On the Persistent Erasure of Women of Color (and Other Sisters and Brothers)

William Blake:  "Europe Supported By Africa and America."
Oh, the irony. The story of our lives.
I will have many occasions to use this image in the future,
and much to say about what it represents.

It's been a rough start to the year for members of marginalized populations, particularly for people of color and members of the LGBTQI community, and especially for women of color, however they identify. The past few weeks, though, have ratcheted the racist noise level way up past the threshold of pain, a result of a confluence of several incidents and events.

I'm going to address several of them in turn (which means that this will be a long post), and I'm going to do so in plain English, with some language variants. We'll get to those in a minute, but what this means, from the outset, is that a lot of the folks who read this post are not going to like what I have to say — and I'm not gonna hold your hand through it all. No punches pulled, no blows softened, although none, frankly, will be inflicted, either, as you'll see provided you can squelch your defensiveness long enough to approach these words honestly and to contemplate the factual nature of what's presented here. It's not going to be a personal attack on you for being white, regardless of what some self-styled celebrities in online spaces like to pretend is the case. It's going to be an explication and explanation of what the reality is, within the dominant culture of what we know as the U.S. (which is, necessarily, "white" culture, and mostly cis/het, as well) for marginalized populations. And as a woman with cis/het privilege, I'm going to do so largely via the lens that life has afforded to me personally, which is one of race. This is not to exclude (or, to use a term you'll see a lot of here that seems to have twisted the white liberal world's knickers so thoroughly, erase) members of LGBTQI communities and populations. But it is not my place to appropriate their narratives and to presume to speak for them, and so I am not going to arrogate to myself any [nonexistent] right to do so. I am, over the days and weeks to come, going to point you to online spaces in which LGBTQI women of color tell their own stories and share their own lives and identities, so that readers will be able to learn from those whose stories they in fact are to tell.

Now, about some of those language variants: Educationally, I caught the first real wave of any size of what is now known loosely as "critical theory" — critical race theory and critical gender theory, or studies, specifically. At that time, of course, they were both largely termed "deconstructionism," and their best-known proponents were an array of largely white (and in some instances, already dead) European males. Oh, there were women, and especially women and men of color, who'd been saying these things loud, long, and in great breadth and depth, but it wasn't given the imprimatur of ivory-tower [ahem] respectability until white men made their names on it.

The concepts involved really caught traction in the 1990s, and since then, it's developed into a full-fledged field of study, one with, of course, its own specialized jargon. Think of them as clinical terms (medicine) or terms of art (law) — highly specific to the field, yes, but also simply everyday language within that field. There's nothing magical about them, nor anything particularly difficult. Besides, "liberalism" is supposed to welcome the notion that life is a process of learning, one that's supposed to challenge, right?

Right?

Oh.

I've been thoroughly disabused of that notion over the last few weeks. I knew it already, of course; we all did. But recent weeks have given us the spectacle of respectable mainstream [white] liberalism proudly flaunting all of its conservative biases and bigotries on full and flamboyant display, not merely staking out its turf as masters of the political zeitgeist but challenging anyone not in their camp to fall meekly in line or step off as unworthy. 

In light of this, and in light of all the willful misinformation and deliberate shoveling of ignorance and worse that's filling online spaces, including those spaces occupied by those not white (and especially not white, cis, and het), I'm going to deconstruct (yes, there's that word again) this hot mess.

As I do, be prepared for some things: While I know a lot of the jargon (and there's more, more current, that I've missed in recent years), and I will use it, this is not going to be an academic treatise. The lives of people of color are a constant process, and actualized identity, of code-switching, and I will do plenty of it here. So you'll be taken between dissertation-speak and ordinary speech (what outsiders regard as slang) with no warning and no explanation, and you'll manage those bumps in the verbal road just fine, trust me. After all, we're forced to live our lives this way, every minute of every day; white folks can handle reading it on a screen for a few minutes.

Also, to lay the groundwork for anyone coming at this without knowing who I am: I am mixed-race. Red, white, and Black. It's what my "L'il Bro," with the same ancestry in differing proportions, calls "hitting the 'New World' trifecta." And unlike some of my relations, I drew the longest of long straws when it comes to the privileges, benefits, and downright luxuries that accompany perceived whiteness in this society. I have fair skin and green eyes (well, they've changed color over the years, and as I've aged, they've turned amber with dark blue outer edges, but what people "see" is "green," just as with my skin, most "see" "white"). I can "pass" in virtually any environment — although to be brutally frank, my entire life has been one of presenting people with plain old confusion. They look at me and initially assume they're seeing "white," but at the same time, something's off; they recognize something on a visceral level that their eyes don't process. And, of course, it changes their behavior accordingly (oh, yes, indeed, it does). And let me stipulate for all the records that I don't hate white people, and I'm not self-loathing. What I am is unusually clear-eyed about who I am and where I come from, something that tends to be true of people of color where it tends to be manifestly untrue of white folks. Something else that tends to be true of us? We understand who y'all are and where you come from, too. We understand it better than you do. We have to; it's a little thing called survival.

