ongoing conflict, but they are ready to quash the discord once and for all. Many of them believe the future of American Indian life in NE Ohio depends on it.
11 I interviewed four RelOH members in their twenties, one in her thirties, and one in his forties.
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The executive director of Another Indian Center does not have many fans among
RelOH members, young or old, who use words like “underhanded,” “unscrupulous,” and
“exploitative” to describe him. To one respondent, “His philosophy is – if someone has
something, I want it bigger.” To make matters worse, RelOH suffers because Another
Indian Center has become, in many instances, the “public face” of Indianness in NE
Ohio. As one RelOH respondent explained, the director of Another Indian Center:
has the connections and stuff like that and he has the visibility, you know, because people know he’s in the phone book and if you want to see Indians or whatever, you call [him], because [RelOH] does not have a telephone number. […] So that’s why he gets all the exposure that he does.
Another Indian Center has been able to procure grant money that enables the organization
to rent office space and sponsor a number of cultural and health oriented programs –
things that are well beyond RelOH's means. RelOH members complain that Another
Indian Center gets all of the money and all of the attention and publicity allocated to
Native peoples in NE Ohio. Area associations, such as universities, seeking American
Indian speakers easily find Another Indian Center in the phone book or on the internet, which results in relatively frequent invitations for its director to speak to the broader NE
Ohio public. And as one RelOH respondent put it – “If he can get his face on something or his mouth opened up to speak to somebody, he’s there.”
There are two real problems with this phenomenon, according to RelOH members. First, they question the authenticity of the AIC director's Indianness. He is rumored to be a wannabe, rather than a real Indian. Second, they claim that the AIC director does not use the exposure or the funds allocated to him to improve the quality of life of all NE Ohio Natives. Rather, he uses these resources to benefit only a select group
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of people – most notably, himself. I am certain that Marla, a RelOH elder, was referring to the AIC when she spoke out at a large gathering of NE Ohio American Indians. The
gathering was sponsored by a small group of young urban Natives, including Kevin and
Deborah. They hoped to initiate a conversation that might begin a healing process for the divided NE Ohio Native communities. They invited everyone to attend – including
members of NatPride and the AIC. Although Kurt and Danna attended on NatPride's behalf, the AIC director did not show. Due to the spiritual nature of the gathering, I did not use any recording devices. Marla's statement, however, was very powerful. She expressed her desire for people to be "held accountable" for the monies they receive "on behalf of the Native community." "People are hosting powwows and they are making money and they are receiving grant monies that are supposed to benefit the Native community," Marla said [paraphrased], "yet we never see this money! I want to know where the money is being spent!" It is the AIC director's selfishness and lack of accountability to Native people, according to RelOH leaders, that lend credence to their claims regarding his disingenuous Indianness. "Spreading the wealth around," after all, is a tenet around which American Indian people organize their lives. An unwillingness to share needed resources, therefore, indicates "fake" Indianness. For RelOH elders, the fact that the AIC director lacks documentation to prove his Indian ancestry, such as a tribal membership card, adds insult to injury. They confidently assert federally recognized Indian identities, yet have been unable to secure much needed funds.
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According to RelOH young people, the tensions between RelOH and the AIC
have negatively affected their lives. Because they grew up in a divided community, they
did not always receive the support they needed. As one young respondent noted:
[P]robably since I was like 12 or 13, that’s when it [the community] started dying away, like the whole thing went – [respondent gives the “thumbs down” signal]. Yeah, with [name of AIC director] and everything … the divisions started there and it just kind of split completely. That’s a weird situation in general.
Another young RelOH respondent similarly commented:
[A]s I’ve gotten older, it seems that the different groups in [this city], the different Native organizations, are more politically divided and some of them are very hostile toward each other. So I think that makes it very uncomfortable. Because there are certain events that, you know, I don’t want to go to because there are just certain people there who are just not that nice to me and my mom. And that is kind of disappointing, because actually I would like to be around other Native people, but that uncomfortable feeling is not worth it.
These young people were not alone in feeling uneasy about divisions in the Native
community.
Concerns about the Future of RelOH
Every RelOH respondent below the age of fifty –five expressed interest in
quelling the discord that has negatively affected NE Ohio Native community life for
more than two decades. When I asked the above quoted woman what the community
might aspire to so children of the future will not share her discomfort, she responded, “I
think that just having a group that is united and isn’t hostile” would be helpful. Such a
community would provide young people who are “going through any kind of personal problem or any kind of school problem” with “someone to talk to about it.” Sandra,
another young woman in her twenties, said that she did not experience too much duress
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as a result of the divisions (because her family always remained firmly on the RelOH side
of the divide), but she still concluded our interview by saying – “if there’s one thing that
should be said for the Native people in this area, there needs to be some sort of
togetherness.” And when I asked Melissa, the youngest person involved in RelOH’s day to day affairs, if there was anything she would like to comment on at the end of our interview, she responded:
I don’t know. I would think – maybe it’s just because I’ve been here, or been a part of [RelOH] for 20 years, I see the turmoil between everybody? And I’d like to see that dissipate and I’d like to see everybody finally get along and strive for one common objective, which would be our kids at this point. And it’s always been our kids, but, one way or another, we’ve been sidetracked here and sidetracked there and forgot what the focus was. […] And if they could just, I don’t know – just all get along [laughing], it would be, we’d be a stronger community. Our kids wouldn’t have to hear – “For real?! You’re Indian?” They wouldn’t have to hear that anymore.
Melissa has sacrificed endless hours of time engaged in the work of RelOH because she understands that the future of RelOH is intricately connected to so much more – including the continuity of American Indian identity and culture in NE Ohio. As the mother of a young girl of mixed ancestry, Melissa is devoted to the continuation of a strong and stable Native community that will provide a place of belongingness and feelings of pride for generations of Natives to come. Like a number of other RelOH participants, however, she has concerns about RelOH’s future.
Several respondents talked about the continuing decline and possible extinction of
RelOH as a viable entity in NE Ohio. Members’ concerns revolved around the degenerating health of elders who have been the community’s primary advocates and organizers. In one young woman’s opinion, RelOH’s future is bleak because “there are
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really no leaders other than Berta, and Berta’s getting sick.” Similarly, Sandra said that the community “is going to be gone, very soon, I have a feeling.” This idea is distressing
to her and she wishes that her father had more time to invest in community efforts; she
does not express any interest, however, in doing so herself. At the same spiritual
gathering at which Marla commented on the AIC's lack of accountability to NE Ohio
Native people, she also passionately addressed the limited engagement of RelOH youth.
Again, her comments are necessarily paraphrased. She began by noting the absence of
her own children:
They brought me here and they left because they take so many things for granted. They think that they do not need to be here because I will bring home all of the knowledge that is shared here today. But I am getting older and I will not always be around! They do not seem to understand that. And once I am gone, all of the knowledge that I have will be lost because my children have not shown any interest in learning the things I would like to share with them. And since I am getting older and I can’t get around like I used to – I wish sometimes that I could just take it easy and putz around my house, making frybread – but I have to come to meetings like this because the next generation has not stepped up to pick up where we elders eventually must leave off.
Melissa, a young person who is committed to the community's continuation,
similarly described the community's perilous situation – “I think we’re looking at a
changing of the guards, for lack of a better term. Just because the generation that started
[RelOH] is now getting older … so it’s up to my generation to take up the slack and take
it where we want to see it go for our kids.” Melissa has been around long enough to
witness the discontinuation of a number of RelOH-sponsored activities and events.
Although the limited funds available to the community certainly play a role in this
decline, the lack of young people willing to step forward and enter leadership positions is
a large burden as well. The problem, however, is that Melissa’s attempts to get more
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young people involved in community efforts have been futile. They seem uninterested in
taking leading roles in the Indian community created by their elders, or maybe they do
not want to engage in the "Indian politics" of their elders. Many of them are not "card-
carrying, full blood" Indians, so perhaps they do not feel secure enough in their Indian
identities to heed the call for Indian leaders. Maybe they feel disenchanted by the political strife that has dictated NE Ohio Indian community affairs for as long as they can
remember. It is also possible that they simply have less interest in maintaining Native
community life because they never quite felt comfortable at Native community events.
Unfortunately, I did not spend enough time with RelOH young people to accurately
assess their viewpoints on this issue. I would like to have interviewed them, but they
simply were not around. The young people I did interview, however, had one thing to
say: "some sort of togetherness" was the only thing that could save RelOH from its
seemingly inevitable demise.
Unfortunately, the politics at the center of RelOH organizing for so long do not
encourage "togetherness." RelOH's leaders do not seem interested in forming coalitions
with other NE Ohio Indian communities. People who claim Indian identities, but who are
not associated with RelOH, are frequently referred to as wannabes; they are not always
made to feel welcome at RelOH events. As one RelOH elder stated, there are “plenty of
Indians in [the] area" who have “been there, they’ve tried it, and they don’t like what they
see, so they get out.” Thus, RelOH, like NatPride, potentially alienates some Native people who would like to participate in community life. In the case of NatPride, urban
Indian elders may be weary to participate in an Indian community that encourages the
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participation of whites and wannabes. In the case of RelOH, young urban Indian people might be disillusioned by a community that sometimes seems indifferent to their needs.
An Exciting and Momentous Time for atPride
In contrast to RelOH youth, many young NatPride participants expressed excitement about the community’s progress under Kurt’s leadership. As Floyd stated:
Kurt’s doing a good thing, you know. I mean, I wouldn’t call him a traditionalist. He follows his traditions, but he’s a new wave person, you know? He’s a shaker. He’s a mover. He’s a good guy. I think he’s doing great. That place needed woke up, you know? I didn’t join the center until he took over.
Furthermore, Kenai said, “That’s why I like Kurt, because he puts himself out there. He takes a lot of hits from a lot of people.” NatPride members’ adoration for Kurt, the director of NatPride, often was unchecked during the interviews. It was not unusual for respondents’ to get choked up when they spoke about Kurt’s influence in their lives.
Floyd was particularly sentimental. His eyes welled with tears as he talked about his mentor –
He’s taking one of the teachings and living it, you know what I mean? I got a lot of respect for Kurt. He’s a really good person. And he, uh, and he’s humble about everything is the other thing, you know? And um, I kind of like to think he makes me a better person, you know, because he reminds me, oh, yeah, I’m supposed to be living a certain way.
So even if Kenai and Floyd find NatPride’s openness to be a hindrance at times, they respect Kurt for staying true to his system of beliefs, despite the rancor he faces from
Indians both within and outside the NatPride community.
In general, there is a sense of excitement among young NatPride participants, who believe that Kurt's leadership style has reinvigorated Native community life in NE Ohio.
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Neville described the community's renaissance by saying, “the circle’s actually coming back.” Sadie noted that people who were part of the community in her childhood “are all getting together, talking and hanging out and … actively exchanging spiritual ideas and concepts and beliefs and stuff – without this¸ ‘I’m right, you’re wrong’ type of thing.”
For Sadie, it is “cool” to see the community coming back together again after all these years. Kurt’s critical role in this renewal process was acknowledged by the majority of
NatPride respondents.
Conspicuously absent from many NatPride events, however, were respected community elders who were able to impart members of the younger generations with traditional knowledge. Elders serve a vital role in Native community life, and this fact was noted by all of the respondents in this study. Some NatPride participants maintained that elders "watch over" the community, but do not participate in it. It was noted that elders' failure to engage in community life may be a result of NatPride's open door policy. In addition, the community has had a difficult time gaining the respect of other
Native groups or the support of government entities because most participants' Indianness is undocumented. Community outsiders, in other words, often deem NatPride members to be inauthentic Indians. Each of these factors might play a role in the future viability of the NatPride community.
SUMMARY
Reclaimers' and Relocators' dissimilar experiences of Indianness result in their differing needs in the NE Ohio environment. Whereas many Reclaimers want to participate in a community that enables them to "do" Indianness in the comforting
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presence of like-minded others, many Relocators simply want to "be" Indian in a space that allows them to do just that. They do not want to feel obliged to enact their ethnic identities in particular ways. These different needs affect the organizational strategies of
NatPride and RelOH, and consequently, result in different boundary constructions.
Although Reclaimers take pride in their community's inclusivity, they recognize some potential problems with expanding the boundaries of Indianness. In particular, they worry that Indian elders are not participating in NatPride community life because they do not want to be in the presence of people who do not take Indianness seriously. RelOH, on the other hand, must contract the boundaries of Indianness to create a safe and comforting space for its members. The community's lack of inclusivity, however, has created tensions between RelOH and other NE Ohio Native community groups. Young
Relocators, in particular, worry that these tensions may be detrimental to RelOH's future.
CHAPTER VII
I DIA MASCOTS
Chapter Seven departs somewhat from the structure and content of the previous
three chapters. It explores NE Ohio Natives' perceptions of Chief Wahoo, the pseudo-
Indian mascot associated with Cleveland's Major League Baseball (MLB) franchise.
Native perspectives on the mascot do not fall neatly along the Relocator/Reclaimer
divide. In fact, the majority of Native participants in this research project agreed that
Indian mascots are problematic. Whether they prioritize the issue of Indian mascots,
however, is a different matter. Across community affiliation, the greatest number of NE
Ohio Native interview respondents agreed that Indian mascots are an issue to be sidelined
until other social and cultural problems are addressed. Native respondents who felt most
strongly about the need for eliminating Indian mascots and who, consequently, participated in protests against Chief Wahoo shared a key aspect of their biographical narratives: all of them lived on or near a reservation (or, in one case, had significant reservation experience) prior to moving to the urban environment of NE Ohio. The chapter begins with a brief introduction to Indian mascot protest in NE Ohio and discloses my affiliation with NAIME ( atives and Allies for Indian Mascot Elimination), the NE Ohio non-profit that organizes resistance to Chief Wahoo.
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RESISTANCE TO NE OHIO'S (IN)FAMOUS INDIAN MASCOT
Professional baseball is “one of [Cleveland's] oldest traditions”
(www.Indians.mlb.com), and intricately intertwined with this favored pastime is the
Cleveland Major League Baseball (MLB) team’s "Indians" name and "Chief Wahoo"
mascot. Prior to the 1960s, Chief Wahoo seemed an unremarkable element of NE Ohio
culture to many of the region's residents. Indigenous people who migrated to the area,
however, began focusing attention on this iconic image of Indianness. It was particularly
offensive to Indians who, inspired by the Red Power Movement, wanted to reclaim
definitions of Indianness that evoked pride in a people who survived 500 years of colonial oppression. To recently relocated NE Ohio Indians, Chief Wahoo – with its bright red face and foolish grin – depicted caricatured Indianness in a most palpable and unpalatable way.
Today, American Indian activists and their NE Ohio allies who protest NE Ohio's famed (or infamous) Indian mascot comprise an organization called NAIME, or atives and Allies for Indian Mascot Elimination. NAIME asserts that Chief Wahoo is not a cute or inoffensive caricature, but rather, “treats an entire group of people as an inane cartoon”
(NAIME publication 2003). Since 1992, the group has sponsored protests and conferences that draw attention to the misrepresentation of American Indian people in popular culture. Their primary focus is the eradication of Cleveland's MLB franchise's
Indians name and Chief Wahoo mascot. NAIME is closely affiliated with the Relocated
Indians of Ohio (RelOH), and there is some overlap in the Native leadership of both organizations. Berta, for instance, is a critical liaison between NAIME and RelOH. The
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struggle to eradicate Cleveland's Indian imagery – or Cleveland's "Indian imaginary" –
has been an important part of Berta's life since she was a young girl. Berta's mother
worked closely with Russell Means and was integral to the formation of the Cleveland
American Indian Center – the same Center that sued the Cleveland MLB franchise over
its Chief Wahoo mascot in 1970. When Berta was a teenager, her mother let her take
days off school to attend anti-Wahoo demonstrations at the old stadium (which her
mother attended as well). Berta continues to participate in the struggle to eliminate Chief
Wahoo because she believes that removing false images of Indianness is a necessary precursor to achieving broader goals for American Indian people.
It is significant that my point of entrée into the RelOH community (as well as
how I became acquainted with Berta) was through my participation in NAIME. I
attended all NAIME-sponsored events – including monthly meetings, summer protests,
and annual conferences – from 2006 to 2010. For this project, I interviewed four RelOH
members with whom I became associated because we collectively engaged in NAIME
events. Thus, I begin this exploration of NE Ohio Natives' perspectives on Indian
mascots with the insights offered by these respondents and others who oppose the use of pseudo-Indian imagery by Cleveland's MLB franchise. Their stories illustrate the inescapable presence of Chief Wahoo, which inundates the NE Ohio environment.
According to Native protestors, Chief Wahoo's significance extends beyond the immediate effects associated with the image's ugly and hurtful portrayal of indigenous people. Chief Wahoo contributes to the unequal status of American Indians by inciting discrimination against Native people and by decreasing their visibility in U.S.
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sociocultural spheres. Of particular concern to Native protestors are the as-yet-unknown
effects of Chief Wahoo on their children and grandchildren, and ultimately, the future of
American Indian identity and culture in NE Ohio.
NATIVE PROTESTORS ON WHY THEY PROTEST INDIAN MASCOTS
Indian Mascots Provoke Hostility toward ative People
Susan, who has participated in NAIME since the early 1990s, describes protests
against the Indians name and Chief Wahoo mascot as "one mass abuse, verbal abuse
towards you." My field note and interview data, collected over six baseball seasons,
support her assertion. Outside Progressive Field (the inaptly named stadium of
Cleveland's MLB franchise) protestors stand in a designated "free speech area" and hold
signs with messages like "Racism hurts everybody. Change the logo," "Play baseball, not
Indian," and "Sacred Symbols are not toys!" As baseball fans walk by the protestors,
they sigh exasperatedly, shake their heads in disapproval, display middle fingers, and
shout things like "Go Tribe!", "Go to hell!" and "Go f@#k yourself!" The majority of
insults are directed toward protestors who look Native. For instance, fans always target
Native protestors when they proudly perform a "war whoop." They walk within arm's
length of their Native target, clap their outstretched hands to their lips, and screech “Aye
yi yi yi yi yi yi yi yi!” or “Woo woo woo woo woo woo woo!”
According to Susan, repeated exposure to such verbal abuse forces Native protestors like herself to develop a "thick skin." Still, she describes protests as
"emotionally draining," and noted how difficult it can be to remain calm when fans walk
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by and scream things like, "What do you people want?! Do you want money?" Susan told me that she can still visualize this particular fan's face. He was an older white male, and therefore, fit a specific demographic – fans most likely to act aggressively toward protestors. Susan continued, "It's like you're attacking them personally, you know, for going to the baseball game …. They'll tell you where to go and what to do!" Susan attends protests because she wishes to expand awareness of racism against American
Indian people. She perceives this racism to be so deeply entrenched in the NE Ohio environment that it remains invisible to the majority of NE Ohio residents. But being there, at the protests, "gets harder as I get older," Susan said. "Ugh! I get so angry, so depressed. I'm thinking, how could they act like that toward us?" When Susan returns home after a protest, she tries to unwind with a soothing cup of tea. "I can't be mad at all white people," she said, sighing and shrugging her shoulders.
Baseball fans are sometimes physically aggressive toward protestors as well. I have seen adult male fans assume a fighting stance during brief encounters with Native protestors and once I witnessed an angry fan spit in the face of a young Navajo protestor.
Melissa, who also has witnessed fan violence, no longer permits her twelve year old
daughter to attend protests. "I’ve been to them and I’ve seen how [the fans] act and she
doesn’t need to see that or be part of it, not at this point of her life," Melissa said.
Melissa knows that even Native children are not safe from baseball fans loyal to the
"Chief." Two respected elders in the RelOH community, Berta and Greg, talked about an
incident during which two adult men walked by their granddaughter – only five or six
years old at the time – and "slapped the [protest] sign right out of her hand." "It's sad,"
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said Berta. "I mean, what does that show you?" To Berta, these incidents illustrate the
utter lack of humanity granted the protestors, who are seen as obstacles that fans must
deal with on their way into the baseball stadium. They are not seen as human beings
trying to convey a simple message to Cleveland baseball fans – as Berta puts it: "We are people, not mascots."
Native protestors believe that fan behaviors at Chief Wahoo protests demonstrate the crucial point they are trying to make. Comments, such as "Get a job!", "Go back to where you came from!", and "We won, so get lost!" expose fans' unsettling ignorance on the subject of U.S. indigenous peoples. According to Melissa, the baseball franchise's
"wonderful Indians mascot" complicates being Indian in NE Ohio. The fans, she said,
"don't see how it's offensive to [go to the baseball games] with their faces painted red and feathers hanging all over the place." Then they shout things like "Get a job!" Melissa vented – what she really would like to say in response to this comment is, "How do you know I don’t have a job? How do you know my job’s not better than your job? I’m not the one walking around with paint all over my face, moron!" Melissa would never say these things at a protest because she knows that angering the wrong individual(s) might lead to a violent confrontation. The reason for her frustration is clear, however. Fans who have never interacted with actual Indians have no reason to question the controlling images of Indianness to which they have been exposed. They are comfortable "playing
Indian" and telling Native people to "Get a job!" because they believe in the "Indian imaginary" – the fictitious "good" Indian who always wears feathers and/or the fictional
"bad" Indian who lives on government handouts. The "Indian imaginary" conveniently
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allows Cleveland baseball fans to simultaneously claim that Indian mascots honor Native people while they engage in discriminatory actions toward Native people. Thus, the reaction of fans to Native protestors illustrates two ideas simultaneously: that Indian mascots bolster the prejudicial Othering of American Indian peoples, and that this
Othering perpetuates real discrimination against them.
The protest arena so powerfully demonstrates these realities that Berta has utilized it as a critical site of education. When a woman with whom Berta was acquainted told her that she did not "see anything wrong with" the mascot and she did not understand why Native people were upset about it, Berta invited her to a demonstration. "You come to one demonstration with us," Berta said, "and then you can make the judgment for yourself." The woman agreed to attend a protest, but before it ended, Berta said, the fans
"had her crying." Once the woman regained her composure, Berta told her, "[W]e have to put up with this on a daily basis, just for the fact that we’re Native Americans." "So can you imagine having to put up with that all the time?" Berta asked. The experience shed new light on the Indian mascot issue for Berta's protest companion, who responded,
"I understand now what you guys are going through!" Susan, another Native protestor, agreed that the protest site should be used to impart valuable lessons about the harmful consequences of stereotyping and discrimination. "Everybody in the U.S. should come over here for a demonstration," she said.
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Inevitable Encounters with a Demeaning Mascot
Native protestors also discussed ways in which their day-to-day lives are negatively affected by repeated encounters with the demeaning mascot. Its presence in the NE Ohio environment is inescapable, even within familial contexts. Susan, for instance, talked about an insensitive act unwittingly executed by her husband's cousin, who sent Susan pictures of her newborn baby boy "sitting with Wahoo everywhere!" The baby was wearing a Wahoo baseball cap and holding a Wahoo bat and ball. Susan was horrified. Eventually, when the cousin realized what she had done, she called Susan to apologize and offered to send her a different picture. This apologetic act, however, did not make Susan feel less depressed; she was horrified that members of her own family
"would be proud to wear that symbol."
Native protestors encounter Chief Wahoo at work, too. They frequently noted work colleagues' complete lack of attention to and/or awareness about the mascot as an issue. For instance, Kevin said there are "people with [Indians] posters hanging up in their office" in his professional workplace. What is striking, however, is that these colleagues are the same people who "[sing] the praises" of office diversity events. That
Chief Wahoo's fire-engine red face and teepee shaped eyes are antithetical to the nonbiased inclusion of American Indians in contemporary society is something that
"doesn't always translate directly," said Kevin. Likewise, Deborah noted that some of the people she works with have never considered the mascot in a negative light. When she told one of her managers that she doesn't "really like Chief Wahoo," the woman responded with surprise and asked her to explain. Deborah responded, "Honey, I’m
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Native American and you know that and my face isn’t bright red." Her boss had "never thought of it that way" and was happy for the insight.
Unfortunately, workplace conversations about the Indians name and Chief
Wahoo logo do not always proceed as smoothly. Bly told me about her colleagues' negative reactions to a diversity event she organized. At the event, two nationally recognized American Indian activists spoke about the harms caused by Indian mascots.
"We had people actually get up and walk out because they did not like it," Bly said.
"And I had a couple of people kind of look at me weird, too, the next following week. I wasn't too popular for a little while," she noted.
False Indianness = Invisible Indians
Another significant problem with Indian mascots, according to Native protestors, is that they erase, in some minds, the possibility that American Indians are living, breathing, feeling people who exist in the present. For instance, Berta maintained that the majority of NE Ohioans think "that [Indian mascots] are okay because [Indians] are no longer here." Deborah, a young RelOH participant, agreed that Indian mascots such as Chief Wahoo contribute to Native invisibility. She described the following incident to illustrate her point. At her first protest, Deborah had only one "productive conversation" with an Indians fan – a white man who once worked on the Rosebud Sioux reservation.
Deborah recalled this man's aggressive line of questioning. "Why in the world are you worried about a mascot when [Native] people are starving and dying and committing suicide and are addicted to crystal meth?" he asked. To explain why she cared about
"some silly baseball mascot," she told the man about something she often hears people
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say when they are defending Cleveland's Indian imagery: "Well, when I see Chief
Wahoo, I don’t think of real Indians." When confronted with this statement, Deborah
responds with a simple question: "Well then, what do you think of and when do you
think of Indians?"
Deborah ascertains that NE Ohioans do not think of Indians in any context, and
herein lies one of the critical obstacles posed by Indian mascots – the images they convey
replace realistic portrayals of U.S. indigenous peoples in contemporary society. In
Deborah's view, no genuine reflection of indigenous realities can occur where no genuine
images of Indianness are found. "If people don't know we exist and people don't know
who we really are and people don't think of us outside of a mascot," Deborah said, "then
we're going to be stuck in the same situation for the next two centuries!" When the
conversation concluded, the man "didn’t say that we should change [the logo], but,"
Deborah said, "I think it got him thinking." Unfortunately, Deborah's conversation was
"productive" only because the baseball fan with whom she spoke had prior knowledge of
contemporary American Indian life. For many U.S. citizens, whose conceptualizations of
Indians result from images of Indianness conveyed by Western films and athletic
mascots, Indian mascots (and other associated imagery) actually replace indigenous peoples. Consequently, they erase from public view any vestiges of continuing Native peoples and cultures and affirm Native peoples' status as racialized, insignificant Others
in a structurally racist society.
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Chief Wahoo and the Self Esteem of ative Children
Native protestors want their children and grandchildren to be proud of their ethnic
heritage, but they find it difficult to instill such pride in the NE Ohio environment. They provided numerous examples to illustrate their inability to protect Native children from
daily exposure to NE Ohio's ubiquitous Indian imagery. Even in educational settings,
Native children are confronted by stereotypical depictions of Indianness. "During the
season of the Wahoo, our children get teased at school," Berta said. "It makes them
ashamed of who they are because people make fun, [go] 'woowoowoo!' and stuff like
that." Berta shook her head in disbelief. "One of the teachers called one of my boys a
Wahoo at school. I was so angry with them!" she exclaimed. But even Berta's grandchildren – born a generation later – cannot escape the imagery. Her granddaughter
Adaya, for instance, annually takes part in Cleveland Indians baseball outings sponsored by her elementary school. Adaya's mother, in speaking about the conundrum she faces
each year her daughter participates in the field trip, sighed and said, "When she goes, I
tell her to love the game and not the name. And that’s where I leave it." Susan, another
Native protestor, expressed concern about her granddaughter, who recently started
school. She knows that many NE Ohio schools sponsor "team spirit" days, for which
students are encouraged to wear clothes that support Cleveland's baseball franchise. "I'm
so afraid they’re going to have a spirit day at her school," Susan said, then quickly added,
"I hope they don’t!"
Urban American Indian children are exposed to Chief Wahoo in family settings as
well. As Susan relayed, her grandchildren's other grandparents, who are Hispanic, are
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big Indians baseball fans and they frequently take the children to games. Thus, the task of counteracting the array of false images of Indianness to which her grandchildren are exposed is a difficult one. When Susan's six-year-old granddaughter found Susan's protest button, which had a picture of Chief Wahoo in the center of a bright red negation sign, she brought it to her grandma and asked, "Gram, why is it they don't like this team again? They're the Indians, right? I like this team because we're Indians, right?" Susan looked at me and smiled as she told the story. "You know why we don’t like it?" she asked her granddaughter. "Because look at it – it makes fun of Indians …. Does
Grandma look like that?" Susan thinks her granddaughter understood their conversation, but is uncertain whether this impromptu lesson about Chief Wahoo had enduring effects.
After all, she understands why her grandchildren are confused about the icon's meaning.
It is the only celebrated image of Indianness in all of NE Ohio.
In the eyes of Native protestors, the persistence of American Indian identity and culture in the city is dependent upon Native children's self-esteem. It is "one of the biggest things that we have," said Berta. "So that Wahoo issue is just like battering at the self esteem of our children." Fryberg, Markus, Oyserman, and Stone (2008) conducted experimental research to examine this phenomenon and reached a similar conclusion.
