the name game

“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”


Sometimes Shakespeare can be dead wrong.  Well, at least, when it comes to political labels in the 21st century.


This past month I hit two of those speed bumps.  With the use of “Indian” and “American.”


We all know that the people Columbus encountered in the New World were not inhabitants of the East Indies -- as he thought.  And, despite popular myth, Columbus’s use of the word “Indian” had nothing to do with the subcontinent of India.


Columbus was simply lost.  And like a lot of men, he was not going to let a little lack of knowledge get in the way of his conclusions.  To him, the residents lived on the islands of the East Indies and were thus Indians.  And China was just around the corner.


The term survived for many reasons.  The primary reason is that the “Indians” had no word for the people who then populated North and South America -- as they would come to be called. 


They were Inca, Maya, Sioux, Olmec, Crow, and numerous other groupings.  The concept that they were part of some collective was as foreign to them as the term "European" would have been to the Spanish.


”Indian” was nothing more than a short-hand term for all of the tribes who had preceded the wave of invading European tribes.


I stumbled into this naming game with my reference to the work I do with the school for the children of migrant workers (party on).  I wrote: “The party was to celebrate the opening of the Indian school where I donate a bit of my time.”


A couple of readers asked (politely) if I was being insensitive using the word “Indian.”  Not really, I replied.  I was using a term that most of my readers would recognize.  We call it communication.


I must confess that I have seriously flirted with using some of the alternative politically correct phrases.  After all, none of us want to purposely give offense.  But none of the alternatives are an improvement.  At least, for a writer.


”Native American” sounded like a possibility.  Until, I realized it was even more nonsensical than "Indian.”  Anyone born in either North or South America is a native American.  And that could not possibly be what people wanted the term to mean.


”Indigenous peoples” is another popular candidate.  Probably because it sounds so Latin.  But it is as flawed as “Native American.”   


“Indigenous” means “produced, growing, living, or occurring naturally in a particular region or environment.”  No one is indigenous to the Americas.  Every person came from somewhere else.  And, even as anthropologists cannot answer the question of which tribes replaced other tribes, no one has any idea who arrived first.


The Canadians have an option that is very seductive and clever.  “First Nations.”  It recognizes primacy and diversity while building a progressive historical bridge.  And I was almost convinced to use it.  Until I tried to apply it.


The term works well as an abstraction.  But try using it as a personal label.  What do you call a person from one of the First Nations?  A First National.  All of a sudden we sound as if we are talking about banks.


And what about the fact that many of the “First Nations” were not first at all.  They conquered other tribes.  Would they then be “Not-Quite-First Nations?”  Or simply "The Nations That Got Here Before You Did?"


The problem is all of these terms are merely Euro-centric concoctions that carry their own political baggage. 


Most Indians I have encountered seem to prefer being recognized by their tribal names.  But that can be problematic, as well.


The Indians at the migrant worker school are primarily Mixtec.  And they like that name.  But there are also Purépecha at the school.  And neither tribe wants to be labeled as the other.


I suppose I could refer to the school as "The Mixtec and Some Purépecha School."  But most of my readers are not familiar with those terms.  "Indian" they know.


Between my first and second years of law school, I worked in a lumber mill.  The guy who worked beside me, Billie, was one of our labor negotiators.  He was also an Indian.


One day he told me a story that happened during the last contract negotiations.  He needed to establish a power position.  So, he used liberal guilt as his ally. 


He told the lawyers who were representing the employer that he was tired of them referring to him as an Indian.  During his lecture, he repeatedly referred to Russel Means and AIM.


I started laughing along with him because the Ivy League-educated lawyers were so intimidated by an enraged minority that they completely missed his joke.  AIM, of course, stands for American INDIAN Movement.


When he stopped laughing, he said: "Look.  I'm  a Cherokee from Oklahoma.  My ancestors probably cut trees in Georgia.  Before then, who knows where they came from?  I now work with timber in Oregon.  What should I be called?  I am happy with American.  Oregonian.  Indian.  Because we all know what those words mean.  Simple."


I thought of Billie when my readers asked about my sensitivity.


Until someone comes up with a term that makes more sense, I am satisfied to use the simple term my readers will most likely recognize.


Tomorrow.  Who is an American?