Here in America, we celebrate our right to speak freely, but often find ourselves afraid to speak our minds. We are afraid to take a stand, not because we risk imprisonment or even death (which are real possibilities for people in certain countries), but because our beliefs might not mesh nicely with the current social norms. We fear that if we speak up, we will be labeled unfairly, then quickly dismissed. So we walk on eggshells, trying to safely navigate the increasingly complex world of political correctness. Pardon me, but I am getting tired of walking on eggshells. So, for a moment, let me wade instead into the minefield of race.
First, here is a little disclaimer: I am white (in case you hadn't noticed from my picture.) And there is no need for anyone to fear that they will offend me by calling me “white” - or by neglecting to capitalize the “w” in “white”. It is simply too odd-sounding to call me Caucasian-American. If you want to describe me more accurately, you might label me Native American-German-English-Welsh-French-Canadian-American, but I understand that it is much simpler to describe me according to my appearance, which is “white” (even though my skin tone will never resemble a white piece of chalk.) If you want to get creative, you might describe me as an apricot-colored person.
My dad, on the other hand, runs the risk of being called a redskin, due to his higher inheritance of Indian blood. Oh, did I say “Indian”? I meant to say “Native American”. I tell you, these days, you can't be too careful. But wait, what am I thinking? In this case, I am immune from the usual consequences of throwing around insensitive racial words... because I am part Indian myself. So I can use that word as much as I want: “Indian, Indian, INDIAN!” It doesn't make me any less Indian or diminish my pride in my Indian heritage. Now, in case you didn't already know this, different rules apply for those who lack Indian blood: Under no politically correct circumstance should you call a redskin “Indian” - he (or she) must be referred to as “Native American”.
Also, here is a warning for those people in this country who would never be described as being part of a minority (you know who you are): Question everything you thought you knew about the history of this country. I know you love hearing those nice stories about Squanto and the Pilgrims, but always remember that our peoples' history also contains such warriors as Black Hawk and Geronimo. Throughout history, "our" people haven't been exactly chummy with "your" people, so don't try to chum up to us now. We still are suspicious of you, so there. Keep your distance. (We do want equality, as long as your portion comes with a side of white guilt.)
We know we have problems on the reservations... poverty, drugs, and alcohol are part of our peoples' daily struggles. But it's the government's fault. Who needs personal responsibility when you can blame it all on the powers that be? And don't try to understand us. You never will understand us, because you never were a part of our culture. And guess who put us in this situation in the first place? You! Ok, maybe not you personally, but your grandfather or great-grandfather or great-great-grandfather. And even if your ancestors lived here but didn't have a hand in things, or you're a first-generation American, guess what: we're still suspicious of you because your skin is on the pale side. Everyone knows that palefaces can't be trusted. Oh, wait, I am a paleface!
First, here is a little disclaimer: I am white (in case you hadn't noticed from my picture.) And there is no need for anyone to fear that they will offend me by calling me “white” - or by neglecting to capitalize the “w” in “white”. It is simply too odd-sounding to call me Caucasian-American. If you want to describe me more accurately, you might label me Native American-German-English-Welsh-French-Canadian-American, but I understand that it is much simpler to describe me according to my appearance, which is “white” (even though my skin tone will never resemble a white piece of chalk.) If you want to get creative, you might describe me as an apricot-colored person.
My dad, on the other hand, runs the risk of being called a redskin, due to his higher inheritance of Indian blood. Oh, did I say “Indian”? I meant to say “Native American”. I tell you, these days, you can't be too careful. But wait, what am I thinking? In this case, I am immune from the usual consequences of throwing around insensitive racial words... because I am part Indian myself. So I can use that word as much as I want: “Indian, Indian, INDIAN!” It doesn't make me any less Indian or diminish my pride in my Indian heritage. Now, in case you didn't already know this, different rules apply for those who lack Indian blood: Under no politically correct circumstance should you call a redskin “Indian” - he (or she) must be referred to as “Native American”.
Also, here is a warning for those people in this country who would never be described as being part of a minority (you know who you are): Question everything you thought you knew about the history of this country. I know you love hearing those nice stories about Squanto and the Pilgrims, but always remember that our peoples' history also contains such warriors as Black Hawk and Geronimo. Throughout history, "our" people haven't been exactly chummy with "your" people, so don't try to chum up to us now. We still are suspicious of you, so there. Keep your distance. (We do want equality, as long as your portion comes with a side of white guilt.)
We know we have problems on the reservations... poverty, drugs, and alcohol are part of our peoples' daily struggles. But it's the government's fault. Who needs personal responsibility when you can blame it all on the powers that be? And don't try to understand us. You never will understand us, because you never were a part of our culture. And guess who put us in this situation in the first place? You! Ok, maybe not you personally, but your grandfather or great-grandfather or great-great-grandfather. And even if your ancestors lived here but didn't have a hand in things, or you're a first-generation American, guess what: we're still suspicious of you because your skin is on the pale side. Everyone knows that palefaces can't be trusted. Oh, wait, I am a paleface!
Rebekah is a Native American paleface who wishes no harm toward any race; her very existence proves that different races can get along just fine.
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