161 5 Internalizing Racial Identities Some people .docx

161
5
Internalizing Racial Identities
Some people with racially mixed parentage or heritage
experience great
difficulty asserting their preferred racial identities, especially
when
others continue to police these preferences and choices. How is
it that, at
a time of increased freedom of choice, individuals with mixed
race
parentage and heritage sometimes reject this opportunity to
choose all
races that apply? Why do some invest in the racial hierarchy
that divides
yet feel forced to choose “one and only one” race rather than
claim the
sum of their parts? Why do some multiracial people buy into the
false
notions of racial realness, thereby effectively disqualifying
themselves
or believing that they are not “really” the races that they claim?
Why do
some multiracial people internalize the racial identities affirmed
by
others rather than the ones that they themselves prefer (if and
when
differences exist between the two)? When will be the time for
multiracial people to freely choose their preferred racial

identities
without contestation? Why do multiracial people border patrol
themselves?
That multiracial individuals support and uphold racial
hierarchies
and categories based in part on their own racial ideologies and
actions
means they are not immune from developing problematic,
prejudicial
ways of thinking and participating in discriminatory action. It
may seem
counterintuitive that many multiracial people police racial
borders,
including their own. Their borders stand in contrast to the
border
blending suggested by statements about multiracial people
having “the
best of both worlds.”
One need only look at the ways that multiracial people
encounter
borderism from strangers, family members, and/or friends to
understand
auto-borderism, or a self-policing, border patrolling. Direct and
indirect
lines can be drawn socially between the border patrolling people
encounter in society and their own perpetuation of that practice
as
directed toward themselves and others.
Mills, Melinda. <i>The Borders of Race : Patrolling
"Multiracial" Identities</i>, Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2016.
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162 The Borders of Race
An observable pattern begins to emerge in which multiracial
people
experience resistance or opposition to claiming their preferred
identities,
thereby limiting their own choices (and those of others). In this
chapter,
I discuss the process expressed by some of my respondents who
policed
their own racial identities. I provide some explanations for
multiracial
people choosing to patrol, rather than blend, racial borders.
When Multiracial People Border Patrol Their Own Identities
In 1967, the Loving v. Virginia decision removed the ban on
interracial
marriages in the U.S. (see Alonso 2000; Noble Maillard and
Cuison

Villazor 2012). Ostensibly, the increase in interracial marriages
and in
the multiracial population can be attributed directly to this
decision, as
well as shifting social norms that accommodates interracial
intimacy and
families. What these effects of the Loving decision have
revealed, and
concealed at the same time, are the complexity and varied levels
of
mixture in interracial marriages and in individuals. That is, that
historic
moment, coupled with another (the Multiracial Movement of the
late
1990s and early 2000s), amplified attention to the existence of
racial
mixture at individual and familial levels (see Dalmage 2004a).
This
legislation and the subsequent collective social action of the 90s
made
much of the previously “hidden” racial mixtures appear. This
appearance seemed sudden, rather than a historical residue or a
pattern
that had been centuries in the making.
While multiracial identities are more easily accommodated in
general, some of the research respondents noted the difficulty in
expressing and having their preferred identities validated.
Instead of
being “racial border blenders,” many respondents primarily
opted for the
ostensibly easier option: singular racial identities. Based on
their
accounts of borders, they felt unable to assert their preferred
racial
identities. Instead, they often chose to dissolve their complex,

racial
realities into tidy, racial categories. As the earlier chapters (3
and 4)
reveal, asserting a singular racial identity publicly did not
always prove
a simple matter. Sometimes, it actually intensified the border
patrolling
these multiracial individuals faced.
Due to a lack of information about familial histories and racial
genealogies; encountering invalidation or opposition from
others; or,
wanting to evade racial surveillance from others, respondents
who
border patrolled themselves seemed to internalize and
perpetuate the
policing of strangers and significant others. I acknowledge these
connections between border patrolling from the outside-in,
outsiders-
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Internalizing Racial Identities 163
within, and inside-out, focusing here on the last method of
border
patrolling—inside-out.
As discussed in previous chapters, I found that individuals
managed
their multiracial identities in many ways. Sometimes they
internalized
racial borders, imposing the rules of race and racial identity
options on
themselves. The ongoing process of racial socialization and the
persistence of structural racism combined to inform multiracial
identity
choices and constraints; many multiracial people described how
they
policed their own racial identities. Rather than resist these
racial rules
and the racial hierarchy, they sorted themselves into socially
appropriate
and positively sanctioned categories. Many chose singular racial
identities in response to these social pressures instead of
enjoying “the
best of both worlds.” That is, many multiracial people managed
social
pressures surrounding their racial multiplicity by choosing
singular
racial identities. In this chapter, I discuss the way that
multiracial people
engage in benevolent, beneficiary, and malevolent border

patrolling of
their own. I begin with benevolent border patrolling.
Benevolent Border Patrolling: “All of My Life, I Was
Socialized
as an African American”
“Black” is the umbrella term for minorities to kind of come
together
under because “black,” as it has evolved, does not necessarily
just
refer to African Americans. On the other side, when you’re
saying that
you’re black, you’re still keeping the dichotomy of black and
white,
which aside from not being fair to other groups, I think it’s just
not
realistic as well. And it also causes some limiting there as well,
because even though black is an umbrella term for minorities,
it’s still
kind of rooted in some notion of an African American identity
as well.
(James, a black-identified Black and Native American man)
Throughout the interview, James complicated the concept and
question
of “blackness,” interrogating the term, exploring its many
meanings, and
noting its expansive reach and inclusive quality. He also shared
how
specifically it applied to particular people, both including and
excluding
him at once.
I begin with the above quote from James because he grapples
with