So when I talk about white privilege (and, no, I will not put that in quotation marks for you, because it is a thing, simply an objective fact of life in this society), I'm talking about it as someone who also has a lifetime of lived experience of it — in addition to a lifetime of lived experience of the racial discrimination that perforce accompanies who I actually am. This is by way of warning: Don't even try the tired old argument that there's no such thing as white privilege in the U.S., because in addition to its, you know, actual, factual existence apart from the comfortable shibboleths of equality this society loves to repeat to lull itself back to sleep, I've lived it. And I've had it wielded against me as a weapon. Daily.

Now, on to the current series of unfortunate events (a/k/a racism and other bigotries, a/k/a just another day in the dominant culture that is called the U.S.).

Yeah, No. More Catwalk Colonialism. I Am #NotYourSquaw.

#DSquaw.

I shit you not. That's what these idiot white boys are calling their new fall collection, sent down the latest Fashion Week Colonial Catwalk.

As though the theft of imagery and culture, the appropriation of names and identities and narratives, the flat-out redface faux-powwow shuck-and-jive weren't enough, these morons had to take it all to new gutteral [as opposed to guttural] depths. Dean and Dan Caten, the hipster designers who hipsterishly refer to themselves as DSquared2, thought it would own so hip [and edgy, too!] to steal from Native cultures and then call it . . . wait for it . . . #DSquaw! Isn't that just too, too precious?!

Yeah, no.

And even the Styleite article slamming this racist idiocy gets it wrong. That word, people, does not, in the white man's vernacular, in his lexicon of racism and misogyny, translate to "vagina." Oh, no, no.  It translates to something much more vulgar, much more insulting. It translates to a four-letter vulgarity beginning with "c," used to describe women's genitalia . . . but not just any women, oh, no. It refers specifically, in the most odiously racialized sense possible, strictly and solely to Native women, reducing us whole and entire to that single body part. That vulgar, unclean, subhuman body part, when it exists on us Native women. That body part that members of the U.S. Cavalry cut off the bodies of our ancestors and turned into sacrilegious "medicine bags" and other personal ornaments, scalping of another sort, trophies of rape, of massacre, of genocide. 

And, as happened two weeks ago with fellow white racist ripoff design house KTZ, there is allegedly another direct theft from a Native designer. Then, it was Apsàalooke/NorthernCheyenne designer b.YELLOWTAIL who saw her own design, from her great-grandmother's beadwork, an old traditional family design that she used with the proper permissions, stolen, warped, and twisted into a nasty little piece of cheap knock-off appropriation. This time, it's a beaded bag by Sandra Okuma, copied largely wholesale, with a few cosmetic alterations, and slung around the neck of a white model who presumably is supposed to be the designated #dsquaw stand-in.

Enough, already.

Our cultures are not your property. Neither are our histories, our identities, our imagery, our traditions, our labor, or our very selves. And the nastiest of sexualized racial slurs is certainly not yours to fling at us while stealing from us (or even while not).

Every person in the fashion industry who contributes to these instances of cultural theft (and more tangible forms of theft, too), who praises it, who countenances it without publicly calling it out, who supports it in any way, shape or form: You're the heirs apparent of a long tradition of racism, misogyny, cultural theft and erasure.

And there's another word for that toxic combination, you know.




All text copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.

Of Clicks and Pixels and Hearts.

Photo copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved.

There are days when I am entirely disheartened.

This is one.

I've been doing this a lot of years now. Writing, I mean. Writing about our issues. Writing, in some cases, about matters of actual life and death.

I don't expect that anything I write, however important the issue, will somehow magically trump the Kardashianing of American life, especially on social media.

What I did think I could expect is that those who proclaim themselves my — our — allies could spare a second or two, and a click or two, to spread the word. 

Apparently not.

Catwalk Colonialism

Image copyright B. Yellowtail; all rights reserved.

Sometimes "appropriation" goes way beyond what that term implies. It's a word that sort of sounds like someone just borrowed something for a little while because s/he genuinely needed it.

