I
have written about the topic of cultural appropriation before, and given that
this blog is largely devoting to exploring problematic aspects of speculative
fiction, I am particularly interested when conversations about cultural
appropriation arise within the context of science fiction or fantasy. The
latest example of such controversy appears to be acclaimed Harry Potter writer JK Rowling’s recent essay on her Pottermore website. Being part of the History of Magic in North America series, the piece is titled “The 14th to 17th Century” and concentrates upon the magical
community within the indigenous population of North America in distinction from
the European magical society her fans are already familiar with.
Before
I proceed to detail the developments of this controversy and address the
criticisms of Rowling’s writing, I should note that as a straight, white male I
don’t consider myself to be any authoritative position to dictate to
minorities, certainly not the indigenous inhabitants of the land my country
unjustly occupies. If I take issue with something a critic of Rowling has said,
it is not because I take issue with their concerns
but with their argument only. I
don’t believe there is anything inappropriate about defending the sanctity of
one’s cultural heritage against perceived exploitation, but there is nothing
wrong with mentioning the inadequacy of arguments pertaining to it. My
intention is not to “whitesplain” the situation by stating that critics such as
NK Jemisin or Dr. Keene are “overreacting” to a subject that is “just fantasy”.
For them, this isn’t just fantasy, it
is their history and their community and it is being eroded by ignorance. The best
way to dispel that ignorance in my opinion is through critical reflection which
I hope to provide here.
My
responses are not meant to discredit the concerns of Native Americans or any
other people of color, but merely to examine Rowling’s writing from my
perspective and offer commentary on the conversation taking place among some of
her critics. Just as I believe
Rowling was providing an alternative interpretation of Native American history,
rather than overwriting it, so too is it my intention to provide an alternative
commentary to that of her critics without ignoring the concerns they raise. As
a fan of her writing concerned about justice for minorities, I am invested in
the world of Harry Potter and
reconciling it with the demands of social justice. My interest in presenting
an interpretation of Rowling’s writing which leaves space for these two to be
reconciled. I believe that Rowling had good intentions, but produced ill
effects (which matter more); she may not have taken advantage of Native American people,
but she failed to take advantage of her position as a world-famous author
to be an ally for them. But in the situation of oppressed peoples, such a distinction is largely ineffectual.
Rowling’s
writing turned towards fan-community controversy when Dr. Adrienne Keene of the
blog Native Appropriations wrote a
response article addressing History of
Magic in North America. In a follow-up article, Keene states that “one of the largest fights in the
world of representations is to recognize Native peoples and
communities and cultures are diverse, complex, and vastly different
from one another. There is no such thing as one “Native American” anything.
Even in a fictional wizarding world”. African American fantasy author NKJemisin (a favorite author of mine) echoed this sentiment when she speculated that
Rowling “would never have dreamt of reducing all of Europe’s cultures to
“European wizarding tradition”; instead she created Durmstrang and Beauxbatons
and so on to capture the unique flavor of each of those cultures”. Jemisin
continues to say that “It would’ve taken some work for her to research Navajo
stories and pick (or request) some elements from that tradition that weren’t
stereotypical or sacred — and then for her to do it again with the Paiutes and
again with the Iroquois and so on.”
In
Jemisin’s opinion, Rowling’s writing would have been much richer “if she’d
mentioned the ruins of a “lost” school at Cahokia, full of dangerous magical
artifacts and the signs of mysterious, hasty abandonment? Or a New Orleanian
school founded by Marie Laveau, that practiced real vodoun and was open/known
to the locals as a temple — and in the old days as a safe place to plan slave
rebellions, a la Congo Square? Or what if she’d mentioned that ancient Death
Eater-ish wizards deliberately destroyed the magical school of Hawai’i — but
native Hawai’ians are rebuilding it now as Liliuokalani Institute, better than
before and open to all?” This all sounds fantastic and reveals the depth of
Jemisin’s creativity against the shallowness Rowling put on display. But I question
whether Rowling is fairly obligated to go into such detail within one small
piece of writing. The “The 14th
to 17th Century” juxtaposes generalizations of European and
North American magic against one another to contrast the new sense of Native
American magical practice and history against the familiarity of European wizardry.
