Turn on the TV in Oklahoma and in between shows, you may catch the latest version of The Indian World Turns. These spots are not public television specials or soap opera reruns, either.
Thanks to Indian gaming revenues, business savvy tribes are investing in short clips (I loathe to call them commercials) that quickly educate, expand or redefine a tribe’s profile. Commercials usually plug a product so that term could loosely fit.
These clips are like the newest fad in our tribal neighborhood. One tribe started them, others followed while those without them make fun or save their money to get one. When done well, they do garner attention that augments a general pride in our fellow tribesmen.
Media perception is a powerful thing and Indian Country is no less susceptible to the onslaught of subliminal and obvious messages. On the surface, these tribal snapshots seem a triumph; who better than the tribes themselves to say that the old ideas of Indians as passive-aggressive children of Destiny are outdated?
One of the pitfalls of these commercialized efforts is that new Indian stereotypes are often perpetuated by these well-meaning messages. Stereotypes are potent forms of identification and can mistakenly mislead like grandma as wise cook or those with glasses as smart.
According to definition, a stereotype is a set of inaccurate, simplistic generalizations that allow others to categorize them. This, I think, pretty much sums it up. American Indians have been the victims of unfair stereotypes before the media ever existed. We wore the Noble Savage moniker like an ill-fitting suit as we went about the business of learning to blend into the dominant culture.
Somehow, we muddled along. Until the television age. Then Indians got bewigged portrayals on shows like Gunsmoke and Bonanza. And any social progress we made up until that went up in smoke. Then came the Indian Gaming Regulatory Act of 1988. Now we deal with another misnomer, Rich Indians Who Get a Check Every Month.
Meanwhile, what we see today during the semi-infomercials in Oklahoma is one tribe touting their unity and another relaying its 8-A contractor status or another, well, I can’t exactly remember what the other ones talk about. This is the state built on Cowboys and Indians (literally) with most of the former having inherited a strong dislike for the latter with ample distrust between the two. Below the surface, whether either side will admit it, not much has changed.
All the same, that is not to discredit the enterprising tribes for trying. The efforts are innovative and show a willingness to integrate a tribal persona in the fabric of general society. However, I am still trying to figure out if the weave these tribes are going for is common broadcloth, custom lace or fine silk.
No doubt, there’s money to be made in promoting Indians as an integral part of the general society. But that’s when the smaller-tribe sensibilities yank me back. The calamity in wanting mainstream society to accept us is that we again become susceptible to being something others find comfortable and nothing like our ancestors would recognize.
It brings to mind a former tribal leader who also served as a long-time state legislator. He served in the state legislature for decades and did battle for tribal interests on more than one occasion. On interviewing him one day, he told me: “I know who I am, I know where I came from,” (Turkey Creek in Seminole County, by the way). It’s a quote I wear like a necklace.
I admit a fuzzy wave of pride washes over me when I see one of the tribal infomercials in between the reality shows. Tribes seem to grease the diplomatic skids with the feds by raising their media profile or perhaps they command attention with these snippets. In a state of 37 federally recognized tribes, I suppose there’s some merit in being instantly recognized.
To that, I add that I belong to a tribe that can’t afford commercial spots on prime time TV. We may never be able to manage them. But I’m taking it with a grain of salt. We might be lacking in media savvy but we have always carried forward from the viewpoint we gave ourselves. It has worked pretty well since time immemorial.