Halloween has always been a scary time for me.
Not in the ghouls and goblins sense like it’s meant to be; but in the way that, for one day, my entire culture and people are reduced to skimpy, fringed, pseudo-suede numbers, beaded thunder birds egregiously cobbled together in factories overseas, war paint, and of course, headdresses.
For the low, low price of $24.99, you too, can be “Indian” for a day. My culture, a commodity. Something to be bought, worn, adorned, adored, tongue wagged at, and then thrown out the next day with candy wrappers and late night party remnants.
My name is Jenna Wolf. You may know me as Ms. Wolf, librarian, tech-enthusiast, teacher. I also happen to be Native American. A member of Mvskoke Creek Nation. And I am asking you, this Halloween, to reconsider dressing as an “Indian Princess”, “Poca-hottie”, or “Indian Chief”.
The reasons? For one, Native royalty doesn’t exist. But more importantly, you will be offending me, and an entire race of people.
Because we aren’t a monolithic culture. Merriam Webster defines monolithic as “exhibiting or characterized by often rigidly fixed uniformity”. We, Native Americans, are not all war bonnets and fringe. We are 566 federally recognized nations of people, with different languages, belief systems and ways of dress. And wearing war bonnets, or headdresses, in particular, is a privilege only given in certain tribes to men as a symbol of particular honors and achievements.
Halloween is a great starting point.
But I’ve noticed in recent years, “Native” has become trendy. As an avid festival goer, in the past 10 years, I have attended every major American musical festival–countless Coachella weekends and even a 10-day road trip to Bonnaroo. And in that time, festival goers flaunting headdresses has become as ubiquitous as the fundamental reason to head to the farm–the music itself.
As part of a social experiment and a fruitless attempt to educate my peers, I have been photographing festival goers in war bonnets for years. The most egregious experience came in 2014, at Bonnaroo, when my boyfriend Sean, a Navajo, asked to take a picture with two fellow festival goers wearing full, fake regalia. It just so happened he was raising awareness that day by sporting an OXDX “Don’t Trend on Me” t shirt. The festival goers happily posed for pictures and refused to recognize the irony, and pain, the entire situation elicited for him, and me.
In a letter to Bonnaroo organizers later that summer, I stressed that for us, it was impossible to believe that the festival’s mantra to “radiate positivity” could ever be true for Native peoples at the farm.
Not only did we, as ticket bearing attendees, witness countless acts of cultural appropriation, one of the bill’s 2014 performers was A Tribe Called Red, a Canadian act that blends traditional First Nations music with hip hop, moombahton, and other dance music genres. At one point during their set, they asked festival goers in the tent to take off their headdresses, as it was the ultimate slap in the face to be enjoying their music while disrespecting it by dancing and mocking in fake regalia (see here).
Bonnaroo has yet to respond.
So, let’s start a conversation. Tomorrow, I will not only be wearing an inanimate object as a costume in support of my pledge to “My culture is not a costume”, but I will also be sporting the above t-shirt to spark some dialogue. Come talk to me. Ask me anything.
As we say in my native Creek language, “Mvto! ” (“Thank you!”)
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Actor Amandla Sternberg, famous for playing “Rue” in the Hunger Games, explains cultural appropriation.
