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Inappropriation: The Contested Legacy of Y-Indian Guides
In 1926, Harold Keltner, a YMCA Boys Work secretary from St. Louis, and Joe Friday, a member of the Canadian Ojibwe First Peoples, channeled white middle-class fascination with Native Americans into what became the Y-Indian Guides youth program, engaging over a half million participants across the nation at the height of its 77-year history. Intended to soften the stereotypical stern father, the program traced a complicated thread of American history, touching upon themes of family, race, class, and privilege.
The Y-Indian Guides was a father-son (and later parent-child) program that encouraged real and enduring bonds through play and an authentic appreciation of family. While “playing Indian” seemed harmless to most participants during the program’s heyday, Paul Hillmer and Ryan Bean demonstrate the problematic nature of its methods. In the process of seeking to admire and emulate Indigenous Peoples, Y-Indian Guide participants often misrepresented American Indians and reinforced harmful stereotypes. Ultimately, this history demonstrates many ways in which American culture undermines and harms its Indigenous communities.
The Y-Indian Guides was a father-son (and later parent-child) program that encouraged real and enduring bonds through play and an authentic appreciation of family. While “playing Indian” seemed harmless to most participants during the program’s heyday, Paul Hillmer and Ryan Bean demonstrate the problematic nature of its methods. In the process of seeking to admire and emulate Indigenous Peoples, Y-Indian Guide participants often misrepresented American Indians and reinforced harmful stereotypes. Ultimately, this history demonstrates many ways in which American culture undermines and harms its Indigenous communities.
239 pages, Kindle Edition
Published March 31, 2023
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
November 9, 2024
Insightful and thoughtful historical analysis
My connection to the story of Y-Parent/Child programming goes back to seeing my uncle's family photo in an early 1970s Christmas card. I felt uncomfortable seeing my beaming uncle -- an often dour WWII disabled veteran -- dressed in a feathered headdress, surrounded by my cousins wearing a single feather and holding tomahawks.
Even at age 10, I found this imitation of a culture nearly exterminated in my home state of Minnesota very troubling.
From 1992-2011, my connection to the program was professional. As a YMCA staff member in charge of communications, I was honest about my discomfort with many aspects of a program that was cherished by my supervisors and board volunteers.
But when the media called, it was my job to be the spokesperson (in Olympia, Seattle, and eventually at Y-USA). And frankly, I was embarrassed on behalf of a great organization that I knew was struggling for all the reasons outlined in this thorough history.
The general divisiveness in American culture over matters of diversity and inclusion could be laid alongside the timeline of this story from the YMCA movement.
In my last years at Y-USA, I directed volunteer service and learning. Y-Adventure Guides, like its predecessor programs, depended upon volunteer leaders more than any other. As I traveled the country in my role, I heard countless stories about how parent-child programs had changed people's lives for the better, especially in communities where the program's emphasis on service to others was strong.
Unfortunately, issues like dads drinking alcohol in our camps also were widespread. Our camps dealt with dads (often who were multi-generational Y-Guides) who flew their private planes to campouts. In their entitled way, these men immediately handed over cash to cover the fines assessed for bringing coolers of alcoholic beverages. "My dad did it, and so will I."
One important aspect was missed in this treatise. Many of us with roots in child development felt that the labeling of "Indian Princesses" was doubly insulting. Not only was it offensive to Native American culture, but it put girls into a "precious" role on a pedestal, versus the active adventure of being a "guide" along with Dad.
I suspect many readers will be angry dads and their offspring who loved the experience that the Y offered. I appreciate how the authors tried their best to acknowledge this natural human response by those whose cherished traditions feel threatened.
The irony, of course, comes with how inconsistent it is for the same respect wasn't given to Native Americans whose cherished traditions were co-opted, at best, and largely mocked by the program's "tribes," for generations.
My connection to the story of Y-Parent/Child programming goes back to seeing my uncle's family photo in an early 1970s Christmas card. I felt uncomfortable seeing my beaming uncle -- an often dour WWII disabled veteran -- dressed in a feathered headdress, surrounded by my cousins wearing a single feather and holding tomahawks.
Even at age 10, I found this imitation of a culture nearly exterminated in my home state of Minnesota very troubling.
From 1992-2011, my connection to the program was professional. As a YMCA staff member in charge of communications, I was honest about my discomfort with many aspects of a program that was cherished by my supervisors and board volunteers.
But when the media called, it was my job to be the spokesperson (in Olympia, Seattle, and eventually at Y-USA). And frankly, I was embarrassed on behalf of a great organization that I knew was struggling for all the reasons outlined in this thorough history.
The general divisiveness in American culture over matters of diversity and inclusion could be laid alongside the timeline of this story from the YMCA movement.
In my last years at Y-USA, I directed volunteer service and learning. Y-Adventure Guides, like its predecessor programs, depended upon volunteer leaders more than any other. As I traveled the country in my role, I heard countless stories about how parent-child programs had changed people's lives for the better, especially in communities where the program's emphasis on service to others was strong.
Unfortunately, issues like dads drinking alcohol in our camps also were widespread. Our camps dealt with dads (often who were multi-generational Y-Guides) who flew their private planes to campouts. In their entitled way, these men immediately handed over cash to cover the fines assessed for bringing coolers of alcoholic beverages. "My dad did it, and so will I."
One important aspect was missed in this treatise. Many of us with roots in child development felt that the labeling of "Indian Princesses" was doubly insulting. Not only was it offensive to Native American culture, but it put girls into a "precious" role on a pedestal, versus the active adventure of being a "guide" along with Dad.
I suspect many readers will be angry dads and their offspring who loved the experience that the Y offered. I appreciate how the authors tried their best to acknowledge this natural human response by those whose cherished traditions feel threatened.
The irony, of course, comes with how inconsistent it is for the same respect wasn't given to Native Americans whose cherished traditions were co-opted, at best, and largely mocked by the program's "tribes," for generations.
May 8, 2023
Outstanding. As a former participant and director of the program, this book was an important read. I can’t recommend it highly enough for those in the Y movement, past participants and staff.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews