Author: Daniel Cobb (Page 1 of 5)

As video games have gained popularity, the communities that have evolved around them have become increasingly restrictive. Although the image of a (usually white) young male with nocturnal tendencies, subsisting on junk food alone is a stereotypical picture of a “gamer,” whatever validity this image holds has much to do with the ways video games are marketed, and the stories they seek to tell. Despite the expanding range of video games available today, most are still heavily marketed towards boys and men, offering heroic scenarios, quests to conquer, and depictions of violence. Indigenous video games like Never Alone are important not only because they combat this stereotypical image of a “gamer” by creating more inclusive game narratives and opening up the gaming community to Indigenous people, but also because they have the capacity to educate non-Indigenous players about the people and cultures these games are inspired by. In this way, Indigenous games such as Never Alone may be instrumental to decolonizing the gaming industry by dispensing with the colonial narrative of the need to “conquer” that is present in many video games today.

Video games, like any form of media which seeks to tell a story, face the issue of which stories to tell, and for whom. Since video games are typically marketed toward men, the stories and narratives they perpetuate typically reinforce normative notions of masculinity. This is true of the game Red Dead Redemption and Red Dead Redemption 2. The scholar Esther Wright notes its reinforcement of the colonial idea of “civilization” versus “savagery” in the so-called Wild West. “[I]t suggests,” she observes, “a lack of critical engagement with and understanding of the colonialist implicitly white supremacist underpinnings of the civilization/savagery binary…” (Wright 9). Acknowledging the gendered marketing of video games, this statement is consistent with the political scientist Kevin Bruyneel’s discussion in Settler Memory of the heteropatriarchy’s drive to conquer and tame through violence as a driving force of colonialism. In light of this, the male-oriented marketing of video games coupled with the restrictive “boys club” nature of the gaming community is not merely an innocuous stereotype or phenomenon, but something that actively reinforces gender roles and the inextricable narratives tied up with them, such as the romanticization of colonial attitudes.

Adopting a legitimate and systematic way to analyze and discuss video games academically, as games studies specialist Clara Fernandez-Vara advocates, could potentially assist scholars in combatting the issues present in games like Red Dead Redemption. “By improving the discourse of games,” she write, “we can make it so that being well-versed in games can be admirable and knowing about games an intellectual currency” (Fernandez-Vara 10).  However, this call to analyze games as texts in an attempt to infuse them with cultural capital has drawbacks. Like many things that can be said to possess theorist Pierre Bourdieu’s notion of “cultural capital,” such as appreciation and knowledge of things such as art, cinema, and gourmet cuisine, there are barriers to entry. Notable among these are wealth and class, which typically exclude minority groups like indigenous peoples. However, as can be inferred by LaPensée, et al., the intellectual  legitimization of games in an academic setting may also allow for academic grants and funding for the creation of Indigenous games and the inclusion of Indigenous creators in game development.

Indigenous involvement is evident in Never Alone, from the artistic elements, storytelling elements, and Native language narration that traces the story as players move through the game. Ishmael Hope, an Indigenous collaborator and writer involved in the game, notes in an interview on the YouTube channel “History Respawned” that the involvement and support of Iñupiaq elders was especially instrumental in the creation of the game. Additionally, he discusses the theme of nature present in the game, as a character in its own right, not simply as the “enemy” but as a complex and guiding force.

In this way, nature is depicted in terms of the Iñupiaq understanding of nature, as alive alongside us and around us, so we can never be alone within it, revealing one of the explanations for the game’s title. Though subtle, this idea actively combats typical—and implicitly colonial–game narratives, as nature is not to be seen as an enemy to be conquered but as a force infused with agency—one that is inextricable from the subjects of the games, as well as the players that “inhabit” them during gameplay.

Works Cited

Fernandez-Vara, Clara. Introduction to Game Analysis. New York: Routledge , 2015.

LaPensée , Elizabeth A., et al. “Towards Sovereign Games .” Sage Journals (2021): 1–16.

Wright, Esther. “Rockstar Games, Red Dead Redemption, and Narratives of ‘Progress.’” European Journal of American Studies, 16, no. 3 (2021): 1–20.