Really, it's just a synonym for theft, but even then, not all thefts are equal. Some are more outrageous, and more openly racist, than others.

When a white British fashion house appropriates the work of a Native designer — work that features a lineal ancestral pattern with deep cultural and spiritual significance to the designer herself, no less — and when said white-run design house then submits it as part of a redface catwalk minstrel show for New York's Fashion Week . . . well, even theft doesn't begin to cover it.

It's catwalk colonialism.

And when the international fashion media are complicit not only in the cover-up but in using their collective megaphone to amplify the racism of the company involved . . . it's time to do something about it.

It's Never Appropriate

Red Willows
Photo copyright Wings, 2014; all rights reserved.

So, week before last came news that the Taos Town Council, with the backing of new Mayor Dan Barrone, had changed the name of the local community park.

At first blush, it seemed to be win/win:  The community park, which is right downtown and is the place where all the local arts and crafts fairs, the wool festival, and other regional events are held, is no longer named for the genocidal Indian killer whose name pollutes streets, businesses, and institutions all over this part of Indian Country. [For those who don't know, until couple of weeks ago, it was named "Kit Carson Memorial Park." Really? In a town that wouldn't exist but for the Indian residents, you're going to "memorialize" an Indian killer. Oh, yes; this is the norm.]

And it's been renamed "Red Willow Park":  "Red Willow" for the people of Taos Pueblo, because that "Red Willow" is the English translation of their name for themselves.

Except not so much. Why?

Because nobody, but nobody, bothered to ask the permission of the Pueblo.

Nope. Just, once again, appropriated stole the name. The name of an entire people. The name of a sovereign nation.

The initial article in The Taos News, two weeks ago, showed pushback from one member of the council (and I have no patience with him or his "arguments"; his pushback is rooted in bigotry and resentment). It also was written in such a way, and quoted the new mayor in such a way, as to seem to indicate that he and the council had contacted the Pueblo about this name change and had been given approval to do so.

The article in last week's edition shows that nothing could be further from the truth:

Town officials have also faced questions about the lack of communication with tribal government ahead of the vote. Taos Mayor Dan Barrone told The Taos News last week he did not speak with anyone in tribal government before the name change was approved because it happened so quickly. 

In a June 25 letter to The Taos News, tribal Gov. Clyde M. Romero Sr. and War Chief David G. Gomez make clear Taos Pueblo did not ask the town to rename the park. 

“Mayor Barrone and the town council acted alone on their own authority and without input, consideration or discussion with Taos Pueblo to rename the park ‘Red Willow Park,’ “ the letter states. 

“The chosen name of the park is one that holds a special and significant meaning to Taos Pueblo and its people,” the letter reads, noting that the tribe is a sovereign nation that interacts on a “government-to-government basis.” 

“As such, Taos Pueblo only feels it appropriate that the mayor and council should have consulted and requested input from Taos Pueblo regarding the use of the name ‘Red Willow.’ “

I have to tell you, Wings frankly cheered at the text of that letter. Because Governor Romero and War Chief Gomez are absolutely, incontrovertibly, 110% right.

Nothing should ever be taken from the people without their consent, least of all their very identity. And yet, with our new mayor and his minions, it was business as usual: Appropriate for their own self-promotion, then later when it becomes clear that you've really stepped in it, "apologize" on grounds that "it happened so quickly." Well, why, Dan? So you could make a name for yourself. So you could exploit Indians for political bennies. So you could use them, us, once again for your own agenda.

Of course, the article itself is also just a horror show of stupidity. People: If you're going to write about anything Indian-related, you have absolute obligation to get.it.right. If you can't be bothered to do that, then, really, shut the fuck up about it. It's not your business, and it's not yours to appropriate for self-aggrandizement. And twice, the reporter gets the translation of the name wrong, something he could have verified if he'd bothered either to go to the Taos Pueblo Web site or to ask his fellow reporter, who is an enrolled member. For the last time: "Taos" is the Spanish corruption of the word for "the village," referring to a particular place. It does not translate to "People of the Red Willow"; that term is not for consumption by outsiders (including me, and no, I don't ask, because I don't need to know, nor does anyone not an actual member of the Pueblo itself).

The commentary since then is also a horror show of stupidity . . . and racism. I'm not even going to bother addressing it, because it's always here. And frankly, the opinions of non-Indians are irrelevant on this one. Suffice to say that subsequent comments and OpEd pieces are what you'd expect when privilege is impinged.

It'll probably go to a new vote. The whining from opponents has gotten much louder, and much more childish. So where do we come down on it?

