Hi Friends,

I’m so incredibly humbled and honored to let y’all know that I was nominated for the 2013 Women’s Media Center Social Media Award, along with eight other amazing women doing work in social justice, feminism, media, and more. Looking at the list, I’m so excited to be considered in the same league as these folks!

When I got the email that I was nominated, I was sitting in my room, stressing about my dissertation…and then went like this:

herman-cain-creepy-smileand then:
minion happy

I’ve alluded to it a bunch of times in posts and such, but I get kinda uncomfortable with the whole “fame” aspect of the blog–it’s still super weird to me that anyone wants to read what I have to say, and (to me) my ideas aren’t super novel, I’m just re-packaging what hundreds of Native activists and allies have said before me, building on a long history of fighting to be represented in true and respectful ways. But I love being able to harness the power of social media to create change, and have loved the amazing community that has developed out of this work. I couldn’t do it without all of you!

So if you wanna vote for me or any of the other incredible women nominated:

Vote here! 

Wado (thanks), as always,



nicholas K 1

What’s up, Nicholas K? I’m Adrienne K. Nice to meet you. Maybe we’re related??? That’s a joke. We’re not related, because if you were in my family, you would know that putting models down the runway in Native American inspired headdresses is NOT OKAY. Here’s what I’m talking about (plenty more here):


Nichols K 2

So, you know, I saw the pictures a couple of days ago and was thinking, “Ok, this is BS. But, in the grand scheme of all the ish I deal with, this might not be the worst. So maybe I’ll just try and look the other way and skip on my merry way…” and then I read this write up about your show in the NYU news. Then I was like “Aw helllll no.”

Picture the urban landscape of pre-Columbus America: quite a paradox but easily captured by Nicholas K in their Spring/Summer 2014 collection at Mercedes Benz Fashion Week. A trance-like track of synth bass was combined with soothing chants to create a modern tribal music that seemed thematically fitting. While still staying true to their bold use of draping, layering, and neutral tones, Nicholas K suggested a new perspective to the term ‘urban chic’ by taking us back a few years.

Garbed in subtly Native American-inspired headdresses, the models displayed the palettes of sand t-shirts, antler booties, smoke sweaters, and onyx shorts. These earthy colors further accentuated the collection’s oneness with nature captured best by an interpretation of Native American culture. While the use of chunky tribal prints was occasionally seen peeking through a granite hoody or displaying prominently on a cascading jacket, the menswear pattern of oversized plaid did not detracted from the feminine earthiness of the collection.

A nod to last spring’s color-blocking, outer pockets made their way into this spring’s collection on male models in mica and grey tones. Perhaps the best look was a pair of matching alabaster printed pant and shirt that fluttered with decadent ease down the runway, evoking the perfect blend of city chic and natural harmony. Take a note from Nicholas K for this upcoming spring; relate to the origins of America but do it with a flare of the modern age.

Ok, I know this is a student publication and all, but can we talk about this language? “A trance-like track of synth bass was combined with soothing chants to create a modern tribal music that seemed thematically fitting”? “These earthy colors further accentuated the collection’s oneness with nature captured best by an interpretation of Native American culture”? That’s the problem with “tribal” themed fashion trends or those “inspired by Native American culture”–it creates this distorted stereotype that Native peoples are a monolith, with one “culture.” This culture apparently is connected to nature and set in contrast to “urban” contexts. That first line kills me. “Picture the urban landscape of pre-Columbus America: quite a paradox…” No. Not a paradox at all. “Pre-Columbus America” was hella urban. Sorry.

And then, oh then, I dug a little more. Here is the “official” description of the collection:

For Spring 2014, brother and sister designers and CFDA members Nicholas and Christopher Kunz explore the spiritual roots of the small bands of indigenous people that formed the Ndee or Apache Nation. Antique smudge fans found on a reservation in the mountains of Central Arizona sparked the inspiration of a shamanistic journey that is embraced by the brand’s own nomadic urban roots.

A palette of sheer whites, antler and bone colored cotton trimmed with deerskin are symbols of peace, happiness and purity. Contrasting darkness in black, midnight and onyx is reminiscent of smudging smoke. Mica, another mist color, is reputed to have spiritual and life-giving qualities. Turquoise, the, “fallen sky stone,” is the accent color used throughout the collection. Natural turkey quills, dip-dyed in black and earth brown, represent the power and essence of the Apache Medicine Men.

Like the Shamans, who were draped in a mixture of textures, the collection consists of an array of free flowing fabrics.  Matte gauze with shimmering lurex symbolically represents desert stones speckled with shining mica, while geods dance across printed viscose paired with reinvented linen and suede moccasins.  The silhouettes of the season call to spirit light dancers – they are magically free and playful.

The show featured hair by Jon Reyman for Aveda, make-up by Daniel Martin for NYX Cosmetics and nails by Sunshine Outing for Zoya.