I
am sympathetic to the yearning for more nuanced details as both a fan of fantasy
world-building and as an ally concerned about minority representation. It is
true and it is unfortunate that Native peoples are often only recognized as a
homogenous mass, when they are given recognition at all. It remains uncertain
how much Rowling will continue to expand and explore this part of her world.
The writing appears to be publicity material for the upcoming film Fantastical Beasts and Where to Find Them and
thus it seems unlikely that these writings will be significantly expanded (at
least not until after the film’s release, lest it spoil the material), nor does
it appear that they were ever intended to provide a critical and comprehensive
history of magic in North America. Rowling can be faulted for doing nothing to dispel
the illusion that Native Americans are a homogenous population, even if her
intention was to speak about populations in the aggregate. Rowling didn’t have
to detail the diversity amongst the indigenous tribes of North America, she
simply had to acknowledge that there is such diversity and I think it is a
fair assessment of her writing to say that she didn’t even do this. Rowling is
not defining Native Americans as a singular community, but that is only because
she hardly defines them at all.
In
Keene’s assessment, “Indigenous peoples are constantly situated as fantasy
creatures” and that there is a “pervasive and problematic narrative wherein
Native peoples are always “mystical” and “magical” and “spiritual”–able to talk
to animals, conjure spirits, perform magic, heal with “medicine” and destroy
with “curses.”” But in Rowling’s magical version of North America, “the overall
ratio of wizards to non-wizards seemed consistent across populations, as did
the attitudes of No-Majs (non-magic users), wherever they were born. In the
Native American community, some witches and wizards were accepted and even
lauded within their tribes, gaining reputations for healing as medicine men, or
outstanding hunters. However, others were stigmatized for their beliefs, often
on the basis that they were possessed by malevolent spirits.” In Rowling’s
world, all cultures possess the
potential for magic, and Native American tribal communities are no different,
nor are they stereotypically exceptionally gifted with magical talent. Rowling
neither neglects nor mystifies Native Americans. So while Rowling may apply the
abilities Keene notes to Native Americans, she does not do this as a stereotype
of them, since their capacity for magic is no different than any other
population. It cannot be considered a stereotype since it does not discriminate
Native Americans as a distinct community in regards to magical talent.
The
Native American practice of magic is distinguished from that of European
settlers in the latter’s use of the wand: “Wands channel magic so as to make
its effects both more precise and more powerful, although it is generally held
to be a mark of the very greatest witches and wizards that they have also been
able to produce wandless magic of a very high quality. As the Native American
Animagi and potion-makers demonstrated, wandless magic can attain great
complexity, but Charms and Transfiguration are very difficult without one.” Keene
responds by noting that “wands are what basically refines magic.
Wands are a European invention, so basically she’s demonstrating Eurocentric
superiority here–the introduction of European “technology” helps bring the
Native wizards to a new level. AKA colonial narrative 101.” While Rowling did
state that the wand was unique to the European magical community, she didn’t
suggest that it made wizards within that community superior to those native to
America. She merely mentioned that particular forms of magic were difficult
without the precision granted by the use of wand. While it appears that Native
Americans could benefit from utilizing wands, Rowling does not state that such
utilization would progress their civilization in any way. Rowling actually
alludes to advantages Native American
magicians possessed over Europeans: “The Native American wizarding community
was particularly gifted in animal and plant magic, its potions in particular
being of a sophistication beyond much that was known in Europe.” Keene is right
to be vigilant for ways in which fantasy reflects colonial narratives of
superiority, but I don’t recognize such a correspondence in Rowling’s writing here. But that’s not to say she isn’t to
be faulted elsewhere in her writing.
