Still Here, But Unseen: The Lack of Indigenous Representation and Its Consequences
When you find a character you relate to in media, how much of that character are you able to see in yourself? How important is it that you and the character (or characters) have something in common? It’s human nature to gravitate towards personalities and stories we see ourselves in. They give us meaningful ways to experience situations we’d otherwise never encounter, or the ability to fantasize about living lives we’ll otherwise never be able to live. It’s one of the reasons why the conversation about representation in media has become even hotter in recent years, because for decades media has only really catered to the experiences of one demographic.
And while we are seeing some positive changes in the diversity of our media, I’m still having a hard time finding characters I can relate to on more than just a superficial level. In part, this is because Indigenous representation in media is still sorely lacking. Further still queer Indigenous characters or Indigenous characters from my people’s territory are almost non-existent. As a matter of fact, the only Athabascan character I can name at all would be the titular Molly from Molly of Denali, a character made by Athabascan people primarily for Alaskan Native people to see themselves on TV.
For someone like me, a 30 year old, queer Athabascan/Yupik nerd who loves comics and fantasy, the closest I’ve ever come to even feeling like being represented was Korra, from The Legend of Korra. And she’s from a fictional tribe only loosely based on Yupik and Inuit peoples. But she’s a queer, Indigenous-adjacent, fully realized character. She’s the main character of her series, the hero and star of the show. And while I love Legend of Korra for what it is, Korra isn’t a representation for Alaskan Native people. She’s someone I think a lot of us love because she’s the closest thing to representation we’ve seen all our lives.
And that’s a problem not just for Alaskan Natives, but Indigenous people all over the country. When was the last time a Hollywood Blockbuster had an Indigenous protagonist? If around 2% of the US population is Native American, why do we only make up 0.5% of the roles in Hollywood movies? And then there’s the matter of the quality of representation, since not all Indigenous representation is made equally, and a lot of it is just plain harmful.
Take, for example, Disney’s Pocahontas (1995). While growing up I was enamoured with this film because of the Indigenous lead, and the fact that she’s voiced by an Alaskan Native. But, as is the case with a lot of Disney’s films, the truth surrounding the real Pocahontas’s story is much darker than what we’re given. Disney’s Pocahontas took all the liberties to turn the story of a child’s abduction, human trafficking, and indoctrination into English society into the story of a woman who seeks to peacefully integrate with the colonizers who came to plunder her people’s land for resources. (If you’re interested in the real story of Matoaka, also known as Pocahontas, be warned that hers is a dark and sad story but well worth learning the truth about.)
The film does a disservice to Indigenous Americans by misrepresenting our history and the violence that was done to us. It not only sanitizes, but romanticizes Matoaka’s story, and misrepresents the Powhatan people and their culture. And this is often the case with Indigenous characters in the media that actually makes an effort to include us. Rather than represent an actual Indigenous peoples and our cultures, we’re condensed into recognizable pan-Native American stereotypes. There are plenty of films, games, etc. in which the characters are simply referred to as “Native American” or “Native,” have some feathers and skins slapped into their character designs, and the audience is left with the stereotypical representation of what that is.
And, unfortunately, it works. Slap a feathered headdress on a person with brown skin and long black hair and most audiences will associate the character with “Native Americans.” It doesn’t even have to be a real person or a developed character, the image is so prevalent they use it for sports mascots and brand logos. And more than being offensive, studies have shown the images to be harmful both to young Native kids and to their non-Native peer’s perception of us and our cultures. In certain case studies, around 40% of non-Native people polled didn’t think Indigenous people were even around anymore.
All of this directly ties back into the importance of not just representation, but proper representation. Native people, especially our children, deserve to see their reflections on their screens. We deserve to have our people and our tribes represented, not just slammed into fictionalized caricatures of our people or amalgamated into some singular “Native American” identity. Athabascan children have Molly of Denali now, but we still need so much more, and Ojibwe, Algonquin, Cree, and hundreds of other tribes also deserve to be represented.
We need Indigenous creators to helm Indigenous projects with the same budget and fanfare Hollywood gives to their other films. Indigenous storylines in which we’re more than just the wise, mystical side character who points the white main character in the right direction. Characters who explicitly name their people and territory, even use their original language. We’re still here, and we deserve to be seen.