With the Pueblo:

The letter from the governor and war chief goes on to say the Pueblo appreciates the town’s attempt to foster a better relationship with the tribal government. The letter concludes by saying Taos Pueblo supports the name change “for all Taos Valley residents.”

As far as we're concerned, that's the opinion that counts.

Please stop defending the indefensible.

Photo copyright Wings, 2014; all rights reserved.

Not all tricksters are simply coyotes. Some are just bad people.

Yes, this is going to be oblique. No, I'm not going to elaborate further. All the clues are there, and have been for days now, and I've already done everyone's due diligence for them and brought it up on FB. You want specifics, you'll have to do a little due diligence of your own (which, I might add, everyone already should have done before countenancing theft of intellectual property — in one case, from an actual Indian — vicious personal attacks and ugly bigotry).

Being an ally to people of color does not mean excusing truly indefensible behavior. In fact, there comes a point when doing so crosses the line into paternalism, to the point of infantilizing the person in question.

It's even more reprehensible when it's done to support a person who in all likelihood is not a person of color at all.  Especially when five minutes' worth of simple, basic research would have turned up exactly what I'm talking about. When a person cites a pretty-thoroughly-debunked fraud, and then further buttresses his own bad behavior by announcing that he grew up with that fraud in one location despite the debunking pretty convincingly showing that said fraud grew up elsewhere (hint: nowhere near the rez in question, and with not only no ties to it but no blood), and when the person allegedly posting from said rez elsewhere says that he's living in another state entirely, well, I'm not convinced that any of you should be defending this crap. And I wrote about this two days ago, and yet I learn that people are still defending this. Enough already.

Why am I always the one who has to point this shit out?

Yes, this puts me in a seriously bad mood.

InAppropriate

I believe the photo credit belongs to Elizabeth LaPensée;
it appears at Indian Country Today Media Network.

Last October, in one my final editions of my Monday round-up of Native news (before connectivity and site-loading issues made further editions impossible), I wrote about Indian imagery and identity, and the importance of maintaining our sovereignty over both: 

As I was putting together the stories for today's edition, I noticed two distinct and interrelated patterns emerging: themes of imagery and identity, intertwining, diverging, separating and merging again at different points along the continuum of what it means to be Indian in 2013. 

There are many other stories out there right now, true, and they are important. But so are these — and despite the fact that the corporate media would regard these topics as "not hard news," that's incorrect. Today's stories encompass the existential conundrum of being Indian today, the requirement that we walk in two worlds at every moment of our lives when one of those worlds has done its damnedest to exterminate the other, and failing that, still actively works to neutralize its existence. And they do so in an equally dualistic way: in the public perception of who and what we are and what sovereignty and autonomy we have over that identity; and in the most private, intimate of spaces, in our own image of ourselves, both as individuals and as part of the collective culture labeled "Indian. 

To that end, I'm leading with what other coverage would relegate to the "C" Section of the newspaper. It's a story about asserting and affirming ownership of our identities and images, and doing so in a way that forces the dominant culture to face us in all our beautiful, complex diversity.

That story was about Drunktown's Finest, a film by a Diné woman that, among other things, explored the disconnect between what the dominant culture sees in her beautiful town of Gallup, New Mexico, and what she and her fellow Navajo Nation members see, love, and live on a daily basis. [Thanks to a Kickstarter campaign, she got the film wrapped in time for Sundance, and it's now premiering in Europe, too. And, yes, we kicked in a little to the film project.]

Lately, i've seen a spate of news items about racist appropriation —of our images, our languages, our cultures, our very identities. It's another form of colonizing, and it carries with it all the carpetbagging exploitation and appropriation — in other words, abuse and theft — that are part and parcel, an inherent element of, colonialism.

Exhibit A, of course, is Dan Snyder and his persistent, obstinate, in-your-face racism. no, Dan, we are #NotYourRedskins, and never will be. Then there are Warner Brothers and Joe Wright, and no, we're #NotYourTigerLily, either. Nor is white actor Rooney Mara. Of course, the movie itself is guaranteed to be a horror show; the Indian plot line in Peter Pan is irredeemably racist. And then there's last year's dead-crow abomination. No, Bruckheimer and Depp, we are also #NotYourTonto. [And, no, I don't want to hear about how these are innocent children's tales. There's nothing innocent about racism. And it's a very immature worldview that insists that your dominant-culture childhood mythologies must trump our lives. Your myth is a tool of my oppression, and I will not be complicit.]

But lately, there's more. A lot more. Over the jump, a look at some of the insidious ways this practice has taken root.