"I" Still Isn't for Indian

In November 1999 in this column, Debbie Reese discussed expectations for the depiction of Native Americans in children's literature in "Authenticity & Sensitivity" (pp. 36-37). "Native children should have books that do not demean or embarrass them or their heritage.… books that reflect who they are with integrity and sensitivity. Children who are not Native should be able to choose titles… that are free of outdated, stereotypical notions and free of factual errors." Yet, she pointed out, despite the richness and diversity of contemporary Native cultures, most books about Native Americans are set in the past, and lack the specificity that would allow children to connect with them in a meaningful way.

Four years and a turn-of-the-millennium later, there has been little progress. The Cooperative Children's Book Center in Madison, WI, has found markedly fewer books about Native Americans in recent years to recommend in their annual Choices. An online survey of the Horn Book Guide yields a similar suggestion: books about Native Americans reviewed 2000-2002 received substantially lower quality rankings than those reviewed 1989-1999. While these trends may also reveal better understanding and higher standards among reviewers, the results are the same—we are not seeing enough good books about Native Americans.

A survey of the last few publishing seasons reveals that hiding behind a "sympathetic" and "updated" view is an overwhelmingly stagnant perspective. While a handful of appealing, accurate, and useful books about Native Americans has been published recently, it seems there are still more that are inaccurate, offensive, and useless. We wouldn't stand for this representation of any other group of people in literature for children. Why are we still spinning our wheels?

Reese pointed out one reason: "As a society, we receive little formal education about Native Americans that provides us with sufficient knowledge to be able to notice errors [in books].…Reviewers and librarians cannot rely on acknowledgments if some publishing houses and authors are going to ignore quality feedback, and they cannot rely on reviews… if knowledgeable reviewers are unavailable."

There have been some excellent books in recent years. Some of the most exciting contributions are from new Native authors or illustrators.

S. D. Nelson came on the scene in 1999 with Gift Horse: A Lakota Story (Abrams). Next, he illustrated Joseph Bruchac's Crazy Horse's Vision (Lee & Low, 2000). Bruchac's depiction of Crazy Horse's coming to manhood dispels much of the speculation found elsewhere. Nelson's acrylics are rich, vibrant, and attractive. In a note, he discusses the traditional "ledger book" style of the Lakota prison camps that influenced him, and the symbolism of the colors and images he selected.

Cynthia Leitich Smith's Jingle Dancer (Morrow, 2000), illustrated by Cornelius Van Wright and Ying-Hwa Hu, follows Jenna through her neighborhood as she borrows from each of four women a row of jingles, enough to make a jingle dress for her first dance. Smith explains jingle dancing in a note, also pointing out the importance of the number four in her storytelling (a number that holds symbolism as the number three does in European storytelling). Smith followed with two chapter books, Rain Is Not My Indian Name (2001) and Indian Shoes (2002, both HarperCollins), also modern-day stories suffused with the particulars of the individual characters' cultures.

Joy Harjo's first children's book, The Good Luck Cat (Harcourt, 2000), illustrated by Paul Lee, is a widely appealing story about a cat with more than nine lives. Interwoven into the narrative are details of contemporary Native life.

The original stories and paintings in Lise Erdrich and Lisa Fifield's Bears Make Rock Soup and Other Stories (Children's Book Press, 2002) are not representative of any one particular Native culture, but are influenced by the worlds that these two young Native women know. Though lacking specificity, and in danger of being mistaken for traditional folklore, it is a moving and appealing book.

Two recent books portray the experiences of Native teenagers through verse. Marlene Carvell's Who Will Tell My Brother? (Hyperion, 2002) is a provocative novel in which a young man petitions his high school to remove its Indian mascot. In Night Is Gone, Day Is Still Coming: Stories and Poems by American Indian Teens and Young Adults (Candlewick, 2003), edited by Annette Piña Ochoa, Betsy Franco, and Traci L. Gourdine, young writers bring their diverse experiences to bear in lyrical verse and rap, through humor and anger, to any reader.

In the area of nonfiction, 1621: A New Look at Thanksgiving (National Geographic, 2001), by Catherine O'Neill Grace and Margaret M. Bruchac with the Plimoth Plantation, explodes the myth of the "first Thanksgiving," and shows readers much of what is known about that time. Illustrated with photos of reenactments, this is a bright and beguiling book packed with information that will open many readers' minds.

