Abstract

That title! For those new to Native American history, this may cause a bit of a shock. I even had second thoughts about using it because I knew it would evoke an uncomfortable emotion for some. But here's the thing: these words are all too familiar to those who are aware of Native American history. This title is based on the words used by Captain Richard H. Pratt in 1892 when speaking about “education” for Native American people: “Kill the Indian in him, and save the Man.” These words became the foundation upon which “education” for Native American people was built. Boarding schools, schools tried to separate and remove Native American youth from their culture and break apart their families. Schools that report to the House Education and the Workforce Subcommittee on Early Childhood, Elementary, and Secondary Education Hearing (2015) described as causing “a significant disruption in the cultural and language practices of tribes which weaken of Native tribes, families, and practices” (p. 21). This was done through abusive practices in the boarding schools. According to Evans-Campbell, Walters, Pearson, and Campbell (2012), Native American children in boarding schools were forbidden to speak their traditional languages or practice their cultural traditions. If they did so and were caught, they were severely punished. This was the traumatic beginning of formalized education for our ancestors.
So, what are modern-day educational experiences like for Native American students, like myself, who are moving through a system rooted in racism and the extermination of our culture? One would hope that we now have safe, inclusive spaces where all students feel welcome and respected; where we can navigate our educational journeys successfully. Rather than give you a literature review of the many sources that show that our experiences show that quite the opposite is true, I will share a recent experience that I had in 2019 at a higher education campus: My Alma Matter which sits on the traditional land of the Kumeyaay Nation. A campus that embraces an Indigenous school mascot, which Monge (2016) has shown in his master's thesis, is a mascot rooted in racism. A mascot that perpetuates the passive acceptance of racism throughout not only campus life, but the surrounding community as well. A mascot that has been repeatedly challenged by Native American students, Alumni, professors, and Allies.
On this day, I was meeting a friend who had asked me to give her a tour of the campus to help her prepare for the start of her graduate program there. As I drove to the campus, I passed a lit-up image in a shopping center that appears to be a woman twirling a baton, wearing a Native American-style headdress. I cringed as I looked at the imagery and I could feel my body reacting; something I had felt as a student driving past this imagery to get to campus regularly. It is important to understand that headdresses are sacred, tribal specific, and should only be worn by those who have earned them. Some have said that a headdress compares to a medal of honor. This was one of the many microaggressions I had experienced on a regular basis as a student and would experience again on that day as I returned to campus. As Sue et al. (2007) explained, racial microaggressions are “brief and commonplace daily verbal, behavioral, and environmental indignities, whether intentional or unintentional, that communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative racial slights and insults to the target person or group” (p. 273).
I met up with my friend, who is also Native American, and we began the tour. I felt my muscles tighten, my breaths deepen and my emotions change as I naturally pointed out the many microaggressions throughout the campus that could potentially have a negative impact on a Native student's experiences. As Sue and Constantine (2007) pointed out, microaggressions “usually convey a hidden disparaging message to people of color who find them offensive, triggering intense emotional responses.” I pointed out the buildings that appear to be in the style of the old missions, and as Monge (2016) explained in his thesis, paid homage to Father Junipero Serra and the mission. As Halnais (2008) has documented in his thesis, the mission system was one in which Native people were mistreated and abused: a grim reminder of the pain caused to past generations through the appearance of religion. The California mission system, along with the boarding schools has caused pain so deep that our generations of today can still feel it. Imagine being surrounded by structures that mimic and celebrate the scenes where your ancestors were, in fact, abused and murdered. How valued—how comfortable—how safe, would you feel in this setting?
We continued the tour and walked over to the Student Union, which bears the nickname of the mascot and has the expected stereotypical imagery found throughout. My friend caught onto this first and cringed. Keep in mind that just because the mascot has a nickname, doesn't mean it is less offensive, less racist, or less harmful. As Lundberg (2014) pointed out in the Journal of College Student Development, using Native people, images, and symbols as mascots “is one common way that Native Americans are demeaned and marginalized, yet mascots remain on college campuses and in the broader culture” (p. 264). We continued to discuss the imagery, the adverse feelings we had about it, and how it is engrained in everything throughout campus. As we talked, I shared a story about a time when my daughter was looking to enroll in that school. She was researching on the campus website and was immediately faced with a photo of students wearing Native American-style face paint and a headdress, likely attempting to mimic the mascot. This triggered both of us and she stopped searching. This image being blatantly displayed on their website was in direct alignment with passive acceptance of racism and it was this moment that made her feel like not only would she not thrive successfully on campus, but that she would not feel safe there either. We sat together and processed what her experience might be like as a Native American student on a racially charged campus, which led to a deeper conversation about protecting yourself, your well-being, and your spirit in a social climate that creates cultural pain every time you enter it.