Whether it be through tag in the yard, checkers, Monopoly, Pac-Man at the local arcade, Call of Duty on the PlayStation, or Super Mario Bros on the Wii, everyone plays games in some capacity during their childhood. Video games teach valuable skills of cooperation, problem solving, hand-eye coordination, and overcoming the frustrations of losing. There are games of many genres, including sports, warfare, and racing simulations. However, some games reflect values that offend or misrepresent groups of people. For example, harmful video games like Red Dead Redemption 2 and Oregon Trail reinforce settler memory narratives that disavow Indigenous people (Bruyneel). Never Alone is an important video game as it more accurately depicts Indigenous people and culture in a respectful manner and clashes against settler memory.

Games are texts that have cultural significance that can be derived from the context of the game (Fernandez-Vara, 6). Through this lens, Never Alone explores a traditional Iñupiaq tale through a little girl named Nuna and an arctic fox. After her Alaska Native village is destroyed by a blizzard, she must battle the elements and overcome many obstacles to find the source of the blizzard. Spirits help guide you, and the fox helps control the movements of the spirits. This, combined with the fact that the fox is faster, jumps farther, and climbs higher than Nuna reflects the value the Iñupiaq place on animals. They respect the animals they share the land with, as well as the land itself. This can also be seen with the interdependence of Nuna and the fox during the gameplay; when one of the characters dies, the other also dies.

A crucial part of Never Alone that sets it apart from games that tarnish Native Americans are the formal aspects of the game. Formal aspects are the diction of both visual and verbal texts, as well as the visual style of the game (Fernandez-Vara 15-16). The narrator speaks traditional Iñupiaq language. This makes the folktale feel more authentic to hear it coming from an Iñupiaq person, rather than in English from a non-Native. Additionally, this reflects on the oral traditions of Native communities, reaffirming the video game honoring Native Americans, rather than disavowing them. Furthermore, Never Alone provides short interview clips that provide insight into the cultural significance of aspects of the game. This helps the player become informed and shows the creators were thorough in accurately depicting Iñupiaq culture and in getting consent from Iñupiaq to develop the game.

Unlike Never Alone, Red Dead Redemption 2 perpetuates a narrative of Westward expansion by American “outlaws” on the frontier. Rockstar, the company that made RDR2, claims that the game is historically authentic (Wright 3). The game is based on the premise that Westward expansion was a safe space for white Americans to escape what was becoming a more modern, industrial America. The main character is a white outlaw with a rough past that seeks a fresh start (Red Dead Redemption playthrough). The problem with this is that it portrays the white man as the victim, when during the later 1800s (when this game takes place), Indigenous people were having land stolen from them and being forced to assimilate into “American culture.” The narrative that innocent white men traveled West was not completely accurate as “only ten percent of land between 1860 and 1900 was settled by individual homesteaders, the rest by rising private companies or the States themselves” (Wright 7). So, while Rockstar tried to portray the West as free land for individuals down on their luck to claim, the government or private companies stole the land from Indigenous tribes.

A significant difference between Never Alone and RDR2 was the research they did before creating the game. For Never Alone, the developers took trips to the Iñupiaq to consult with them and gain insights into their culture. Additionally, they asked Iñupiaq people, like Ishmael Hope, for help and feedback during the game development. Hope served as a write for Never Alone and hopes that the game will inspire Indigenous people and reveal the oppression of Indigenous people (Hope interview). On the other hand, Rockstar cited post-1960 Western films as one of their main influences (Wright 8). Rather than seeking advice from Native people in the Southwestern United States who could provide a good idea of what the so-called frontier was like during that time, Rockstar chose to use movies that actively disavow Native Americans. They reinforced films that perpetuate “Cowboys vs. Indian” stereotypes and settler memory.

It was an enlightening and fun experience to play Never Alone. The educational aspects did not feel overbearing or forced and provided great insight into cultural elements of the game. This game shows how to properly represent and respect Native Americans, unlike Red Dead Redemption 2, which plays on frontier myth stereotypes and disavows Native Americans. These titles serve as an important reminder that video games are more than just a game and have deeper meanings and backgrounds.

Works Cited

Fernández-Vara Clara. Introduction to Game Analysis. New York: Routledge, 2015.