I can’t. I actually can’t. Past tense, hippie-spiritual BS, “shamanistic journey,”…”represent the power and essence of the Apache Medicine Men”? Yes. Thank you. Thank you for representing the “power and essence” of our spiritual practices in your fashion line at fashion week. That’s definitely the way to show respect.

So whatever. I’ve written 5 thousand million times about why headdresses on non-Native women aren’t cool, why the tribal fashion trend is problematic, what happens with you mess with sovereign nations around these issues, how you can fix it when you screw up like this, and much much more, if you care to go search around in the archives. Actually, you might want to read this take down of “Spirit Hoods.” The language/defense they used was pretty similar. So I’m not going to re-hash it again. Just read this one, if that’s too many links for your poor fashion-filled head.

So Nicholas K, if you wanna be my bro, apologize for sending models down the runway in Native headdresses and appropriating the sh*t out of Native spirituality. Don’t give me any BS about how fashion is about drawing inspiration from “everywhere” or any other number of excuses. I’ve heard them all. This whole thing has been in the news so much, I’m really surprised you didn’t have any inkling this was maybe wrong. You’ve got some explaining to do.


No, really, read this one: But why can’t I wear a hipster headdress? 

NYU news: Nicholas K, Spring/Summer 2014
Video from the show here: NY Fashion Week Nicholas K

Also, I know “Nicholas K” is not a person, but is actually a sibling design team. But it was more fun this way, ok?

(Thanks Chelsea, Celeste, and the others who alerted me to this on twitter!)



Um, apparently there’s a site that’s a “unicorn or Native American name generator.” Problematic. The picture works surprisingly well though…

I know it’s been a long time between posts, I’m actually in the process of writing my dissertation(!!!). I’m getting into a routine, and hope that will mean I’ll have a (little) spare time to post more. This post is one that’s been percolating in my head for months, and while there are some more pressing issues I want to write about soon, sometimes words just have to come out.

Writing about dating on the internet is weird. Writing about dating on the internet when most, if not all, of the guys you’ve dated still read your blog, is even weirder. Writing about dating on the internet when Indian Country is so freaking small that it feels like everyone knows who you’ve dated and they all know each other is probably the weirdest of all. So hi. Hi all the guys I’ve dated in the last 4 years on the East Coast, even you, adorably short die-hard Redsk*ns fan. I’m not gonna put you all on blast. I liked all of you. Didn’t always like the way things ended, but you know how that is. So I’m not going to go through the process of what it was like dating each of you, though that might be fun. But what I am going to do is talk about some bigger issues of dating, while being an Indian.

In 2011, I wrote “Love in the time of Blood Quantum,” a post that attempted to lay out some of the quandaries I faced in my desires to date Native guys. Reading it now, lots of it really makes me cringe.  But I think the comments are some of the best on any post on the blog, and I love the way they made me question my assumptions and privilege, and really forwarded my thinking. More on that in a minute. I think these two paragraphs sum up the bulk of my argument from that piece, but I also talked about the ways the media represents the issue too, so go take a look if you’re interested: Continue Reading…


AK Note: Hi Everyone, yesterday I posted my (rather scathing) review of The Lone Ranger, and reading through some of the comments I’ve seen here and on other outlets, I feel the need to repost this piece from 3/16/2012. I know there are a lot of new readers (welcome!), so I hope this helps you understand the lens with which I approach this blog and this work. I believe, very strongly, that these images matter and are important, and will continue to treat them as such. And as always, I don’t claim to speak for all Native peoples, I am just one perspective of many. I also have addressed all sorts of angles of this movie, and I encourage new folks to familiarize yourself with all of the other posts before launching into criticisms. Here they are: my initial reactions (including early thoughts on the casting), tearing apart Depp’s reasoning over his costume choicesthe controversy I dealt with for writing about Tonto, and Armie Hammer’s comments about Indians loving the movie. Thanks so much for all the support–y’all crashed my server yesterday, a total first! 

It’s been a week or so since the original photos of Johnny Depp as Tonto have surfaced, and the internet has been abuzz with Depp defenders and Depp defectors–and while the Native Appropriations community and my internet circle have been on the “oh dang, this is real bad for us” train, I’ve been surprised at how many people have basically told me and others with similar opinions to STFU and “get over it” (with also some more choice words than that…).
But I still stand by the fact that Tonto and his portrayal matter to Indian Country, and should matter to Indian Country. And here’s why.

Defenders of Depp-as-rodeo-clown-Tonto’s arguments basically boil down to the following: Tonto is a fictional character. The Lone Ranger is a fictional movie. Johnny Depp is a great actor. We should be glad to have him portray Tonto. No one thinks Tonto is representative of a real Indian. There are bigger things to worry about in Indian Country, this is so trivial it shouldn’t even be an issue.

Here’s the thing. Yeah, Tonto is a fictional character, and there are plenty of white actors and actresses who play fictional characters, and we don’t automatically assume that white people are fictional, so it shouldn’t matter, right? We saw Natalie Portman as an evil-crazy-swan-human in the Black Swan, and we don’t assume that Natalie Portman’s character is representative of her, or all white people, in real life. But that, my friend, is white privilege at work. Everyday we see millions of representations of white people in varied and diverse roles. We see white actors as “real” people, as “fantasy” characters, and everything in between.

But for Native people, the only images that the vast, vast majority of Americans see are stereotypical in nature. You go to the grocery store and see plenty of smiling white children on cereal boxes, contrasted with the only readily recognizable Native image–the Land o’ Lakes butter girl. In advertising we see plenty of non-Native folks participating in everyday life, and then we get ads like this featuring Native people. There are also hardly any (if any) Native people in current, mainstream television shows. And this carries over even more strongly into Hollywood.

The last big blockbuster series to feature Native characters was the Twilight series, and we are portrayed as wolves. Think of every recent major studio film that featured a Native character or Native actor. All of the ones I can think of off the top of my head were set in a historical context, were a fantasy film, or were offensively stereotype laden. There have been so few accurate, modern, nuanced portrayals of Native people it’s not even funny.

So, when we live in a world where there are other, more nuances portrayals of Native people for non-Natives to draw upon–when there are Native people featured in mainstream romantic comedies, dramas, sitcoms, even reality TV,  or news–then, maybe, will I be able to be looking forward to a stereotypical mess of a Tonto on the big screen. But I doubt it.
Comedian Ryan Mcmahon has a fabulous podcast series called “Ryan McMahon Gets Angry”, and he just did an awesome 5 minute rant on Johnny Depp as Tonto, and the responsibility we have as a community to question these representations. I can’t recommend it enough (language slightly NSFW):

Here’s a transcript of the end of his podcast:

So is Johnny Depp putting a bunch of Indians on the back of horses for this Lone Ranger Jerry Bruckheimer car crash gonna be good for us? Hell no. I’m not looking forward to it, I don’t think we should be happy about it, and I don’t think we should immediately go to that excited-happy-place everytime we see ourselves on TV. Because more oftentimes it hurts us more than helps us.

I think the time to take back our stories, to take back our pride, and to start empowering and helping each other to rise is the time that we’re in now. That’s what I look forward to, that’s what I’m trying to do, that’s what a whole bunch of other people are trying to do. Is Johnny Depp being on the back of a horse with a g*ddamn crow on the his head supposed to help us? Probably not. But it’s definitely not going to. So don’t get happy when you see four or five other brothers sitting on the back of a horse in their loincloth. Don’t be surprised, don’t be happy about it, don’t celebrate it, cause it’s bullsh*t. The time to reclaim, recapture, redefine, our own stories, in our own ways is now, and g*ddammit we gotta do more of it. Demand more from the producers, demand more of the television people, demand more from the people who are writing these stories. Because the stories are there. We are strong, proud people, and we need to be represented, by ourselves, as such.

I couldn’t agree more. There are several sub-arguments that I’ve seen in the last few days, citing how many Native actors would miss out on work as extras if this movie weren’t made, or how Johnny Depp’s “star power” was needed to get the film made in the first place. Those arguments are upsetting to me. We need to demand more. We can’t be complacent with just going to that “excited-happy-place” every time we see any representation of an Indian on screen. We can’t be thankful that 50 Native actors are able to ride around bareback in the background of a film, or be psyched that a big name Hollywood actor put a crow on his head to “honor” us–talk about ongoing colonization of the mind. Our community is so much better than that. We are worth so much more than background roles and misrepresentations.

Ryan also said something that resonated with me beyond this issue alone, quoting his grandmother:

Everything you do, grandson, is going to be political because you’re Anishinaabe.

The way we represent ourselves is, therefore, inherently political. These “trivial” issues are representative of deeper, darker, larger issues within Indian Country. For those who live in predominantly Native communities, fighting against cultural appropriation and misrepresentation may seem like the cause of a privileged few who can sit in their ivory towers and point fingers all day, ignoring the “real” issues in Indian Country. I’ve said it many times before, and I’ll say it as many times as I can until it sticks:

Yes, unequivocally, we have big things to tackle in Indian Country. We have pressing and dire issues that are taking the lives of our men and women everyday, and I am in absolutely no way minimizing this reality. But we also live in a state of active colonialism. In order to justify the genocide against Native peoples in this country, we must be painted as inferior–that’s the colonial game. These images continue that process. The dominant culture therefore continues to marginalize our peoples, to ignore and erase our existence. We are taught everyday, explicitly in classrooms, and implicitly through messages from the media, that our cultures are something of the past, something that exists in negative contrast to “western” values, and something that can be commodified and enjoyed by anyone with $20 to buy a cheap plastic headdress. These stereotypical images like Johnny Depp’s Tonto feed into this ongoing cycle, and until we demand more, our contemporary existence (and therefore the “real” problems in Indian Country) simply doesn’t exist in the minds of the dominant culture.

How can we expect mainstream support for sovereignty, self-determination, Nation Building, tribally-controlled education, health care, and jobs when the 90% of Americans only view Native people as one-dimensional stereotypes, situated in the historic past, or even worse, situated in their imaginations? I argue that we can’t–and that, to me, is why Tonto matters.

Further background reading:

If you want to read Ray Cook call me out and tell me that my writing is “So much hog-wash, so much wasted cyber-space, so much wasted oxygen” (awesome!): Tontomania: Who are we’z anyways?

Guardian: Why I’m Willing to Believe in Johnny Depp’s Tonto

Reel Injun (documentary about stereotyping of Indians in Hollywood): http://www.reelinjunthemovie.com/site/

Academic Article on Hollywood Stereotypes: The White Man’s Indian: Stereotypes in Films and Beyond

Ryan McMahon gets angry episode 4: I Ain’t Gettin On No Horse


It’s been 12 hours since I saw The Lone Ranger, and I still have the darn William Tell Overture stuck in my head. I wonder how long that lasts. It’s like waking up with a Tonto hangover, I guess. I have so many thoughts on this film, and only maybe one of them is good. But I think we need to start off with this: The Lone Ranger is just a bad movie. It’s 2.5 hours of a film with an identity crisis, not knowing if it’s supposed to be funny, campy, dramatic, “authentic,” or what. At points it was very hard to separate the stereotypical and hurtful from the bad script, bad editing, and bad character development of the movie itself.

So, if it even needs to be said: SPOILER ALERT–I’m about to give away everything. But you’re not going to see the movie anyway, so it shouldn’t really matter. But you know how the internet is. Here’s my review, in only 6 parts. I restrained myself.

Some quick overall thoughts: Like I mentioned above, this movie didn’t know what it was, and that was a problem. It was also so. incredibly. long. By the time we got to the final big train chase scene at the end where the pair saves the day (accompanied by the aforementioned William Tell) I wrote in my notes: FINALLY! I AM SO BORED! and then that scene drug on for another 15 minutes and I just wanted it to end. I forgot what we were even fighting for. Which I think was the problem all along.

This is also the most violent movie I’ve seen in awhile, and I’m a fan of Game of Thrones. Don’t take your kids, despite the Disney label and PG-13 rating. There is so much shooting and stabbing, and they show the aftermath.  Early on in the film the bad guy even cuts out and eats the Lone Ranger’s brother’s heart (yes, eats it). They have no qualms about shooting someone for the sake of shooting someone, and there are blood and guts and barn beams smashing people’s heads. It’s not something I would want to expose my kids to, at all.

And for those of you new to the blog or need a refresher, here’s all my Tonto coverage over the last year or so, which covers the casting, the costume, and a whole bunch of other things: my initial reactionswhy you should care about Tonto when there are “bigger issues” out theretearing apart Depp’s reasoning over his costume choicesthe controversy I dealt with for writing about Tonto, and Armie Hammer’s comments about Indians loving the movie.

Part 1: The Opening Scene–Indians are so backward and funny, y’all!

Continue Reading…

“I wanted him to be no joke. First of all, I wouldn’t f**k with someone with a dead bird on their head. Second of all, he’s got the f**king paint on his face, which scares me…I wanted to maybe give some hope to kids on the reservations. They’re living without running water and seeing problems with drugs and booze. But I wanted to be able to show these kids, ‘F**k that! You’re still warriors, man.’” (via Express)

Johnny Depp Tells Rolling Stone more about Tonto

PFxNative Tags Front

Pull up a chair, I’d like to tell you a story. A long, long time ago (actually back in September), Jessica Metcalfe of Beyond Buckskin fame, got a google alert for “Native American” and “Fashion.” She was led to a press release from a party. A party that caused all of the brows of Indian Country furrow, and angry clouds full of lightning to form above our heads. This was the party:

FNO - Paul Frank

After she posted a picture to facebook linking to over 1000 images of party-goers mock-scalping and playing Indian, I wrote this post. She wrote this post. Here’s an excerpt from my open letter to the company about why this was wrong:

The bottom line is this: your event stereotypes and demeans Native cultures, collapsing hundreds of distinct tribal and cultural groups into one “tribal” mish-mash, thereby erasing our individual identities and contemporary existence. Until 1978 with the passage of the American Indian Religious Freedom Act, Native peoples could be arrested for practicing traditional spirituality–many aspects of which you mocked in your party theme. While the theme may have seemed “fun” and “playful” to you, to me as a Native person, it just represents our continued invisibility. When society only sees us as the images you presented, it means that our modern issues of poverty don’t exist, nor do our modern efforts like schooling and economic development through sovereignty and nation building. We have sophisticated tribal governments and communities, but how will we be able to be seen as modern, successful people if we are continually represented through plastic tomahawks and feathers?

