I borrow only my title from Alfred Kazin's 1942
study
On
Native Grounds, an influential reading of modern American prose in
which Kazin never, by "Native," means American Indian writing from any region
of the Americas. My new book project,
On Native Southern Ground,
sets out to demonstrate that the South has long been a thriving locus
of American
Indian thinking and writing. I hope to supplement but also expand the
field
of Native Studies, which did not exist in 1942 and in which the vast
majority of critical work today (including my own first book) resists
regionalism but often homes in on Native writers and texts associated
with particular
regions, whether the American Southwest, the Pacific Northwest, or the
plains.
It is true that Native southern writers often choose to "talk about the
South" tacitly,
casting aside notions of a bounded southern region or culture area and
embracing a sense of home place that they define in their own terms as
Native southern
ground. But this point does not adequately explain why Native and Southern
Studies are such strangers.
Neither does my next point, which is
that American Indians are in no way relegated to "the South before 'the
South.'" Native
southern ground is not lost (or preliterate) ground, not simply a mistily
nostalgic pre-southern place, situated in some other culture's bracingly
chronological order and largely defined against the canonical non-Native
South, the post-southern non-Native South, and the most recent manifesto-driven
incarnation, the New (but still pretty much non-Native) South. Instead,
I argue that the South before the South remains very much a living presence,
a transcultural complex that, geographically as well as rhetorically,
operates on Native ground.
But as Maddox's observation perhaps
inadvertently points up, these places are not necessarily accessible
to non-Natives. For example, American Indian literature and criticism
that has to do with the South often does without "the South" as an explanatory
category, focusing instead on particular southeastern tribal nations
or on intellectual paradigms—such as Native American literary separatism—that,
for obvious reasons, do not rely on non-Native notions of regionalism.
Maddox is right, in other words, to see removal as a crucial, vexing
part of the
institutional and intellectual problem she discusses; but more attention
needs to be given to the diverse, creative, at times subversive ways
in which American Indian literatures and cultures of the South devise
countercolonial strategies that help them find places for themselves
in relation to the
South.
As it turns out, American Indians have not only been made separable
from the South, very much including its literature; American Indian literature
of the South also makes itself both separable and inseparable from southern
literature and "the South." Native theories and practices of intellectual
sovereignty, self-determination, and literary separatism emphasize Native
cultural identities, looking to
Muskogee
Creek,
Cherokee,
Osage,
and other tribal-national southern homelands and, in the process, operating
as a form
of strategic counter-removal. In these and other ways, this body of indigenous
literary work continues to speak indigenous truth to colonial power,
giving the lie to any suspicions that anti-Indian colonialism, persistent
as it
is, has succeeded in silencing, assimilating, speaking for, and otherwise
colonizing Indians out of existence in the South, however broadly defined
and whomever does the defining.
Published: 9 August 2007
© 2007 Eric Gary Anderson and
Southern
Spaces