My Experience with Indigenous Invisibility
November is Native American Heritage Month. I want to share my story because it is not unique. Many Native Americans have some form of this experience, especially if they leave their home communities. We are still here and we are diverse and vibrant peoples.
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When I was 14 years old, I went to 4-H Congress for the first time. 4-H Congress is the statewide conference for 4-H members that were teenagers. I had arrived! There were several workshops to choose from and I chose an anti-racism workshop. As a Native girl, I was interested in understanding what it meant to be anti-racist and how this movement included me. For the first exercise, we sat in a circle on the floor and there was a pile of little toys and figurines in the center. Our job was to choose an item that represented us and we would use the item for our introduction.
I picked a tiny generic looking totem pole. When I introduced myself, I explained that I was Native American; Waccamaw Siouan was my tribe and that we were often overlooked and not mentioned even though North Carolina had a large Native American population. “No one knows we are here.”
One of the two facilitators, thanked me for sharing. “As a “white presenting” Latina, I empathize with your invisibility.” I was taken aback. It was the first time I heard the term, “white presenting”. I knew about passing, but not that the world saw me as white. My culture, my community, my tribe, my history was all stripped from me in that moment and I realized that people didn’t see me as my people. I did not belong. I sat in that moment, invisible.
I was invisible because I didn’t look like a Native person should look like.
In high school, we had a special class my senior year for students who wanted to be teachers. I wanted to be a teacher because I never had a Native American teacher during my public school tenure. There were eight students in the class. Four of them were white girls, two Native Americans girls, one African American girl and one white boy. We had an assignment where we left campus to go to the big city of Wilmington to the Toys R Us toy store. We had a scavenger hunt for different types of toys.
One of the items were, “Count the number of multicultural dolls represented.” Even though we were in the big city, there were very few cultures represented. And surprise, absolutely no Native American dolls.
On the ride back, we talked about the scavenger hunt and what our take aways were for each of the items. On the multicultural dolls, I said, “It makes me feel like I don’t exist.”
One of the white girls in the class challenged my perspective and said, “It shouldn’t make you feel that way.”
I argued back, “It does make me feel less than; By not having a doll that represents me, you are saying that I am not important.”
I believe it was the use of the word, “you” that caused the conversation to derail and ended with her shouting that she had a Puerto Rican boyfriend and if her child wanted a black baby doll she would give her child a black baby doll. I know now that I triggered her white fragility. But this was my genuine reaction and I was standing my ground. I was going to be heard. My teacher could tell how upset I was and asked me to stay behind after class.
He said, “She will never know how you feel or why you feel that way. There is nothing you can say to her to make her hear you.” He added, “ I was in the Peace Corps and living in Africa, I can sympathize with not being in the majority. But until she has an experience like that, she will never know.”
This interaction reinforced my invisibility. Both through the lack of dolls and through the misunderstanding of my classmate; I was invisible, even as I tried not to be.
These interactions, twenty years later, are burned in my memory. The adults in those situations in an attempt to empathize and sympathize with my Indigenous invisibility, centered themselves and did not offer ways for me be less invisible. In fact, they left me helpless in a way. Helpless in the sense that I felt that I needed to overcompensate for my white presenting self. I felt that even when I spoke, white people would not hear me.
I would not be seen and I would not be heard. I was invisible.
However, Indigenous invisibility is not just regulated to one person and her one experience. Indigenous invisibility is a continual systemic problem. The history of the United States does not begin with its first peoples. It begins with the colonizers. There are no mentions of Indigenous heroes, entrepreneurs, inventors, or innovators in contemporary history books in school. In fact, in studying North Carolina history, there is no mention of us after the Trail of Tears, which is funny considering that there are 8 state recognized tribes in NC and NC has the largest population of Native Americans, east of the Mississippi. .
Our invisibility is also apparent in the lack of data. While we know in 2010, more Native Americans lived in the cities than on reservations, many cities do not provide a place to identify yourself as Native American. We are regulated to “Other”. In fact, many universities do not collect Native American data unless there is a study specifically for Native Americans.
There are over 6.79 million Native Americans living the United States. The fact is, that you likely have had an encounter with an Indigneous person and didn’t even realize it. Below I have included five ways you can fight against Indigenous Invisibility.
Research the history of your location. Acknowledge that not only were their Native peoples living where you live, but that they are still here.
Donate to Native American causes/movements.
Reach out to a local tribe or Native serving urban organization
Support Indigenous owned businesses.
Read books by Indigneous authors
If you want more information about Indigenous peoples and want to share with your littles, please join the Good Relatives Book Club. We have a wonderful group on Facebook. Click here to join.