Then Paul Frank deleted the images and apologized on FB and twitter. We thought that was that. But then, we each were contacted by the president of Paul Frank, Elie Dekel. We set up a phone call. Here’s what happened (an excerpt from this post):

The phone call went so much better than I could have even imagined. Elie was gracious, sincere, and kind from the beginning, and truly apologetic. He took full responsibility for the event, and said he wanted to make sure that this was something that never happened again, and wanted to learn more so he could educate his staff and colleagues. We talked about the history of representations of Native people in the US, and I even got into the issues of power and privilege at play–and the whole time, he actually listened, and understood. Such a refreshing experience.

I could go on and on about the call, but enough background, here are the incredible, amazing, mind-boggling action steps that the company has taken and has promised to take in the near future:

- They have already removed all of the Native inspired designs from their digital/online imprint

- The company works off a “Style Guide” that includes all of the digital art for the company, and then separate manufacturing companies license those images and turn them into products. Elie and his staff have gone through the style guide, even into the archives, and removed all of the Native imagery, meaning no future products will be produced with these images.

- They have sent (or it will be sent today) a letter to all of their manufacturers and partners saying none of this artwork is authorized for use and it has been removed from their business

and the MOST exciting part:

- Paul Frank Industries would like to collaborate with a Native artist to make designs, where the proceeds would be donated to a Native cause!

Elie said he wants to learn how this can be done in an appropriate and respectful manner, and that they’re not “looking to profit” from this. On top of it, we’ve set actionable next steps to make all of this happen, and he’s even assigned staff members to stay on it so it doesn’t slip through the cracks.

We were delighted. Jessica and I then embarked on a 9 month journey of monthly conference calls, hundreds of emails, and lots of back and forth to make this collaboration a reality. It wasn’t easy. There were many points that made us uncomfortable, things that challenged us, the designers, and negotiations that took a lot of trust. Jessica definitely pulled much of the weight, using all of her awesome Native fashion contacts, and this would not be happening if it weren’t for her, the designers, and our super nice contacts at Saban brands (the parent company of Paul Frank). We, and the designers, did this all for the experience and the awareness, no money was involved.

So today, the press release came out announcing the collaboration(!), and I’m thrilled to share it with you.

Throughout this whole process, I’ve been impressed with PF’s ability to admit they were wrong and learn from their mistakes. Something that I think all of us struggle with, and is even harder for a huge multi-national company to do. From Day 1, Elie admitted they messed up, and was willing to do all they could to make it right. But, on the other hand, Jessica and I had to push a bit at times to keep the beginning in mind. I’ll come back to that. Here’s the press release in full:

LOS ANGELES, June 18, 2013 /PRNewswire/ – Paul Frank announced today its first-ever “Paul Frank Presents” fashion collaboration with four Native American designers from different tribes and regions across the country. Set to debut in August 2013, the collaboration fuses the iconic Paul Frank brand with four different artists’ aesthetics, each rooted in their heritage. The collection, which will include a tote bag, hand-beaded sunglasses, graphic tees and Hama bead jewelry is an expression of the Native American culture and a way for the artists to integrate their perspective and tribal identity into fashion.

Drawing inspiration from their communities, each artist is bringing to life a visual identity with roots from their culture. Louie Gong, a designer from the Nooksack tribe who creates custom drawings and paintings on materials, is creating a silk-screened canvas tote bag for the collection. Candace Halcro, from the Plains Cree/Metis tribes, is skilled with the classic Native American beading technique and will showcase her talents on authentic Paul Frank sunglasses. Dustin Martin, a graphic T-shirt fashion designer from the Navajo tribe, is using a phrase taught to him by his grandfather to inspire the prints of the famous Paul Frank character, Julius. And Autumn Dawn Gomez, a jewelry designer from the Comanche/Taos tribes, is creating accessories inspired by various landscapes, which have impacted her life.

“We’re honored to be working with such talented and enthusiastic designers for this fashion and accessories collection,” said Elie Dekel, President of Saban Brands. “Each artist has really captured the whimsical and fun energy of the Paul Frank brand and incorporated it into their designs for the line. We are so excited to share these items with Paul Frank fans very soon!”

To unveil the collection, Paul Frank is partnering with the Institute of American Indian Arts (IAIA) Museum of Contemporary Native Arts (MoCNA) to host an event in Santa Fe, New Mexico on August 16, during SWAIA’s annual Indian Market Week. The event will showcase each of these designers and preview their limited edition pieces for the Paul Frank line for the very first time. These items will then be sold in the MoCNA Store.

Super exciting, right? We have four amazing designers, Louie Gong, Candace Halcro, Dustin Martin, and Autumn Dawn Gomez, and we’re having an awesome launch event at Indian Market in Santa Fe (which you should all come to!).

I also have some thoughts (what? Adrienne be critical of something? noooo). I’ll admit I’m treading on difficult ground here, and I’ll be honest about that. I have some initial reactions, and also have ongoing relationships with everyone involved, and am still very much excited about this collaboration and have enjoyed working with Paul Frank overall.

I don’t know if it struck you, but noticed right away an omission from the press release. There’s no mention of why this collaboration came about. I wouldn’t expect a whole re-hashing of the “Dream Catchin’ Powwow” fiasco, but maybe a mention of the fact that this collaboration came in response to an insensitive party?

I’m about to go all PhD on you here, so bear with me, but Dr. Bryan Brayboy at ASU often uses the term “Genesis Amnesia” (from Pierre Bourdieu) to discuss how, especially in regards to Indigenous and colonized peoples, we often forget the beginning. Everything becomes normalized–the power structures, the historical narrative taught in schools, policies towards Indigenous Peoples–and society accepts this as “the way it’s always been” and stops wondering why. Hegemonic power structures rely on us forgetting the beginning. Native peoples are “poor” and “alcoholics” because they are “lazy” or “unmotivated,” not because of centuries of systematic policies that have worked to put us in this position. Hipster headdresses are a fashion trend because they’re “fun” or “playful,” not because centuries of colonialism have painted Native traditions and spirituality as inferior and stripped the objects of their sacred origins, leaving them up for grabs.

So what does that have to do with Paul Frank? As much as it feels uncomfortable, we can’t forget the beginning. We can’t move away from the fact that this collaboration was born out of community mobilization and Native activism against a hurtful, racist party. Because if we erase that beginning, 20 years from now, Paul Frank is just seen as the happy company that collaborates with Natives–which is great, don’t get me wrong–but that takes away the power of what has been accomplished here. Remembering the origins reminds us of the inherent power structures in society (and therefore the fashion industry), that it took hundreds of angry voices, Native and non-Native, working together to move us forward this far. Remembering the beginning is how we continue to move forward together. History is written by those in power, so we need to continue to push to have our version shared and not forgotten.

I know that seems a little heavy for an exciting day–but I’ve got a critical lens I can’t turn off, and it wouldn’t be fair for me to just let you celebrate a big win for Indian Country without giving you something to think about. ha.

Thank you to all of you who have supported this collaboration throughout the last 9 months, to Jessica, to the designers–Louie, Candace, Autumn Dawn, Dustin, to Kelsey, Rebekah, Elie, and the rest of the team at PF, you have all been a pleasure to work with, and I’m so grateful that this has come together. Elie from the start had said that he hoped this could be a model for other companies to follow, and I really think it has been. I hope other companies follow suit, and that this brings to light the power of working with Native designers, and Native folks represent themselves in the fashion industry.

Hope to see you in Santa Fe!


Paul Frank Offends Every Native Person on the Planet with Fashion Night Out Dream Catchin’ Powwow (9/9/12)

Paul Frank Party Update: Am I dreaming? (9/14/12)

From Beyond Buckskin:

Paul Frank’s Racist Powwow (9/9/12)

Paul Frank Update-Jan 2013 and Beyond (1/16/13)


Paul Frank x Native Designers (6/18/13)


 armie hammer

Oh Armie Hammer. The guy who played twins in the Social Network, the guy who’s name sounds like baking soda. Now he’s playing the Lone Ranger opposite our good friend Johnny Depp as Tonto, and recently he said in an interview about the movie that all the Natives he talked to were SO SUPER STOKED that the film was being made. Guys, that’s the movie equivalent of “but I have a black friend!”

Tonto recap, if you haven’t been following along. My posts are here: my initial reactions, why you should care about Tonto when there are “bigger issues” out there, tearing apart Depp’s reasoning over his costume choices, and finally the controversy I dealt with for writing about Tonto.

So back to Armie. Here’s his quote in the LA times, defending the casting of Tonto, saying there were plenty Natives he talked to who loved it, and only white people were upset:

“They were nothing but excited about it. They loved it — they’re thrilled. It’s so funny, because every Native American we talked to was like, ‘This is awesome! I’m so excited.’ And every white person we talked to was like, ‘How dare you cast a non-Native American?’ It’s like, the white people are the one who have the problem, but the Indians — the Native Americans — are like, ‘This is great. We love it.’”

A few things.

So. The casting of a non-Native thing has kinda gone by the wayside for me. While I was initially super mad that they cast JD and didn’t give the role to a Native person (blah blah Johnny has Indian heritage blah blah he was adopted by the Comanche Naiton–Not the point right now. That doesn’t excuse anything.), the more that has come out about the film, the more I’m glad that a Native actor isn’t embroiled in this mess. So Armie, the casting is only part of the issue. The bigger issue is the mountain of stereotypes Depp’s portrayal of Tonto represents–from his hot mess of a costume with a freaking dead crow on his head, to the horrible stereotypical mystical warrior BS that we can see in the trailers, to the ridiculous and demeaning use of Tonto-speak broken English that has haunted Native communities since the first spaghetti westerns.

