The following piece by Mark Trahant, a Shoshone-Bannock writer from Fort Hall, Idaho, is reprinted from the Native_News listserv (email@example.com).
Flip through any 19th-century collection of American Indian portraits and you’ll see many images of stereotypical Native Americans: the serious expression of Sitting Bull; a warrior whose eyes avoid the camera, chin tilted forward in a gesture of nobility; children wearing the military uniforms of a government boarding school.
The stereotypes depicted in the images linger because they are so deeply embedded into our national story, the one about the stoic Indian and a conquered people.
What baffles me is how such a stereotype can persist when it’s so completely wrong.
I have a hard time even imagining American Indians as stoics — humourless, resigned, reverent — no matter the tribe involved. Ancient legends are filled with humour. Whether it’s about a coyote, spider or a raven, there are hundreds of stories with jokes hidden in the morality tale.
I grew up in a reservation community where humour was a constant. As I began to travel and experience places and cultures far from my own, I heard that same laughter echoed wherever I went.
I began to wonder how the non-Indian world came to believe the story of the wooden Indian.
Native writers and storytellers have chipped away at that wooden image for a long time. Creek poet and journalist Alexander Posey wrote the hard-hitting satire, the “Fus Fixico Letters,” about corruption in what was then the Indian Territory, now Oklahoma.
He poked fun at political characters, such as Teddy Roosevelt — he called him President Rooster Feather — and Secretary of the Interior Ethan Allen Hitchcock. Posey renamed the secretary “It’s Cocked,” because he hated making difficult decisions.
These days, Northwest poet and author Sherman Alexie loads his writing with outrageous wit and humour — not to mention comedic genius on stage.
A new PBS documentary reveals one secret of Indian humour. Seattle filmmakers Sandi and Yasu Osawa profile comedian Charlie Hill.
Hill is Oneida, Mohawk and Cree, and grew up on a reservation near Green Bay, Wisconsin.
“An Indian comedian?” Hill recalls being asked. “Isn’t that an oxymoron?” Fighting words — or a stereotype that opens a source of inspiration.
Sometimes it’s a short quip: “Take my land. Please!” Other times, Hill tells a story, such as one involving a conversation with his father on a mountaintop.
“See all that land, son?”
“Do you realize that one day none of this will be yours?”
What I particularly like about this film is that it shows the continuity of Indian humour, from Will Rogers to just about anybody on Hill’s tribal council.
Author Vine Deloria Jr., a member of Standing Rock Sioux tribe in North and South Dakota, weaves a philosophical thread through the film, starting with a chapter on Indian humour in his 1970 book “Custer Died for Your Sins.” He explains how “Indian humour has been the central aspect of Indian life.”
Charlie Hill, says Deloria, is fighting centuries of stereotypes. Hill says he’s prepared for that battle, and brags about his education at the Bureau of Indian Affairs’ School for Comedy.
I wonder if Hill ever wore a military uniform as a schoolboy. That’s a picture I’d love to see. I expect Hill would be staring at the camera and smiling an impish smile.
Mark Trahant is a contributor to Writers on the Range, a service of High Country News (www.hcn.org). He heads the Maynard Institute for Journalism Education in Oakland, California.