Rowling
devotes particular (in)attention to the narrative of skin-walkers (while
failing to specify that this legend is not universal among Native American
tribes). She states that “the legend of the Native American ‘skin walker’ – an
evil witch or wizard that can transform into an animal at will – has its basis
in fact. A legend grew up around the Native American Animagi, that they had
sacrificed close family members to gain their powers of transformation. In fact,
the majority of Animagi assumed animal forms to escape persecution or to hunt
for the tribe. Such derogatory rumors often originated with No-Maj medicine
men, who were sometimes faking magical powers themselves, and fearful of
exposure.” Much can be said of this one paragraph, because it touches not only
upon an appropriated aspect of sacred tradition, but it also deals with the
perceived reality of such legendary beings and the legitimacy of those who inform
their community about them. The precise meaning and implications of this
paragraph are ambiguous since it is referring beings (skin-walkers) that not
every reader will recognize as existing in our real world to begin with.
Without a pre-established familiarity with the subject, the line between
fantastical and historical mythology is obscured. Rowling does not claim that
the legend of the skin-walkers is itself an authentic Native American legend,
but that it is a legend about skin-walkers amongst Native Americans; it is a
“legend of the Native American ‘skin-walker’” and not a Native American legend
of skin-walkers. Recognizing such ambiguity, one fan tweeted to Rowling for
clarification regarding the skin-walkers asking “Were the skin-walkers evil or
not? Or were they simple animagus?” Rowling responded by saying that “in my
wizarding world, there were no skin-walkers. The legend was created by No-Majes
to demonize wizards.” In Rowling’s world, a skin-walker is just a demonized
wizard, no different than an ordinary (ordinarily magical) person. Rowling has denied the legitimacy of the legend in our world by equating it with the magic of her world.
A
great deal of the criticism directed at instances of cultural appropriation is
focused on how sacred artifacts of a community are reinterpreted against their
traditional significance. In and of itself, I do not consider the reinterpretation
of appropriated cultural markers to be inherently offensive so long as they are
not utilized to perpetuate offensive stereotypes or discredit the community
from which there were derived. If I appropriate the Palestinian keffiyeh only
to utilize it as part of a “terrorist” costume, this would be wrong since I am
only using it to perpetuate a false narrative about Palestinian identity while
discrediting the resistance to preserve that identity against occupation. It is
no wonder that Native Americans take offense to Rowling writing that the
skin-walker legend was spread through fraudulent Native American medicine men.
Such a statement goes beyond merely providing an alternative explanation of
Native American spirituality. If Rowling was merely offering an alternative
explanation of skin-walkers as magical beings in her world, I don’t think she
would have received the same extent of criticism, nor would she have deserved
it. But instead she presented the legend as a lie perpetuated by Native American spiritual elders themselves. In
so doing, she is erasing an authentic aspect of Native American tribal
tradition by reducing it to a fantastical farce. Rowling isn’t equating Native American tradition with
magic, she is erasing it and replacing it with her own magical fiction. She
is inserting her own authority over Native American tradition while feigning
authorial responsibility for her reinterpretation by making Native Americans themselves
responsible for the difference and problematically makes it due to the lies of their spiritual authorities.