the multiple meanings of blackness; his narrative attempts to
answer the
question posed in Brunsma and Rockquemore’s (2002) article,
“What
Does ‘Black’ Mean?” In offering up his experiential knowledge
of
blackness, James shared ideas that echo the authors’ discussion
of what
they call the “epistemological stranglehold of racial
categorization.”
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These authors explore in their investigation of the meanings of
blackness. Interestingly, as the category “black” continues to

expand
today to un/easily accommodate mixture, the category (to
James’s point)
may reinforce a white/black binary. However, in ways that
parallel the
“expanding boundaries of whiteness” (see Gallagher 2004), a
similar
expansion of blackness continues. This draws attention to the
mixture
embedded in both whiteness and blackness. While this
seemingly
upholds these two racial categories as two-and-only-two
singular and
cohesive racial groups, I refer to them to simultaneously
undermine the
implicit and taken-for-granted singularity and cohesion within
their
categorical connotations. That is, this multiplicity and
variability exists
across all racial categories.
Racial multiplicity exists, and hides in plain sight, as “invisible
mixture.” Linguistically and socially, the terms “white” and
“black”
reinforce singularity, not mixture. The terms then make mixture
situationally il/legible. Mixture largely becomes legible or
visible
through usage of the very term, “mixture,” even as it exists in
“single”
race categories, such as “white” and “black.” While these
singular race
terms suggest specificity, they also implicitly capture a
multiplicity.
That is, single race categories suggest just that, singularity,
which
reinforces the idea of “one-and-only-one” race. The myth of

such a
racially pure, cohesive, and coherent racial category convinces
people
that racial multiplicity only exists in people who claim more
than one
race. Thus, for most of the national population, this multiplicity
often
remains unnamed and resides under the veil of singularity.
Mixture also
disappears through the stories that families tell about
themselves and
their heritage. I discuss these “sins of omission” in the
socialization that
family storytelling makes possible in racially mixed families.
Mysteries of Histories
In attempting to sort out what I call the “mysteries of histories”
in
families, James asks “a lot of questions” to disentangle his
heritage. He
explores his family biography in an attempt to answer his many
questions; to curb the curiosities about his identity and to solve
some of
those “mysteries of histories.” He wants to more fully
understand his
Nigerian and Native American ancestry, especially in relation to
his
blackness. Recognizing both his African American and Native
American
ancestry is a practice that allows him (and other black and
Native
American respondents) to acknowledge “intermarriage further
back in
their family history” (Campbell 2007:926). This point follows
Jessie

Turner’s (2013) work on historical and contemporary mixture
and
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invites us to consider what constitutes the old and the new, with
respect
to racial mixture. To Jenifer Bratter’s (2007) point,
“multiracial” identity
does not always survive the next generation. But when it does,
it may
take on new names with old faces, or maintain old names among
new
faces (see Dawkins 2012; Winters and DeBose 2003).

Despite considering the complexity of his rich heritage, James
asserted what I understood as a singular black identity.
However, he
engaged in “problematizing blackness” by assigning expansive
and
inclusive meanings to the term, in its chosen (not forced) form
(see
Hintzen and Rahier 2003). Chosen blackness departs from the
forced
blackness historically mandated through the “one drop” rule of
hypodescent; chosen blackness enriches and expands the
meaning of
blackness and recognizes more of its liberatory potential, a
freedom to
choose not fully afforded people with any known black African
ancestry.
Other black multiracial respondents who identify as black
engaged
in this practice. That is, the term, “black,” weaved together a
multiplicity
of races and ethnicities, as evidenced in other respondents like
Jessica, a
black and Asian Indian woman, opting for black as James did.
In doing
so, people can acknowledge historical and contemporary
mixtures of
blackness (see Khanna 2010; Turner 2013). In thinking about
these
complexities and contradictions of racial singularity and
multiplicity, I
draw from the experiences shared by another respondent.
Abigail, an
African American-identified woman (also of Native American
[Cherokee] heritage), shared that she asserts a singular black
identity in

part because of her illegible identities or racially mixed
heritage.
As one of the older respondents in my research sample, Abigail
grew up in a time and place that more closely abided by the rule
of
hypodescent and, therefore, endorsed this “one drop” rule of
blackness.
That rule canceled out, or denied, her racial mixture, and
informed her
way of thinking about racial categories. Growing up in a
white/black
binary supported by society meant that her mixture remained
relatively
out of reach to her. She explained, “I’m not mixed race. I
appear to be
more African American than anything else, you know?” Because
she
believes others see her as black, or that others do not see or
acknowledge her mixed race heritage, she claims a black
identity. She
minimized this mixture to adopt a black identity because she
believes
that it is her blackness that is legible to others. Abigail “thinks
mixture”
in traditional ways with history and family shaping her
perspective;
indeed, she has internalized the “one drop” rule. Abigail’s
narrative
supports a “seeing is believing,” or “believing is seeing”
(Lorber 1993)
approach to racial classification in the sense that she relied
heavily on

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the visibility or legibility of race. Doing so invalidates her
illegible
identities, instead of challenging our collective reliance on
(racialized)
appearances to categorize ourselves and others by race.
Much like other respondents, Abigail offered contradictions on
her
own racial location, illustrating how she benevolently border
patrols
herself:
I racially identify as African American basically but I remember
that
my mother told me when I was very young, she said, “Don’t

ever
forget that you are part Cherokee, part Cherokee Indian, Native
American.” But all of my life, I socialized, was socialized as an
African American or black child, you know, listening to R and
B, and
you know, dancing and everything was geared towards African
American culture…. At the time, I didn’t question it. It meant,
as I got
older, that there’s something other than African American about
me,
something different about me…. That I just wasn’t all African.
That,
you know, there’s a part of me that was the “Other” if you
wanna call
it that. That wasn’t defined. It made me intercept my thinking I
was all
black. Well, not all black, your DNA might come back saying
you’re
all black. My appearance is black. Her words made me question
that.
Despite questioning those “mysteries of histories” and her
partial
knowledge of racial mixture in her own family, Abigail
continues to
assert a black identity.
Similar to other black multiracial respondents, Abigail learned
racial
lessons, including that she should default to a black identity
despite any
“body as evidence” to the contrary (see Hobson 2012). Her
story reveals
what so many families work to conceal: racial mixture, then and
now,
and the stories that people speak or silence (see Nash and Viray

