Self-Imposed Crippling Frustration Under a Wave of Social Justice Advocacy
It was Saturday night when I knew I'd smudge myself and my house with sage the next day. There had been a build up. With the media exposure of police shootings and the new energy for social justice as a response, I was caught up in the energy. But not without personal justification. Under Trump's toxic atmosphere, my beloved Cherokee community quickly became as divisive as the rest of America.
I started to hear comments that I hadn't heard before, and this time from the mouths of racially white Cherokees. What happened? Why were dark skinned and full blood Cherokees so viscerally hated? And all of a sudden?
Well, it wasn't all of a sudden. This divide between full-blood, half-blood, and racially white has been a part of Native communities for a long time. We can go back as far as the initial reservation era of the 1800s. Take Quanah Parker (Comanche) for example, who is depicted in the image above. He was half white and half Comanche. While the Comanche people did not elect Quanah as their spokesperson, the U.S. government made it clear to the tribe that Quanah would be the only person they were going to deal with. So the Comanche chiefs who were elected inside the community were ignored, while Quanah was selected by those in power.
Why do Natives only gain access when we display an allegiance to white supremacy?
It's unfortunate how we can't overcome this history, where race determines power, as opposed to ability, talent, and strength. Ta-Nehisi Coates writes, “But race is the child of racism, not the father.” And we've heard since the 1990s that "race is a social construct." But then again, everything humans do is a social construct, and this particular construct has murdered millions, enslaved millions, and continues to oppress millions today.
So why was I hearing comments? Why were decisions being made that had full blood Cherokees scrambling? All of a sudden I was reminded of my teen years growing up in Tahlequah, when Cherokees were murdered for being Cherokee, when Cherokees talked about the underground culture in hushed tones, and when Cherokees all too often contorted ourselves under the boot heels of white supremacy.
Then as an adult I moved away for a decade.
When I returned to Tahlequah in 2015 I found a very different Cherokee Nation. There were liberal white Cherokees displaying themselves as allies to "identifiable" Cherokees. There was more willingness to engage and the blatant racism that I once encountered had seemed to disappear.
Then Trump was elected.
Slowly there was an erosion. I started to hear more and more underhanded comments about "identifiable" Cherokees, which is a new white supremacist term for targeting anyone who has traditional Cherokee phenotypes: Dark skin, high cheek bones, strong jawlines, narrow eyes. More and more of my racially white peers would say "Indian this" and "Indian that," and I'd think to myself, "I thought you were Indian." But according to the UNSPOKEN racial line, they were not Indian like "identifiable" Indians. Racially white Cherokees were somehow superior. This language grew and grew over the last four years until it reached a point recently where racially white Cherokees were blatantly and openly talking about "Drunk Indians" and how "identifiable" Cherokees were criminals. The tone was etched with superiority, leaving dark skinned and full blood Cherokees feeling like we had no power, like we were being targeted. And you have to understand, the majority of enrolled Cherokees are racially white. It's not a spectrum, not even close. Those of us who live and work here know the truth. "Identifiable" Cherokees are the minority. Cherokee Nation's racial makeup is identical to the U.S. The darker your skin, the harder your life.
I watched full bloods in my circles cower and back down when racist comments were made. Completely silenced. And half-bloods who have a full-blood parent biting their tongues. Some of us have spoken up, but it doesn't come without feeling like we're going to receive retaliation, retaliation for asking people to not say "drunk Indian." Can you believe that? Basic human decency. It's frustrating that we have to beg to be treated like people. It's frustrating that I have to remind folks that we're human beings. Why is it so extreme to have respect reciprocated? Why would I have to say, "I can't breathe," when it should be obvious that racism is a social choke hold?
I started writing this post wanting to write about how I needed to let go of the frustration, how maybe it was crippling me to think about it. More or less, blaming myself. But now? I wonder if racially white Cherokees ever think about crippling their own supposed brothers and sisters? That's what we're supposed to be, right? Brothers and sisters? We all come from "One Fire," right? If so, why do they make comments like their not Native? Why do they limit how many dark skinned Natives get positions of power? Why do they fear dark skin so much that they'll have just one or two "tokens" to keep in their back pockets? If we all come from "One Fire," why did I have to write this fucking post?