Keene is concerned that “if Indigenous
spirituality becomes conflated with fantasy “magic”–how can we expect lawmakers
and the public to be allies in the protection of these spaces”. Although JK
Rowling is appropriating elements of
Native American tradition, she is not divorcing
it from its historical context. Some fantasy authors appropriate recognizable
elements of real, historical cultures but make them part of a purely
fantastical culture in their fictional world, thereby stripping them of their
real-world significance. If a sacred symbol becomes synonymous with a fictional
culture, it ceases to command respect for the real world cultures that identify
with it. Rowling may fail to state that skin-walkers are specific to certain indigenous
tribes of America, but she at least maintains that they are a part of Native
American spirituality. Unfortunately, Rowling presents this spirituality as a fraud, which isn’t an ideal improvement, even if it’s only in the
context of a magical alternative history. Especially when there is no good
reason for Rowling to portray Native American spirituality that way when the
premise of a magical alternative history allows herself to take it seriously. Rowling
could have just as easily considered medicine men as endowed with both magical and spiritual authority and
simply accepted the legend of skin-walkers as it is. If Rowling was going to
reinterpret a Native American legend by placing it within the context of her
magical alternative history, it isn’t clear why she felt the need to explain it
by discrediting Native American spiritual leaders. Even though she is referring
to them in a fictional context, their role in Native American society and
relationship with skin-walkers is not fictional
but is a lived experience, and therefore even discrediting them in fantasy
fiction, can do real harm to Native
American communities, as evidenced by the negative reaction her writing has elicited.
But while it may be insensitive and
offensive for Rowling to write off medicine men as frauds selling a false
spirituality, most readers would nevertheless consider that Native American
spirituality is false. Readers may not consider Native American legends to be
part of fraudulent conspiracy against their own community, but they probably do
believe that such legends are at best inspiring stories, and at worst ignorant
delusions. Those positioned as allies of Native Americans offended by Rowling’s
writing are unlikely to believe in such beings unless they follow the spiritual
tradition of those particular tribes with a concept of skin-walkers. Anyone
outside of these communities would either deny their existence outright as mere
folklore or delusion or reinterpret in their own spiritual tradition (a
Christian may consider skin-walkers to be demons, for example). So when Rowling
states that “in my wizarding world, there were no skin-walkers” she isn’t only talking about her fictional
world, but the real world as well, where most people would agree that there are
no skin-walkers. Many people were likely not even familiar with the concept of
such beings until Rowling alluded to them. It is not as if Rowling is
responsible for most people denying the existence of skin-walkers, nor is it
her duty to be an apologist for unique indigenous spiritualties. It is entirely understandable for Native Americans to be disappointed in Rowling for not doing more to define their culture authentically but it is less certain that Rowling is under any obligation to be such an ally. Especially when what she says does not differ radically from what most people, allies or not of Native Americans, believe themselves to be true.
To fault Rowling with the denial of the
existence of skin-walkers in her fictional world, when most people already deny
their existence in the real world, seems to create more problems than it
addresses. The implication is that it is offensive to deny the existence of
spiritual beings in other communities, even when they are not recognized by or
when they contradict that of one’s own religious heritage. The ideology this
would require seems neither practical nor intelligible. We may not publish
stories saying as much as Rowling does, but we don’t have to; the dismissal of
one another’s spiritual traditions as mere fantasies is a pervasive and
essential aspect of our lives. Spiritual credulity has its limits. Rowling
didn’t slander the reputation of a spirituality that most people took seriously
before her publication. Most of them were probably not even aware of it in any
detail (as limited as the details Rowling provides are) before her writing and
remain unchanged in their opinion after having read it. Rowling certainly can’t
be said to have gone out of her way to take Native American spirituality seriously, but how many of her
non-Native American critics could say that they do? If Rowling can be faulted here, it is simply for not being
polite enough to refrain from what most of us already think quietly to
ourselves.
According
to Keene, “there is an entire industry of plastic shamans selling ceremonies, or
places like Urban Outfitters selling “smudge kits” and fake eagle feathers.”