“Never Alone Interview Series: Ishmael Hope.” Never Alone, 11 Nov. 2014, http://neveralonegame.com/interview-never-alone-writer-ishmael-hope/.

“Red Dead Redemption 2 – Native Americans Storyline.” YouTube, uploaded by Cinematic Gaming, 19 January 2020,  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RbL6BxsdTKI&ab_channel=CINEMATICGAMING

Wright, Esther. “Rockstar Games, Red Dead Redemption, and Narratives of ‘Progress.’” European Journal of American Studies, 16, no. 3 (2021), https://doi.org/10.4000/ejas.17300.

The word “gamer” typically leaves a sour taste in my mouth: it generates the image of a sweaty white man, a bottle of Mountain Dew in his hand while he hurls profanities and derogatory speech at a screen, alone in his parents’ basement. In an industry marketed to this archetype and equally dominated by it, Never Alone acts as a guiding light for what video games can become, and how meaningful narratives can be crafted through inclusion and representation. The game mechanics highlight Indigenous—more specifically Alaska Native—values, and Indigeneity serves as a central thread of the story, not as a plot point or obstacle to overcome. This game is a celebration of Indigeneity through subtle, yet nuanced choices that challenge the pervasive frontier narratives common throughout the gaming world.

Mainstream video games often convey problematic and even dangerous messages. Tomb Raider, whose name is synonymous with “grave robber,” follows a white protagonist as she essentially loots tombs and burial sites of Indigenous cultures around the world. Oregon Trail reinforces the frontier narrative, while simultaneously participating in the erasure of Indigenous voices despite depicting a historical period of which they were an integral part (Oregon Trail playthrough). The Red Dead Redemption franchise romanticizes taming the “Wild West,” glorifying both settler and outlaw culture (Wright). These games are typical of much of the industry. When Indigeneity is included in these narratives, it is viewed from the outside looking in, often taking the role of an inconsequential plot point rather than a central focus. Recently, many of these games have released remastered versions, like Oregon Trail and Red Dead Redemption 2, which seek to reconcile the problematic storylines previous editions possessed through increased inclusion of Indigenous characters. However, these attempts to decolonize gaming actually contribute more to recolonization instead; these solutions are more akin to burying their shameful past than truly offering new Indigenous perspectives.

This problem is exactly why Never Alone is such an important and powerful addition to the gaming community: it challenges those harmful narratives. Indigeneity is a common theme woven throughout the storyline, expressed through the formal aspects and overview of the game. These elements are key components of game analysis, and we can use them to fully understand the weight that Never Alone holds (Fernandez-Vara, 13). One such game mechanic includes the fact that Nuna and the fox, the player characters, cannot engage in violent actions toward the antagonists, which speaks to the Alaska Native value of nonviolence. In addition, you cannot progress through the game without the assistance of spirits, which can serve as an allegory for the belief that spirits help guide you through life itself. Playing this game can certainly be frustrating at points, as you fail again and again and again. Seconds after successfully escaping one adversity, the next antagonist or obstacle comes crashing in, keeping you on your toes. This draws some comparisons to what Indigenous people faced (and still face): one struggle, one enemy, right after the other. However, like in the game, it is impossible to simply turn around and opt to not face the new danger. This speaks to the persistence that Indigenous people have been forced to exhibit time after time. These various game mechanics subtly communicate Indigenous values and experiences, promoting these rather than the domination and frontier narratives we all too often see.

The design elements of the game illustrate various aspects of Indigenous culture and identity. The narrator speaks in an Indigenous language, the main character wears Alaska Native dress, as seen in Figure 1, and Alaskan Native art styles are used for cut scenes. Never Alone crafts a new form of storytelling, effectively conveying culture and narratives that are important to Alaska Native peoples. One of the objectives of the game is the collection of such stories, where it intersperses gameplay with commentary from modern Indigenous people. Highlighting Indigeneity in this manner allows people to learn about it through the medium of a game, and it adds a voice to an industry that is very homogenous in mainstream representation.

With video gaming being an extremely popular and lucrative industry, it is important that the target audience is not constrained to the negative gamer stereotypes. Telling stories from an Indigenous perspective diversifies the gaming world: it does not attempt to conceal harmful rhetoric and save face, but rather offers new stories that add to the significance of the industry. Whether overt or subconsciously, the choices that Never Alone makes in its design contributes to the decolonization of gaming.

