Griego: Old Disney scenes make mom take another look
January 20, 2003 - Rocky Mountain News
All this attention on whether a caricature of an Indian brave - hooded eyes, cheekbones like razors - is offensive as a school mascot has me wondering: Is anyone watching old Walt Disney movies?
It is only through my 4-year-old daughter, Des, that I have been reintroduced to such classic characters as the shucking and jiving black crows of Dumbo and Cinderella, blink, oh, blink, who will save me, blink? Let us not forget Peter Pan, a movie, which, quite frankly, I had forgotten. How about this ditty from the movie?
What makes the red man red?
What makes the red man red?
Why does he ask you, 'how?'
When did he first say, 'ugh?'
This is grunted by an Indian chief so grotesquely rendered - big nose and Neanderthal brow - it's hard to believe that just 50 years ago this was pretty common stuff. Then again, 50 years ago, American Indians in some states didn't have the right to vote.
I'm not suggesting we boycott Disney. On the contrary, the movies are telling - even valuable - snapshots of what society once considered acceptable. They reveal a time when entertainment consisted of vicious stereotyping. Oh, right, that's still going on.
Anyway, Disney was aware enough that instead of the Indian chief we now have Pocahontas, the beautiful, brave Indian princess who is in her own way a stereotype. And Peter Pan II, Return to Never Land, takes us back to an island where the Indians have disappeared, poof, not a mention of celluloid genocide.
Des has become fascinated by Indians. This started with Thanksgiving when many schools go through the usual routine. She came home with a construction paper headdress. She runs around the house pretending she's the good guy and if she is the good guy then I must be the bad guy, must always be the bad guy, and so she commands, "You be the Indian chief."
"Oh, no chief," she wails, hands clasped over heart, "please don't burn me at the stake." (For a while I was Stromboli, Pinocchio's hirsute, thieving gypsy, which prompted: "Please don't lock me in the cage." Just waiting for the day someone from Social Services overhears that one.)
You get the picture. My husband and I, in utter exhaustion, went along with Des' fantasies a couple times. Then, one day, my perky little girl turned to a stranger and opened up the conversation with: "What makes a red . . ." "Oh, look, Des," I blurted, shoving a magazine at her. "Look, at the pretty pictures."
My husband and I decide to fast-forward through the red man stuff. A friend recommends some children's books. We say, "Des, Indians are not like that, that's wrong." She says, "OK, now you be the chief."
This was not much of an issue growing up in New Mexico, the home of 22 American Indian tribes. The Indian of child's play was constantly counterbalanced by the Pueblo people we saw in town, from whom we brought bread, by the kids who blew us away in cross country. This balance is a little harder to find here where 74 percent of people are so-called non-Hispanic whites.
You may ask, why all the furor about mascots? Here's one reason. It's pretty easy to revere the Indian of the past and ignore the Indian of the present. It's darn comfortable to cling to an image, a perception, rather than to face the real thing. How many American Indian/African American/Hispanic children who don't fit the image hear: "Oh, you're not really American Indian/African American/Hispanic." (The worst perpetrators of this, by the way, tend to come from within the group. But that's another story.)
Learn to see people through the prism of stereotype and it's hard, really hard, not to keep doing it. Noble savage yesterday, drunk Indian today. If I write a word and ask you what group of people it describes, what will you say when I write: "shiftless?" Or "lazy?" Or "angry?" What about "money-grubbing?"
Stereotypes serve a function. They make the world simple, manageable, easy to define, easier still to dismiss. We in News Land, with our love of the extreme, the saint and the criminal, the gifted and the struggling, don't do a much better job than Disney.
For now, I'm turning off Peter Pan, finding the books my friend recommended, and today, a day that celebrates a dream still worthy of realization, I'm taking Des to a march.