This concern is very real, since it touches upon more than merely appropriating
elements of another culture, but actually profiting off of the exploitive
commercialization of cultural artifacts. If Rowling’s ventures into the world
of American magic expand and “Native American-themed” wizarding merchandize is
generated, one hopes that it becomes an opportunity for Native Americans
themselves to contribute to, and benefit from, the venture. How much more
beautiful and authentic would the collection be if it was designed by artists
of various tribes (rather than having the empty signifier of generically
“Native American”), each with their own unique aesthetics, and each of which
would benefit from such a partnership by being entitled to a portion of the
profit. Keene herself echoes this hope when she says that she wants “Native peoples
to be able to represent ourselves. I love the idea of Indigenous science
fiction, of indigenous futurisms, of indigenous fanfiction, and indigenous
characters in things comics and superhero storylines. I know it can be done,
and it can be done right and done well. But it has to be done carefully, with
boundaries respected (i.e. not throwing around Skin-walkers casually in a
trailer), and frankly, I want Native peoples to write it. We’ve been
misrepresented by outsiders every which-way, and it’s time for us to reclaim
our stories and images, and push them into the future, ourselves”.
I
cannot applaud this more. I would love to see more Native fantasy authors (I
need to do the work and discover those that already exist), not only so that
they can provide a voice to the genre but also their communities. I believe
that fantasy is an invaluable literary asset to marginalized peoples; as a
literature that presents a world that is at times wholly “other” than our own,
it is the perfect medium by which the “other” can critique ideologies assumed
to be synonymous with reality. I was hoping that Keene would use her writing as
an opportunity to present a reclaimed image of her people. Instead she states
that “what you do need to know is that the belief of these things
(beings?) has a deep and powerful place in Navajo understandings of the
world. It is connected to many other concepts and many other ceremonial
understandings and lifeways. It is not just a scary story, or something to tell
kids to get them to behave, it’s much deeper than that. My own community also
has shape-shifters, but I’m not delving into that either” and “What did I
decide? That you don’t need to know. It’s not for you to know. I am performing
a refusal.”
I find this performative refusal
perplexing given her preceding statements about asserting one’s identity and
defining one’s own narrative. But then again, it’s entirely legitimate to view
Dr. Keene’s refusal as a statement that it is her people’s narrative, not Rowling’s and not mine. If and when she
or any other indigenous person wants to tell the story of their people it will
be on their times and in their time. I can’t help but feel that Keene
overlooked a great opportunity to redefine JK Rowling’s erroneous narrative
further, but I am in no position to demand that Keene divulge further
information on something she considers sacred and undeserving of casual or even
critical discussion. Marginalized people of color are entitled to whatever
strategy they feel best preserves the sacred traditions of their community. My only
reservation is that this refusal to differentiate an authentic skin-walker
narrative from the one Rowling created seems to leave Rowling with the
authoritative voice. If Native American narratives of their own traditions are do
not enter public discourse when they have a platform to deliver it, then it
seems like white authors will be left to determine the public impression of indigenous
mythology. It is unfortunate that Keene’s performative refusal is perceived by
some as hypocritically displaying the same indifference as Rowling herself. The
difference is that Keene is entitled to
such silence, Rowling is not.
Keene and other people of color are
under no obligation to the public to divulge their history in response to
someone imposing their own erroneous narrative on it. Rowling positioned
herself as a voice on Native American culture and history, fantastical or
otherwise. She could have done more to ensure that her voice was sympathetic to
the people she was speaking on behalf of. I don’t think it is fair to accuse
Rowling of promoting stereotypes of
Native American people, primarily because such an accusation presumes a level
of detail her writing simply doesn’t possess. But in such ambiguity Rowling
repeatedly failed to use her writing as an opportunity to confront established
stereotypes and step beyond them. Rowling had an opportunity to present her readers with a more authentic image of Native American spirituality, and yet she elected not to, for no apparently advantageous reason. The advantage of the fantasy genre is that
in taking us outside of our presumed “real’ world into an “other” world, we are
given a greater perspective from which to appreciate the world. Rowling had an
opportunity to transport readers into the world of America’s indigenous
inhabitants and instead she merely transported readers to a backstory for an
upcoming film. This is both a failed opportunity to use her power and privilege
to be an ally to a people who generally lack such opportunities, but it was also
a failure for her to live up to expectations for her writing and the fantasy
genre in general. I’m not angry at JK
Rowling so much as I am disappointed that she could be content with so little.