2014,
2013; Walters et al. 2011). These stories, and the silences that
sometimes surround them, become part of the racial inheritance
within
all families, not exclusively racially mixed ones.
As Abigail illustrated, and in contrast to people with known
Asian,
Latino, and Native American ancestry who claim a white
identity,
people with known African ancestry may feel like they cannot
claim a
nonblack identity (Bratter 2007; Khanna 2010); otherwise, they
opt for
blackness as an assertion of their right to choose. In the latter
case, the
act of choosing is an expression of self-definition or an act of
resistance
to borderism. In the former case, multiracial people may sense
some
social constraints to available choices, such that the
particularities of the
geographies of race expand or limit their options; they may feel
like they
are “forced to choose” or effectively “passing as black” (see
Khanna
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2010), or they may actively choose a preferred black identity,
experienced not as limitation but in terms of liberation.
The challenge in this choosing involves consideration of the
history
of individual and collective mixture; current and historical
mixture; and,
consensual and forced mixture. These considerations thus
include
acknowledgment of the variations of racial identity and claims
to
mixture made increasingly broader during the Multiracial
Movement of
the late 20th Century; they invite people to “think mixture” and
reflect on
how the concept of racial mixture and who is mixed changes
across time
and space.
In Abigail’s example above, she thinks mixture through the lens
of
the one-drop rule. Although she acknowledges the familial

mixture of
black and Native American ancestry, she does not claim a black
and
Native American multiracial identity; her “opting for black”
typifies the
tensions between agency and the legacy of racial rules and
paradigms
that foreclose choice for people with certain racial combinations
(see
Campbell 2007). As Campbell notes, many African Americans
in
contemporary society remain reluctant to publicly make claims
to their
Native American ancestry, fearing racial invalidations and
accusations
similar to the ones described by respondents like Abigail. They
worked
to avoid the charge that they were falsely attempting to
diversify or
dilute their blackness with indigeneity. Respondents like
Abigail opted
for blackness but the kind of blackness that incorporates these
charges
with a positive spin. That is, if the common charge was that
African
Americans always try to claim Native American ancestry, then
“blackness” in this context is always already mixed with Native
American ancestry. Rather than risk naming both her African
American
and Native American ancestry, Abigail effectively wove those
ancestries
into blackness. This exemplifies my earlier point about the
illusion of
singular racial categories being cohesive. The narrative of
Abigail and
others provides evidence of racial multiplicity taking up

residence in
single race categories.
Another respondent shared the process of her racial identity
formation and her experiences with benevolent border
patrolling.
Wendy, a light-skinned, black Hispanic, described moving from
a
northern city to a southern one, and navigating impediments to
connecting with other Latinos. In that northern city, she felt her
skin
color and lack of fluency in Spanish disconnected her from
other
Latinas. During our interview, Wendy further suggested that her
limited
Spanish-speaking ability prohibited her from getting “that deep”
with
“the Spanish group” in high school because “every now and
then, I
wouldn’t know what they were talking about” (when they spoke
in
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Spanish). She contrasted her lack of fluency in Spanish with
otherwise
being an “articulate person.”
Unlike David (discussed later in this chapter and again in
Chapter
6), Wendy does not experience, or admit to, this lack of Spanish
language literacy and fluency as a source of tension that
generates
“imposter syndrome” (see Moore 2015). In contrast to him, she
expresses much less awareness of the way the social
construction of race
and ethnicity are shaping these social dynamics, even as she
discusses
these and related issues. Instead, Wendy offered up a narrative
framed
by colorblindness, which minimized the significance of race and
racism:
You know, when you’re asking me [about race], it’s weird. I’m
trying
to think back and I don’t really ever remember race being an
issue,
whether it was both of the races or either one of them. I mean, I
guess I
would more relate to being black because I don’t speak Spanish
fluently and a lot of the things that I was put into as far as a

child were
mostly minority-oriented or black-oriented rather than Latino
[said
with an emphasized Spanish accent]. So I guess I would relate
more to
black but I mean there wasn’t really any like you know, “You’re
black
and Puerto Rican,” and I mean “You’re biracial.” I don’t
remember
ever asking, I don’t think I had an identity crisis or a race crisis
about
who I was. I remember I said to my mom one time, I um, I said,
“Mom, I’m not black; I’m peach.” But that was, you know,
like…the
extent of it. I didn’t really think about it like that, I think.
Arguably, if race and ethnicity did not matter, it would not
matter if
Wendy knew Spanish, as people of all racial and ethnic groups
have
varying language literacies and skills. Ostensibly, she would be
able to
make connections to even a few other Latinos or to any and
everybody
based on her logic. However, if the expectation is that Wendy—
as a
multiracial Latina—know Spanish well (which she admits she
does not),
she may feel or be disqualified on some level; any markers of
blackness
may serve as further disqualification to some, or conversely,
qualification and authentication to others. That she is read as
black, but
not necessarily Latina, offers partial explanation for the
disconnection
she experiences. She conveys a narrative that suggests that she