Works Cited

“Apple II: The REAL original Oregon Trail.” YouTube, uploaded by Dale Mahalko’s Antique Computing, 20 March 2017, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PySqTm4Qu2A

Fernández-Vara, Clara. Introduction to Game Analysis. New York: Routledge, 2015.

Parkin, Simon. “Nuna and her Arctic Fox, Characters in the Video Game Never Alone. 17 Nov 2014, The New Yorker, https://www.newyorker.com/tech/annals-of-technology/never-alone-video-game-help-preserve-inuit-culture.

“Red Dead Redemption 2 – Native Americans Storyline (all missions) [PC, 4K].” YouTube, uploaded by CINEMATIC GAMING, 19 January 2020, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RbL6BxsdTKI&t=1s.

Wright, Esther. “Rockstar Games, Red Dead Redemption, and Narratives of ‘Progress.’” European Journal of American Studies, 16, no. 3 (2021), doi: https://doi.org/10.4000/ejas.17300.

Awake is a documentary we watched in class that conveyed what it was like at the Dakota Access Pipeline protests in Standing Rock. Thinking back the first time I heard about DAPL activism and how damaging pipelines are to the earth, I think of social media since that’s where I got most of my information from during that time. The Internet has made it easier to be able to connect to others through things such as messaging apps, email, and social media. With that connection, there can be costs and benefits. Social media allows people from all over the world to connect. Indigenous people and allies have created communities where they can share and find other people who share the same interests. In this blog, I will be going over the positives and negatives of Indigenous social media and how important it is.

Kinsale Hueston is an Indigenous artist who runs a very popular social media account on Instagram. She has been highlighted in magazines such as Time, LA Times, and The Navajo Times to name a few. On her account, she highlights not only things she is involved in but also other Native artists. Through this, someone can see so many aspects of Indigenous art like poems and beadwork. Through looking at her page it is evident that social media artists can highlight their work and showcase other Indigenous artists, as well.

Social media has many outlets for activism. One Instagram page that I find particularly important raises awareness of Missing and Murdered Indigenous People in North America. The name of the true-crime podcast is the Red Justice Project. On their page, they show pictures of the people they discuss in their episodes with quotes from people they have interviewed.  From this page, it can be seen that social media is used to promote awareness of these cases.

UNC-Chapel Hill Indigenous student organization accounts are also a vital part of recruitment and helping people find others with similar interests. The Alpha Chapter of Alpha Pi Omega Sorority, Inc. (the first Native American Sorority) has an Instagram account in which their historian posts events among other things. I want to highlight this page because throughout the pandemic we had to go mainly all online. Many of our posts include educating by giving study advice, how to make prayer bundles, teaching about the four sacred herbs, and raising awareness of how COVID-19 has affected Native communities. This is not the only Indigenous Social Media from UNC, there is also the Carolina Indian Circle’s page and Phi Sigma Nu Fraternity, Inc. the Native American interest fraternity. Each group showcases what it means to be Native at a PWI.

Social media has not been around that long, and it became popular especially while I was growing up. I have seen firsthand how social media can elevate our goals of promoting certain things to Indigenous peoples through knowledge and awareness. Indigenous social media matter because Indigenous peoples all over can create a space for themselves. In this space, we can be activists, artists, and so much more. Engagement occurs when people can follow, like, subscribe, etc. to the Indigenous content creator. From this engagement, the Indigenous social media community can spread to all of those who are interested.

I want to show the positives of social media but there are some negatives. One is that since it’s public to everyone, that means anyone can comment back. I have personally seen attacking comments guided towards Indigenous people and their practices. For example, I have seen people saying incorrect information about Indigenous people and then when corrected they would get defensive. I think this is seen as a negative side of the social media world because people can say incorrect information that could spread as true. Being able to spread misinformation is something that can be seen negatively in social media as a whole.