When they exposed American Indian students to popular images of Indianness, such as
Chief Wahoo and Pocahontas, they found that students' senses of self and community worth declined, as did the number of positive roles they imagined for their future selves.
The authors concluded that one-dimensional portrayals of American Indian people make
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positive, multi-dimensional self-perceptions difficult for American Indian youth to achieve.
Native protestors fear the potential consequences of raising children in an environment saturated with one-dimensional portrayals of Indianness. Repeated exposure to controlling images of Indianness makes it difficult for Native children to develop pride in authentic Indian identities. Like all children in Northeast Ohio and beyond, Native children learn that Chief Wahoo and Pocahontas are "good" Indians. It is extremely difficult for Native parents and grandparents to offset the meanings that society inscribes on these approved images of Indianness. Pocahontas, for instance, is not an
Indian "mascot" in the same sense as Chief Wahoo, but the (fictive) legend of Pocahontas makes her into something similar to a mascot for people who prefer an alternative to fact- based U.S. history. Indian athletic mascots are popular because they pay tribute to the spirit of American Indian resistance at the same time that they conceal the horrifying realities of U.S. aggression on American Indian people. Cleveland Indians baseball fans
(who may not know the horrifying realities), as a result, can conscionably say that Chief
Wahoo honors American Indians by commemorating their fighting spirit. Similarly, the legend of Pocahontas commemorates the "good" Indian princess who saved the life of
John Smith and eventually relinquished her "savage" ways to become a Christian woman and adored heroine of the mythical, magical American frontier. Although a true account of Pocahontas's exploits are unlikely ever to be known, truer accounts reside in numerous historical documents that, taken together, relate a very different story (Cook-Lynn 1996;
Green 1975; Young 1962). The real "Pocahontas" is estimated to have been only twelve
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or thirteen years old when she was captured by John Smith and his crew. Eventually she was taken to England – perhaps to show Europe that the beastly "savage" could be civilized – where she died of smallpox before her twenty-third birthday (Young 1962).
This account does not "assuage the United States' national conscience" (Cook-Lynn
1996: 60), however, and is therefore infrequently retold.
Native children have to unlearn these fictions before they can begin to explore the meaning of Indianness in their own lives. As the stories of young Relocators (from
Chapter Four) attest, developing an Indian identity amidst the cultural clutter that constructs Indianness can be confusing. Through a process of trial and error and with some guidance from family members, they eventually sorted fact from fiction. Distorted visions of Indianness have persisted from one generation to the next, however. Deborah, now in her twenties, told the story of being reprimanded for mimicking the Indians on
Peter Pan, a film released by Disney in 1953. More than forty years later, in 1995,
Disney released Pocahontas, a film that just as egregiously misrepresented American
Indians. At a RelOH community potluck, Berta told a story that elucidated the difficulties in counteracting the powerful images portrayed in such films. Berta's granddaughter, who may or may not have seen the movie (but certainly was exposed to its imagery), told Berta that she wanted to be like Pocahontas. "You know, so I had to tell her the story," Berta said to the group of Native women (and me) seated around her.
She did not tell us the details of the story she told her granddaughter, but she did tell us the conclusion. "So see, Pocahontas is a sellout," Berta told the young girl. Months after the potluck, I actually witnessed Berta in interaction with her granddaughter. "Who's a
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sellout?" Berta asked. On cue, her granddaughter replied, "Pocahontas." Apparently
Berta's granddaughter shared her newfound knowledge with some friends at school, too, but their parents were not as enthusiastic as her grandmother about the idea of Pocahontas being a "sellout." Berta expressed some satisfaction when she told me this part of story.
It was possible that her granddaughter's re-telling of the Pocahontas tale was not making her any new friends, but Berta felt assured that Pocahontas, at least, was one image of
Indianness to which her granddaughter would not aspire. Chief Wahoo, of course, is not an image or idea to which anyone would aspire, but the icon's ubiquitous presence in NE
Ohio certainly adds clutter to the cultural milieu within which Native children form racial and ethnic identities.
For the reasons outlined above, Native protestors, like Berta, strongly believe that pseudo-Indian icons have damaging effects on American Indian people. They work to
eradicate Chief Wahoo and other images of Indianness from the sociocultural sphere.
Not everyone involved in RelOH, however, prioritizes the Indian mascot issue. Both
within and outside the RelOH community, there are many Natives who do not participate
in the movement to eliminate Indian mascots (hereafter referred to as "Native non- protestors"). Their non-participation is due to a number of factors. Some Native non- protestors support the issue, but do not lend their efforts to the movement. In many
cases, they believe that other indigenous issues – such as poverty, health care, and
alcoholism – should be prioritized. Other non-protestors express ambivalence toward
Chief Wahoo. For instance, several respondents say that they do not find the mascot to be problematic – just before they discuss the aspects and/or consequences of the mascot
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that they find to be problematic. And finally, some Native people support the Cleveland
MLB franchise's use of pseudo-Indian imagery, primarily because they believe it draws attention to (otherwise forgotten) U.S. indigenous people. I present these varying viewpoints in the following pages, and then explore an interesting biographical pattern that maps onto respondents' perspectives.
NATIVE NON-PROTESTORS: WHY CHIEF WAHOO IS NOT A PRIORITY ISSUE
A number of NE Ohio Natives oppose Chief Wahoo, but generally agree that other social and cultural issues are of greater consequence to American Indian people.
For instance, Kenai (NatPride) expressed some disappointment with Native protestors, whom he associated with the American Indian Movement (AIM). Referring to contemporary AIM members, Kenai stated:
Those guys don’t do shit anymore. They’re worried about Leonard Peltier. It’s like, let that guy go. We’ve got kids starving. Or the Cleveland Indians mascot. It’s like, come on, people! How many kids do you know who have alcoholic parents and you’re worried about a freaking mascot? So I really don’t have much patience for AIM guys anymore.
With these words, Kenai clearly argues against expending energy or effort on Indian mascot protest. Other non-protestors were not quite as frank, but with subtle words and less subtle inaction, they revealed a lack of enthusiasm for the topic of Indian mascots. In contrast to Native protestors, they did not participate in anti-Wahoo protests, they did not display bumper stickers with the "People Not Mascots" logo, and in general, they did not discuss the topic of Indian mascots unless I initiated the conversation.
Floyd (NatPride), for instance, opposed the Chief Wahoo logo, but made it clear that he did not want to waste time talking about its existence or its elimination. Because
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Floyd was part of a group of NatPride members recently interviewed by English students
from a nearby university, I began our interview by asking how the previous interviews
went. He grimaced and then responded [paraphrased] – "The kids just weren’t
adequately prepared. They asked stupid questions – like, so what do you think about
Chief Wahoo? I mean, what do you think I think about Chief Wahoo?!" I giggled nervously in response, and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief – thankful that we had not yet arrived at the Indian mascot segment of my interview guide. As if to answer the
question for him, I sarcastically commented – "Oh, I just love Chief Wahoo. What a fun
caricature." Floyd nodded ever so slightly in my direction, as if to acknowledge and
affirm my sarcasm. Ultimately, this brief conversation brought two things to light: that
1) Floyd viewed Indian mascots with disdain at the same time that 2) he viewed
conversations about Indian mascots with disdain. To Floyd, these false characterizations
of Native people were not worth the breath needed to articulate disapproval.
Sandra (RelOH) was somewhat more ambivalent about the topic of Indian
mascots. Although she conceded that people should "probably not" wear the red-faced
Chief Wahoo logo, she simultaneously asserted that the logo is not "a big deal." Sandra
continued,
I think that it is just something … that’s been around for a while. It may not have started right, but I don’t think people still associate that anymore. You know, I think people who’ve seen Native people and know what they look like, know that they don’t have a huge nose that goes down to here [gesturing below her chin]. And they’re not red.
Sandra recognizes that Chief Wahoo personifies Indian stereotypes, but she is confident
that people do not think of (real) Indians when they wear the logo. In fact, Sandra
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believes that NE Ohioans are savvy enough to know that Native people are "all a very different shade of brown." Sandra was raised, in part, by her American Indian grandparents, who are vital and engaged members of the RelOH community. According to Sandra, they have always been "more concerned about getting a place for the powwow than wearing a [negated Wahoo] button or shirt." Having adopted her grandparents' stance on the issue, Sandra believes that maintaining cultural practices should take priority over eliminating Indian mascots. At the beginning of our interview, Sandra talked about being taunted by grade school classmates who called her "Buffalo Girl" and
"Indian Girl." However, she did not link these acts of Othering to the ubiquitous presence of the "Indian imaginary" in the NE Ohio environment.
AMBIVALENT ATTITUDES TOWARD INDIAN MASCOTS
Other Native non-protestors, such as Samantha (RelOH), Barbara (RelOH), and
Matu (NatPride), made a clear connection between Cleveland's Chief Wahoo mascot and the Othering of Native people in NE Ohio. Yet, they initially stated that they did not have a problem with the Indian mascot. Further questioning revealed that they did, in fact, find a number of things associated with Chief Wahoo – insulting fan behaviors and irreverent use of the red feather, for instance – to be contentious and/or unacceptable.
Samantha is a young, college-educated RelOH member who, like Sandra (above), expressed ambivalence about the Chief Wahoo logo. She grew up in the NE Ohio Native community and on the powwow circuit and is interested in contemporary Native issues.
At the time of our interview, Samantha was preparing to leave for graduate school in
New Mexico, where she planned to work with a Native psychology professor studying
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substance abuse on an Indian reservation. Samantha told me that she was "not exactly a
fan" of Chief Wahoo, but that she sometimes attended Cleveland baseball games "with
friends, as a social thing"; she simply "ignored the mascot." At the same time, however,
Samantha expressed aversion to some of the people she encountered when attending baseball games at Progressive Field:
I’m more bothered by, if I go to the game and there are people wearing fake feathers and stuff like that, and the war paint and trying to dress up like us. Like, feathers are really sacred to us and you can’t just get eagle feathers. They have to be given to you, from your family or close friends. People don’t understand that. They just think it’s a joke.
Although Samantha is offended when people "play Indian" (Green 1988) at the ball park
– an inevitable consequence of pseudo-Indian mascots (Baca 2004; King and Springwood
1999; Miller 1999; Slowikowski 1993) – she is not willing to take a firm stand against
Chief Wahoo. This ambivalence was apparent when she spoke about another of her encounters with the mascot. When the man she was dating wore a Chief Wahoo t-shirt, she confronted him by saying, "That’s so racist. Why would you wear that?" "But," she acknowledged, "[I said it] kind of as a joke, too." He apologized, stating that he "totally forgot," and Samantha did not press the matter despite her apparent discomfort.
Although Samantha was somewhat offended by Cleveland's Indian imagery and the behaviors it provoked in fans, she remained outwardly neutral on the issue to avoid confrontation with friends and loved ones.
When I asked Barbara (RelOH) for her opinion on Cleveland's Indian mascot, she replied, "I just don't care either way. Yeah, it doesn't bother me." Moments later, however, Barbara stated, "I don't like the way [Chief Wahoo] looks." She also admitted
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that she occasionally attends protests at the Cleveland baseball stadium, "to support the
[Native] people" and to visit with friends. "I guess what makes me mad," Barbara said,
"is when [fans] wear those fake feathers." She also dislikes fans who are "mean and
nasty." "They all think we're lazy and they say, 'Go get a job!' or something like that,"
she commented despondently. As the conversation continued, it became apparent that
Barbara viewed the mascot with more contempt than she originally proffered. I had a
similar conversation with Matu (NatPride), who, as soon as I mentioned the Cleveland
Indians mascot, said, "Nope. Don't care." In the same breath, however, Matu stated,
"The only thing I don't like is that red feather." "The Native American war veterans,"
Matu continued, "instead of getting a purple heart, they got a red feather." Thus, Matu
discounted his own purported indifference by parsing out Chief Wahoo's features.
Because the red feather is symbolic of the warrior in American Indian culture, Matu
explained, he found this element of Chief Wahoo's design to be inappropriate and
disrespectful.
NATIVE SUPPORT FOR CHIEF WAHOO
Oda, another NatPride participant, acknowledged that "some people have a problem with [Chief Wahoo] because of the red feather," but she doesn't "see any problem with the mascot." Oda agreed that Chief Wahoo is "a caricature," but insisted
that the logo's creation "had nothing to do with any prejudices against the Native
Americans." "I don't have a problem with [the Cleveland Indians logo]," Oda said,
"because that … keeps people thinking that, you know, there is a culture out there, and
that culture is right here in the middle of the city." Similarly, Cheryl (NatPride) stated
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that she "just love[s]" the mascot and thinks it is "a positive thing" because it provides
non-Native Ohioans with a point of reference when she discloses her Indian identity.
"When you say you're Native American," Cheryl said, people sometimes respond – "Oh,
you're a Cleveland Indian?" Cheryl laughed and continued, "Not quite, but … now
you're understanding. Yeah, yeah, I wear the beads and the feathers." For Oda and
Cheryl, Cleveland's Indian mascot is not problematic because it is a "feel good" image that draws attention to Indians in the NE Ohio environment. Interestingly, in the year
that I knew Cheryl, I never saw her dressed in beads and/or feathers. She did not dance at powwows, and consequently, rarely (if ever) wore Indian regalia. The clothing she wore
on a day to day basis was similar to that of any other middle aged woman in the United
States. Cheryl, like other NE Ohio Natives, was rarely recognized as American Indian – maybe in part because she did not wear accessories such as beads or feathers to work or to the grocery store (for instance) – yet she did not link her racial miscategorization to the one-dimensional portrayals of Indianness to which NE Ohioans have been exposed.
I did not interview any RelOH members who, like Oda and Cheryl, were staunch supporters of Cleveland's pseudo-Indian imagery, but they did exist. For instance, Berta told me about "a young Indian guy" she knows who "has a big Indian logo tattooed on his leg." She was "just shocked" when she saw it because he is "full blooded Native." Berta quickly explained that this young man believes Chief Wahoo is honorable because "he is
… assimilated into the dominant culture." Susan similarly blamed processes of assimilation on some Natives' indifference to the issue. She talked about a different young man and RelOH member whom she overheard saying that Native protestors are
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"just old-fashioned." "How could you say that?" Susan thought when she overheard his statement; "You should be proud of your background, but you're not!" According to
Susan, many non-protesting Native community members were young (urban) Indians
who "grew up in [NE Ohio]" and "have nothing to do with their reservation at home,
nothing to do with their culture, their language." "Basically," said Susan, "they're
completely assimilated or something!"