is not
allowed to be both and, therefore, border patrols herself.
What Wendy’s experience highlights is the lacuna, or the
silence
surrounding the racial and ethnic socialization she received in
her
family. She points to this silence as an absence; in that void, the
term
“biracial” does not exist. Hearing such a term might have
affirmed to
her, or signaled, that “black” and “Latina” are not mutually
exclusive
terms. Despite not learning the language to refer to her black
and Latina
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identity, Wendy does show how she is able to intercept—and
correct—
the language others use to describe her: “I’m not black, I’m
peach.”
Despite noting that she does not think about race and ethnicity,
she
obviously does. She offers an awareness of her embodied
reality, as she
experiences the “multiracial” as “multicultural.” Wendy’s
innocent and
simple description of her color, as it contrasts with the language
that
speaks only to her “legible” blackness, allows her the agency to
contest
this and to recognize her reality as a multiracial and
multicultural one.
The shift between “black” and “peach,” therefore, is not only a
nominal and discursive one but also an important agentic one to
the
“names we call home” (Thompson and Tyagi 1996). These
names are a
colorful expression of embodied hybridity and multiplicity of
life in the
borderlands (see Anzaldua 1987; Canclini 2005). Wendy makes
space in
her family that the ampersand between being black and Latina
creates.
The ampersand acknowledges and accommodates her mixture,
making
space for complexity in her racial identity, and what some see
as a
contradiction, instead of the identity composition or sum of

Wendy’s
parts. While she may claim to not think about her life in
racialized ways,
she is clearly impacted by these dynamics in her family and in
society,
as they shape her sense of self and the social interactions she
has with
others.
Other respondents negotiate the ampersand differently. In
contrast
to Wendy, whose peach-colored skin could locate her in
“white,”
“honorary white,” and “collective black” categories, darker-
skinned
black Latinos reported different experiences as individuals more
definitely located within the racial category of “collective
blacks.” For
example, Sanchez, a black and Latino Puerto Rican man,
confronted the
realities of borderism as a darker-skinned man. This reality
includes
recognizing the racial hierarchy and classification system that
inform
people’s perceptions of others and themselves He explained how
he
embraced the categorization to arrive at a singular racial
identity.
Growing up in “basically black or white” spaces (schools,
neighborhoods, etc.), Sanchez noted how the absence of Asians
or “any
other race” created a white/black binary that meant he was
defined as a
black person. “I was like, ‘Okay, I know that I’m a black
person. I mean
my skin color is dark, so therefore I’m a black person.’ And I

never
really, to tell you the truth, when I was younger, I never really
thought
about race as much as I do today.” Sanchez’s understanding of
his social
location within the U.S. racial hierarchy supports Bonilla-
Silva’s (2003)
contention that darker-skinned people are sorted into a
collective black
category.
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Similar to Sanchez, Frank, a 21-year-old man describes how he
arrived at a singular black identity and what I interpreted as

benevolent
borderism:
I identify racially as African American or Black. Now
ethnically, I
consider myself a mix and I’m a mix of different races—I mean
different groups of people. Ah, Native American; as well as
Spanish
and oh no, not Spanish. Sorry, Um, German and French. My
African
American identity is dominant. It’s almost like chromosomes.
You
have dominant and you have recessive. So the Native American
history, the Native American …
Writing Assignments – General Guidelines:
Note that since we do not have longer papers in this course, it is
very important that students pay attention to, complete, and
submit on time the assignments in this course. Assignments
will not be re-opened for individual students once the due date
passes. Written responses are to be not less than 250 qualified
words (excluding titles and citation – if any). Many more
words will almost certainly be useful in demonstrating a
mastery of understanding of the assignments. Students are
encouraged not to rely upon resources, but to use their own
words to better demonstrate understanding of the material.
Remember, as well, please, that the Writing Assignment
prompts / directions are the assignment to be addressed, not just
recommendations. Academic/professional writing should be
double spaced, cited if appropriate, well-reasoned (no formal
nor informal fallacies) and almost entirely error free. Please
allow yourself plenty of time to critically consider and develop
your arguments.
Directions for Writing Assignment #1: Natural Law Versus
Religious Relativism:
1) Identify this assignment page and download it

2) Be sure that you fully the concepts to be addressed and
exactly what is being asked of you
3) Formulate your response in this document in the section
titled “Begin Your Response Here”
4) Save your new document once complete
5) Open the assignment folder, attach your document, and
submit it by the deadline.
Multiple submissions are allowed, but only the one that is most
recent at the time of assessment will be considered.
Writing Assignment #1: Natural Law Versus Religious
Relativism:
In the section below titled “Begin Your Response Here,”
address the following:
Component 1: What is Religious Relativism and what some of
its challenges? And What is Natural Law and what are some of
its challenges? What is the relationship of each to theism
(belief in a transcendent God)?
Component 2: The sacred texts of many religions have been
interpreted to assert that: 1) women are naturally inferior to
men and 2) that homosexuality is always wrong. Consider both
of these claims and argue for how religious relativism and
natural law might agree or disagree with one another about the
morality of these assertions. Please consider both assertions
and both possibilities (agreement or disagreement). There are
many possibilities here. Most importantly: WHY? Be sure that
all of your assertions are actually arguments. In short, make
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ISBN/ISSN 0761986480 (alk. paper)
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The politics of ethnic authenticity: building native American
identities and communities / Joane Nagel
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• httDs://roaer.ucsd.edu/search~S9?/i0761986480 (alk. paper)
R E P R E S E N T A T I O N S O F R A C E A N D
T H E P O L I T I C S O F I D E N T I T Y
9
The Politics of Ethnic Authenticity:
Building Native American Identities
and Communities