Overall, Indigenous social media is a space that is created by Indigenous people for Indigenous people and allies. I hope that, though there are caveats to having a public space where incorrect statements can occur, Indigenous social media can overpower that. Social media and engagement in Indigenous communities are very important in thriving in the digital age we are in currently. Overcoming misinformation is something that isn’t just a social media occurrence that can happen like settler memory-denying certain parts of history that happened. The people and pages I have highlighted above are examples of Indigenous social media which isn’t just one thing. These pages speak out on justice, emphasize Indigenous art, educate, and it all goes against Indigenous erasure.

Works Cited

Alpha Pi Omega Sorority, Inc.-Alpha Chapter (2012). @alphachapterpis. Instagram

Awake: A Dream from Standing Rock. , 2017. https://awakethefilm.org/.

Bruyneel, K. Settler Memory: The Disavowal of Indigeneity and the Politics of Race in the United States. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2021.

Carolina Indian Circle. (2014). @cic_unc. Instagram

Hueston, K. (2016).  @kinsalehues. Instagram

Phi Sigma Nu Fraternity, Inc. (2016). @phinu_warriors_unc. Instagram

The Red Justice Project. (2020). @redjusticepodcast. Instagram

Museums, anthropologists, and archaeologists throughout the United States had, until recently, been focusing on collecting Indigenous artifacts, possessions, and other records as a means of remembering cultures that were “inevitably” bound to go “extinct” due to settler colonial processes of European destruction, incorporation, and replacement. As author David Chrisinger wrote in an article for the University of Chicago, anthropologists didn’t understand that “…by separating tribes from their material history, they were harming the very cultures they sought to preserve, and losing crucial context.” It wasn’t until the establishment of institutions, like the National Museum of the American Indian (NMAI) in 1989, that efforts of Indigenous preservation shifted from a rash effort to collect symbolic items and objects to a more deliberate, careful approach of dialogue with Indigenous communities that includes understanding the context behind the objects museums have used for exhibition.

The NMAI was established through the NMAI Act of 1989, which additionally required the cataloguing and repatriation of Indigenous remains, artifacts, and excavations to any federally recognized tribes or individuals who requested such items. Digital repatriation efforts, which include films, recordings, and photos of Indigenous communities, have fallen to the efforts of the NMAI Archive Center, who in the past have worked on the preservation of films, such as those of the Zuni Indians of New Mexico. The work of the Archive Center is focused on preserving such films and working with the intention of preserving endangered languages, reviving traditional cultural customs, and, as Jennifer O’Neal put it in an essay appearing in Museum Anthropology Review, the “creation of new knowledge stemming from the return of digitized material culture” (page citation here).

Recently, Cynthia Chavez Lamar was named as the next director of NMAI, making her the first Indigenous woman to lead it. Before her work with the NMAI, she, along with the Indian Arts Research Center at the School for Advanced Research in Santa Fe, New Mexico, helped to develop the “Guidelines for Collaboration.” These guidelines outline  for tribal communities and museums best practices when working in the area of cultural preservation. They foster deeper learning with regard to how museum staff can be more sensitive to the concerns and practices of Indigenous communities. They also show how these best practices provide more opportunities for meaningful partnerships between tribal communities and museums. This work allowed Chavez Lamar to help increase the museum’s record of online Indigenous collections between 2014 and 2020, as well as supplement a technical assistance program that empowered Indigenous communities to reconnect with the records obtained by the museum.

The Indigenization of leadership at NMAI, as well as the establishment of boundaries for how Indigenous peoples and museum curators collaborate on preservation projects, speak to the dismantling of settler colonialism over such collections. Instead of the rugged and brutish preservation efforts of the past, this new system of consideration of Native perspectives, a formal process for communicating grievances between both sides, and knowing what ought and not ought to be shared will help to dramatically improve not only how historians, anthropologists, and others view Indigenous peoples, but also how the American public at-large sees the richness and diversity of Native cultures everywhere.

Bibliography

Chrisinger, David. “Exhibition Upends Traditional Representations of Native American Cultures.” University of Chicago News, 5 Mar. 2020, https://news.uchicago.edu/ story/exhibition-upends-traditional-native-american-representations.

“Cynthia Chavez Lamar Named Director of the National Museum of the American Indian.” Smithsonian Institution, 19 Jan. 2022, https://www.si.edu/newsdesk/releases/cynthia-chavez-lamar-named-director-national-museum-american-indian.

