Native American, or American Indian?

Medicine Crow (Apsaroke)
Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

I usually have tried to use the term, “Native American,” with the idea that “Indian” is a misnomer resulting from ignorance of the European explorers and continuing out of disregard for an appropriate name for America’s indigenous peoples.  Several years ago while attending a cultural celebration of “Native Americans” at Desoto Caverns in Sylacauga, I was interested to note that the “Native Americans” who were explaining their culture to us repeatedly used the term “Indian” when referring to their people.

The late Tony Hillerman said once that he considered himself a kind of “reverse missionary” in his desire to present the culture of the Navajo and other Indian tribes in his mystery novels. In his memoir, published in 2002, he has this fascinating explanation of why it is preferable to use the tribal name or else use the term Indian rather than Native American:  

I have occasionally used the Native American term. I was cured of that failing when the Smithsonian formally established its division for artifacts from tribal history and named an Indian as its director. He came to Santa Fe, a panel was assembled to discuss affairs of this new division, and I was invited to sit on it. There were nine of us, I believe, representing Hopi, Navajo, Mascalero Apache, Taos, Cherokee, Choctaw, and a couple from the Eastern tribes, which had somehow escaped the total extermination policy of our British ancestors. I sat as Mongrel-American. One of the first questions from the audience was what title did the panelists prefer.

The first respondent asked for a show of hands of those in the audience who hadn't been born in the United States. Two hands appeared. Then all the rest of us here are Native Americans, said the Indian. We are all the offspring of immigrants. He said his people preferred to be identified as Hopis, but if you don't know our tribe, call us Indians. So it went down the row, each respondent preferring his tribal name, saying that Indians call each other Indians if they don't know the tribe. The verdict was unanimous, with the Apache adding they were only thankful that Columbus was looking for India and not Turkey. The Cherokee noted that the real insult was to be called Indigenous People. Since the Western Hemisphere had no native primates from which humanity descended, that suggested we'd evolved from something else - perhaps coyotes - and were not really human. The Navajo concluded this discussion by proposing that all be happy Columbus hadn't thought he'd landed on the Virgin Islands - a sample of the sense of humor which makes the Dineh my favorite folks.  (From Seldom Disappointed: A Memoir, by Tony Hillerman, pp. 273-274)

Politically correct terminology often comes from academic circles where people are at pains to correct past offenses.  Sometimes, as in this case, those who come up with politically correct terminology don’t bother to consult the people whom they intend to label with more appropriate titles.  It is as if we have yet another situation of the elite explaining to the poor natives what they should be called.  For now, I’ll trust Tony Hillerman on this one.



*

Navajo Wisdom from Tony Hillerman

I enjoy reading Tony Hillerman’s mystery novels because I can learn a bit about Native American culture while being entertained by a good story.  This week I’ve been reading Hunting Badger.  In one passage,  Jim Chee, a Navajo Tribal Police officer recalls a lesson from his uncle and mentor in traditional Navajo wisdom. Jim Chee tries to live in the modern world while keeping the customs of his native culture. He has tried to do this by learning the songs and rituals of a traditional healer.

Here is the passage in which Chee is talking with his now elderly and dying uncle:

"You know the chants. You sing them without a mistake. And your sand paintings are exactly right. You know the herbs, how to make the emetics, all that."

"I hope so," Chee said, understanding now what Hosteen Frank Sam Nakai was telling him.

"But you have to decide if you have gone too far beyond the four Sacred Mountains. Sometimes you can never come all the way back into Dinetah again."

Chee nodded. He remembered a Saturday night after he'd graduated from high school. Nakai had driven him to Gallup. They had parked on Railroad Avenue and sat for two hours watching the drunks wandering in and out of the bars.

He'd asked Nakai why he'd parked there, who they were looking for. Nakai hadn't answered at first, but what he said when he finally spoke Chee had never forgotten.

"We are looking for the dine' (Navajo people) who have left Dinetah (traditional homeland of the Navajo). Their bodies are here, but their spirits are far beyond the Sacred Mountains. You can go east of Mount Taylor to find them, or west of the San Francisco' Peaks, or you can find them here. "

Chee had pointed to a man who had been leaning clumsily against the wall up the avenue from them, and who now was sitting, head down on the sidewalk. "Like him?" he asked.

Nakai had waved his hand in a motion that included the bar's neon Coors sign and the drunk now trying to push himself up from the pavement. But went beyond them to follow a polished white Lincoln Town Car rolling up the avenue toward them.

"Which one acts like he has no relatives?" Nakai had asked him. "The drunk who leaves his children hungry, or the man who buys that car that boasts of his riches instead of helping his brother?"

                                                                          ~From  Hunting Badger by Tony Hillerman