Urban Native protestors did not immediately discount the views of non-protesting
reservation-based Natives, however, and they certainly did not label them "assimilated."
In fact, Native protestors frequently absolved rez Indians from protest responsibilities.
Berta maintained that they "don't have the time" for protests because they are focused on
survival. "I don't fault anybody on the reservation for that," she said. Several Native protestors noted that there are plenty of reservation-based Indians who have "no problem" with Indian mascots. Bly, whose extended family lives on "the rez," said that her cousins support certain sports teams because they have Indian mascots. They feel a sense of pride in the fact that their Indianness is recognized (and romanticized) beyond the boundaries of the reservation. Like the NatPride women quoted above, they seem to believe that any representation of Indianness is better than no Indian representations at all.
CONTROLLING IMAGES: THE "GOOD," THE "BAD," & THE UGLY
This research illustrates that NE Ohio Natives (and Natives across the country) have varying viewpoints on the issue of Indian mascots. Some NE Ohio Natives vehemently oppose the pseudo-Indian imagery utilized by Cleveland's MLB franchise.
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Other Natives, however, do not participate in resistance to Cleveland's "Indian
imaginary" – either because they prioritize other indigenous issues or (in fewer instances) because they positively assess the baseball franchise's use of the Indians name and Chief
Wahoo mascot. These diverse perspectives occur across organizational affiliation in NE
Ohio (RelOH/NatPride) and across residential environment in the United States
(reservation/urban).
The question that must be asked, then, is: Why do some NE Ohio Natives so devoutly resist Chief Wahoo, while others accept and/or even celebrate this red-faced image of Indianness? In addition, how can some reservation Natives feel affection toward the same pseudo-Indian icons that their urban kinfolk decry as racist leftovers from the colonial era? An answer to these questions was articulated by urban Native interview respondents whose life experiences overlapped in one specific way: they lived on a reservation and in an urban environment at different points in their lives. I suggest that the breadth of their experiences in both realms provides them with a deeper understanding of the Indian mascot issue and a greater appreciation for the difference that context makes.
A majority of interview respondents agreed that urban Indians (relative to reservation Indians) are more likely to encounter "positive" images of Indianness, such as those projected by Indian mascots – i.e., the brave, stoic, noble warrior, or in the case of
Wahoo, the happy-go-lucky "Chief." Even Native protestors stated that they are rarely ridiculed or vilified in their day-to-day lives as a result of their Native ethnicities. Rather, they are more likely to be put "on a pedestal," as Berta noted, by NE Ohioans with
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romanticized notions of Indianness. Although such notions are deemed problematic in
the literature (Kim-Prieto et al. 2010; Freng and Willis-Esqueda 2011), a number of
respondents asserted that American Indians have more important matters to resolve than
these "positive" portrayals of Indianness. Importantly, the NE Ohio Natives who shared this perspective also shared a critical aspect of their biographies – they lived in urban environments exclusively.
In regions with more visible Indian populations – such as cities and towns that
share a border with Indian reservations (commonly referred to as "border towns") –
Indianness takes on a different, more sinister meaning. The most prolific images of
Indianness, in fact, cast Indians as lazy, dirty, devious, and alcoholic. These long held
stereotypes about American Indian people have resulted in tense relationships between
(predominantly white) border town residents and their Indian neighbors (Deyhle 1986).
(Urban) Native protestors still connected to reservations said they understand why reservation Indians choose to focus on violence and other issues (such as poverty and joblessness), rather than racialized Indian mascots. As Susan stated, "People on reservations don't realize how bad [the stereotyping] is."
Native protestors' urban experiences, however, confirm for them that romantic portrayals of Indianness also harm American Indian people, and may even exacerbate the problems that are prioritized in American Indian communities. Their experiences in both reservation and urban settings led them to encounter both types of Indian imagery: the downtrodden, drunken, detested Indian of border region lore and the healthy, heroic, honored Indian of athletic mascot fame. They did not experience the latter typification as
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problematic until moving to the urban sphere. It was here that they discovered that both
"negative" and "positive" images of Indianness provoke hostile reactions to their racialized ethnic identities. In the NE Ohio environment, they faced hostilities not for being American Indian, but for not doing Indianness in ways deemed appropriate by non-
Native NE Ohio residents.
A COMMON BIOGRAPHY AND A SHARED PERSPECTIVE: NATIVE
PROTESTORS ON WHY CONTEXT MATTERS
Kevin (RelOH) is a young Native protestor who lived in close proximity to his reservation until graduating from high school. He talked about the remarkable difference that context makes when considering the pros and cons of Indian mascots. Prior to moving to Ohio, Kevin "never gave [Indian mascots] much thought." His reservation had athletic teams with names like the Arrows and the Chiefs. At half time during high school lacrosse games, the band played a "traditional song to pump everyone up." He explains why the harms caused by Indian mascots never occurred to him in this context, where "everyone in the stands [was] Native":
It’s no big deal when your culture’s all around you. There’s no reason to feel ashamed of your culture when everyone in your class is of the same culture. If you’re already monolithic, then someone saying, "Indians do this," when you know from every experience that you’ve ever had that Indians don’t do that, it’s like – ah, I don’t care what everyone else thinks! It doesn’t impact me at all. I have other problems.
When Kevin moved to NE Ohio, where the bleachers were filled with Wahoo fans, he was stunned by the peculiarity of something that once seemed so familiar – Indian mascots. For Kevin, the problem originates in the fact that Indian mascots are most
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prevalent in regions with few visible American Indian people. Because the urban environment where he now resides has "no culture in terms of American Indians […] the idea of American Indians becomes those images."
The literature supports Kevin's analysis of the situation. Prochaska (2001), for instance, argues that the (now defunct) University of Illinois's Chief Illiniwek was so popular among Illinois fans because they could "play Indian" without guilt. Not incidentally, Illinois ranks 41st among U.S. states in percentage of American Indians and
Alaskan Natives (U.S. Census Bureau 2012). According to Prochaska (2001), residents of Illinois were only willing to mimic the "Indian imaginary" because actual American
Indians were not visible. This explanation applies to residents of NE Ohio as well, who do not recognize the American Indians in their midst. Similar to Illinois, Ohio ranks 47th among U.S. states in percentage of American Indians and Alaskan Natives (U.S. Census
Bureau 2012). Yet, nearly 230 Ohio schools at the primary, secondary, and post- secondary levels have sports team mascots with Indian identities (American Indian Sports
Team Mascots 2010). According to Kevin, this particular combination of characteristics can lead to a "bad situation":
If you have a whole community that doesn’t know anything about Native people and they start to worship this emblem or this idea that they’ve built up in their heads of what Native is, and [then] you actually have a Native person come in and start to challenge those perspectives, instantly it becomes a really hostile environment. […] I don’t think it's necessarily that [people] truly want to be antagonistic and hateful, I think that there’s just this huge disconnect.
From Kevin's perspective, it is the "disconnect" between people's expectations (based on images of Indianness) and people's perceptions (based on interactions with Indians) that makes Indian mascots a "very contentious issue."
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Daliah (NatPride), another young Native, spent her early life on a reservation, but
moved with her mother to NE Ohio at the age of thirteen. Daliah admitted that when she still lived on the reservation, she was "walking around with Cleveland Indians shit"
thinking – "I'm an Indian and I don't give a damn!" Upon arriving in Ohio and attending
a high school claiming to be "home of the Indians," however, she discovered the problems inherent in Indian mascots. "It’s not just a way to be proud, like they say," commented Daliah; "It's actually a mockery."
Daliah described her experience of being an American Indian "Indian" in high
school. Initially, she "didn't really recognize" how absurd the school's mascot was. Over time, however, the practices that accompanied the school's use of an Indian mascot began
to "wear on" her. On one occasion, for instance, the cheerleaders constructed a PVC pipe
and canvas "teepee thing" and dragged it out onto the football field. As the football players ran through it, the cheerleaders "were kind of going – 'Woowoowoowoowoo!'"
Daliah instantly filled with rage when she witnessed this unnerving spectacle. This
incident and similar others made her realize that the people around her "really didn’t have
a clue" about American Indian peoples or cultures. They "played Indian" because it was
fun and it made them feel good. They did not do it to honor Native people.
Such fantastic displays of make-believe Indianness were not common on or near
the rez, Daliah said, where she was called racial slurs like "prairie niggar and other fun
shit." Because border town whites harbored prejudicial attitudes toward Natives, they did
not "play Indian." Such performances tend to be enacted by U.S. citizens and Europeans
who have little knowledge of Native histories or contemporary realities. They adore the
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fabricated notions of Indianness portrayed in popular culture and enjoy re-enacting
fictionalized accounts of heroic Indian warriors. As a consequence, Indian mascots incite
resentment and aggression toward contemporary urban Indians who fail to be Indian or to
"do Indianness" according to stereotypic expectations (LeBeau 2001; King et. al. 2002;
Baca 2004). As LeBeau (2001: 112-13) notes, supreme reverence for fallen Indian
warriors suggests that "the only good Indian is a dead Indian." "[C]ontemporary, flesh-
and-blood" Indians, therefore, can never "measure up to … the romantic warrior ideal."
An Anomaly: Gertrude's Perspective on Chief Wahoo
Only one of ten respondents who lived in a reservation setting prior to moving to the urban environment did not have any interest in participating in protests against
Cleveland's Indian mascot12. Gertrude (RelOH), who was 72 years old at the time of our interview, expressed her appreciation for the Cleveland baseball franchise, which provided her and other struggling relocated Indians with a small subsidy for dancing at the stadium in the 1950s. She asked, "Now why should I go and dance down there … and they paid us for it, and then turn around and say something [negative]?" Gertrude respects others' concerns about Chief Wahoo, but she does not know why her opinion on the issue would "change from then to now." It is important to note that Gertrude's early life experiences on the reservation were very different from those of other respondents in this study. Her mom died when she was only two years old, so Gertrude grew up in a boarding school, where she was not permitted to "talk Indian" or dance. "They wanted us
12 Of the ten respondents who experienced life in both reservation and urban settings, eight participated in RelOH, one participated in NatPride, and one did not participate in either of these community organizations.
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to be white, you know," Gertrude said. When she entered ninth grade, Gertrude attended
a different Indian boarding school – one that encouraged students to practice Native
cultural traditions – and it was here that she met her first husband. Eventually, the couple
moved to NE Ohio, where they were happy to perform their Indianness for onlookers at
Cleveland's baseball stadium.
Additional Support for the Biography Hypothesis
Interviews with "unaffiliated" respondents (NE Ohio Natives who did not participate in either RelOH or NatPride) also corroborate the idea that experiencing life in both reservation and urban environments might influence Natives' perspectives on this
issue. Five of the eight respondents expressed opposition to Chief Wahoo and other
Indian mascots13, but only one of them ever participated in a protest. Scott, a Cherokee
in his mid-twenties and the only unaffiliated respondent who lived in both reservation
and urban settings, felt so strongly about the issue that he attended an anti-Wahoo protest
at the Cleveland Indians baseball stadium. He did not enjoy the experience – not because
of fan behaviors, but rather, the behaviors of other Natives in attendance. Scott told me
that he thinks things got off to a bad start because the person he attended with introduced
him to the other protestors by saying, "This is Scott. He says he is Cherokee." "There
were a couple of younger kids there that were Native, and I guess, looked more Native
than I did and just really had some negative things to say," Scott said. "And they were
riled up anyway about Chief Wahoo, so, I sort of was adding fuel to the fire." Scott felt
so uncomfortable at the protest that he never attended another one. The other four
13 Of the remaining three unaffiliated respondents, one was ambivalent and two did not mention the topic.
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unaffiliated respondents who did not support Chief Wahoo all had lived in exclusively
urban settings. They simply did not see the elimination of Indian mascots such as Chief
Wahoo as a top priority in their lives, and consequently, they chose to spend their time
and energies on other Native (and non-Native) issues.
SOME FINAL THOUGHTS: INDIAN MASCOTS AND "AUTHENTIC"
INDIANNESS
Despite the attention granted Indian mascots in the academic literature, few if any
studies have ethnographically explored the experiences of American Indians living an in
urban area with a prominent Indian mascot. My research illustrates that Native
viewpoints on the Indians name and Chief Wahoo mascot of Cleveland's MLB franchise
are almost as varied as the Native people who hold them. The heterogeneity of American
Indian people and communities inevitably contributes to the diversity of Native perspectives on the Indian mascot controversy. Indian mascot advocates, however,
frequently argue that American Indians – uncritically lumped into one generic
racial/ethnic category – should reach a consensus on this issue if they want to be heard
(Price 2002). Ironically, the expectation that Native peoples from more than 560
different (federally recognized) tribes across the nation should agree on this or any other
issue is symptomatic of controlling images of Indianness, embedded in athletic mascots
and other instances of the "Indian imaginary." As I have illustrated throughout this work,
Native people experience their ethnicities differently, and these different experiences lead
to distinct strategies for accomplishing Indianness intrapersonally and in interactions with
others. Although some Natives do not find Chief Wahoo to be a primary impediment to
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accomplishing authentic Indian identities in the NE Ohio environment, other NE Ohio
Natives do.
I suggest that a particular biographical narrative – shared by Natives who lived on
or near a reservation prior to moving to the urban (and Wahoo-saturated) environment of
NE Ohio – leads to a more critical evaluation of Cleveland's pseudo-Indian imagery.
Nine of ten respondents who lived in both reservation and urban settings experienced the
Chief Wahoo mascot (and/or the actions it provoked) as a direct assault on their social,
cultural, and spiritual lives. Their fears were confirmed at protest actions against the
mascot, where they witnessed first-hand how the purportedly "harmless" caricature of
Chief Wahoo caused baseball fans to disregard Native people and Native practices. For
instance, fans donned feathers and face paint – sacred items used in Native ceremonies –
for entertainment purposes. As Kevin articulated, such callous disrespect for Indian
traditions can only take place in a setting where Indianness is exaggerated and
misunderstood. Feathered headdresses, face paint, drums, and tomahawks are vulgar
imitations of the fictionalized Indianness that has won the hearts of sports fans. While
sports enthusiasts attend to and support their beloved Indian mascots, they simultaneously
snub their noses at (or flip the bird to) actual Indians struggling to convey a simple
message: We are people, not mascots. Native protestors also fear that Indian children
will internalize these insults and accept the falsehoods that both reconstruct Indianness
and relegate Indians to the status of second-class U.S. citizens.
Native protestors hold another attribute in common – their Indianness, or at least
their Otherness (as a result of their brown skin), is apparent to non-Native NE Ohio
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residents. This commonality more than likely is a consequence of their connectedness to
Indian reservations, where interracial marriage and other "whitening" phenomena are rarer (i.e., relative to the urban environment). Native protestors' phenotypic traits can be useful for accomplishing Indianness in interactions with others, but these same attributes also attract unwanted attention from non-Natives. These Natives are not only targeted by
Chief Wahoo fans at protests, but they also are singled out and Othered in innumerable
social spheres. When some non-Natives recognize the ethnicity of urban Indians, they
are so blinded by controlling images of Indianness that they ask ludicrous questions and
make unreasonable demands. A young RelOH member once told me, for instance, that
he occasionally claims to be Samoan – when he does not want to endure stupid questions
or requests to touch his hair (personal observations, 10 April 2009). At the time, I was
shocked that a complete stranger would make such a request. Over the years, however, I
have learned that the exoticization of American Indians is common in NE Ohio. Non-
Native residents of the region are sometimes so enamored by the fact that a "real live
Indian" is standing before them, that they frequently want to touch hair or regalia. They
may ask the Native person to "speak Indian," or demand to know her or his "Indian
name" – which, for some Natives, is a personal matter divulged only in close-knit
settings. Strangers' insensitivity to these issues is problematic for a host of reasons, not
the least of which is the fact that Native people are people – not objects for others'
discovery and/or enjoyment.
The vast majority of Native people in this study – RelOH and NatPride participants alike – said they were accustomed to fielding questions like "Do you live in a
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teepee?" and "Where are your feathers?" when people discover their Native heritages.
These notions of Indianness, which pervade the minds of non-Native NE Ohio residents,
are sometimes characterized as "positive" and/or "romantic." For Native protestors,
however, being held accountable to any stereotypical notions of "proper" and/or
"acceptable" Indian behavior is problematic. As Berta noted, "I tell people, we’re just
like you …. We’re nothing special. We just … want the right to practice our own ways –
left alone, I guess you could say." In NE Ohio, however, American Indians – when
identified – are not left to their own devices. They are objectified and scrutinized.
Although Native protestors may have experienced more hostile treatment in their earlier
lives, when they lived in reservation environments, it seems as though these earlier
experiences with prejudice and discrimination heightened their sensitivity to the harms
caused by any controlling images – malicious, romantic, or otherwise.
Native non-protestors were more likely than Native protestors to have lived in the
urban environment of NE Ohio exclusively. The fact that they have not experienced life
"on the rez," however, does not preclude them from formulating authentic Native
opinions on the Indian mascot issue. As a number of RelOH respondents pointed out,
some Indians who have lived in reservation environments (exclusively) actually support
the use of Indian mascots. Urban Natives, who sometimes imagine reservation life to be
the most "authentic" of Indian experiences (as illustrated in Chapter Five), may gauge
their Indianness and/or align their Indian identities and actions with the identities and
actions of their reservation-based Indian mentors. If these mentors do not prioritize the
eradication of Indian mascots, then it logically follows that their mentees will not
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prioritize the issue either. I offer this explanation as only one possible reason for some urban Natives' lack of participation in Indian mascot protest.
Another possible reason for NE Ohio Natives' disinterest in the Indian mascot issue may be more directly related to the fact that they have always lived in the urban environment of NE Ohio – where the image of Chief Wahoo permeates the region. These
Natives have encountered the image throughout their lives and within every possible sphere – in the classroom, at work, on the sidewalk, in the marketplace, etc. Chief
Wahoo is simply part of the NE Ohio sociocultural environment, which may result in passive acceptance of the caricatured image. Even Deborah (RelOH), who strongly opposes Indian mascots, said that when she moved to Ohio, encounters with Chief
Wahoo made her uncomfortable. Now, she is "really numb to it." She continues to resist the image, but her perspective, particularly with regard to Chief Wahoo supporters, has shifted. Now that she interacts with them on a daily basis, she knows that most fans are
"just supporting their hometown baseball team"; they are not purposefully and/or consciously "attack[ing] Native Americans." Native non-protestors often refer to this idea when explaining their passivity on the issue. They are less concerned about Indian mascots because they believe that these mascots are not intended to harm Native people.
Rather, they see Indian mascots as ridiculous one-dimensional portrayals of Indianness that represent sports teams. They may not be the most appropriate depictions of
Indianness, but in the eyes of Native non-protestors, these caricatures do not represent the most egregious assault on their identities as American Indian people.
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It is this critical point that may best account for Native non-protestors' position on
Indian mascots. They are somewhat concerned about skewed perceptions of Indianness –
those that mandate dark skin, dark eyes, and dark hair, for instance – because these images exclude them from the popularized racial/ethnic category of "Indian." However, their identities are more anchored in belief systems, cultural practices, and community participation than in socially constructed notions of what Indians look like. After all, their phenotypic traits rarely attract the attention of non-Natives. Unlike Native protestors, Native non-protestors are more likely to experience denials of their Indianness because they do not fit non-Native NE Ohio residents' preconceived notions of the exotic
Indian Other. Throughout the generations, members of their families have "whitened," often as a result of what they consider to be the most egregious assaults on their identities as American Indian people. These assaults occurred when their ancestors were denied the right to participate in and practice Native culture and when their family members were removed from reservation homelands and relocated to cities where they could be assimilated into the dominant society. Thus, as far as many Native non-protestors are concerned, the most significant struggle in which they must engage is reclaiming their ethnic identities and their cultural traditions.
SUMMARY
This chapter explores Natives' perspectives on Chief Wahoo, a controlling image of Indianness that pervades the NE Ohio sociocultural sphere. Some NE Ohio Natives actively resist Chief Wahoo, while others express ambivalence toward the image. Only two (NatPride) respondents indicated support for the continued use of Chief Wahoo by
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Cleveland's MLB franchise. Whether NE Ohio Natives prioritize the issue of Indian mascots seems to correspond with a particular aspect of their life histories. Indians who experienced life in both reservation and urban settings were most likely to resist controlling images of Indianness in any form – the good, the bad, and the Chief-Wahoo- ugly.
CHAPTER EIGHT
DISCUSSIO A D CO CLUSIO
TWO PATHWAYS TO URBAN INDIANNESS
This dissertation explores American Indian racial/ethnic identity as it is experienced by participants in two different Northeast Ohio American Indian communities – Native People Reclaiming Indian Identities (NatPride) and the Relocated
Indians of Ohio (RelOH). Although members of both communities share in the experience of being Indian in NE Ohio today, they experience their Indian identities differently. I suggest that these differences are at least partially grounded in their divergent histories, which ultimately affected how NatPride and RelOH members arrived at urban Indian identities. I utilize the term "pathways to urban Indianness" to denote the different routes travelled by NatPride and RelOH members and/or their forebears prior to becoming urban Indians. In the following paragraphs, I provide a generalized summary of the Reclamation and Relocation pathways, and then I continue with a discussion that highlights their significance to Indian racial/ethnic identity in NE Ohio today.
The Reclamation Pathway
The majority of NatPride members, or Reclaimers, are the descendents of Indians who hid or disguised their Indianness in the late nineteenth or early twentieth century to improve their families' chances of survival. To avoid capture and containment by
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European colonizers, these Indians "whitened" (Perdue 2012), or blended, as well as they could, into white society through intermarriage with whites and the adoption of white ways. NatPride members' forebears sometimes assimilated so well into the dominant society that they became indecipherable from whites. For some, becoming white was the ultimate goal, because white ethnicity provided safety and security that was unavailable to people of color in the United States. For others, however, Indianness was simply downplayed or disguised. Parents and grandparents outwardly abandoned Indian ways, but they passed certain "folk traditions" (Paredes 1995) on to the younger generations.
They also made sure to tell their children and grandchildren an indelible secret: Their ancestors were Indians, and they, therefore, had Indian blood. Some NatPride Natives lived their entire lives with this knowledge, while others were left to discover their
Indianness later in life. Regardless of when this information became available to them, all of the NatPride participants in this study were determined to learn more about their ancestry and Indian heritage. Their common desires to reclaim Indian identities led them to participate in NatPride.
The Relocation Pathway
The majority of RelOH members, or Relocators, are the descendents of Indians who refused to part with Indian communities. As a consequence, they became the easily identified targets of European colonizers, who recorded their names and their Indian blood quotients. As documented Indians, they experienced innumerable hardships. They were forcefully, physically removed from their homelands and sequestered on barren, desolate Indian reservations. During this process, they suffered the death of many elders
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who, in many ways, comprised the core of Indian cultures (Norton-Smith 2010). Before
long they also suffered the loss of their children, who were stolen away and placed in boarding schools specifically designed to "kill the Indian" inside them. Indian children
were not permitted to speak their languages or practice their spirituality or traditions in
the boarding schools. By the time they returned home, if they returned home, these children had endured years of neglect and abuse. Their languages, their cultures, and often their spirits had been beaten out of them. Despite all of the government's efforts to destroy Indian people and their life ways, Indians persisted. Thus, the government devised another strategy to assimilate thousands of American Indian people: Indian
Relocation. This federal program removed Indians from their homes and families, once again, and placed them in large metropolitan areas – the centers of "American" culture.
RelOH Natives, who dreamed of a better life, voluntarily participated in this program; in some cases, they followed family members who did. They (or their parents) left the reservation homes that were unable to sustain them, and ventured into the great unknown of NE Ohio, anticipating brighter futures. As a consequence, NE Ohio became home to thousands of relocated Indians from dozens of different tribes. They reached out to one another in this strange new environment and created a pan-tribal community of support.
Today, RelOH members rely on one another as they would rely on the extended kinship networks they left behind on the rez.
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PATHWAY AND THE (RACIAL) FORMATION OF AMERICAN INDIAN
IDENTITY
These histories are critical to understanding contemporary experiences of
Indianness in NE Ohio. They illustrate two pathways to urban Indianness, one of which
(reclamation) I was not even aware when I began this research project. Of course, I knew that some Ohioans claimed Indian ancestry, but I rarely took these people seriously.
Much literature on Indian identity discounts reclaimed Indianness (Langer 2005; Weaver
2001; Gonzalez 1998; Baird 1990; Quinn 1990). In addition, prior to engaging in this research, I also had personal experiences that led me to view such identities with cynicism. For instance, I had encountered a number of people at Wahoo protests who looked white and acted white, but assured me that they were Indian and that they did not have any problems with Cleveland's Indian mascot. (That I should also accept Chief
Wahoo as a cute and silly baseball icon – rather than a symbol of racial oppression – was implied.) When I first was introduced to the members of NatPride, I still harbored doubts about the authenticity of Reclaimers. I had been involved, in some capacity, with RelOH for approximately three years and I was fairly (and mistakenly) certain that the only
Indians who lived in NE Ohio had been relocated to the region. I did not know that some
Indians had come to NE Ohio as part of a broader flow of urban migration occurring throughout the country. These undocumented Indians (or their grandparents or parents) had worked their way up from southern states, arriving in NE Ohio just in time for the economic boom in rubber and steel. I was not privy to NatPride members' histories because their histories have been erased, just like their "official" Indian identities. All
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that remains are their stories and the stories of their parents and/or grandparents and/or
great-grandparents, and with a bit of luck, some birth certificates and death certificates that corroborate these stories, passed down through the generations.
These abbreviated histories also provide some sense of the immense power of structural phenomena to shape American Indian racial/ethnic identities. Unlike any other racial/ethnic group, American Indians receive tribal and/or federal identification numbers that confirm their Indian status and unique relationship (as members of sovereign nations) with the federal government. Being a federally recognized or "carded" Indian confers a number of privileges. For instance, federal recognition affects access to certain resources and entitlement to land-use rights and other legal and religious protections (Garroutte
2001). In NE Ohio, Natives who followed the relocation pathway to urban Indianness are more likely than Natives who followed the reclamation pathway to have federally recognized American Indian status. This phenomenon is a direct result of American
Indian racial formation, whereby social, economic, and political processes have constructed American Indian racial/ethnic categories (Omi and Winant 1986). Due to processes of racial formation, Relocators, in one sense, are the only authenticated Indians in NE Ohio. I suggest, however, that they are not the only NE Ohio residents with authentic Indian identities.
Although structural phenomena substantially constrain individuals' access to federally regulated Indian identities, individual agency plays an indelible role in the formation and maintenance of these identities as well. As Nagel (2000: 83) states,
"Ethnicity is best understood as a dynamic, constantly evolving property of both
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individual identity and group organization." Ethnic identities are neither entirely constrained by social structure, nor are they entirely created by individuals. Rather, individuals and groups actively construct and reconstruct ethnic identities, and the macro structures within which these identities are constructed are changed (albeit slowly) as a result of agentic actors' actions at the micro and meso levels. Thus, ethnic identities are always fraught with tensions produced by the constant give and take between social
structures and the people who, although constrained by structural phenomena, also
actively resist constraining structures. The experiences of Reclaimers and Relocators in
NE Ohio illuminate these processes.
Becoming Indian
Reclaimers and Relocators followed different pathways to urban Indianness, yet they describe the primary attributes of Indianness similarly. Across pathway, being
Indian meant emphasizing community, respecting elders, and living spiritually.
Respondents carefully articulated how these attributes of Indianness counter dominant modes of being and acting in the white world. Each meaning with which Indianness was imbued directly opposed a meaning assigned to whiteness. Unlike Indians, "whites" or
"Europeans" were deemed to be selfish and individualistic, disrespectful (especially to elders), and lacking in spirituality. By defining Indianness and whiteness in these ways, respondents constructed a "symbolic boundary" between Indians and whites (Lamont and
Molnar 2002).
This boundary work enables NE Ohio Natives to actively construct definitions of self that counter definitions of Indianness imposed by oppressive social structures. This
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resistance strategy not only distinguishes Native people from dominant societal members, but also reverses the stigma attached to Indian identities that have been devalued within
the colonizing society (Vasquez and Wetzel 2009; Kusow 2004; Espiritu 2001). This
type of identity work also has been engaged by members of other oppressed groups,
including Latinos/Latinas (Vasquez and Wetzel 2009; Massey and Sanchez 2007),
Phillapinas (Espiritu 2001), and black-identified biracial individuals (Khanna and
Johnson 2010). Kusow (2004) identifies it as a strategy used by Somali immigrants to
Canada as well. In each of these cases, marginalized peoples "imagine and construct the mainstream" as a stigmatized category, and thereby "assert superiority over them"
(Espiritu 2001: 416). Reclaimers and Relocators both construct Indian ethnicity as
sharply divergent from (and in many respects, morally superior to) white ethnicity.