O’Neal, Jennifer. “Going Home: The Digital Return of Films at the National Museum of the American Indian.” Museum Anthropology Review, vol. 7, no. 1-2, 12 Jan. 2014, pp. 166–184.

The anthroplogist Francesca Merlan has proposed that Indigeneity is characterized by the power dynamics between colonizers and Indigenous communities or between Indigenous groups and the state (Merlan). In Settler Memory, the political scientist Kevin Bruyneel uses this relational meaning of Indigeneity to explain the continual erasure, displacement, and extermination of Indigenous people caused by white settler colonialism. More precisely, he explores how these forms of oppression are perpetuated through scholarship, media, politics, and culture in the United States. Due to the persistent disavowal of Indigenous people in both past and contemporary American settler memory, Bruyneel poses the question of how society can refuse settler memory and what approach might be taken to insure that anti-racism and anti-colonialism (or decolonization) are fully realized.

Bruyneel’s argument regarding the present disavowal of Indigeneity is inseparable from confrontations with the past. In chapter one, Bruyneel discusses one of the most significant events of settler memory at work: Bacon’s Rebellion. In scholarship devoted to Bacon’s Rebellion, race is typically contextualized according to a white-black binary. As the binary implies, there is no space for Indigenous identity or presence to be accounted for. Many narratives about this event, then, erase the role that Indigenous people played in the white settlers’ quest for resources and power and do not center the violence and dispossession of their homelands to which they were subjected. The latter grew out of  the perceived threat that Indigenous people would impede white settler “progress,” as well as their ability to practice enslavement on stolen Indigenous land.

Borrowing from the legal scholar Michelle Alexander, the chapter asserts that enslavement of black people and dispossession of Indigenous people are inextricably linked. As the event is known for its alliance between poor whites and enslaved and free black people, historical analyses of Bacon’s Rebellion often fail to focus on the fact that the goal of the collective was to drive out Indigenous peoples (23). Bruyneel later articulates that this “inconvenience” that Indigenous people posed is still an afterthought in the construction of oppression and racial hierarchy in the United States. This idea is emphasized in Bruyneel’s contemplation of America’s original sin, slavery, which could not exist without settler colonialism. Without access to Indigenous land, the extent to which the institution of slavery flourished wouldn’t have been as prominent. That said, if settler colonialism aims to grab Indigenous land for perpetual use and growth in power, the institutions of slavery, white supremacy, and the consequences of racial capitalism would be soon to follow.

Seamlessly, this line of analysis continues into the next chapter, which focuses on political memory in the context of the Reconstruction Era. In aiming to manifest power and prosperity, the political/historical memory here often produces a hypocritical stance on what it means to be free and what constitutes citizenship. While enacting violent dispossession on Indigenous communities, settlers claimed that it was their right to land that provided them safety and security as citizens. This rhetoric failed to address that this would mean depriving others’ freedom in the process. Bruyneel does address, though, that this political memory affects non-white citizens too, however, it is not by volition. Rather, it is a consequence of racial capitalism controlling the political and economic freedoms of black people and impeding the process for an imagined society in which race-class coalitions and sovereignty are respected (50). It cannot be imagined because of the violence enacted by white settler politics (i.e., Homestead Act of 1862 and Peace Policy of 1869) that disrupted Indigenous lives and traditions. Furthermore, the political memory of Indigenous populations has made it so that actions to retaliate must be radical in nature. In my opinion, arguments to rectify political and cultural corruption do not have to be peaceful as white settlers could not fully conceive peace for Indigenous and black populations from the beginning.

Next, Bruyneel further elaborates on the limitations and possibilities for an imagined society of abolishing and decolonizing the settler state. He does so through the perspective of James Baldwin, in addition to addressing the simultaneous presence and erasure of Indigenous people in settler mythology and propaganda. Bruyneel introduces James Baldwin with an unfortunate instance in which the Indigenous presence again is an afterthought. Rather, Indians are used in Baldwin’s critique as a transition from focusing on “the past” to “the present,” and one defined narrowly as revolving around the black freedom struggle. This was evident in his identification with the story of cowboys and Indians, in which the fate of the “dead Indian” is used as a prophetic tool to inform black Americans about what white supremacy and the state are capable of. Using the same American myth, Baldwin’s constant attention to Gary Cooper gives insight to what James Baldwin perceives as a model for whiteness and maintains the notions of white settler masculinity and white settler sexuality that control the sociocultural legitimacy of “Others” (i.e., non-white people). Albeit with good intentions, Baldwin perpetuates that the genocide and conquering of Indigenous people is in the past despite the shared histories of white settlers’ imposing racializing and gendered violence now and then (90-91, 104). If there is one point to be taken from this chapter, it is that you don’t have to be white to sustain settler memory. However, it is incorrect to place the blame on the individual as settler colonialism’s violent legacy is present in every aspect of life.