(Images were borrowed from commons wikipedia)
Underling Mentality in "The Smurfs:" Why Azrael Allows Himself to be Abused by Gargamel
No one believes themselves to be like Azrael. If we had to choose between the cat and Gargamel, we'd all choose Gargamel--if push came to shove. We'd rather be neither, or think of ourselves as neither. But we're one or the other in someone's eyes. This article is an examination of how the "underling" can allow himself to be abused. And maybe we can resolve: Why we allow people in power to control us.
Look around your office. Assess a hierarchy. Who is running the show? Who is the underling? To discover the underling, identify the person who gets in hot water the most. Underlings always receive more abuse. They will throw themselves into a pit of wild boars just to appease their master.
There is always a discerning quality to the person "running the show." They never get in trouble. They send their underlings out to do the dirty work. So the underlings are the ones who get attacked, receive blame, and punished. Meanwhile, their master sits over there as comfy as can be, living life without a worry in the world.
"Often in codependent relationships, one partner – sometimes an addict, narcissist, or abuser – wields power over the other." -- Darlene Lancer, JD, MFT
I worked in a group home setting for six years and the staff were trained to identify who was the leader, so as to identify who was truly causing the others to act out. It was always the one who never got in trouble. He made underhanded comments, which propelled the others to become violent. As soon as we identified who caused the issue and pointed out to the residents how they were manipulated, all of a sudden the violence went down.
We're all asking: How can someone have such little self-respect that they allow themselves to be abused and manipulated?
I'm not going into the details of that deep psychosis. Neither of us have that kind of time. But we can use a movie like The Smurfs to quickly deduce a type of reward system. In The Smurfs movie, Azrael wants to eat a Smurf. Likewise, Gargamel wants to capture the Smurfs to drain them of their power and use the power for himself. This very simple structural technique quickly points to a human condition to band together with someone for a common goal.
"The power paradox requires that we be ever vigilant against the corruptive influences of power and its ability to distort the way we see ourselves and treat others." -- Dacher Keltner in The Power Paradox
Azrael will laugh at Gargamel when The Smurfs make Gargamel look like a fool, and in some of the cartoon episodes Azrael turns against Gargamel. But ultimately, Azrael allows Gargamel to treat him terribly and abuse him, whether physical or verbally.
Now take a look around your office again. Who acts like an Azrael? Now, who is their Gargamel? How does the Azrael subject themselves to abuse? Do they get insulted? Does the Azrael do things that will potentially get themselves fired? How does the Gargamel provoke others to act? What is the Azrael's reward? Why would they allow themselves to be used?
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From the Edge of a Cliff to Under a Bus: Living Under the Dark Skinned Microscope
Have you ever felt like you were being watched? It's a creepy feeling. And then you look up to find someone staring. Your instincts picked up on the energy and you knew before looking that someone was watching you. When I encounter implicit bias, it has the same effect. I know when I'm being targeted with excess negative attention. I wonder why someone is so concerned about me in my life, when I have zero interest in theirs. The person comes off as creepy, and likely harbors underlying racist and sexist ideologies about dark skinned males.
There are numerous articles on implicit bias so I'm not going into detail about how it works. The baseline: society, community, family low key trains us to look at individuals with biases. Dark skinned males are always assumed to be criminals so we are watched much closer. So much so, people keep watching until the slightest mistake occurs and then they attempt to blow it out of proportion. Fortunately, in my circumstances, the overreaction has been so blatantly noticeable it quickly becomes dismissible and the person looks like a psychopath.I'd like to write about the above mentioned pattern. This pattern isn't something typically covered by the "implicit bias" articles. It has to do with manifest destiny. Not the manifest destiny that came out of Europe centuries ago and massacred millions of Native Americans. But it is akin. If you believe it, it will come.What I've found in my personal life and work life are repeated, almost predictable, patterns where individuals will attempt to throw me under the bus. Meaning, they will find the smallest opportunity to try to get me in trouble with superiors. People believe dark skinned males to be criminal, but when we are more concerned with reading books rather than committing crimes then they subconsciously seek out ways to make us criminals.What happens? I have to stay within the lines more so than people around me. I can see people wasting entire days of time with school work or personal phone calls. But my entire day is tracked. I'll stand from my cubicle and someone will quickly ask, "Are you leaving?" I'll say, "No, I'm just going to the bathroom." If incidents like this happened in isolation, then I'd dismiss them. But I have consistently been asked arbitrary questions about what I'm doing. Then it's contrasted when no one else around me receives the same line of questioning. This has occurred throughout my entire working and academic career. Even my bathroom visits receive comments. I have to time my daily 15 minute breaks at work to be at the exact same time everyday, while other workers can spend hours gossiping. Those are just some examples of the many I face everyday when I walk out of my door.