Reclaimers and Relocators similarly define Indianness, but due to their distinctive pathways to Indian identities, they learned what it meant to be Indian at different points in their lives. Reclaimers were less likely than Relocators to be socialized in families that emphasized Indian identities and/or Indian value systems. Many Reclaimers, in fact, learned as children to identify as white, despite their Indian ancestry. As teenagers and adults, however, they either discovered or recovered their Indian heritages. When they became more intimately familiar with what being Indian meant – particularly with regard to the Indian values outlined above – many Reclaimers experienced a "crisis of racial meaning" (Omi and Winant 1986). They discovered that the (white) racial/ethnic identities into which they had been socialized did not cohere with their definitions of self.
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The only way to resolve this crisis was to change their ethnic identification from white to
Indian.
This research begins to explore the possibilities indicated in Nagel's (1997) work
on the resurgence of American Indian identity and culture. NatPride participants were among those who contributed to unprecedented growth in the American Indian population in the late twentieth century. During interviews, they spoke earnestly about
"switching" their self-identified racial category from "Caucasian" to "American Indian" on Census forms. Often, the seemingly simple act of marking a different option on the
Census was preceded by demanding explorations of family histories and emotional interrogations of self. Although the experiences of NatPride members who have reclaimed Indian identities on Census forms cannot be generalized to the larger population of "new" Indians, the documentation of their experiences is necessary to understand at least some "fluidity in the boundaries surrounding Indian ethnicity" (Nagel
1997: 94).
Relocators, on the other hand, were more often socialized in families that taught them to be proud of their Indian identities. Despite their early racial/ethnic socialization, they also experienced a "crisis of racial meaning" – only for many Relocators, this crisis occurred during childhood. It resulted from their inability to reconcile societal depictions of Indianness with their lived experiences as Indians. Thus, both Reclaimers and
Relocators indicated that structural forces impeded their abilities to become Indian. For
Reclaimers, the development of Indian identities was thwarted by historical governmental policies that forced their ancestors to hide or disguise Indian identities that otherwise
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would have been passed on to them. In contrast, Relocators talked about the difficulties
they encountered when developing racial identities as youth due to controlling images of
Indianness.
Accomplishing Indianness Intrapersonally
The different pathways of Reclaimers and Relocators also resulted in their
different experiences of Indianness in NE Ohio. Reclaimers talked about experiencing
Indianness as a demanding social identity. To accomplish Indian identities of which they
could feel proud (intrapersonally), they invested time and money to visit mentors and to
attend Indian ceremonies and gatherings at distant locations. Many of them also juggled
their "mainstream" responsibilities with the daily Native practices they learned from
Indians "straight off the rez." Relocators were more likely to accentuate the relative ease
of being Indian in NE Ohio – particularly in comparison to their previous experiences on
Indian reservations. According to Relocators, being Indian required little conscious
effort because Indian was simply what they were.
Chinese accounts of ethnic identity in the Netherlands are useful to this discussion
(Verkuyten and de Wolf 2002). Verkuyten and de Wolf (2002) delineate between
Chinese Netherlanders' discourses of "being," "feeling," and "doing" their ethnic identities. "Being" ethnic is viewed in essentialist terms and is supported by outward appearance. "Feeling" ethnic, on the other hand, distinguishes between physical appearance and internal intuitions and emotions. The private and personal nature of
"feeling" ethnic makes this discourse difficult to challenge. Finally, "doing" ethnic identity refers to one's participation in ethnic practices, both at the level of the individual
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and the group. I suggest that Relocators were more likely to use a discourse of "being" because their identities were reinforced in two critical spheres: in the family setting through socialization, and by the U.S. government through federal recognition. They simply were Indian, and therefore, found it less necessary to engage in discourses of
"feeling" or "doing." Reclaimers, in contrast, more often emphasized discourses of
"feeling" and "doing" because their identities were rarely reinforced at the micro or
macro levels. (They were reinforced at the meso, or community level, but that discussion
is forthcoming.) To combat criticisms regarding their claims to Indian identities,
Reclaimers talked about "feeling" Indian by highlighting, for instance, experiences of
"homecoming" when they visited Indian reservations. They also talked about the
significant amount of time they devoted to "doing" Indianness, or engaging in daily practices that affirmed their Indian identities. Due to the federal regulation of Indianness
– which limits the agency of Reclaimers to define themselves as Indian – Reclaimers
actively construct Indianness in ways that minimize the importance of biology/appearance and accentuate elements of Indian identity (e.g., cultural practices) that they have the agency to accomplish.
Reclaimers' and Relocators' unique emphases on "being," "feeling," and "doing" also may help to explain why the former more often experienced Indianness as a labor of love and the latter more often experienced Indianness as a non-laborious accomplishment. Reclaimers' emphasis on "doing" Indianness meant that they had to set aside time, at different periods throughout the day, to pray to the four directions, lay tobacco, smudge with sage, make spirit plates at mealtime (etc.). Engaging in these
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practices sometimes seemed arduous because they were also busy keeping up with the demands of day-to-day life in contemporary society. If Relocators' engaged in similar
Native practices on a daily basis, they did not talk about it. Either they did not feel the
need to reinforce their Indian identities through action or they did not find it prudent or
necessary to discuss their personal practices in conversations focused on their
experiences of Indianness in NE Ohio. Jackson and Chapleski (2000) similarly found
that elderly Anishinaabe people in the Michigan/Great Lakes region did not overtly
express their traditional practices. The authors argue that these Natives had not lost their
ethnic distinctiveness, but rather, had "mastered" the "ability to shift back and forth" between the "norms, traditions and styles of two cultures" – mainstream U.S. culture and the tribal cultures into which they were born (Jackson and Chapleski 2000: 250). In other words, elderly Anishinaabe had successfully adopted bicultural identities (Jackson and Chapleski 2000). It is possible that Relocators, like the Native participants in
Jackson and Chapleski's (2000) study, are better able than Reclaimers to be, feel, and do
Indianness while simultaneously meeting the demands of urban North American life because they have had a lifetime (or at least several decades) to hone these skills.
Reclaimers, on the other hand, were more likely to be socialized into
"mainstream"/dominant ways of being, feeling, and doing. Thus, they often find it more burdensome to negotiate Indianness in an environment that seems indifferent and/or hostile to the incredible tension they experience as a result of their need to practice Indian ways and their need to participate fully in mainstream society.
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Accomplishing Indianness in Interactions with Others
Relocators experienced less tension than Reclaimers, but negotiating an Indian identity in the urban context was a complex undertaking for members of both groups.
The different meanings attributed to Indianness by innumerable racial projects throughout
U.S. history provide some explanation; one constant in each of these reconstructions is the portrayal of Indians “as a separate and single other” (Berkhofer 1979: xv). Indians have never been and still are not represented as people "we" ("real"/white "Americans") might see at the grocery store, learn from in the classroom, or consort with at a business meeting (Fryberg and Stephens 2010). For this reason, both Reclaimers and Relocators found it cumbersome to assert Indian identities in interactions with non-Native NE Ohio residents. They had to engage in some form of racial/ethnic "identity work" because
Indian identity was not meaningfully available in NE Ohio at the interactional level.
Although Reclaimers and Relocators shared a racial/ethnic identity, members of both groups could not utilize the same identity strategies to assert their Indianness in this context. As Khanna and Johnson (2010: 390) illustrate in their research on biracial identities, the accessibility of identity strategies depends on micro, meso, and macro level factors (such as phenotype, racial networks/communities, and tribal/federal Indian status).
Reclaimers' and Relocators' different pathways to urban Indianness contributed to their divergent experiences of Indianness at the micro, meso, and macro levels. These experiences, in turn, contributed to the different identity strategies available to the members of each group. Due to the specific racial projects that affected Relocators, for instance, members of this group possessed certain resources, such as brown skin and
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tribal identification cards, which improved their abilities to attain "interactional
validation" of their Indianness in NE Ohio (Rockquemore and Brunsma 2004). NatPride
members, on the other hand, experienced incessant denials of their Indian identities because their definitions of self did not align with non-Native Ohioans' definitions of
Indianness. Their histories, for instance, had a "whitening" effect. Reclaimers' lighter
skin tones (relative to Relocators) resulted in contestation over their Indian identities because they did not have the phenotypic attributes associated with Indianness in the NE
Ohio sociocultural sphere. Importantly, Reclaimers' definitions of self also did not align
with definitions of Indianness held by many ative Ohioans, including some of the
Relocators who participated in this research. Most Reclaimers were not "carded" Indians, meaning that they did not qualify as "Indian" in the (macro) political sphere. As noted previously, federal definitions of Indianness vary14, but with regard to federal regulations
of Indianness that directly affect access to critical protections and other resources, the
majority of Reclaimers did not apply. Processes of racial formation bureaucratically
extinguished their Indianness – and severely constrained their agency to assert
legitimate/legitimated Indian identities. Ultimately, Reclaimers did not have to interact
with macro level structures to experience the effects of these structures on their day to
day lives. In daily interactions, no tribal or federal entities directly intervened when
Reclaimers asserted Indian identities. Such intervention was unnecessary because
cultural, political, and economic definitions of Indianness were reinforced at the micro
level (Omi and Winant 1986) – by individuals and groups who had been primarily
14 To be counted as Indian on the U.S. Census, for instance, requires only self-identification.
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exposed to these definitions of Indianness, and thereby refused to accept Reclaimers'
Indian identities as legitimate.
Do Ethnic Options Result in Symbolic Ethnicities?
Rigid definitions of Indianness, however, result in the denigration, and frequently, the amelioration, of Reclaimers' experiences as Native people. Their families were affected by U.S. colonial policies, but racial projects of the nineteenth century bureaucratically extinguished their Indianness. They are committed to reclaiming Indian identities, but their struggles are impeded by the erasure of their families' histories. They are also impeded by a sort of popular consensus regarding the merely "symbolic" nature of their Indian ethnicities. Sociologists define symbolic or optional ethnicities as individualistic, voluntary ethnic identities casually assumed by white U.S. citizens (Gans
1979; Waters 1990). Because these identities are asserted or set aside at will, they are advantageous in the sense that whites can claim to be something other than "vanilla" without exacting social penalties for being "ethnic" (Waters 1990). Significantly, Waters
(1990) exempts American Indians from her discussion of optional ethnics, but she does not provide a definition or explanation of who counts as a member of this ethnic group.
The consensus of NE Ohio residents on this issue – of consequence because "external opinions" and "outsiders' ethnic designations" help shape ethnic identity (Nagel 2000: 83)
– is clear: Reclaimers, in general, do not count. As a result, they are deemed "ethnic false faces" (Nagel 2000) or "wannabes" who only "play Indian" (Green 1988).
My data, however, show that the "symbolic ethnicity" concept is inadequate for describing the ethnic experiences of NatPride members. NatPride members chose Indian
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identities from a variety of ethnic options, but their decisions to identify as Indian were preceded by periods of deep introspection. Reclaimers recognized that asserting Indian
identities would complicate their lives. As one Reclaimer noted, "A lot of days it's not
good to be Indian, so to speak. It's easier just to slip … in under the wire, you know?"
Yet this respondent, like other NatPride members, chose not to just "slip in under the
wire"; he decided to reclaim his Indianness despite the complexity he knew it would add
to his life. In addition, Indian identity was not something that NatPride members
assumed or discarded at will, depending on how convenient or beneficial they perceived
their Indian identity claims to be in particular contexts. Aside from NatPride sponsored
events, few contexts provided affirmation of Reclaimers' Indianness. Even within family
and (other) Native community settings, Reclaimers often were dismissively referred to as
wannabes and fake Indians. As illustrated in past research (Campbell and Troyer 2007;
Rockquemore and Brunsma 2004) and indicated by my participation with and
observation of NatPride members, these stigmatizing labels exact psychological and
emotional tolls that, in many ways, offset the benefits associated with optional ethnicities.
Being referred to as white people who only "wannabe" Indians was particularly hurtful to
Reclaimers, who defined themselves in direct contrast to the white mainstream.
It is critical that Reclaimers made a serious commitment to being Indian. "Opting"
for Indian ethnicity was not as simple as marking a different racial/ethnic option on the
U.S. Census or attending two or three Indian powwows throughout the summer months.
Because Reclaimers define Indianness as a way of being, feeling, and doing that is
diametrically opposed to white/mainstream ways of interacting with the world, they
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struggle to live according to these Indian values. Their fair(er) skin tones allow them to benefit from white privilege, but their lifestyles convey resistance to white norms.
Inevitably, their Indian ways butt up against mainstream societal standards and expectations. The "symbolic" ethnics in Waters' (1990) study, in contrast, claimed ethnicities that did not place them at odds with mainstream cultural norms. They might have participated in different types of cultural/ethnic celebrations and/or religious services, but in general, their "ethnic" lives were nurtured in contexts that highlighted only small idiosyncrasies of the same dominant (and frequently Christian) cultural forms.
Reclaimers, on the other hand, altered the patterns of their lives to learn and practice
Indian ways and to participate in Native community life with similarly devoted others.
Their daily commitments to praying with tobacco, smudging with sage, and making spirit plates at meal time, for instance, differ from celebrating an Italian ethnic heritage by
eating lasagna on Thanksgiving.
Indian Communities and Boundary Work
The differential effects of racial projects on the individual lives of Reclaimers and
Relocators also contributed to their development of different meso level,
community/group formations. Both Reclaimers and Relocators received affirmation of
their Indian identities as participants in Native community organizations – Native People
Reclaiming Indian Identities (NatPride) and the Relocated Indians of Ohio (RelOH),
respectively. Within these groups, members perceived themselves as similar to one
another due to their similar historical and contemporary experiences of Indianness.
NatPride members, for instance, shared histories that weakened their ties to Indian
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ancestors and heritages. As a result, they also shared experiences of isolation from Indian people and communities, lack of socialization into Indian ways, and frequent dismissals
of their Indian identities. RelOH members, on the other hand, shared histories that
established stronger ties (relative to Reclaimers) to Indian ancestors, cultures, and
reservations. They also shared histories of urban relocation, which resulted in their abrupt removal from reservation homes and kinship networks. In addition, their brown(er) skin tones contributed to their collective experiences of being Othered in the
NE Ohio environment. The within group "conceptual groupness" (Espiritu 1992) of
NatPride and RelOH members enabled them to develop collective identities that transformed their experiences of oppression into feelings of solidarity and strength.
Within their respective communities, NE Ohio Natives could experience their Indian identities in positive ways.
