When we watch animated Disney films like Peter Pan or Pocahontas, they seem like regular children’s movies. Nothing could be harmful about them, right? Wrong.
Peter Pan is one of the most popular and enduring inauthentic representations of Indigenous characters globally. It also perpetuates the circulation of the negative messaging and stereotypes that plague First Nations—the Indigenous peoples of North America, which includes the First Nations in Canada and Hawaiians, Native American tribes, and Alaska Native groups in the United States—peoples. But it’s not just how the First Nations characters look or are talked about that’s the problem. They also sound ignorant, foreign, childlike, uncivilized, and less fluent because they use English in non-standard ways. For example, if a character uses “heap,” as in “heap big lie” instead of “very (big lie)” when making a statement, the viewer will hear their speech as foreign and less fluent. We call these features of the character’s speech linguistic imagery. Linguistic imagery is made up of the ways in which characters use language, both spoken and written.
Take for example the scene in Peter Pan when the Indian chief turns to his people (the fictional Piccaninny tribe) and says, “Teach-um pale face brother about the red man,” talking about Peter Pan (and his friends) before the Indians all break into song, singing “What Made the Red Man Red.” There are several elements happening here. First, the phrase “teach-um” portrays the Chief as a speaker of a non-standard variety of English and as non-fluent and incapable of speaking in supposedly grammatically correct ways when compared to the other characters and to the audience’s experiences with standardized English. Second, the contrast of “pale face brother” and “red man” racializes the characters. The song emphasizes this racial trope by elaborating on how Indians became racially different from the White man. Last, but not least, the name of the tribe is a derogatory, racialized term that underscores the childishness and the coloredness of the characters (and by extension, Native Americans and other racialized groups). Even if these scenes are framed as a young boy’s imagination indexing his desire to stay youthful, the point is that these racializing and racist representations are ingrained early in children’s minds (and with dire consequences).
Linguistic imagery helps to create identities and to distinguish characters in two ways. It uses features of language that many people already connect with certain identities (like “y’all” as being associated with Southerners) and it contrasts these features (like “you guys” and “y’all”) with school-defined grammatical features (like “you” in plural form). One of the most powerful ways that language creates or reinforces stereotypes is through contrast. One of the central ways that these contrasts become socially meaningful is by comparing standard forms or behaviors (institutionalized, valued ways of doing something by those in power) with non-standard forms or behaviors (non-institutionalized, less valued ways of doing something). In our case, we find that certain words and sounds indicate and correspond with an Indigenous identity, usually in contrast with non-Indigenous characters.
Consider this excerpt from Peter Pan. Based on a story written by J. M. Barrie, Peter Pan is the title character who likes to play pranks and to lead the “Lost Boys,” a band of like-minded younger mates, into fantastic predicaments and other mischief, like antagonizing pirates such as Captain Hook and capturing, or being captured by, Indians and Indian princesses like Tiger Lily and her father, the Chief. They live in a fantasy world called Neverland that can be reached only by flying. With a sprinkling of Tinker Bell’s (Peter’s pixie companion) magic, John, Michael, and Wendy have flown with Peter Pan from their home in London to Neverland. In the scene transcribed below, the Indians have tied up the Lost Boys, including Wendy’s brothers, John and Michael. The Chief, leader of the Piccaninnies (or “redskins”) and also Tiger Lily’s father, interrogates John, Michael, and the Lost Boys as to the whereabouts of his daughter.
19 Chief: Me no spoof-um.
20 Where you hide Princess Tiger Lily?
21 Boy 1: Uh, Tiger Lily?
22 Boy 4: We ain’t got your old princess.
23 John: I’ve certainly never seen her.
24 Michael: Me neither.
25 Boy 2: Honest we don’t.
26 Chief: Heap big lie.
27 If Tiger Lily not back by sunset (2) burn-um at stake.
When you read this aloud to yourself, what do you hear? Does the Chief’s voice sound like the boys’ voices? What differences do you notice? Grammatically, they’re quite different. Compare the Chief’s statement in line 19 with John’s statement in line 23. The Chief uses “me” for “I” whereas John uses “I.” The Chief uses “no” instead of “not,” while John uses “never” in a standardized English way. The Chief uses “um” to conjugate “spoof,” neither of which is an everyday word in standardized English while John uses words arranged and conjugated in expected, typical ways. If we “corrected” or “translated” the Chief’s statement into a standardized form of English (or John’s style), it’d be something like “I’m not kidding.” Now try “correcting” the Chief’s statements in lines 26 and 27 and see if the pattern holds.