Joane Nagel
No one knows for sure how many indigenous
North Americans were present when Colum-
bus landed in 1492, although estimates sug-
gest that numbers were in the several mil-
lions. Over the next 400 years, there was a
dramatic decline in the native population; by
the end of the nineteenth century, the U.S.
Census Bureau counted fewer than 250,000
Native Americans in the United States.1 The
decrease in the number of native people was
accompanied by a marked reduction in the
number of native societies or "tribes." Dis-
tinct language and dialect communities at the
time of contact were estimated at more than
1,000 (Swanton 1952).2 This number has
dwindled to around 320 Indian groups or
"entities" in the lower 48 states that are offi-
cially recognized by the U.S. Department of
the Interior in the 1990s.3
In spite of these declines, the twentieth
century has seen a remarkable increase in the
American Indian population, from its nadir
of 237,196 in 1900 to 1,874,536 in the 1990
census (Snipp 1989; U.S. Census Bureau
1991). This growth is summarized in Table
9.1. As we can see, native population figures
for the past 90 years represent a reversal of 4
centuries of decline in the North American
Indian population: beginning with fewer
than one half million at the turn of the cen-
tury, climbing back up to nearly 2 million in
1990. Although these trends reflect a tragic

pattern of death and decline, they also reveal
an extraordinary trend toward recovery and
renewal. The twentieth century resurgence of
the American Indian population is a truly re-
markable story of ethnic survival and re-
birth.
Population projections undertaken by the
U.S. Office of Technology Assessment (OTA)
in 1986 suggest that Native American demo-
graphic recovery is far from over. The OTA
projected the American Indian population
for the next century using as a base popula-
tion the number of Indians in 1980 living in
32 states with federal reservations according
to various degrees of native ancestry
(so-called blood quantum). Table 9.2 shows
these projections.
As we can see from Table 9.2, the total in-
crease in the Indian population during the
next century is expected to be twelvefold,
Representations of Race and the Politics of Identity 113
Table 9.1
American Indian Population—1890-1990
Year Number % Change
1890 248,253
1900 237,196 -5
1910 276,927 17

1920 244,437 -13
1930 343,352 40
1940 345,252 1
1950 357,499 4
1960 523,591 46
1970 792,730 51
1980 1,364,033 72
1990 1,873,536 38
Sources: 1890-1970: Russell Thornton, American Indian
Holocaust and Survival (Norman: University of Oklahoma
Press, 1987), p. 160; figures for 1980 and 1990 are from
U.S. Census Bureau, U.S. Bureau of the Census Releases
1990 Census Counts on Specific Racial Croups (Census
Bureau Press Release CB91 -215, Wednesday, June 12,
1991), Table 1.
growing from 1.3 million in 1980 to 15.8 mil-
lion in 2080. What is especially interesting
about these projections is the changing inter-
nal composition of Native America. Snipp
(1989) reported on the projections made by
the OTA using Bureau of Indian Affairs blood
quantum data and taking "into account the
prevalence of racial intermarriage among In-
dians based on data from the 1980 census" (p.
166).
The OTA projection begins in 1980 with
1.1 million individuals with 50 percent or
more Indian ancestry (blood quantum),
120,068 with 25 percent to 49 percent native
blood quantum, and 46,636 with less than 25

percent native ancestry. A century later, the
demographic picture would look very differ-
ent. By 2080, the OTA projects a stable num-
ber of Indians with blood quanta of 50 per-
cent or more (1.3 million in 2080). However,
the OTA predicts a tremendous growth in the
other two categories, with 5.2 million indi-
viduals with blood quanta ranging from 25
percent to 49 percent and 9.3 million native
people with less than one quarter Indian an-
cestry. This population explosion of Indians
of mixed ancestry reduces the percentage of
the native population with 50 percent or
more Indian ancestry from 86.9 percent of
the native population in 1980 to only 8.2 per-
cent of the native population in 2080. Con-
comitantly, the percentage of the Indian pop
ulation with 25 percent to 49 percent blood
quantum rises from 9.5 percent in 1980 to
32.9 percent in 2080, and the percentage of
the Indian population with less than 25 per-
cent blood quantum increases the most, ris-
ing from 3.6 percent of the population in
1980 to 58.9 percent in 2080.
What do these predicted changes in the
ancestry of American Indians mean? This fu-
ture portrait of Native America painted by
the OTA is one of increased racial diversity,
with more and more Native Americans of
mixed Indian/non-Indian ancestry. The im-
plications of this mixing are important for
understanding what it will mean to be an
Table 9.2
Office of Technology Assessment: Indian Population

Projections
(1980-2080)
Percent Indian Ance
Year 50% and above 2596-4996
1980 1,125,746(86.9%) 123,068(9.5%) 46,636(3.6%)
1,295,450(100.0%)
2080 1,292,911 (8.2%) 5,187,411 (32.9%) 5,187,411 (58,9%)
15,767,206(100.0%)
Source: C. Matthew Snipp, American Indians: The First of This
Land (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 1988), p. 167.
1 1 4 Multiculturalism in the United States
American Indian in the next century, in par-
ticular in light of contemporary controver-
sies about Indian authenticity and debates
over what constitutes legitimate claims to In-
dian ancestry and group membership.
The puzzle of why the American Indian
population increased so dramatically in the
last decades of the twentieth century and the
implications of the racial diversity of future
generations of Native Americans are two of
the main reasons for my interest in American
Indian history and contemporary political
and social life. For a sociologist, both puzzles
and change pose a challenge. Puzzles are to be
solved, and change is to be understood. My
solution to the rising numbers of American
Indians in the post-Second World War era

can be summarized as a combination of fac-
tors involving the urbanization, education,
and political activism of American Indians,
all of which led to an increased sense of ethnic
pride and thus an increased likelihood of
identifying oneself as "American Indian" (for
a full explanation, see Nagel 1996). My analy-
sis of the implications of past and future ra-
cial diversity among Native Americans is that
Indian ethnicity will be a subject of debate
and controversy for the foreseeable future.
Questions about native ethnic group mem-
bership and who has a right to American In-
dian identity and resources are the focus of
the remainder of this chapter.
American Indian
Ethnic Diversity
Since the 1970s, more than half of all Ameri-
can Indians have lived in cities (Sorkin 1978;
U.S. Census Bureau 1992a, table 44). Al-
though tribal origin and affiliation continue
to have enormous currency among these of-
ten first-generation native urban immi-
grants, demographic differences inevitably
have emerged between urban and reservation
Indians in education, health, income, life-
style, interests, and perspective. These differ-
ences reflect the worldwide impact of ur-
banization on formerly rural populations:
increased income and employment, higher
levels of education, lower rates of fertility,
more intermarriage, and native language
loss.4

