It seems like everyone and their great grandmother wants to be Indian. This is nothing new. There’s a name for folks who give off these mixed (smoke) signals: pretendians. From Iron Eyes Cody, Shania Twain, Justin Bieber, and Ward Churchill, to Elizabeth Warren and Andrea Smith. Those are just a few. And let’s not forget the over two-hundred questionable, self-proclaimed Cherokee tribes. Move over Rachel Dolezol, pretendian culture is a national pastime, with a long history right up there with baseball, hotdogs, and apple pie. It isn’t just for breakfast anymore!

 

Chances are, if you’re a pretendian, you are not aware that you’re a pretendian. That’s just part of the pretendian pathology. Remember Rachel from the sci-fi movie Bladerunner? Rachel didn’t know she was a replicant, she believed that she was human. She was programmed to think she was human. The only thing convincing her otherwise was the irresistible Harrison Ford making her an offer she couldn’t refuse.

 

Currently, there is no pretendian equivalent to Blade Runner’s “Voight-Kampff test”—the test used to identify replicant from human. And there is no official Native version of the old TV game show To Tell the Truth, called Will the Real Native Please Stand Up, though there totally should be, IMHO. So until that time comes, I’ve created a check off list which should help to identify anyone who might be ethnically confused.

 

Are You Are a Pretend Indian?

 

You might be a pretendian if you write “high cheekbones,” as proof of tribal citizenship when you’re applying for a job.

You might be a pretendian if Stands-with-a-Fist is your personal role model.

You might be a pretendian if both of your parents immigrated from Germany.

You might be a pretendian if you’re in need of a dreamcatcher intervention.

You might be a pretendian if you belong to a tribe that collects dues or is a registered non-profit organization.

You might be a pretendian if your grandmother never even met your supposed Indian ancestor.

You might be a pretendian if you carry war paint in your purse.

You might be a pretendian if you think blood quantum is measured in electron-volts.

You might be a pretendian if you have a wolf as a pet.

You might be a pretendian if you wear your regalia to the gym to work out in.

You might be a pretendian if you take selfies during sweats.

You might be a pretendian if you buy black hair dye by the case.

You might be a pretendian if you feel entitled and expect Native people to sublet their intellectual property to you without a deposit.

You might be a pretendian if at Thanksgiving you say “the Native Americans used EVERY part of the sacred turkey.”

You might be a pretendian if you really, really love horses but haven’t actually ever ridden one.

You might be a pretendian if Disney’s Pocahontas is your role model.

You might be a pretendian if you’ve legally changed your name from “Weissvogel” to “White Eagle Soaring.”

You might be a pretendian if you burn to a crisp in ten minutes of strong moonlight.

You might be a pretendian if your star quilt was bought at Target or has Chewbacca on it.

You might be a pretendian if you think immersing yourself in a rich, cultural experience means bathing in a bathtub full of yogurt.

You might be a pretendian if you think “Idle No More” is a 12-step anger support group.

You might be a pretendian if you’ve downloaded a compass app to your phone so you’ll always know the four directions.

You might be a pretendian if you think you are better at being Native than any other Native person in history.

You might be a pretendian if you measure your blood quantum by Starbucks cup sizes: short, tall, grande, venti.

You might be a pretendian if you cried during the movie “Avatar.”

You might be a pretendian if you’ve had a tanning bed membership since 1992 and buy self-tanning lotion by the case.

You might be a pretendian if you find your car at the mall’s parking lot by following your trail of turquoise and abalone.

You might be a pretendian if you say “aho” when getting your SUV detailed, and “in that good way” during meetings with your financial consultant.

You might be a pretendian if you smudge yourself in front of the Land ‘O Lakes butter aisle at the grocery store.

You might be a pretendian if you think sleeping with a Native person makes you Native by proximity.

*Stay tuned for “You Might Be a Super Indian If…”

 

Tiffany Midge is the recipient of the Kenyon Review’s Earthworks Prize
for Indigenous Poetry for The Woman Who Married a Bear (University of New
Mexico Press), and the Diane Decorah Memorial Poetry Prize for Outlaws,
Renegades and Saints; Diary of a Mixed-up Halfbreed (Greenfield Review
Press). She is a humor contributor to Indian Country Today Media Network
and has published fiction, essays, and poetry in The Rumpus, The Moss,
Waxwing, The Toast Butter Blog, and Okey-Pankey. Midge is a Professional
Indian (Hunkpapa Lakota), erstwhile ne'er-do-well, and poet laureate
hopeful who will settle for poet-want-fries-with-that. One day she hopes to
be the distinguished writer in residence in the Seattle Space Needle. She
Twitter opines at @TiffanyMidge.