Why Can't I Be...Indigenous Without You

 

I've pasted below a column written by Chamoru writer and filmmaker Dan Ho, that he penned by the Guam Daily post in 2021 to both commemorative and criticize Indigenous Peoples Day in 2021. The title alone gives this away, "It's un-Indigenous to celebrated Indigenous Peoples Day," and it is one reason why even though Dan Ho doesn't contribute much to these types of conversations anymore, at least not in local newspapers or media, this article still circulates this time of year because of the catchy, polemical title. 

Given how some things have shifted, discursively, narratively, culturally, rhetorically in different societies across the world, to provide more possibility for indigenous peoples, and that the fact that more and more people each year are now ditching Columbus Day in favor of Indigenous Peoples is emblematic of this. This shift, like so many, doesn't mean that indigenous people are sovereign, it doesn't mean that land has been given back, it doesn't mean that suddenly all the treaties torn to shreds have been fixed and reformatted using advanced restorative justice AI. These shifts mean that the quilting of the space in which speech happens, in which identities are made, in which possibility is dictated, that has been changed. This can impact the allocation and distribution of resources, it can impact power for sure, but it rarely happens immediately or instantly. The assumption though is that you can use the changes of the flow of possibility to affect and alter the underlying structure in ways that were previously impossible. 

All of this can be true, but it can also be true that these changes can be tokenistic and paltry. Ti nahong. They are really minor and not seem like much. Or that they are simply window dressing. Like being invited to change picture frames in an otherwise oppressive house. To add some native flair, to liven up the same old hegemonic colonial infrastructure. 

 Dan Ho's argument here is different, and problematic for certain, but still has some importance to it. He is taking the position that in the past we were cast aside and ignored and suffered in obscurity due to colonial ignorance and intellectual laziness. Ho speaks for many, but he also shares personal experiences, such as struggles to publish things related to his indigenous context, coming from Guam and being Chamoru. 

Given the fact that he has known this dimension of how indigenous people are treated by others for most of his life, how trustworthy can this change in tone and approach be? If for so long, centuries and perhaps even millennia, large, dominant cultures and societies, proclaimed indigenous people to be insignificant or non-existent. How and why have things changed? Can we bank on this change? Kao magåhet? Or is there something else to it?

 Ho alludes to how this celebration of indigenous peoples may have some alterior motive in terms of accessing our knowledge, our connections to the land. He asserts that we should resist this classification or acceptance of this label in order to resist these intrusions. 

As I said, there is some possible truths to what he is arguing, but everything he states can also be accomplished through the accepting of the indigenous label as well. 

Check out the complete article from Ho below.

 

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"It's un-Indigenous to celebrated Indigenous Peoples Day"

by Dan Ho

The Guam Daily Post

October 13, 2021

Last week, a sitting president of the United States finally publicly acknowledged the so-called Indigenous Peoples Day holiday. Meh. To be completely honest, I’d rather stay in the shadows. I have no need to tell about or explain to strangers about where I’m from, or, as they often ask, “What am I?”

When I was younger I used to watch Johnny Carson, Jay Leno and Dave Letterman make snarky remarks about Guam. They only had to say the word Guam to get the audience rolling. This affected me, and other CHamorus growing up in my generation, in a way that, whenever we were asked where we were from, we’d answer, but it sounded unsure. It wasn’t Guam period. It was Guam with a question mark.

“Hi Dan, where are you from?”

“Guam?” I would respond quietly.

In retrospect, I can see how this small lilt opened up too many doors for endless lessons on geography, the differences between a state and territory, and Asian and Pacific Islander. In some cases, it was a mind-blowing revelation that Guam was actually occupied during World War II – the only such hostile foreign occupation of United States soil in all of history. Pearl Harbor was bombed on the same day, but Hawaii was never actually occupied. Anyway, never mind.

When I grew up and started to write about my thoughts and ideas in a more structured way, I remember how Ronald Reagan apologized for the roundup and encampment of Japanese-Americans during the Second World War. Undoubtedly, it was horrible for them, but clearly, it was not as atrocious as the tortures and murders at the hand of the Japanese soldiers that the native Guamanians endured. Even after the island was won back by the Americans, my people remained homeless for years because the U.S. government cared more about using Guam as part of the staging area to once and for all overcome the Japanese Imperial Forces. Fun fact: The Enola Gay that carried the atomic bombs fueled in Guam. Long story short, the Indigenous people of Guam were tertiary issues even after having been “liberated.”

I asked myself, “Where’s our apology?” Why is there so much focus on the wartime plights of other people while our “American” story remained completely obscured? I wrote many articles that I pitched to several national magazines, newspapers and agents, many of whom declined. I received a few personal rejections but one in particular stung. It went something like “I’m not really interested in pitching a story about a place and people no one knows or even cares about in the current market.” Ouch, but true. I don’t have that manuscript anymore; at least I don’t think so. If it does exist, it’s on a floppy drive in some landfill in at least three states.

Years later when I actually did get a literary agent and established a relationship with a big New York publisher, neither was interested in the story that meant so much to me. What can I say? It’s just business.

Anyway, today I am not interested in pursuing that history, and for good reasons. Publishers and the people they inform are still mostly ignorant of my birthplace and bloodline and that’s just fine with me. It absolutely matters that my close-knit friends who want to know are aware of my native beliefs, traditions and history. I believe this is true for most Indigenous people: We personally know the holders of our knowledge.

Because what happens if, all of a sudden, something becomes public? It is manipulated into tabloid fodder. It is far better, in my opinion, to be obscure than misinterpreted. So for now, I’m not going around wishing others “Happy Indigenous Peoples Day," the way I might proffer a “Happy Halloween” or “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

It seems so … well … un-Indigenous.

You see, Indigenous people do not call attention to themselves. Not a single Indigenous nation ever held up a flag to invite a missionary or conquistador to bring them smallpox, exploit their natural resources, and colonize them so profoundly that their traditions and language died. You’ll never see an Indigenous native in his or her right mind holding up a sign demanding their rights, or begging for food on the corner in front of strangers. You’ll never see Indigenous parents demanding child or elderly care so they can pursue careers. You’ll never see them making headlines crying about losing their possessions after a hurricane.

No. Indigenous people are strong and silent. Our knowledge is our wealth and it is offshore. I, for one, hope it stays this way. I am happy to be lost in the crowd, mistaken as a member of another ethnic group. I hope the fun I’ve had with it continues.

I realize now that some things, such as indigenous medicine and philosophy are better left protected, and that it is best to be unknown than repeatedly forgotten.