Despite a great deal of reservation-urban
circular migration, differences between ur-
ban Indians and those residing on reserva-
tions represents an important ethnic bound-
ary between the two groups, one characterized
by some strain and suspicion. One source of
this tension is the concern of reservation In-
dians that their urban coethnics have lost
touch with reservation needs and concerns
while having disporportionate access to
power and influence in national arenas gov-
erning Indian affairs. In an article tided "So
Who Really Represents Indian Tribes?" one
commentator criticized the prominent role
played by "urban Indians" in federal Indian
policy, arguing that, although educated, ur-
ban Indians are "thoroughly grounded... in
municipal bonds, capital formation, and
other esoteric topics They do not under-
stand the perspective of tribal leaders, or of
Indian people" who must contend with such
reservation problems as health, education,
housing, cultural preservation, environmen-
tal protection, or language preservation
(Chavers 1993:A5).
Urban-reservation differences, although
obviously important, represent but one
source of diversity among a socially, econom-
ically, politically, linguistically, and culturally
plural Native American population. Tribal
distinctions represent an even greater source
of variability. More than 350 Indian tribes
and communities in the lower 48 states are
separately recognized by federal and state au-

thorities.5 Each has its own government, legal
system, justice system, educational system,
and economic, social, and cultural organiza-
tion (for an overview of many tribal political
differences, see O'Brien 1989). These differ-
ences are reinforced by geographic distances
among tribes and the isolation of many res-
ervations. Historical patterns of conflict,
competition, or cooperation also remain a
legacy that shades contemporary intertribal
relations, as does the fact that Indian com-
munities often see one another as competi-
tors for scarce federal funding or federally
regulated resources. Competition can be-
come especially bitter when federally
nonrecognized groups seek access to Indian
resources. Challenges to tribal authenticity
can result.
For instance, in 1979, the Samish and
Snohomish tribes of Puget Sound in Wash-
ington State were judged by the federal gov-
ernment to be "legally extinct" and were ex-
cluded from native access to the region's
fishing economy. Recognized tribes who had
won rights to half the annual salmon catch in
the landmark federal district court "Boldt"
decision in 1974 opposed the Samish and
Snohomish efforts. "It boils down to trying to
protect tribal fisheries from groups which the
Tulalips [a recognized tribe] view as not gen-

uine Indians" (Egan 1992:8).6 The impor-
tance of resource competition in intertribal
relations can be seen in the situation of the
Lumbees of North Carolina. One of the larg-
est tribes in the 1980 census, numbering
26,631 (U.S. Census Bureau 1989, table 1:26),
the Lumbees have long sought federal recog-
nition, only to receive limited acknowledg-
ment with the proviso that the tribe would re-
ceive no federal services (Blu 1980). There are
many such tribes seeking social and federal
acceptance as legitimate Indian communi-
ties. Their presence represents another level
of complexity in Indian ethnicity.
Debates over Indian Ethnic
Authenticity
Challenges to authenticity can be leveled
against individuals and their claims to ethnic
group membership. For instance, in 1982 I
visited an American Indian7 community cen-
ter in an eastern city. I was greeted by the di-
116 Multiculturalism in the United States
rector, a man wearing jeans and a plaid shirt,
whose dark hair was woven into braids
bound by beaded ties. He told me about the
Indian center's history and about its current
activities, which were designed to provide a
sense of community for the city's several
thousand American Indian residents. The
most successful undertaking, he reported,
was a summer camp program, where local In-
dian children from diverse tribal back-

grounds, most of whom had been born and
lived their lives in the city, were sent to spend
2 weeks on his home reservation more than a
thousand miles away to learn about reserva-
tion life and their native heritage. I found the
conversation interesting and informative.
Several months later, while I was visiting a
Bureau of Indian Affairs office in Washing-
ton, DC, the Indian center director's name
came up in conversation. To my surprise, I
was told matter-of-factly by a person working
there (who identified himself as a member of
a recognized Indian tribe) that the director,
Sam Smith (not his name), was "not really an
Indian." When I inquired into this statement,
the official said, "Well, maybe his grand-
mother had some Indian blood," but, he reit-
erated, "Sam Smith is not really an Indian."
Reading the Indian affairs literature and
listening to native people, the question of
who is really an Indian comes up again and
again. The query is often made in an atmo-
sphere of skepticism and sometimes bitter
contention.8 The question is posed to tribes
as well as to individuals. For instance, in an
"open letter" to the Governor of Georgia,
Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma Principal
Chief Wilma Mankiller denounced the state's
decision to officially recognize two groups
claiming Cherokee ancestry, expressing con-
cern these groups were "using the Cherokee
Nation's name, history, culture, and reputa-
tion . . . and posing as Indian tribes"
(Mankiller 1993:A4).9 Such concerns often
arise because of the potential loss of scarce

tribal resources to an ever-increasing pool of
collective and individual recipients.
Individual Indian ethnicity is at least as
problematic as that of groups, due to wide
variability in the criteria and standards of
proof of Indian ancestry and Indianness.
Again, the doubts and suspicions seem great-
est when ethnically tied resources are at stake
and when benefits are seen to accrue to indi-
viduals who claim Indian ancestry or special
Indian knowledge. This challenge to authen-
ticity is extended to a wide variety of authors,
artists, scholars, and activists, and individu-
als claiming Indian identity or interests.10
Again, although the debate here focuses on
American Indian ethnic boundaries and is-
sues of authenticity, similar debates can be
found in other ethnic communities (African
Americans, Asians, Latinos, to name a few)
and among other bounded social groups
(age, gender, disabled, veterans). In some of
these cases, the issues do not center so much
on lineage or biology—who is really black or
who is really female; rather, the focus is on
what kind of upbringing, class position, or
life experience qualifies an individual to
speak for or represent the interests of the
group. In other cases, the issues center more
on actual personal characteristics (ability to
speak Spanish or not; having been in combat
or not; degree of disability)." In the case of
American Indians, the authenticity de-
bate often centers on ancestry (see Gates