It has to do with manifest destiny. Not the manifest destiny that came out of Europe centuries ago and massacred millions of Native Americans. But it is akin. If you believe it, it will come.
Ultimately, it has given me a stronger work ethic. When everyone is trying to turn you into something you're not, you become more of who you really are. I'm a work horse. Dependable. And focused. I show up for my kids. I'm proud to be a nurturing father. At the end of the day, my children and my family are the reasons I stay the course. Implicit bias isn't going fade away because we are aware. Most institutions where I've worked and attended for my education have trained staff and students on implicit bias. For a few months afterwards, I get less monitoring and harassment. But after time passes, it always starts back up again. Like taking care of my family isn't enough, I also get the pleasure of walking the edges of a cliff.
Real Life Turns Into Fiction
I've said this before: If you don't want to be villain in fiction then don't be one in real life. The beautiful thing about graduating from two different writing programs are the connections made between creative writers and journalists. We tend to be tasked with a similar challenge. How to captivate an audience.Twitter can be a great place for inspiration. I haven't posted on my blog in a while. I apologize. Since signing with my literary agent, I've been busy meeting deadlines and tightening up my novel-in-collection, Unsettled Between. A great opportunity has landed in my lap so I've thrown myself into the writing. I expect to achieve a great work of fiction and I'm excited for audiences to engage in the material.I was on Twitter last night and there was a small exchange. It was about personal histories laced into the writing of fiction. I draw from real life. It's been odd how very clear storylines play out in my personal life. Maybe it's my lens. I'm a writer. I see story everywhere I look. But when a clearly defined villain oppresses people in a certain environment, it's hard to ignore, and then the little minions enslaved by these oppressors add interesting subplots. Soon I have an entire novel's worth of fiction to write.I could go on my social media and blast people (we see that often), but I find it more beneficial to mold those personal experiences into a storyline and package it in a way that is entertaining, and available for audiences to reflect.You must realize something about artists: our only loyalty is to the well being of the community. We are guided by tribal justice. The main component for tribal justice? To put everything out in front of the public, make everyone aware of the problem, let the community's judgement become the justice. Similarly, this is the task of journalists as well.
Zitkala Sa wrote a story, The Trial Path, where a young man had to face the judgement of his community, and every time I think of my obligation as a writer I think of this story.We have several platforms, but the one most powerful is the one that becomes a part of a continuing literature situated in a historical dialogue. Those who are interested in a legacy should be especially aware that intelligent people can discern the fleeting methods from the ones that stick around for a generation.
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(The image was borrowed from wikimedia commons)
Reductive Discernment Between the Crabs in the Barrel and Fake In'dins
You've done the work. Wrote the story, painted the painting, soldered the jewelry, sculpted the clay, or weaved the basket. You've put in the hours at the workstation, lost yourself in the art, creating work unique and powerful and meant to contribute to a collective of voices echoing from generations past. Then you take the work into the world. Now it's time to dance with the "crabs in the barrel" and the "fake In'dins."
It's a miracle when an artist makes it. So much so we have to celebrate each time it occurs. Just to sit back and think of all the obstacles that individual had to navigate to be successful is worth the admiration.Those of you who have consistently followed my blog and contributed in length to discussions are in for a ride. I'm going to give you a little insight into the Native art world. And some of it will sound familiar to your own circumstances, and then some of it you're going to scratch your head and try to figure out how and why.I've been in these circles a long time. I graduated with a Bachelors of Fine Arts in Creative Writing from the only Native Arts college in existence. The Institute of American Indian Arts is a unique institution which focuses on contemporary Native arts and is located in Santa Fe, New Mexico. It's churned out some of the greatest Native artists in the world. I'm lucky and grateful to have developed myself among so many Native intellectuals and artisans.To a certain extent, we were sheltered from a predatory art world. Maybe we needed to be sheltered so as to properly develop ourselves. I can see many strengths to developing in an isolated group of artists, so as to hone our skills before hitting a market that's symptomatic of pitfalls.Once we step into the arena, we encounter first the "crabs in the barrel," who are bent on never seeing another Native do well. This is the Natives against Natives idiocy that plays out. Instead of celebrating the talent of our fellow Natives, we are intimidated so we attack. We tear down those Natives around us, and the more talented or motivated the harder the attack. We can go after heritage association, by "How much In'din are you?," or "What family do you belong to?" And if that doesn't work, then we'll go after participation, as in "Do you even speak your language?" or "Have you been to a stomp dance?" We desperately reach and grab into the darkness for any and all cultural knowledge to weaponize and utilize to attack a fellow Native artist.
