Home of the Brave (3)

Now, I should pause here to explain that I am not Lakota, and not particularly spiritual. Of course, to justify my own lack of spiritualism its necessary for me to cite the relatively pedestrian cosmology of my people, the Comanches. It seems like we had enough magic to get by but everyone agrees our religion was a rather basic affair compared to the Hopi or the Sioux or the Egyptians. We're most famous for killing more settlers than any other Indian people, so I don't know, maybe we just didn't have the time. But anyway I was intrigued to recently come across a reference to Black Elk in which it was stated matter of factly that he was a Catholic most of his life. I found it fascinating that despite hearing about Black Elk for many years, I had no idea he spent most of his life as a Catholic. I learned that many believe that Black Elk and white assistants sat down and invented practically a new religion, explicitly designed to blend teachings of Christianity and Lakota spiritualism. At the time, he was working as a catechist for the Roman Catholic Church of Nebraska. Essentially he was a lay priest. I also learned he had a first name, and that it was Nick. The Who's Who entry for Black Elk, then, probably would have described him as religious leader, entertainer, church bureaucrat, best-selling author. It would say he revolutionized Sioux religion with help of anthropologists. Do any of these facts about Nick Black Elk invalidate his contribution to the Lakota people, or his spiritual teachings? I think to say it does is to say the invented, impossibly wise sages are preferable to the people who actually lived. Nick Black Elk, an extra in Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show, a paid employee of the Catholic Church, only becomes more interesting, not less, and his accomplishments even more remarkable. Those who would have it otherwise cherish the myth more than the genuine struggles of real human beings.  

I believe all of our lives are just as crazy as Nick's. And when we refuse to acknowledge this, and pretend that it's otherwise, to pretend we are real Indians, instead of real human beings, to please an antique notion of European romanticism, we may think we're acting tough but instead we're selling out.  

Some people, Indians as well as non-Indians, will always prefer Ted Perry's version of Seattle's speech to Seattle's. And some will find the Black Elk of John Niehardt's book preferable to the intriguing, complex Nick Black Elk. In other words, some will prefer white inventions of Indians preferable to the real thing. There will always be a market for both nostalgia and fantasy. The cottage industry of Native Americana, formerly the province of hippies and enterprising opportunists has become mainstream and professional. Today in the average chain bookstore in the United States most of the Indian titles are in the New Age section. Well-meaning feminists conduct Indian rituals, and the men's movement has appropriated Indian drumming for their get-togethers. The myth-making machinery that in earlier days made us out to be primitive and simple now says we are spiritually advanced and environmentally perfect. Anything, it seems, but fully human. Over time these cartoon images have never worked to our advantage, and even though much in the new versions is flattering, I can't see that in the long run they will help us at all.  

The victory of these new stereotypes and our seduction by them has serious implications for contemporary Indian life. In the old days; by this I mean fifteen or twenty years ago there was a sense of irony and distance between whatever Hollywood, or hippies or anyone else thought of Indian life. That seems to have all but disappeared, and many of us seem to have settled for the jukebox spiritualism of a manufactured image that in truth is just a retooled, updated version of the old movies we all used to laugh at.  

I agree with Eduardo Galeano, who wrote "I am not one to believe in traditions simply because they are traditions. I believe in the legacies that multiply human freedom, not in those that cage it. It should be obvious, but can never be too obvious: when I refer to remote voices from the past that can help us find answers to the challenges of the present, I am not proposing a return to the sacrificial rites that offered up human hearts to the gods, nor am I praising the despotism of the Inca or the Aztec monarchs." As a cultural critic and participant in the contemporary art world I reflect on these histories as a way of putting current events and ideas into perspective, in order to find my own place and direction within them. These broad cultural issues are a foundation from which I can look at my own work within this culture.  

A few years ago I had the chance to visit a number of museums, interpretive centers and heritage centers in Saskatchewan. I was fortunate enough to get a backstage tour of the redesigned Natural History Museum in the capital city of Regina. They had completely rethought and redesigned the wing of the museum dealing with Indians. They consulted with native people, hired Indians to paint and construct exhibits, I was especially impressed with a beautiful display of a modern canvas sweat lodge. Another had Indians in a tipi with a dog sled out front, and next to that were Indians in a cabin with a snowmobile out front. In these exhibits we managed not to be extinct.  

I left the tour with nothing but respect for the efforts of a staff that obviously had thought long and hard about how to represent Indian culture. At the same time, for me the nagging question remained: Why are we in this museum at all? The English and the Ukrainians and the Germans aren't here. Only us, next to the dinosaurs. The museum I want to visit might show the history of the land now called Saskatchewan, and how humans have come and gone and changed the landscape. How Indians tricked buffaloes into jumping off cliffs is worthy of an exhibit, but why stop there? How about one on Ukrainian farming techniques, or the socialist inspired wheat cooperatives? How about an exhibit on the efforts of the Cree to learn farming, and the government policies that made it almost impossible? Why not discuss the spiritualism of typical Saskatoon residents today? Give us a church next to that sweat lodge.  (next page)