Growing up, many of us participated in programs designed to foster bonds between fathers and sons. Looking back through old family photos recently, I stumbled upon a snapshot that brought back a flood of memories – and a touch of cringeworthy recognition. It was a picture from my time in Indian Guides, a program I now understand is viewed very differently in today’s world.
My Experience with Indian Guides
In the photo, a younger version of myself stands beside my father at an Indian Guides meeting. We were part of the “Cherokee Tribe,” and in the spirit of the program, we had adopted “Indian” names. I was “Little Red Hawk,” and he was “Big Red Hawk.” My memories of Indian Guides are fragmented, as my involvement was brief, probably only a year or so. I recall meetings filled with drumbeats, the donning of warpaint, and wearing handmade leather badges adorned with tribal symbols around our necks. There were attempts at craftwork, activities deemed suitably “Indian” for a group of six-year-olds. I even remember a trip to the Angeles mountains, where I was woefully unprepared for the snow, thanks to my mother’s oversight in packing appropriate gear.
Even as a child, a sense of awkwardness permeated the experience, reminiscent of other fraternal organizations like the Shriners or Rotary Club. However, Indian Guides carried an extra layer of absurdity: a group of Anglo-American men and their sons engaging in a clumsy and inauthentic imitation of Native American culture. Years later, when I mentioned Indian Guides to my father, his assessment was blunt: “Of all the dumb things a dad has to do for his kids, that was the number one dumb thing by a mile.” I found it hard to disagree.
The Evolution of Indian Guides and Cultural Sensitivity
My more considered reflection on Indian Guides, however, delves into the program’s evolution and its place within broader discussions of cultural sensitivity and “political correctness.” The long-term pressures to change Indian Guides, which ultimately led to its rebranding as “Y-Guides,” illustrate a complex shift in cultural politics. This transformation became a focal point in the “culture wars” of the 1980s and a prime example of what many now derisively label “political correctness.”
The journey of Indian Guides, from its original conception to its eventual transformation, reflects a broader societal learning curve regarding identity politics. Initially, identity politics emerged from legitimate claims for social justice and recognition. However, it arguably morphed into a more rigid and pervasive set of cultural expectations, often associated with the left, even as its principles became widely adopted across the political spectrum. Today, even conservative groups frequently employ similar tactics of “identity politics” to advance their own agendas.
At its core, the rise of “political correctness” – and the critiques leveled against programs like Indian Guides – stemmed from a couple of fundamental ideas:
- Persistent Social Inequality: Racial and other forms of social identity, along with associated inequalities, remain deeply ingrained in societies like the United States, even after legal and political discrimination is dismantled. This suggests that social identities are maintained through unconscious, everyday cultural practices rather than solely through formal structures.
- Language as Action: Language and representation are not neutral; they are active forces. The speaker’s identity, the social context, and the relationship between speaker and audience profoundly shape meaning. The same words can carry drastically different meanings depending on these factors and the interpretive context.
These observations, while distinct in their intellectual origins, converged into a crucial proposition:
- Cultural Representation and Discrimination: Speech acts and cultural representations play a significant role in perpetuating discrimination and defining social identities.
While these propositions are debatable, they are not inherently foolish. They raise valid points about the impact of culture and representation on social dynamics. However, the application of these ideas to programs like Indian Guides and cultural symbols like the Atlanta Braves’ “tomahawk chop” often went awry, marked by a lack of proportionality, historical perspective, intentionality, and understanding of cultural impersonation.
Where Did the Critique of Indian Guides Go Wrong?
The backlash against “political correctness,” often exemplified by reactions to criticisms of Indian Guides, largely stems from a perceived lack of proportionality. While Indian Guides might be seen as part of a system of representation connected to the historical oppression of Native Americans, it was, in reality, a minor, arguably trivial vestige. It was not, as some activists might have suggested, a central pillar in the “dehumanization” of Native Americans. The argument that every symbol or sign with even a hint of racial or ethnic stereotype is equally implicated in acts of violence and oppression is a significant overreach. An anecdote about a student’s reaction to blackface at a Halloween event, escalating to anger over being mistaken for a sibling, illustrates this lack of proportional thinking.
This lack of proportionality is often linked to a disregard for historical context. Indian Guides in the 1960s, while perhaps misguided, was a diluted and largely impotent echo of a much more charged and violent historical period. While it might cause offense to Native Americans who have experienced the repercussions of that history, equating a symbolic practice with the historical reality of oppression risks trivializing past suffering and hindering meaningful progress in the present. Collapsing historical distinctions can lead to ahistorical and unproductive viewpoints, such as equating the present condition of African Americans with antebellum slavery.
Furthermore, the critique of programs like Indian Guides often overlooks intentionality. The creators and participants of Indian Guides were likely not consciously aiming to perpetuate negative stereotypes or contribute to the oppression of Native Americans. They were, perhaps, naively ignorant or unconcerned about how their imitation of “Indian” culture might be perceived. Similarly, Atlanta Braves fans performing the “tomahawk chop” are not necessarily intending to express any particular political or social message. To ascribe meanings and intentions that are far removed from the actual participants’ perspectives can be alienating and counterproductive. When such critiques adopt the language of legal wrongdoing, accusing individuals of “crimes” of cultural insensitivity, the absence of consideration for intent becomes particularly problematic.
Finally, the controversy surrounding Indian Guides and similar phenomena often misses the more nuanced history of racial and gendered impersonation in American culture. People often engage in “playing” with other identities not out of malice, but as a form of exploration and creative expression, however clumsy or ill-informed. Indian Guides shares similarities with other forms of cultural cross-dressing, such as the German fascination with Native American culture exemplified by Karl May’s novels, or even with aspects of drag performance and transgender expression, which are often viewed more favorably within identity politics. This broader context of cultural impersonation and its complex motivations deserves more consideration.
Conclusion: Moving Beyond Outrage
None of this is to argue that Indian Guides shouldn’t have evolved into Y-Guides, or that the Atlanta Braves shouldn’t reconsider the tomahawk chop. However, whether these changes occur is ultimately of minor significance. Constructing political stances primarily around such issues risks missing larger, more critical issues. There is a richer, more complex cultural history at play, with a wider range of meanings and possibilities than narrow applications of identity politics often acknowledge. Perhaps by understanding the nuances and historical context of programs like Indian Guides, we can move beyond knee-jerk reactions and engage in more productive conversations about cultural sensitivity and representation.