1991),12 namely, just how much and what
kind of Indian background qualifies individ-
uals or groups to have the rights of American
Indians.
Another source of controversy concerns
how an individual acquires authentic Indian
ethnicity—through self-definition or by the
acknowledgment of others. Again, resources
seem to be a key issue. For instance, at its an-
nual meeting in Phoenix, Arizona, in 1993,
the Association of American Indian and
Alaskan Native Professors (AAIANP) issued
a statement on "ethnic fraud," stressing the
importance of official tribal recognition of
individuals' Indianness in classifying univer-
sity students and faculty. The statement was
intended to register the organization's con-
cern about
ethnic fraud and offer recommendations to en-
sure the accuracy of American Indian/Alaska Na-
tive identification in American colleges and
universities... and to affirm and ensure Ameri-
can Indian/Alaska Native identity in the hiring
process. We are asking that colleges and universi-
ties: Require documentation of enrollment in a
state or federally recognized nation/tribe with
preference given to those who meet this criterion
(AAIANP 1993).13
David Cornsilk, assistant director of admis-
sions at Bacone College in Muskogee,
Oklahoma, provided this rationale for such a
policy:

I believe in membership as the foundation of sov-
ereignty. ... I believe the authority of the tribe,
the right of the tribe, stems from the group, the
community. ... I don't believe in the right of
self-identification. I believe that's an assault on
the right of the group. (Reynolds 1993:A3)M
Tim Giago, editor of Indian Country Today
and The Lakota Times, affirmed the tribal
membership approach to establishing Indian
authenticity and underlined the issue of re-
sources in making distinctions between
"real" Indians and others who claim Indian
ancestry.
It was in the 1970s that people claiming to be In-
dian began to take jobs intended for Indians and
to write books claiming to be authorities on Indi-
ans. These instant "wannabes" did us far more
harm than good. Not only did they often give out
misleading information about Indians, they also
took jobs that left many qualified genuine Native
Americans out in the cold. .. . Before you can
truly be considered an Indian you must become
an enrolled member of a tribe. I think most Indi-
ans would agree that this is the only way you can
truly be accepted as Indian. (Giago 1991:3)
Alphonse Ortiz echoed these concerns about
scarce resources allocated to self-identified
recipients:

These are people who have no business soaking
up jobs and grants, people who have made no
claim to being Indian up to their early adult-
hood, and then when there's something to be
gained they're opportunists of the rankest
stripe, of the worst order. ... We resent these
people who just come in and when the going's
good skim the riches off the surface. (Reynolds
1993:A1)
Although convincingly argued, this em-
phasis on official enrollment (membership)
in recognized tribes in determining Indian
ethnicity is at odds with the way in which
most Americans (and perhaps most Ameri-
can Indians) acquire their ethnicity. Though
estimates vary, somewhere between two
thirds and one half of American Indians
counted in the 1980 and 1990 census were en-
rolled members of recognized tribes.15 Thus,
the official enrollment rule would throw into
question the ethnicity of a significant propor-
tion of Americans who designated their
"race" as Indian in the U.S. census, not to
mention the millions more who identified an
Indian ethnic ancestry on census forms. This
restrictive approach to constructing Native
American ethnic boundaries is not typical of
strategies used by most ethnic groups in con-
temporary America, who often seek to widen
ethnic self-definitions to compete more ef-
fectively in local, state, and national political
arenas. Indeed, the AAIANP's reliance on ex-
ternal (tribal) ascription represents a chal-
lenge to the widely held notion in American

society that ethnicity is, at least in part, a pri-
vate, individual choice (a notion that is
shared by the U.S. Census Bureau).
These debates can be trying to the targets
of authenticity inquiries, as critical author
and activist Ward Churchill's comments re-
veal:
118 Multiculturalism in the United States
I'm forever being asked not only my "tribe," but
my "percentage of Indian blood." I've given the
matter a lot of thought, and find that I prefer to
make the computation based on all of me rather
than just the fluid coursing through my veins.
Calculated this way, I can report that I am pre-
cisely 52.5 pounds Indian—about 35 pounds
Creek and the remainder Cherokee—88 pounds
Teutonic, 43.5 pounds some sort of English, and
all the rest "undetermined." Maybe that last part
should just be described as "human." It all seems
rather silly as a means of assessing who I am,
don't you think? (Jaimes 1992:123)16
Although many methods of calculating in-
dividual Indian or tribal authenticity are of-
ten ludicrous and sometimes offensive (anal-
yses of urine and earwax, chemical tasting
abilities; Snipp 1989:30-31), unfortunately,
the enterprise is by no means capricious. It
turns out to be deadly serious in the many
cases in which individual and community
life-sustaining resources hang in the balance
as judgments of "real" Indian authenticity are
decided. These cases routinely involve such

