A new forum discussion has been started on the Indigenous Caribbean Network. Depending on the level of interest, we might take this into the new chat room on the ICN. The outline of the intent of the discussion is as follows:
Indigenous can be read in many different ways. Some link the idea of indigenous to notions of race, to being "Amerindian", to ideas of ancient ancestry that predates that of all other groups resident in a given territory. Others see indigenous as being local, as belonging here, as being native in a broad sense.
Sometimes the differences in these ideas of indigenous can occasion real struggles, for example, the way the Guyanese Organisation of Indigenous People wants the Guyanese Government to stop using the term Amerindian (as in Minister of Amerindian Affairs) and to use the term indigenous when speaking only of those who have been called Amerindian. The government refuses, thus far, saying that all Guyanese are indigenous, as in native, as in born in Guyana and belonging in Guyana.
There doesn't appear to be a "correct" answer here that everyone will agree with, let alone a simple solution. I think the best we can do is to fully air all possible sides on this issue. Can "indigenous" in the Caribbean today really be a matter of "race"? Is indigenous rooted in DNA percentages? What do you think?
Indigenous can be read in many different ways. Some link the idea of indigenous to notions of race, to being "Amerindian", to ideas of ancient ancestry that predates that of all other groups resident in a given territory. Others see indigenous as being local, as belonging here, as being native in a broad sense.
Sometimes the differences in these ideas of indigenous can occasion real struggles, for example, the way the Guyanese Organisation of Indigenous People wants the Guyanese Government to stop using the term Amerindian (as in Minister of Amerindian Affairs) and to use the term indigenous when speaking only of those who have been called Amerindian. The government refuses, thus far, saying that all Guyanese are indigenous, as in native, as in born in Guyana and belonging in Guyana.
There doesn't appear to be a "correct" answer here that everyone will agree with, let alone a simple solution. I think the best we can do is to fully air all possible sides on this issue. Can "indigenous" in the Caribbean today really be a matter of "race"? Is indigenous rooted in DNA percentages? What do you think?
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3 comments:
Long ago, probably before you were born, my family went to the West Indies and lived there for about a year. I was four and remember turning five as we left Mustique and went on (by steamer) to Grenada, where we stayed the longest. I can remember St. Vincent, Bequi, Mustique, Martinique, and as if in a haze, Puerto Rico, where I earned a scar from a knee-scrape while disembarking from a seaplane.
You will apprehend then, that we were only "tourists". Nonetheless, I have never recovered from this journey. It is as if a piece of my identity was abandoned somewhere under a palm or breadfruit tree, where the wind sometimes smelled of tamarind and we children often saw huge iguanas running to hide from us behind spiky agaves. Once, sadly, we were taken to see a captured giant sea turtle, alive on its back in some proud neighbors' shed.
We felt ourselves completely at home and "explored" as much as we could, being three boisterous white kids from NY, semi-supervised by a pleasantly slow and elderly Vincentian babysitter, and by parents consumed in the romantic notion of being writers together.
While my mother taught my older brother (and imitating them, I tried teaching my small sister) to read English, Gillie taught us (often in patois) some wisdom and caution: to approach jellyfish, lizards, and certain plants with respect for their powers, and always to fear death by sea.
Later I became a literary academic, with some training in history, anthropology, and genealogy. My take on my very colonialist visit to the Caribbean has changed a lot, but I still feel enticed by a magic there. The people had a greatness and a pride, which I now attribute to their Caribbean and African ancestries (blended with Spanish/ European and Eurasian roots), to their particular culture of survival into a confusing modern world.
In the end, what more can I express but my admiration and gratitude to have had this chance to briefly and vividly share such lives, in my ignorance and innocence? Apparently I returned to "The States" with a West Indian accent that took a while to disappear.
And what do I think being indigenous is? It is loving the place where you find yourself, and knowing as much as you possibly can know about how it has given you your origins. Caring for this knowledge is an art more than a science, because you have to incorporate so many mixtures, so many losses.