The combination of linguistic and visual features creates a character’s identity. The combination also coordinates positive and negative interpretations of these features with certain social and moral positions. For example, Rosina Lippi-Green, a sociolinguist who wrote a foundational book on language and stereotypes called English with an Accent, found that villains are more likely to speak a non-American standard variety of English than heroes are. In the scene from Peter Pan, we find support for this claim. The Chief speaks a remarkably different style of English than the main characters (Peter Pan, Wendy, and her brothers). These linguistic images perpetuate negative ideas of Indigenous peoples, especially stereotypes of Indigenous peoples’ ability to use language.
Why does this matter? Hollywood media attracts a wide range of audiences, from children to adults, nationally and internationally, in English as well as translated into other languages. Audiences continually learn about different people and cultures from these mass media. But it’s not only the visually racist depictions or images that need to be analyzed or addressed—it’s the linguistic images too. They give voice to stereotypes.
The linguistic images do violence by rendering contemporary Indigenous peoples’ languages and fluencies invisible. By analyzing the grammatical features of linguistic images in popular media—the “ughs,” the “hows,” the “heap bigs,” and the “many moons”—the stereotypes that are right in front of us become visible, raising our awareness of language’s role in stereotyping and these ongoing (linguistic) forms of colonization.
They also do harm in other ways. One way they do harm is how they teach White audience members about racial difference. Unintentionally or not, these representations teach uninformed audience members who don’t identify with the racialized characters that this is how people “like that” talk, behave, and are themselves ignorant. The second way they do harm is by portraying Indigenous characters and other characters of color as “less than.” This dichotomy sustains and normalizes White supremacy while also teaching Indigenous and non-White audience members that they are not as capable, smart, or fluent as their White counterparts. For Indigenous youth, this has had dire consequences, undermining their self-esteem and leading some young Native people to consider suicide.
The power of these media representations lies in the assumption that they are authentic—grounded in reality, in real peoples’ behaviors, cultural practices, and histories. Like race, authenticity is another concept used to evaluate differences and to devalue Indigenous peoples’ assessments of difference as well as those of other people of color; it’s a colonial and imperialist discourse grounded in White supremacy. That is, determinations of authenticity are from a White, colonial perspective and from a White economy of value rather than an Indigenous one. One example of this difference is explored by Navajo filmmaker Bennie Klain in his breathtaking and groundbreaking documentary, Weaving Worlds (Trickster Films, 2008). He shows how Navajo weavers have very different criteria and aesthetics when evaluating Navajo rugs than do White tourists, who value the “traditional” rugs you can find on Antiques Roadshow over rugs woven with symbols of U.S. nationalism (such as bald eagles, American flags). The creativity and the mastery of Navajo weavers’ own virtuosity is overshadowed by tourists’ desire to acquire the oldest and most “authentic” versions. This hubris similarly discolors evaluations of linguistic virtuosity.
Contemporary Indigenous peoples speak many different languages, including different varieties of English. What is important to keep in mind is that their speech is not less fluent, ad hoc, nor random. Indigenous speakers don’t mix up words, sounds, and languages in ungrammatical ways, except perhaps intentionally to make a point about the ridiculous linguistic imagery of Hollywood films. They do use language(s) in ways that reflect their heritage, their experiences, and the environments that they have learned from and grown up in. Linguists, anthropologists, and researchers (including Indigenous communities) are only just now beginning to appreciate the linguistic diversity and linguistic virtuosity present within Indigenous communities. They, and we, are figuring out how to stand up to and challenge the racist and racializing imagery of popular (U.S.) culture.
Because popular media, especially Hollywood, reach audiences of all ages, it becomes imperative that we as students and scholars create and use tools for calling out and challenging inauthentic and racist representations. One way to do that is by paying attention to how people sound and interpreting what we hear as different as simply that, a characterological difference, rather than relying on some mainstream interpretation (and evaluation) of the perceived difference. That is, avoid evaluating the difference from your own perspective, and consider: what other perspective might be relevant? Another character’s? The author’s? The nation’s? Furthermore, think about why you heard something as different; what’s it different from? What contrast made the difference stand out? We are taught to hear differences in specific ways (right/wrong, fluent/less fluent, formal/informal), and we are taught to apply that knowledge in specific ways (evaluations of ability). It’s time to silence Disneyfied de-authenticating stereotypes (and accompanying social hierarchy) and instead to celebrate the cacophony of voices that enrich our lives and, within that cacophony, to hear Indigenous peoples’ own voices.