Continue Reading…


April 16, 2013 — 3 Comments

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AK note: I know I’ve been away for a long time. I have lots and lots of exciting things to share with you, and I have many updates as to where I’ve been and where we’re going. I promise we’ll get there. Today, I need to write about Boston. This post has nothing to do with Native communities, other than the fact that I happen to be a Native person navigating this. So bear with me–I need to process, and the way I process is through writing. I wanted to come back with a happy, excited update post, but all in due time. 

Yesterday, I woke up in my apartment in Watertown, a town on the border of Cambridge, across the river from the city of Boston.  I was excited, and a little nervous, to head out and watch one of my best friends from college run his first Boston marathon. I had volunteered to deliver pedialyte at mile 20–and was worried that I would fail in my job. How would I find him in the crowds of runners? What if he missed me? Would I mess up his whole race? He needs his electrolytes! I even rented a car to make sure I would get there on time.

I drove out to the affluent suburb of Newton and set up shop right under the mile 20 marker, on the right side of the road, exactly where I told him I’d be. I was constantly refreshing my phone to track his progress–10k, 20k, 25k–amazed as he flew through the course, averaging 6:40 miles. The hand-off went smoothly, I should have known that his 6’5″ frame and enormous grin would be easy to spot. He waved hello as he approached, grabbed the water bottle, shouted, “Thank you! You’re the best!” and was gone. I let out a sigh of relief, laughing with fellow race-watchers about my earlier anxiety. Since my duty was done, I settled in to cheer on the runners.

My friend J met up with me, and we proceeded to cheer and clap as the brightly colored runners surged by. Everyone was excited, there was almost a festival atmosphere–horns, cowbells, balloons, kids selling $7 hotdogs (like I said, affluent area), and it was just fun. We took to yelling for the runners by name, as many of the runners wear their names taped to their chest or written on their arms in sweat-smeared sharpie. “Go Dave!” “Go Angie!” “Go Michelle!” We continued to yell until the crowd thinned, and it was only the slower runners carefully plodding along the course. We clapped, cheered, and offered encouragement, with our name-dropping eliciting smiles and tired thumbs ups. I talked to my superstar runner friend on the phone. He had finished in 3 hours, was happy with his performance, and said he was headed back to a friend’s apartment to take a shower. We made plans to eat an early dinner in Back Bay.

The original plan was for me to wander down to the finish line and watch the end of the race, but J and I stayed to wait for his friend’s dad to pass the mile marker, knowing he would be one of the last runners. We waited, gave him and his support crew a triumphant cheer, with J even jogging backwards in front of them for several yards to snap some pictures–a fairly entertaining sight.

Afterward, we parted ways, heading back to our cars, agreeing that it was a fun and inspirational afternoon. “I want to start running again!” I exclaimed as we were leaving, “maybe a marathon is in my future!” The community at the race and the community of runners had made be long to part of something like it.

Then I got a phone call from my sister, and I could hear fear in her voice from the moment I answered. “Hey sees, are you ok? You’re not at the finish line, are you?” and then I heard. I heard about the two explosions at the finish line, the reports of mass casualties, the chaos and confusion. “Just get home safe,” she told me. My hands were shaking as I started the car, and my phone began ringing and buzzing off the hook as floods of concerned friends and family called to check in. My head was cloudy as I drove toward home, and in a panic, I ended up taking a wrong turn and was suddenly on the Mass Pike–headed towards the chaos, rather than away from it. My phone was dying, I didn’t know where I was going, and I was scared. Helicopters roared overhead, emergency vehicles flew past, lights flashing and sirens blaring. I ended up right where I didn’t want to be, and each wrong turn seemed to bring me closer to the exact place I wanted to get away from.

In a moment of clarity, looking at my dying phone, I found a CVS, and pulled into the parking lot. Several more police cars raced by, and cars blared their horns as stressed pedestrians tried to cross the street against the lights. I walked inside, and the contrast was so strange. While the world outside felt chaotic and wild, inside was cool, and eerily calm, with the same awkward muzak playing over the speakers, the same rows of the products found at any CVS in the country. The store brought such strange normalcy, I almost wanted to cry. I wanted to browse the shelves and stay in there until someone told me it was safe to venture back outside. Instead, I bought a car charger for my phone, and asked to use the restroom. After letting me in to the restroom, the pharmacist, a sweet older woman, gave me a hug, and told me to get home safe.

I finally got home, but not without getting turned away by police at multiple junctures. All bridges in and out of the city were blocked, along with most of the race route. I ended up driving all the way back out to Newton and circling back. My route took me across the road where only an hour earlier I had stood with J, cheering on the racers. It now was deserted, with police walking along the street, litter and caution tape fluttering in the wind. There wasn’t a civilian in sight.

It wasn’t until I got home and turned on the news until the full weight of what had happened hit me. The images were so gruesome, so horrific–I was in total disbelief. My roommate spoke to her friend in Afghanistan, and she said the images looked like those from the war zone she inhabits everyday. I spent the next few hours checking on all my friends, making sure everyone was alright. Miraculously, they all were. Even friends who had been at the finish minutes before the blasts were fine. I processed slowly, seeing the images as if they were from somewhere else, not the joyful place I had been that morning. Then reading the New York Times, a line jumped out at me–”There are reports that additional unexploded devices were found along the route, including in Newton, a suburb 6 miles from the finish.” It was then that I began to panic. I felt my heart pound and tears well up in my eyes. The report has since been removed, but in that moment, it all went from something that happened to others, to something that could have happened to me.

I am so lucky, and so grateful. My story isn’t one of chaos, smoke, and injury–but one of simple uncertainty and fear. I feel strange even writing about it–It could have been so much worse. My friends are safe, I’m safe–but there are so many who are not.

We hear of bomb blasts everyday in the Middle East. We hear the numbers killed by drone strikes, of IED’s killing hundreds of soldiers and civilians. But we’ve become numb to it. We’ve forgotten that these bombings are about people, people with families, lives, stories, hopes, and fears. We debate about whether this heinous act is an “act of terrorism” and madly tweet when the president uses the phrase. We’ve forgotten that terrorism is the use of violence to reach political aims–there is nothing in the definition that includes the word “muslim.” I was so saddened by the rush of initial tweets implicating a “Saudi national,” or a “dark skinned man with a hooded sweatshirt and a backpack.” I was hurt by this quick racism and xenophobia that followed the event–an event that started as a day so full of communal joy. Now communities of color continue to hold their breath, praying those responsible are not one of their own. I am also disappointed in the way this has been covered in the media, a glorification of blood and mutilated bodies, the sharing of images that are not necessary to understand the weight of what happened. We are a nation obsessed with consumption of information in real time, and I, as someone who spends all day online, am a part of that culture. But it feels so hurtful and insensitive when the images are of my own backyard. A double standard, to be sure.

But in reading the accounts of the first responders, the folks tearing down barriers to reach the wounded, the googledoc of thousands of homes being opened to runners and families, I was proud of my city–a city that admittedly I’ve been harsh on for the last four years, one where I’ve never completely felt at home.

Earlier in the day, as J and I were getting situated at the race, a big hawk flew overhead, low enough that I could see its markings and the color variations on its feathers. I pointed it out to J, smiling, “It’s a good sign. It’s protection.” I watched it circle over us and the runners for a few minutes, amazed as it lingered. I see hawks often–I’m known for spotting them in the most unexpected and urban of settings–so I wasn’t surprised. But by the end of the night, I realized the importance, and was so grateful for the watchful eye of my ancestors. At the time, I had tried to snap a picture, but ended up with one of just the bright blue sky.

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So I’m still processing. I don’t know what to think, I don’t know how to make sense of the tragedy, I don’t know how I feel that I was lucky enough to be 6.2 miles from the explosions. I was so humbled by the hundreds of texts, tweets, calls, facebook posts, and instagram comments from concerned friends I received yesterday, it was amazing to know how many friends, some whom I’ve never even met in real life, cared about my safety. Today in Boston is eerily normal, at least over here on the other side of the river. I was chided for late assignments for Ed Review, my dissertation proposal is still due in two days, and the sun still shined. But folks are a bit kinder–the harsh Bostonian stare I’ve come to recognize has been replaced by nods and eye contact, the bus driver this morning told those of us exiting the bus to “have a great day and stay safe.” The community has come together. The overwhelming feeling I have today is one of community–and a community trying to make sense of a senseless and horrific act.

My prayers and thoughts are with all of the families who were affected, and I don’t know where we’ll go from here. It all still feels foreign and strange. But I know the city will bounce back. Boston is made up of tough survivors, and I know we’ll get through.



My trusty macbook, where I’ve written nearly every post on the blog

This morning my brain woke me up wide awake at 5am, just opened my eyes, ready to go, like this were a normal and everyday experience. The reality is quite the opposite–most mornings I hit snooze more than I care to admit. My brain was whirring from the moment I blinked awake, and I decided to put to paper some of the things I’ve been working on in my head. I’ve been feeling in a very contemplative mood the last few days, maybe brought on by my recent trip to Stanford (my alma mater), where I did a talk at the Native house and followed around one of my awesome dissertation study kiddos. It was a great trip, despite the fact that I came down with a terrible cold, and it was amazing and strange to realize how much and how little has changed in the five years since I’ve graduated. The students there are so incredible, and I admittedly felt extremely self conscious to be heralded almost a hometown hero upon my arrival, interviewed by the new activist blog on campus, given a special shout out at the Stanford American Indian Organization meeting, met with whispers when I walked into the Native center. I am so grateful and still often shake my head in disbelief at the journey Native Appropriations has taken me on in the past three years, and I felt like it was time to reflect and share the origin story of the blog, the path it has taken, and where I hope it will go in the future. Continue Reading…