Facing the Fire: American Indian Literature and the Pedagogy of Anger

January 2001

Class ends; I talk with a small group of students. In this one seminar, the group after class consists mainly of Navajo students. I return to my office, close the door; I'm done for the day. Knock, knock. It is one of the seminar's white students, looking a little pained: "I'm always worried I'm going to say the wrong thing. She's so angry and I know she judges me, us. What am I supposed to do? I'm just trying to learn, but I don't want to be attacked, it makes me feel uncomfortable."

February 2001

"Most people think that Truck Schultz is racist, but I agree with many of his ideas." This comment on a listserv discussion prompts a furious reply from a Native student, a rhetorically sophisticated reply, that alludes to the rage that perhaps gives rise to the "Indian Killer" in Sherman Alexie's novel of the same name. The student implies that the author of the posting better watch out, since he would show her and anyone else just how "savage" he could be. Some students try to mediate the dispute, others stop participating, others notify me; one notifies the campus police.

March 2001

"This is the kind of racist crap from my classmates and most of my teachers that I'm no longer going to put up with! You all (pointing at a row of non-Native students) don't know what it's like to go to school here. I took last semester off and could barely function: it was all I could do to take care of my kids; I didn't want to leave the house. I'm in this class because I know this professor isn't going to put me in jeopardy."

April 2001

"Esther Belin's 'Ruby's Answer' [1999] is so angry. It made me feel bad when she read it at the reading last night."

June 2001

Comment made during the first hour of the first day of a National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH) Summer Institute for High School Teachers on the teaching of American Indian Literature. I am the lead faculty member and the high school teachers, from all over the nation, selected this five-week institute because of their personal interest. A middle-aged white woman: "Why are these Native American writers so angry? I find them so disturbing. How do they expect to build bridges with this sort of attitude?"

June 2001

Second hour of the first day of the NEH Summer Institute. An American Indian woman, after scanning the packet of secondary articles, all authored by Native scholars and public intellectuals: "None of these writers seem Indian to me. Look how they write. This is not how Indian people talk."

July 2001

Three weeks into the NEH Summer Institute:

"There's not room in my high school's curriculum for Native American history and literature."

—a white male political science teacher

"What do you mean, there's not room? Listen to yourself! I'm sick of this attitude!"

—a history teacher who is American Indian

July 2001

Three weeks and two more days into the NEH Summer Institute. After a heated discussion, primarily among the seminar participants of color, about refusing to romanticize the past, a white seminar participant says, "Why can't we all just try to get along today? We have more in common with each other than we have differences." Silence. An African American woman responds, finally, "You just don't get it." She slams her folder on her desk to emphasize her point and rushes out of the seminar. Awkward silence.

September 2001

Introductory College Honors course—beginning a unit on Native writers. Of the 39 students, 32 of whom are white, only 3 have read anything (even a poem) by a writer of Native descent. I'...