In chapter four, Bruyneel discusses the modern United States and the many ways that Indigenous people are absent and present in society, especially in the realm of sports teams and mascot names. Upon reading the defense for keeping mascot and team names for the sake of “tradition,” one might question the entitlement of settler privilege in these sport narratives. By focusing on keeping “their traditions,” settlers become complicit in maintaining images that portray Indigenous people as violent, even as they enact violence against Indigenous people. These acts of appropriation also fail to acknowledge the need for Indigenous agency in the realm of public representation. Instead, violence and romanticization become commodified and treated as hegemonic (115). As settler memory continues, then, so does the inability for Indigenous people to engage in self-represention in the public sphere.

The critical theorist Edward Said’s asserts that the Orient cannot name itself due to the imposition of preconceived definitions by Western imperialism (Said 29). The same can be applied to the settler representations of Indigenous communities that are denigrating, vilifying, or romanticized in nature. All the while, the naming or renaming of mascots does not urge settlers to help Indigenous communities affected by these dangerous stereotypes. The reality is that the communities subjected to these appropriated names are still fighting to protect and preserve their populations, land, culture, and their sovereignty from a militant white settler society. Past and contemporary representations of Indigenous people in sports, the military, and contemporary media make the likelihood of Indigenous erasure that much greater.

In his last chapter, Bruyneel outlines Trump’s history of violence toward Indigenous communities across three different time periods: before his presidency, during the 2020 presidential elections, and during his presidency. Before his time as president, Trump’s settler colonial aims to erase Indigenous presence were clear after he sought revenge on Indigenous American casinos, which he blamed for his business losses (148). Mirroring the anti-Indian sentiments found during Bacon’s Rebellion, Trump revealed that he too perceived Indigenous presence as a threat to his settler aims, and specifically his domination of capital. During the 2020 presidential campaign and election, Trump made his anti-Indigenous sentiments known through repeated mockery of Senator Elizabeth Warren as “Pocahontas” and through his idealized political memory of Andrew Jackson, a former president known for “Indian killing” and spearheading the dispossession and forced displacement of the Cherokee, Choctaw, Chickasaw, Creek, and Seminole  (141). That said, violence is an inheritance in the political memory of the United States, executed by the government and imposed onto Indigenous populations. This was apparent in Trump’s presidential approval in continuing construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline and  ending the protected status of the Bear Ears National Monument. Through his assault on Indigenous communities, Bruyneel argues that Trump asserted himself as a model for white settler nationalism and white settler masculinity in his attempt to “Make America Great Again” (141).

In his closing remarks, Bruyneel discusses how society can refuse settler memory through solidarity movements. Given the information Bruyneel provided, however, I feel like the triumph over settler memory seems unlikely to happen. Systems and institutions protect people in power, especially white people, all the time. Under the guise of diversity and inclusion, I feel like solidarity will be difficult to achieve not only because of the persistence of the white-black binary but also because of the immigration of new settlers from Asia, Europe, and so forth. As radical and transformative movements as described by Bruyneel can appear to be, typical conceptions of what it means to transcend settler memory continue to center notions of settler innocence and, more importantly, whitenes. Both of these implicitly work against a fuller imagining of Indigenous futures, sovereignty, and possibilities.

Works Cited

Bruyneel, Kevin. Settler Memory: The Disavowal of Indigeneity and the Politics of Race in the United States. University of North Carolina Press, 2021.

Merlan, Francesca. “Indigeneity: Global and Local.” Current Anthropology, 50, no. 3 (2009): 303-333.

Said, Edward. Orientalism. New York: Routledge, 2009.