Furthermore, the distinct forms of conceptual groupness experienced by
Reclaimers and Relocators contributed to their development of distinct forms of
"organizational groupness." Organizational groupness refers to the ways in which group members organize to address their common concerns (Espiritu 1992). Reclaimers longed to be recognized as American Indian people and to be socialized into traditional Native ways. Thus, NatPride became an organizational arena within which Reclaimers could proudly assert Indian identities and engage in Native practices (i.e., "be," "feel," and "do"
Indian) without worrying about being discounted or dismissed. In contrast, Relocators wanted to experience their Indianness in a community setting where they would not be judged for being Other and/or for performing their Indianness in ways deemed
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inappropriate (i.e., they wanted to "be," and "feel" Indian without having to "do"
Indianness in particular ways). As conceptual and organizational groupness refined and
synergized over time, NatPride and RelOH members were better able to identify potential
threats to their collective identities.
These processes resulted in strategic organizational boundary constructions.
NatPride, for instance, strategically expanded the boundaries of Indianness. This
community warmly accepted anyone who identified as Indian – regardless of skin color,
Indian community connectedness, or tribal enrollment status – because many of its
members had experienced the pain that accompanies being repeatedly denied an Indian
identity. Whites and members of other racial groups also were welcome to participate in
NatPride events because NatPride members believed that Indianness – in the form of
Indian values and practices (rather than bloodlines) – was something of value that should be shared with the world. RelOH, on the other hand, contracted the boundaries of
Indianness by providing warmth and acceptance to only those Indians who relocated to
NE Ohio from Indian reservations or who were in some way associated with or connected
to another RelOH community member. A few non-Native allies also attended RelOH
functions; these folks (like me) tended to have some history of participation in collective
anti-racist actions with RelOH members.
This enforcement of rigid group boundaries was necessary for addressing RelOH
members' concerns. Relocators needed a space where they could seek refuge from the
many "microaggressions" they encountered as people of color living in white dominated
society (Solorzano, Ceja, and Yosso 2000). As American Indians, Relocators did not
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experience the same level of discrimination in NE Ohio as they did in reservation
contexts; as people of color, however, they were frequently the targets of subtle insults –
verbal, nonverbal, and/or visual "microaggressions" – that had a harmful cumulative
effect. If RelOH adopted the same "open door" policy as NatPride, it would no longer
function as a "counter-space" where Relocators (as members of a racialized, subordinated
group) felt comfortable and safe (Solorzano, Ceja, and Yosso 2000). These contradictory
strategies, or organizational "politics," are logically produced as a result of NatPride and
RelOH members' collective experiences.
Each organization's boundary work highlights the differences between their
respective members, and thereby strengthens the boundaries separating NE Ohio Indians
who followed different pathways to urban Indian identities. Although NatPride participants were somewhat weary of RelOH members – whom they knew to be skeptical
(at best) of their Indian identity claims, they were less inclined than Relocators to enforce boundaries between the two community groups. Reclaimers occasionally commented
that traditional/"authentic" Indians would not and/or could not accept governmental
criteria as the final definition of Indianness (because traditional Indian communities did
not define Indianness according to blood quantum, for instance), and thereby, indirectly
implied that RelOH members were not "doing" Indianness appropriately. Ultimately,
however, Reclaimers had little to gain from defining themselves as wholly separate from
Relocators, who had Indian identities that were legitimated in more contexts than their
own.
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RelOH members, on the other hand, actively reinforced the boundary that
separated them from NatPride participants. Many RelOH members, and particularly
RelOH elders, believed their Indianness was substantiated by past experiences of
colonization and perpetual experiences of racialization – both of which were corroborated
(in many cases) with tribal identification cards and "Certificates of Indian Blood." From their perspectives, individuals and families that historically opted for white identities and presently receive all of the accompanying privileges of whiteness have forfeited their rights to Indian identities. In addition, a number of RelOH members participated in some manifestation of the Red Power Movement of the 1960s and 1970s. It was this race- based identity movement that helped to foment pan-ethnic Indian identity formations and urban Indian organizing (Nagel 1997). RelOH participants in this movement perceived themselves as the real movers and shakers who put Indians and conversations about
Indianness back into the public sphere. Thus, they often perceived NatPride members and others who asserted new Indian identities as "free riders" who benefited from their hard work, without having to participate in their grassroots organizing efforts. From many Relocators' perspectives, Reclaimers did not decide to claim Indian identities until it was safe, and therefore, desirable to do so. As Berta stated, “everybody fights to be
Indian" now, "but they weren’t here for the hard times, you know, when we had to fight to be, just to be who we are."
"Strategic Essentialism"
To Relocators, one thing that makes Indianness desirable to whites and
Reclaimers is the perception that being Indian pays. Federally recognized American
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Indians have a unique relationship with the U.S. government. As citizens of sovereign
nations within the United States, they are entitled to certain rights, resources, and protections. Despite their limited access to any of these things in the urban environment,
Relocators do not feel responsible for sharing the scant resources they do have with
"Indians-come-lately" – Indian "wannabes" who (from many of their perspectives)
missed out on all the suffering, but still expect some form of remuneration for being
Indian. Thus, Relocators strategically police the boundaries of Indianness. The simplest
way to accomplish this task is to refuse to recognize the Indian identities of people who
are connected to neither a reservation community nor the RelOH community. If these
connections are absent, RelOH members often assume that the person claiming
Indianness either has no Indian blood or has such little Indian blood that it is irrelevant.
(Jokingly, Indians sometimes say that if such persons got a nosebleed, they would lose
their last bit of Indian blood.) This strategy, found throughout Indian country, follows
from the government's continued role in regulating Indianness by blood quantum.
Despite increasingly fluid understandings of race and ethnicity within federal bureaucracies (as illustrated by the 2000 U.S. Census, which permitted individuals to self
select multiple racial categories for the first time), Indians continue to be defined in
essentialist terms. They are the only racialized population in the United States that must
show proof of their Indian bloodlines – if not with their own Certificates of Indian Blood,
then through meticulously documented descent from Indians whose blood quanta were
recorded on federal rolls at some point in the past. Research illustrates the inaccuracy of
these historical enrollment processes – which failed to record the names and blood quanta
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of countless Indians, while permitting whites, in some cases, to pay a small fee to have their names recorded15 (Garroutte 2001) – but these facts are little known and/or sometimes forgotten by "carded" Indians who believe that they alone have legitimate
Indian identities. Remembering the federal government's nineteenth century enrollment strategy for regulating Indianness is not only important because it illustrates the absurdity of using these rolls to document Indianness today, however; it also reminds us of the devious means by which federal bureaucrats used their authority to reconstruct definitions of Indianness with the specific purpose of denying Indians formerly promised resources. For instance, twenty years after the Dawes Rolls were created, the government simply changed how it defined Indianness to force the sale of Indian lands previously allotted to "mixed bloods" (Lawrence 2003; Hirschfelder and Kreipe de Montano 1993).
Innumerable racial projects, such as this one, reconstructed Indianness as a means to obliterate Indian identities and steal Indian property; hence, RelOH Indians' wariness of white attempts to co-opt Native property and resources are justified.
Lawrence (2003), for instance, notes that essential understandings of Indian identity come from the colonizer. She also provides, however, an empathic view regarding some Natives' reluctance to expand the boundaries of Indianness, stating: "A history of colonial control and the reality of ongoing genocide is at the root of this fear on the part of many Native people that to lose collective control over even a colonially shaped identity is to lose the last vestiges of Native distinctiveness, the last defense
15 Perhaps the most entertaining example Garroutte (2001) provides to illustrate the inaccuracy of federal enrollment processes occurred on the Lakota reservation, where Indians seeking additional rations (and therefore, enrolling a second time) provided federal agents with names like "Dirty Prick," "Bad Cunt," and "Shit Head."
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against the colonizing culture" (Lawrence 2003: 21). Even more critically, it is to lose
access (potentially, at least) to the minimal and ever-decreasing resources that Indian people need to survive. Ultimately, reservation Natives and RelOH Natives are backed into a corner (as they have been so many times throughout the history of U.S. – Indian relations) and are, therefore, compelled to utilize what Spivak (1993: 5) refers to as
"strategic essentialism." Spivak (1993: 5) specifically coined this term to articulate the inevitable conundrum of colonized and/or post-colonial populations, who have little choice but to take "the useful yet semimournful position of the unavoidable usefulness of something that is dangerous."
Indian Mascots: It's All Related
This research explores the impacts of racial formations on experiences of Indian identity for NE Ohio Indians who followed two different pathways to urban Indianness.
In Chapters Three, Four, and Five, I describe the ways in which experiences of
Indianness differ for Indians with reclaimed or relocated identities. In the final chapter of this dissertation, which explores Natives' perspectives on NE Ohio's prominent "Chief
Wahoo" mascot, the Reclaimer/Relocator distinction is less helpful. Whether an
American Indian respondent problematizes the red-faced Chief Wahoo cannot be ascertained with knowledge of only her or his "pathway to Indianness." Both Reclaimers and Relocators support both sides of the Indian mascot issue. Natives who most vehemently resist Indian sports mascots, however, share a critical aspect of their biographies: they lived in reservation settings (or, in one case, had significant reservation experience) prior to moving to the urban environment of NE Ohio.
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NE Ohio Natives who experienced life in both realms also experienced the effects
of both "positive" (e.g., noble, warrior-like) and "negative" (e.g., alcoholic, lazy) controlling images of Indianness on their day-to-day lives. They were more likely to encounter "positive" images of Indianness in the urban realm, but they did not experience these images in positive ways. Rather, they recognized the ways in which even
"positive" images of Indianness exerted control over their lives – by replacing their realities with romantic notions of Indianness to which they were expected to conform.
When they did not conform to expectations based on the "Indian imaginary" – such as when they engaged in protest actions against the region's popular Chief Wahoo mascot – they faced incredulity and hostility from disgruntled NE Ohioans. Social psychologists who study "benevolent prejudice" (Werhun and Penner 2010; Dardenne et. al. 2007;
Glick and Fiske 2001, 1997, 1996; Jackman 1994) – the seemingly "positive" beliefs held by dominant group members about the members of a subordinated group – agree that symbolic "benevolence" is "often driven by subordination motives" (Werhun and Penner
2010: 900). Native protestors agree with this perspective and recognize Indian mascots as a form of benevolent racism against American Indian people. Although these mascots portray Indians in seemingly admirable ways, they inhibit the rights and freedoms of
American Indian people, and thereby perpetuate their treatment as second-class citizens
of the United States.
Only two (NatPride) Native respondents approved of the pseudo-Indian imagery
that inundates the NE Ohio sociocultural sphere. More commonly, members of both
RelOH and NatPride expressed the belief that Indian mascots were harmful to American
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Indians, but that concerns about Chief Wahoo should be sidelined until even more
harmful phenomena – such as the loss of Native cultures – were addressed. Learning
Native practices and/or maintaining American Indian cultures and communities
frequently were prioritized by these respondents. I do not believe that these Natives' perspectives diminish the importance of eliminating pseudo-Indian mascots and other
controlling images of Indianness, but rather, elucidate the manifold deleterious
consequences of colonial and other racial projects on contemporary experiences
American Indian ethnicity.
False representations of Indianness and American Indian culture loss are
intricately connected. It was the former, after all, that made the colonization of U.S.
indigenous peoples palatable to the white masses. Colonial projects, in turn, decimated
American Indian populations and cultures. Almost all of the NE Ohio Natives who participated in this research project actively resisted the subordination of American
Indians within U.S. social structures; they simply chose different issues as the focus of
their resistance strategies. Due to enduring consequences of colonization and continuing
racialization, NE Ohio Natives lack the "biographical availability" to attend to all of the
issues that contribute to their contemporary oppression (Jacobs and Taylor 2012;
McAdam 1986). Thus, they focus their energies on the issues that seem to have the
greatest negative impacts on their lives in NE Ohio. For Natives who grew up in the
urban environment – where they had less exposure to Indian cultural practices and less
interaction with Native kinship networks – focusing on learning Native traditions and
maintaining urban Indian communities makes sense. Conversely, urban Natives who
238
spent their early lives on or near Indian reservations potentially have more cultural
competency, which may contribute to their greater emphasis on the eradication of Indian
mascots and other controlling images.
Ultimately, NE Ohio Natives should not be expected to fight for their right to self-
definition. They should be able to focus on other issues, such as cultural reclamation and
revitalization, while dominant members of society (whites) work to remove the false and
dehumanizing images of Indianness that they created in the first place. As Lorde (1981:
100) so eloquently states, forcing historically subordinated group members to shoulder
the burden of always explaining their realities and struggles is “an old and primary tool of
all oppressors to keep the oppressed occupied with the master’s concerns.” It diverts the
energies of the oppressed, who must work to attain emotional, physical, and spiritual
well-being in a society that devalues and debases them. Unfortunately, at this time,
whites are not deemed legitimate representatives of Native peoples in debates over Indian
mascots (Davis-Delano and Crosset 2008). This condition might change, however, with
increased understanding of American Indian historical and contemporary realities. If white people in the United States were encouraged to explore the interconnections between controlling images of Indianness, American Indian genocide, revised/whitened histories, and pseudo-Indian mascots, for instance, they might begin to understand that icons such as Chief Wahoo do not differ in content, form, or effect from racist icons like
Little Black Sambo, which are no longer deemed socially acceptable. Removing Chief
Wahoo and other instances of the "Indian imaginary" from the sociocultural sphere would
239
be a monumental step forward in recognizing the rights and realities of U.S. indigenous people.
FINAL THOUGHTS ON THE COMMUNICATION GAP BETWEEN
RECLAIMERS AND RELOCATORS
An important step in advancing the inalienable rights of American Indians occurred in 2010, when President Barack Obama endorsed the United Nations'
Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous People. James Anaya, a U.N. special rapporteur, subsequently visited the United States in May 2012 to meet with and survey the lives of
American Indians living in both urban and reservation areas. At the conclusion of this visit, Anaya stated: "In all my consultations with indigenous peoples in the places I visited it was impressed upon me that the sense of loss, alienation and indignity is pervasive throughout Indian Country" (Gamboa 2012). My research reveals this same truth, and also addresses the ways in which Reclaimers and Relocators differently experience such losses, resist their effects, and actively construct urban Indianness in NE
Ohio.
In the proceeding paragraphs, I discuss one final observation of NE Ohio Natives' experiences of Indianness. Specifically, I look at how pathway affects Reclaimers' and
Relocators' perspectives regarding the macro and/or micro level processes that contributed to the losses they both experience and resist. I suggest that these different points of reference contribute to Reclaimers' and Relocators' divergent strategies for negotiating Indianness, and also prevent effective communication and collaboration between the members of these groups. Scholars who participate in urban Indian
240
communities are well aware of the incredible tensions that make such collaboration
difficult. Fenelon (1998: 296), for instance, asserts that Indian disunity in urban spheres
results from "the differing orientations and grievances of traditional tribal atives and
urban Indians without significant reservation experience" (emphasis added). I suggest
that understanding how pathway alters the lens through which NE Ohio Natives view their experiences provides some insight into why Reclaimers and Relocators find it difficult to empathize and engage with one another.
Emphasizing either macro or micro level processes as the primary cause of Indian
struggles and/or "wannabe" Indianness prevents Reclaimers and Relocators from seeing
and understanding the points of connection and disconnection in their lives. For instance,
Reclaimers recognize the macro level forces that forced previous generations of their
Indian relations to assimilate (at least outwardly) into mainstream society. From many
Reclaimers' perspectives, their Indian identities were inhibited in early life because of the
strategies their ancestors used to resist U.S. colonial aggression. Relocators, on the other
hand, often fail to recognize the macro level forces that contributed to the assimilation
and "whitening" of Reclaimers' family members. Rather, many Relocators emphasize the
actions of individual agents who chose to abandon their Indianness so they could
experience the privileges of whiteness. This account of events contributes to Relocators'
opposition to recognizing the Indian identities of Reclaimers.
When discussing the reclamation of their Indian identities, NatPride members
frequently emphasize their individual agency. In doing so, they fail to recognize the
macro and meso level forces that opened the social and cultural space necessary for them
241
to reconnect with Indian identities that had been hidden or lost. For example, NatPride
members do not consider the relationship between the Red Power Movement, which
redefined Indianness in positive and powerful ways, and what they perceive as being personal, unaided decisions to begin exploring their ethnic heritages. In contrast,
Relocators often fail to recognize the personal sacrifices that NatPride members make to reclaim Indian identities because they emphasize the macro and meso level forces that made the reclamation of Indian identities possible in the first place. As such, Relocators sometimes imply that Reclaimers are opportunists who have taken advantage of the ethnic revival of the 1960s and 1970s.
Furthermore, NatPride members frequently minimize critical (contemporary) phenomena that distinguish their experiences of Indianness from the experiences of
Relocators, and RelOH members frequently minimize critical (historical) phenomena that affected experiences of Indianness for all U.S. indigenous people. In both instances,
Reclaimers and Relocators do not reflect upon the role of discrimination in the lives of
Indians who followed pathways to Indianness that differed from their own. For instance,
NatPride members, who are negatively affected by continuous denials of their Indian identities, often bemoaned their whiteness. Many Reclaimers, in fact, imagined that life would be easier if they had brown(er) skin. Indians in both community groups agreed that brown(er) skin was helpful when asserting Indian identities within ative contexts.
Reclaimers, however, did not think about what effect brown skin would have on their day-to-day lives. Consequently, they minimized the significance of skin color in
Relocators' lives, and failed to acknowledge their own white privilege. At the same time,
242
Relocators emphasized how different their experiences of Indianness were from the
experiences of Reclaimers, without reflecting upon their shared history of oppression as people affected by U.S. colonialism.
Although Reclaimers and Relocators both identified as Indian, resided in NE
Ohio, and held at least some common values and goals, the distinct effects of racial projects on their lives differently shaped their experiences of and perspectives about
American Indian identity. They did not always reflect upon the combined effects of macro and micro level processes on the experiences of Indians who traveled different pathways to Indianness. As a consequence, their abilities to empathize with Indians
unlike themselves were hindered. By revealing the incredibly complex effects of
interrelated macro, meso, and micro level processes on American Indian lives, identities,
and perspectives, I hope this research also initiates a critical conversation about the future
of American Indian people and cultures. Whether Native people who traveled different pathways to Indianness engage in difficult conversations about how their lives are both
similar and different, yet inextricably intertwined, will have vast effects on how
American Indian ethnic identity is defined and experienced in the United States.
LIMITATIONS
This research project provides a detailed and contextualized account of how
Indian identities are experienced in NE Ohio, but it has numerous limitations. First, my
whiteness and other facets of my social location influenced every step of this research project, from the questions I asked, to the observations I made, to the analysis I
conducted. Thus, this research reflects my own realities to the same extent that it reflects
243
the realities of Indians in NE Ohio. It portrays only one version of a kaleidoscopic truth.
Although my identity as a white woman inevitably affected my perceptions of NE Ohio
Natives and NE Ohio Natives' perceptions of me, I also believe that my whiteness provided me with opportunities for engagement that a Native-identified person might
have been denied. For instance, RelOH community members might have been less
willing to share their experiences with someone who claimed Native ancestry and/or
identity but who did not necessarily appear to be Native. NatPride members, on the other
hand, might have been suspicious of a "carded" Indian conducting research in their
community.
In addition, time constraints prevented me from developing a more holistic
understanding of the effects of pathway on Indian identity in NE Ohio. My participation
in only two Native community organizations may have prevented the exploration of
additional pathways to and experiences of urban Indianness in this environment.
Moreover, I would like to have interviewed more participants in NatPride and RelOH.
The participants in this study were Indians who most actively engaged in their respective
communities. Those who were less active were also less available, and consequently,
their views are not included here. More peripheral members of NatPride, for instance,
may not struggle with their Indian identities in the same ways as NatPride respondents
included in the study. It would be analytically useful to know if their limited engagement
in community life was due to their adoption of more "symbolic" Indian identities. In
addition, I did not have the opportunity to interview many of the children and
244
grandchildren of prominent RelOH elders. Their perspectives, however, are critical to
understanding the effects of relocation on Indian identities.
Finally, this research is limited by its inability to generate generalizable findings.
Many of the macro-historical processes that affect experiences of Indianness in NE Ohio also affect American Indians living in other regions of the country. NE Ohio, however, is a specific contextual field that inevitably alters racial/ethnic experiences. As Lewis
(2003: 16) notes, "the meaning of particular labels … as well as the experiential aspects of group membership … varies from place to place." Thus, the unique macro, meso, and micro level processes that interact and together affect NE Ohio Natives' experiences of
Indianness may differently affect American Indians who live in different geographical regions and/or who traveled different pathways to arrive at Indian identities.
PROJECT SUMMARY AND FUTURE RESEARCH
Ultimately, this research illustrates the basic sociological premise that identities
can only be understood in the context of macro-historical processes. This idea may seem
obvious to sociologists, but "common sense" notions about identities suggest that they are personal matters, expressed by individuals who act alone in an individualistic society. As
this research indicates, the construction of "authentic" American Indian identities is an
exceptionally murky process. Simply claiming an American Indian identity is ineffective because racial formations have contributed to standardized definitions of Indianness.
Although numerous scholars have described macro level processes of racial formation,
they have less often articulated how these macro level processes shape and constrain
racial identities at the micro and meso levels. My research illustrates that macro level
245
processes of racial formation affect more than government bureaucratic policies; they also distinctly affect how individuals experience and enact their racial identities in everyday life.
Due to specific historical processes that have shaped American Indian identities,
Indianness is experienced in unique ways that distinguish Indians from the members of other racialized groups. Future research on American Indian identity should explore the experiences of Reclaimers in other contexts. For instance, how do Native people negotiate reclaimed Indian identities in regions with more visible Indian populations? Do
Natives in different environments experience more or less resistance than Reclaimers in
NE Ohio, who live in a region with no federally recognized Indian tribes or Indian reservations? Additionally, how does the experience of reclaiming an Indian identity differ for people who do not participate in Native community life? What types of Indian communities exist and how do they support or inhibit the development of reclaimed and/or relocated Indian identities?
It is also critical to understand how identity experiences are similar and/or different for members of other racialized groups. As the U.S. population becomes increasingly multiracial and racialized populations establish new criteria for membership, the experiences of other groups will in some ways parallel the experiences of American
Indians (Campbell and Troyer 2007; Snipp 2002). For this reason, understanding experiences of American Indian identity will "only grow in importance in the twenty-first century U.S. context" (Campbell land Troyer 2007: 762). A comparative framework might be utilized to understand how and why the experiences of other racialized group
246
members are similar and/or different from those of American Indians. For instance, do
different pathways to identity affect the experiences of other racial/ethnic groups?
Should pathway be explored as a critical point of intersectionality in studies of identity
construction? Furthermore, what does it mean to "be" multiracial, yet "feel" like a
member of a single racial/ethnic group? How do people "do" singular racial/ethnic
identities when they are multiracial? Additionally, future research should explore how experiences of U.S. indigenous identities compare to experiences of indigeneity across the globe. What processes of racial formation have shaped the experiences of indigenous people in other nations formed by colonial projects? How have colonial definitions of indigeneity been embraced and/or resisted by indigenous people? What strategies have been utilized by indigenous groups to expand or contract the boundaries of indigeneity?
What consequences have these strategies had on the persistence and/or abeyance of
indigenous cultures? Seeking answers to these questions will improve social scientific
understanding of the vast effects of macro level racial formations on individual lives, as
well as how micro and meso level actors can effectively resist social constructs that
negatively impact all of our lives.
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APPE DIX A
LETTER OF CO SE T
Project Title: Urban American Indian Life
I am conducting research on what it is like to be an American Indian resident of Northeast Ohio. I would like you to take part in this project. If you decide to do this, you will be asked to answer interview questions pertaining to your ethnic identity and the role it plays in your day-to-day life. The interview will take between one and two hours and you will receive a $20 gift certificate to thank and compensate you for your time. You may be asked to participate in a follow-up interview, at which time you will have the opportunity to review our previous discussion and ensure that I adequately have captured your views.
Your participation in this research should not involve any discomfort or risk. If any interview questions make you uncomfortable, you do not have to answer them. If you wish to stop the interview, you may do so at any time.
Your identity will remain confidential. This consent form is the only document on which your full name will appear. Once it is signed, it will be locked in a file in the Sociology Department at Kent State University. The interview is being taped for transcription purposes only and I will be the only person with access to the recording.
Furthermore, I will report only general patterns when disclosing the findings of this research. If I report a direct quote obtained from the interview, your name will be replaced with a pseudonym to ensure your confidentiality. Confidentiality will be maintained to the limits of the law.
Your participation in this project will enable you to contribute to knowledge about American Indian life in an urban setting. It is my hope that the knowledge gained from this research can be utilized to increase the visibility of and respect for members of the American Indian population of Northeast Ohio. Taking part in this project is entirely up to you, and no one will hold it against you if you decide not to participate.
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If you want to know more about this research project, please feel free to call me at 330-612-5993. Your questions also may be directed to my research advisor, Dr. Clare L. Stacey, who can be reached at 330-672-2044. This project has been approved by the Kent State University Institutional Review Board. If you have any questions about your rights as a research participant or complaints about the research, you may call the IRB at 330-672- 2704.
You will receive a copy of this consent form.
Sincerely,
Michelle R. Jacobs Doctoral Candidate, Kent State University
CONSENT STATEMENT
1. I agree to take part in this research project. I know what I will be asked to do and that I can stop at any time.
______Signature Date
APPE DIX B
I TERVIEW GUIDE
I. Racial/ethnic identity
A. How do you describe yourself in terms of race/ethnicity?
B. Does the way you identify racially/ethnically change with the situation at hand? (For instance, do you identify the same way on surveys/U.S. Census as you do in small/intimate groups? In public settings?)
C. What does it mean to you to be Indian ?
D. In your opinion, who has the right to claim an Indian identity? (Should claims be based on biology, culture, experiences of oppression, etc.?)
E. Are there specific moments in your day-to-day life when you feel more keenly aware of your [Native] identity? (For instance, does your awareness shift or become more or less strong when you are at work, at home, the grocery store, a powwow, etc.? When you are doing certain things? When you are with certain people?)
F. Do you do certain things that you would not expect a non-Native person to do? Do you do things that in some way demarcate you as a ative person living in the United States today? What kinds of things?
II. Current cultural/community practices
A. How often do you/are you able to practice these things or participate in these activities?
B. Where are you able to practice these things or participate in these activities?
C. With whom do you engage in these activities?
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D. Ultimately, would you say that you are able to participate in some form of Native community life here in Northeast Ohio? Do you belong to a Native community organization? Do you frequently attend Native functions?
E. How important is participation in Native community life to you?
F. Do you feel you have certain obligations or responsibilities as a Native person living in NE Ohio?
G. Do you have certain responsibilities/obligations as a Native [WOMAN] or [MAN]? Can you describe them to me?
H. As a Native person who is [AGE]?
III. Life history
A. Have there been specific periods of your life that being [Native] has been more or less significant to you, in terms of your self-identity and your lifestyle? (When you were younger? As you grow older?)
B. Early experiences:
1. Can you describe the place where you grew up?
2. When you were growing up, how conscious do you think you were of being [Native]? Can you remember when and how you became aware of your [Native] heritage?
3. How did this new awareness of your [Native] heritage/identity affect you? I.e., how did it impact your life? (Or did it impact your life?)
4. How important do you think it was to your parents that you know about your [Native] heritage?
5. Can you describe the ways your parent/s passed on cultural information to you?
6. Did you have the opportunity to be around other Native peoples/children during your childhood?
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7. How about with regard to romantic relationships? Was finding a Native partner a concern for you at any point in your life? Why or why not?
C. Family life today:
1. Are you married now or currently in a relationship? What is the race/ethnicity of your partner?
2. In what ways does your Native ethnicity impact your family life?
3. Do you have children or plan to have children?
4. How important is it to you that your children know about their [Native] heritage? (Grandchildren?)
5. What do you do (or will you do) to accomplish this?
IV. Societal perceptions/representations of Indianness
A. How often do people ask or comment on your racial or ethnic background? What do they say?
B. Has anybody ever asked you “where are you from,” meaning to ask “what is your ethnicity or your race”?
C. How do you typically respond?
D. How do you generally feel when people ask or comment? (Do you experience hurt when people do not recognize you as Native? Do you experience relief?)
E. Why do you think people fail to recognize that you are Native?
F. What kinds of ideas do people have about American Indians?
G. Do you ever feel that you can or cannot do certain things due to peoples’ perceptions of American Indians? (In other words, do false perceptions have an impact on your day-to-day life?)
H. Can you provide an example of something you might do or say to try to demystify people you come into contact with or to try to show them that you are Native even if you do not meet their expectations?
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I. Can you describe how people typically react when they first become aware of your [Native] identity?
V. Contemporary discrimination
A. In your opinion, do American Indians experience racial or ethnic discrimination today?
B. As a child or as an adult, have you experienced what you believe to be racial/ethnic prejudice or discrimination?
C. Have you ever felt that being Native is in any way oppressive, or prevents you from accessing important societal resources?
VI. Final thoughts
A. Is there anything that you might not have thought of before that occurred to you during the interview?
B. Is there anything that I should have asked or any other information that you would like to add?
C. Is there anything that you would like to ask me?
D. And finally, I'm interested in conducting interviews with approximately 40 Native people who live in NE Ohio. Do you know of anyone who might like to participate in this research project?