However, the bulk of publishing about Native Americans since 2000 is disappointing. Other Thanksgiving books on the market portray the entrenched, traditional vision of the dominant culture. Robert Merrill Bartlett's classic The Story of Thanksgiving has been revised (HarperCollins, 2001), yet still shows readers a harmonious and full-blown friendship between the Wampanoag and Pilgrims, which, according to Grace and Bruchac, was more likely a wary truce. The Hollywood-happy vision is also apparent in many picture books. Laurie Halse Anderson's well-received Thank You, Sarah: The Woman Who Saved Thanksgiving (S & S, 2002) falters on the first page as Matt Faulkner's appealing cartoon illustrations show a line of smiling, waving Wampanoag women, children, and men, standing at the gates of the Plimoth colony and holding out a roasted turkey. Actually, Massasoit arrived that day with 90 men (having heard gunfire), and though many Americans are fixated on the turkey, it's clear that turkey was not the centerpiece of the "first Thanksgiving." Nearly every recent book about Thanksgiving reveals these same types of inaccuracies that we've been seeing for years.

Most of the nonfiction published about Native Americans is designed to help with "the tribe report." Raymond Bial's "Lifeways" series (Benchmark) has been acclaimed for its use of color photographs of contemporary people and reenactments. Yet, behind its fresh look, the series provides much of the same condescending, trivializing language and non-Native perspective as in less-attractive fare. The books are written almost entirely in the past tense, suggesting that these people and their ways of life are gone, and elements of Native cultures are depicted in opposition to European ones, suggesting that they are at odds.

Recent single-title nonfiction, often well reviewed, is similarly disappointing. Neil Philip has selected and edited Native writings in several collections illustrated with the archival photographs of Edward S. Curtis. Though beautifully designed, these books feel like museum pieces cataloging dead cultures, and are not without errors. Similarly problematic is Neil Waldman's Wounded Knee (Atheneum, 2001). Though seemingly balanced and well written, the author employs dialogue and dramatic narrative that is unattributed. Some of it is actually paraphrased from Black Elk Speaks, but Waldman twists the phrases, changing their intention. The text and paintings are romantic in tone, portraying as a "noble battle" what is more widely being recognized as a bloody massacre. Albert Marrin's Sitting Bull and His World (Dutton, 2000) is, on the surface, detailed, interesting, and documented. Yet of hundreds of sources, only a few are Native, and those he repeatedly misrepresents. He does not cite some of the well-known and available Native sources. He invents thoughts and feelings to mold an imaginary character that perpetuates longstanding misconceptions about Native Americans.

The same sorts of things are still being done in fiction. Despite the discussion online and in the professional literature about the misrepresentation of Lakota culture in Ann Rinaldi's My Heart Is on the Ground: The Diary of Nannie Little Rose (Scholastic, 1999), Bebe Faas Rice did the same thing in her Indian-boarding-school-ghost-story, The Place at the Edge of the Earth (Clarion, 2002), sensationalizing elements of Lakota culture, making up others, and lifting words from well-known Native leaders and putting them—unattributed and paraphrased inaccurately—into her characters' mouths, where they spill out in a ridiculously stilted fashion.

Equally unnerving is Weetamoo, Heart of the Pocassets (2003) by Patricia Clark Smith, the newest offering from Scholastic's "Royal Diaries" series. Smith acknowledges Native authors and historians, lending a sense of authority to the book. However, she does not authentically portray a 17th-century Wampanoag girl. Weetamoo uses a curious combination of modern language and classically silly fake "Indian" language. And though Smith packs her story with lots of "cultural" details, she also makes some highly questionable interpretations. (Weetamoo's secretive drawing of stick pictures of herself, and the vision that seems more like a Freudian dream than a spirit vision are red flags.)

So how do librarians and teachers find appropriate materials for our collections and classrooms? Check several review sources when making purchasing decisions (MultiCultural Review is an excellent supplemental source). Take responsibility to educate yourself and review these books, even after purchase. Make contacts with Native people you can turn to when you have questions. And take extra steps to seek out the excellent literature that is being published.

Besides considering the recent titles described in the first part of this article, visit www.oyate.org, and look at their catalog. Oyate is a Native organization that also provides workshops for educators, and reviews and distributes literature with Native American themes, including titles from small presses that cannot be obtained through other distributors. Be sure to look at its Web site's "Books to Avoid" section for more detailed treatments of some of the problematic titles I've discussed here. Cofounders Beverly Slapin and Doris Seale authored Through Indian Eyes (below), and its companion book, A Broken Flute (Alta Mira, 2004).

Nina Lindsay is a librarian at the Children's Room of the Oakland (CA) Public Library. She wishes to thank Beverly Slapin and Debbie Reese for their help with this piece.