Back to the tour with my friend. As we talked about the challenges Native students face on this campus and others with similar mascots, our discussion intensified, and we were overwhelmed by how uncomfortable and dehumanizing it felt. Imagine being on a campus where a mascot leads to sexualized, stereotypical, and harmful imagery of your culture. The campus may or may not be producing all of this imagery itself, but it has been shown many times over that having a Native mascot leads to a culture of acceptance of disrespecting and dehumanizing Native people; encouraging purposeful as well as accidental microaggressions and racism. As an alumnus, imagine how hard it is for me to encourage other Native students to willingly immerse themselves in this environment.
Reflecting on this tour with my friend, I find it interesting and problematic that in an attempt to show my friend around the campus to help prepare her for a successful educational journey, our tour was completely deflected by the microaggressions and the emotions we experienced in this short time. This leads me to wonder: how does a system that continually dehumanizes and devalues our culture, affect Native students' learning and their educational experience overall? We could barely remain focused while touring the campus. How can one focus on learning if their basic need to feel safe and secure is not met? How can they have a sense of belonging and feel supported in this type of social climate? Native students try to make it through an educational system that frequently erases and devalues the many unique and powerful histories and experiences of their people.
Is our current education system just a modified and socially accepted version of assimilation practices? As Fish et al. (2017) shared in the Journal of College Student Development, in education, there continues to be a strong interest in “assimilating Native Americans, in which there is a de-emphasis on Native American ways of being, while promoting European American values, thereby creating incongruities between Native Americans and educational system” (p. 414). The strain of the emotional labor that Native students are involuntarily subjected to in social climates such as this, can be overwhelming. It’s in the classrooms, on the websites, and throughout all aspects of campus life. It comes directly from the students and even the instructors. It’s at all levels of education and is difficult, if not impossible to get away from, even if you go directly to class and home, avoiding student life activities as I did.
Now, I’m not saying that there isn't support for Native students in educational settings. In fact, I can name several people who have helped me with my own educational successes, and I have seen these same mentors help current students. On some campuses, there are increasing support for Native programs, efforts to recruit and retain Native students, and the hiring of Native faculty. We are also seeing an increase in the honoring of Native people as well as land acknowledgments in which campuses utilize a statement to recognize the original people of the land the campuses are occupying. These things are great, and I truly believe that some of the staff and faculty are doing all that they can do within a larger system to help Native students. However, in the grand scheme of things, no matter how many boxes are checked, how many workshops are attended, how many dedications are made, or how many additional supports are put into place, a campus that continues to use a mascot that has repeatedly been identified by Native people as racist; a mascot that leads to a climate and culture of purposeful or even unintentional acceptance of racism, is still a campus that is perpetuating harm on Native students. As much support as there is, even on campuses that continue to utilize Native mascots, one has to question the intentions when they continue to refuse to change these mascots no matter how many Native people and allies try to educate them on the harm. Are these campuses really being supportive or is this just performative wokeness to minimize the revolving conflicts?
Native Americans carry intergenerational trauma in our veins and continue to feel the pain of racism and microaggressions throughout our educational journeys. Many of us struggle with feelings of belonging, value, and safety in Academia. Whether intentional or not, the bottom line is that Native American mascots, even those that represent Indigenous people from other areas of the continent, produce racially charged campus climates, and Native students continue to struggle and are harmed by this, which has been voiced across generations. With the constant interruption of microaggressions and racism in our daily lives, it is understandable that we struggle. Our education consists of finding ways to cope with constantly advocating for what we know is right, often against people in power, being tokenized, trying to keep our defense mechanisms at bay to avoid conflict, or even hiding out to avoid distress. With that, I ask every one of you in education to consider the climates in which your students are walking every day. What are you doing to be truly inclusive? To those who continue to celebrate and value harmful mascots over those who are the original people of this land: How can one expect any learning to happen in the classroom when we are constantly being retraumatized by the system? It's time to change the mascots and end harmful, passive acceptance of intentional and unintentional racism on campuses at all educational institutions.
Footnotes
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