Had I stayed in those islands for the rest of my life, my descendants would have contributed to the indigenous peoples of its future. But I would never dare to call myself indigenous, because my history, even living there permanently, would carry the mark of my origins: Anglo-European with some NA in the mix; born elsewhere.
Did I get this lifelong hankering for the W.I.s because of my NA DNA? Am I an unbeknownst NY Taino or Carib? That would make a great story, never to be "proven" in reality. It would also be enormously co-optive, which is typical for a white person. A great many of us want to share our heritage with those whom our ancestors oppressed and nearly destroyed. We think that if we can show a link to native born peoples, we can have some absolution. I believe that such an absolution is imaginary. White nortamericanos have to live on the edges of many cultures, even the European ones. We are truly the indigenous Banished! and we must accept this continually. That's "our" "white" life.
I hope I've said enough to get the talk going, even if it invites a bit of bashing. Be as gentle with me as you can!
Long ago, probably before you were born, my family went to the West Indies and lived there for about a year. I was four and remember turning five as we left Mustique and went on (by steamer) to Grenada, where we stayed the longest. I can remember St. Vincent, Bequi, Mustique, Martinique, and as if in a haze, Puerto Rico, where I earned a scar from a knee-scrape while disembarking from a seaplane.
You will apprehend then, that we were only "tourists". Nonetheless, I have never recovered from this journey. It is as if a piece of my identity was abandoned somewhere under a palm or breadfruit tree, where the wind sometimes smelled of tamarind and we children often saw huge iguanas running to hide from us behind spiky agaves. Once, sadly, we were taken to see a captured giant sea turtle, alive on its back in some proud neighbors' shed.
We felt ourselves completely at home and "explored" as much as we could, being three boisterous white kids from NY, semi-supervised by a pleasantly slow and elderly Vincentian babysitter, and by parents consumed in the romantic notion of being writers together.
While my mother taught my older brother (and imitating them, I tried teaching my small sister) to read English, Gillie taught us (often in patois) some wisdom and caution: to approach jellyfish, lizards, and certain plants with respect for their powers, and always to fear death by sea.
Later I became a literary academic, with some training in history, anthropology, and genealogy. My take on my very colonialist visit to the Caribbean has changed a lot, but I still feel enticed by a magic there. The people had a greatness and a pride, which I now attribute to their Caribbean and African ancestries (blended with Spanish/ European and Eurasian roots), to their particular culture of survival into a confusing modern world.
In the end, what more can I express but my admiration and gratitude to have had this chance to briefly and vividly share such lives, in my ignorance and innocence? Apparently I returned to "The States" with a West Indian accent that took a while to disappear.
And what do I think being indigenous is? It is loving the place where you find yourself, and knowing as much as you possibly can know about how it has given you your origins. Caring for this knowledge is an art more than a science, because you have to incorporate so many mixtures, so many losses.
Had I stayed in those islands for the rest of my life, my descendants would have contributed to the indigenous peoples of its future. But I would never dare to call myself indigenous, because my history, even living there permanently, would carry the mark of my origins: Anglo-European with some NA in the mix; born elsewhere.
Did I get this lifelong hankering for the W.I.s because of my NA DNA? Am I an unbeknownst NY Taino or Carib? That would make a great story, never to be "proven" in reality. It would also be enormously co-optive, which is typical for a white person. A great many of us want to share our heritage with those whom our ancestors oppressed and nearly destroyed. We think that if we can show a link to native born peoples, we can have some absolution. I believe that such an absolution is imaginary. White nortamericanos have to live on the edges of many cultures, even the European ones. We are truly the indigenous Banished! and we must accept this continually. That's "our" "white" life.
I hope I've said enough to get the talk going, even if it invites a bit of bashing. Be as gentle with me as you can!
Personally I am grateful for this very thoughtful contribution by the writer above. It's the kind of piece that makes me wish I could read much more, and I fully agree with the sentiments expressed in the message, especially with some of the sharper points toward the end of the message.
Many thanks for contributing.
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