important matters as child custody rights,
health benefits, scholarships, legitimate
means of livelihood, land claims, mineral and
resource rights and royalty payments, politi-
cal and criminal jurisdiction, taxation, and
myriad other personal and financial matters.
The truth is embedded in the common socio-
logical fact: Although ethnicity is socially and
politically constructed and is thus arbitrary,
variable, and constantly negotiated, it is no
less real in its consequences.
Changing Definitions
of Indianness
Embedded in many discussions of Indian au-
thenticity and membership regulations is a
question about whether the rules defining
Indianness and tribal membership should be
relaxed or tightened, that is, made more
inclusionary or more exclusionary. For in-
stance, Trosper (1976) described the adop-
tion of tighter, more exclusionary enrollment
rules by the Flathead Tribe of Montana in re-
sponse to pressures to "terminate" the tribe
(i.e., dissolve the federal trust relationship) in
the 1950s. Federal officials charged that Flat-
head's Salish and Kootenai tribal members
were acculturated and no longer needed fed-
eral services or protection. This prompted a
move by tribal leaders to pursue a kind of eth-
nic purification strategy by adopting a stricter
set of blood quantum rules to designate

membership. Thornton (1987) reported an
opposite, loosening or inclusionary strategy
on the part of some nonreservation-based
groups, mainly in Oklahoma, where groups
such as the Cherokees or Choctaws face less
competition among members for shares of
tribally held or land-based resources (Thorn-
ton 1987). In these instances, inclusion can
have positive political consequences in an
electoral system, because a relatively large
percentage of the Oklahoma population is
American Indian.17
Some critics call for the entire abolish-
ment of ancestry or blood quantum regula-
tion of tribal membership, arguing that such
rules, particularly when applied by the fed-
eral government, tend to heighten tension
among Native Americans, creating disunity
and suspicion. For instance, activist Russell
Means raised questions about the meaning
and legitimacy of ancestry tests of
Indianness:
Our treaties say nothing about your having to be
such-and-such a degree of blood in order to be
covered When the federal government made
its guarantees to our nations in exchange for our
land, it committed to provide certain services to
us as we defined ourselves. As nations, and as a
people. This seems to have been forgotten. Now
we have Indian people who spend most of their
time trying to prevent other Indian people from
being recognized as such, just so that a few more
crumbs—crumbs from the federal table—may
be available to them, personally. I don't have to

tell you that this isn't the Indian way of doing
things. The Indian way would be to get together
and demand what is coming to each and every
one of us, instead of trying to cancel each other
out. We are acting like colonized peoples, like
subject peoples. (U.S. Census Bureau 1991:139)
Like Means, StifFarm and Lane (1992)
challenged the assumptions underlying an-
cestry and blood quantum tests of Indianness
and tribal membership, asking whether
American Indians
will continue to allow themselves to be defined
mainly by their colonizers, in exclusively ra-
cial/familial terms (as "tribes"), or whether they
will (re)assume responsibility for advancing the
more general and coherently political definition
of themselves they once held, as nations defining
membership/citizenship in terms of culture, so-
cialization, and commitment to the good of the
group. (P. 45)
They wonder whether American Indian tribes
cannot take seriously their semisovereign sta-
tus with regard to citizenship, bringing "'out-
siders' . .. into their membership by way of
marriage, birth, adoption, and naturaliza-
tion" (Stiffarm and Lane 1992:45).
Such a strategy certainly would open the
door to an expansion of Indian ethnic mem-
bership, as well as tribal citizenship, which
might be resisted by Indian communities
faced with distributing already scarce re-

sources and by a federal bureaucracy at-
tempting to keep the lid on or reduce Indian
expenditures.18 However, many tribes may be
forced to come to terms with their own blood
quantum rules in the very near future. The
rate of racial intermarriage for American In-
dians is the highest of all American racial cat-
egories, with fewer than half of American In-
dians marrying other Indians, compared
with racial endogamy rates of 95 percent and
higher for whites, blacks, and Asians (Snipp
1989:157; see also Sandefiir and McKinnell
1986; Thornton, Sandefur, and Snipp 1991).
The consequence of this intermarriage is an
increase in the number of Indian/non-Indian
offspring with ever-diminishing degrees of
Indian ancestry. One result of tribal blood
quantum restrictions, even as low as one
quarter, is that an increasing proportion of
these children will not qualify for tribal
membership even though one or both of
their parents are tribal members, and despite
their having lived on the reservation since
birth.19
Conclusion
As we saw at the beginning of this chapter, the
Native American population is expected to
continue to grow during the next century,
and that growth will produce an increasingly

racially mixed, urban Indian population.
Contemporary tensions between reservation
and urban native communities and current
debates about the rules for determining au-
thentic Indian identity, rights, and tribal
membership have enormous implications for
the descendants of today's native people. A
case from history might be useful in explor-
ing these implications.
The Yamasees were an indigenous group
living in the southeastern United States at the
time of European contact with North Amer-
ica. They no longer exist as an identifiable
tribe, and few individuals report Yamasee
tribal affiliation.20 The Cherokees, in con-
trast, have several federally recognized,
state-recognized, and nonrecognized com-
munities, and, in the 1980 census, they sur-
passed the historically numerically dominant
Navajo Nation as the most populous tribe in
the United States. Young (1987) noted that
the Cherokees have been described as accul-
turated, of mixed ancestry, and successful at
adopting white economic and political prac-
tices. Young challenged the underlying dis-
paragement of these characteristics: "Chero-
kee people today still have a tribal identity, a
living language, and at least two government
bodies.... That's more than one can say of the
Yamasee" (p. 81).
It is instructive to keep this comparison in
mind as we contemplate the future demo-
graphic shape of Native America. As we saw

in Table 9.1, the 1980 census reported a 72
percent increase in the number of Americans
who identified their race as "American In-
dian." The question has arisen: Are the
roughly one half million new Indians in the
1980 census (not to mention the 6 million re-
spondents who reported some degree of In-
dian ancestry; Snipp 1989) really Indians?
Thornton et al. (1990) asked a similar ques-
tion about the contemporary Cherokee pop-
ulation—a group whose numbers have in-
creased dramatically in recent years (more
than 300 percent from 1970 to 1980), in-
creases that account for a good deal of the
growth in the total Indian population.21 His
answer fits our …

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