Then we have the "fake In'dins," who slither into our circles with false promises and outright lies. When I was at IAIA the first among this group I crossed was the infamous Joseph Boyden, who we all thought was Ojibwa, and nobody either knew otherwise or didn't tell us students otherwise. He certainly didn't tell us students otherwise. So where was his ethos? I assumed, "Hey, he's at a famous Native arts college and he's writing about Ojibwas, so he must be Ojibwa." IAIA wouldn't bring in a fake In'din? He was visiting the school and spent about a week on and off campus promoting his book. Then we find out he's not Native at all and he's won the Canadian equivalent of the Pulitzer Prize. More or less, he's taken an award out of a Canadian Native writer's hands.But what makes the situation hard for new and upcoming Native artists are the "fake In'dins" swimming in the shallows near the shore. When we first step into the real world arena, we often meet people, artists, who we can bond with because they are in the same boat--navigating the Native art scene. We believe they are Native because they say they are Native, and then at some point (often years down the line) we find out they are not Native at all. They have Native blood in their lineage but cannot prove it. Which in and of itself is fine, but if you are trying to capitalize off of it and put out what is to be considered "Native Art" then you are stealing from community born and raised Natives--stealing space, stealing awards, stealing time, stealing success. But we've seen this stealing before. It has been a consistent part of Native American history. It's adapted and changed faces, but it's all the same, and unfortunately we Natives must roll our eyes and say to ourselves, "Here we go again."Getting hit on both sides of the drum, a Native artist starts to see the "crabs in the barrel" and the "fake In'dins" as serving the same God. Ultimately they both keep down Native people. In a world that's already designed to suppress Native voices it makes it doubly difficult when the deception is woven with falsity and nicety. When fake In'dins try to butter you up with false promises--similar to what our ancestors encountered in the past--and crabs in the barrel who jump on our back to try and destroy any chance we have for success (while in the process attempting to gain success for themselves).Now tell me there's a difference.
(Images used in this post were borrowed from Wikimedia Commons)
Resistance Literature: A New Wave of Intellectual Engagement
So I'm walking through a bookstore in downtown Santa Fe, New Mexico and I'm reading blurbs. I'm not going to blast any artists. That's not what I'm about. We all come from a different set of experiences. But why are mainstream book publisher publishing the same narrative over and over and over and over? These blurbs seeming lay out different storylines, but when you look at the macro's macro you start to see a pattern.
Maybe it's because I'm Native. But I want to see resistance. Marches and protests are great and if they show up in literature then fantastic, but what I'm proposing is literature that deconstructs the system. I'm talking about a symbolic code that will inform others on how to fight back, on what has worked for them in rearranging the parts in the system. For me, resistance isn't about destruction, but instead it's more about moving parts around.
The novel I'm working on now, Uncle Called Him Spider, shows a group of Natives (Kiowa, Cherokee, and Muskogee-Creek) battling with an overbearing boss. It's not done in a dismissive comedy routine to release your pressure valve, like those popular movies and television shows. I'm not trying to make you a complacent slave. I'm trying to show you the underground railroad. In the novel, you watch as Natives struggle with each other and with values imposed on them by this boss. You get to see exactly how they resist and you get to see how they discipline each other to teach resistance. The main character, Dean, takes something from each of his coworkers and empowers himself to stand up against this boss.How does it all end? Does he redeem himself and his coworkers? Well, once the novel has completed it's final stage of revision I'll be able to get it out to you. But for now know this: Resistance literature is the next wave of intellectual entertainment.How many artists will help me take up this cause? If you're interested in engaging in a diverse didactic calling which shows how fighting back works for you, then click on the social media icons below. Let's reach as many artists as we can.
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(Works Cited: Images borrowed from Wikimedia Commons)
Scrutiny of Dark Skinned Males
Do you think you watch the behavior of dark skinned males more closely than other people? Maybe you feel you don't. Then you have to watch this video:
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ucEAcIMkS0c&list=PLvNwXBBRe6tbZRj5e6t6DxnnByN4sj13R&index=1