By Robert DesJarlait I became acquainted with The Brave by James Bird (Grand Portage Ojibwe) through controversy from a post on Facebook. The comment thread included a review in the New York Times by David Treuer. Treuer's review criticized the book for it's lack of accurate portrayal of Native American experience in a YA novel. Further criticism by Deborah Locke (The Circle Newspaper) and Debbie Reese (American Indians in Children's Literature) focused on perceived stereotypes. I'm not unfamiliar with stereotypes. I've marched in anti-mascot protests going back to 1971. In 1993, I wrote "Rethinking Stereotypes: Native American Imagery in Non-Native Art and Illustration" (Anoka-Hennepin Indian Education Program Press). I've also illustrated two YA books - "Sparrow Hawk" by Meridel Le Sueur (1987) and "The Creator's Game" by Art Coulson (2013). I'm also a writer who is working on my first YA book. As such, the criticism of Bird's book piqued my interest. The Brave is told in the person singular POV. We see the world as Collin sees it and how he experiences it. At age 12, going on 13, he has lived a life isolated from his culture. "I don't know anything about Native Americans. Only what I've seen in the movies and read in school." He sees the Native world in stereotypes - "...wrinkled-up old men who deliver a super-wise message...[and] violent savages. Red-skinned villains who leaped out of brushes and attacked indiscriminately." Although Collin doesn't face racism in his life in California, he does face a bias because he is different. He has OCD. Collin counts the letters in a sentence spoken by a person; in his response, Collin cites the number along with his answer: "Can you not do that right now?" Principal Harris asks. "Twenty-three. And like I've told you a million times before, I'm not trying to do it, it just happens." We learn from Collin that: "Again, each letter invades my skull, separating itself into a countable sequence. First they appear as puffy white clouds, but then morph into smoky white numbers..." As a result of his malady, Collin is subjected to ridicule and a target for bullies. His problems with school lead his father, with whom he has a dysfunctional relationship, to send him to Minnesota to live with his Ojibwe mother, who Collin has never met. Cecelia, Collin's mother, lives on the Fond du Lac reservation. Fond du Lac isn't described with detail. There are no familiar roads, lakes, or rivers. Rather, it is a forested entity. This is also true with Duluth. Collin attends North Duluth Middle School but we don't see Anishinaabeg-gichigami (Lake Superior) or Duluth's famous landmark - the Duluth Aerial Bridge. I don't think the absence of location detail diminishes the narrative. The story focuses on the immediate - what Collin sees, hears, and feels. And, Collins experiences are largely focused within a wooded environment and, in particular, his relationship with his next door neighbor, Orenda, a young Ojibwe girl. Orenda's world is largely confined to a tree house that is filled with paintings of butterflies. Daily, she feeds butterflies with slices of peaches. (For those who don't know, butterflies are fond of peaches as well as any fruit with nectar.) Orneda says: "I plucked them from the tree myself." Orenda's comment about a peach tree is interesting. Peach trees don't grow in northern Minnesota where Fond du Lac is located. But, five varieties grow in Southeastern Minnesota. Perhaps Orenda picked out the peaches in a store and metaphorically referred to it as plucking peaches from a tree. Or maybe Orenda and her father, Foxy, travelled to Southeastern Minnesota and she picked peaches from a tree. I point this out because one of the criticisms of the book is the notion that peach trees grow at Fond du Lac. Of course, they don't. On the other hand, there aren't any peach trees in the book. There are plenty of peaches, but the only peach tree is in Orenda's dialogue. When Collin meets Orenda, she uses a cane and a wheelchair. As the book progresses, so does Orenda's condition. I'm not going to reveal the cause of Orenda's illness. I think that's for the reader to find out. Interestingly, the word Orenda is a Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) word. It may seem like an unusual name for an Ojibwe girl. But I know a number of Ojibwe girls/women that are named Cheyenne. They are, of course, not Cheyenne in the tribal sense; rather, Cheyenne is simply a popular name. Orenda, however, is not the name of a tribe. Orenda basically means a power that pervades in varying degrees all animate and inanimate natural objects as a transmissible spiritual energy. And, there is indeed a spiritual energy that flows into Collin's world. Magical realism has its roots in Latin literature. It is a popular and growing genre in YA novels with characters that are diverse - Native American, Black, Asian, Latin. Josie M. Meléndez writes: "Magical realism in YA books trusts the reader to decide on their own what’s real or not and let their imagination take over. "It’s easier for YA readers to believe that magic can exist in a realistic setting without question As well, if magical realism is a worldview, nobody can see the world the way the intended age audience can." ("The Rise of Magical Realism in Young Adult Fiction") The Brave is certainly within the parameters of magical realism. But it also aligns itself to traditional storytelling. In our language, these stories are called Aadisokaan(ag); the "ag" makes the word a plural. In those stories, humans can become animals, and animals can become humans. And, those humans who have passed to the Spirit World can appear, and entities from the Spirit World can also appear. These stories are not mere fairy tales or myths intended for children and adults. As A. Irving Hallowell wrote: "Ojibwa myths are considered to be true stories, not fiction." ("World View and Behavioral Environment") In other words, our stories are not about "myths." Our stories are about the real world that we daily engage in. It is a world that intersects with the spiritual realm. Collin can't articulate his interaction with this other world. He can only think of it as magic. After all, he is only 12-years-old. As the story progresses, "magic" merges into the reality of Collin's world. For the other characters, such as Collin's mother, Orenda and her father, there is no "magic' because the "magic" already forms the basis of their everyday life. But "magic" is a misnomer; rather, it is the connection to traditional beliefs that forms the basis for their everyday life. And, it is from those beliefs that the spiritual realm intersects into the land of the living. In one of the most beautiful scenes in the book, Orenda takes Collin to a hill where they observe a wondrous kaleidoscope of butterflies and Collin meets Orneda's mother. Butterflies are an integral symbol that appears throughout the book. Orenda, whose ability to walk diminishes as the narrative progresses, always seems to be surrounded by butterflies. In our culture, there are origin stories of how things were created. "The First Butterflies" recounts how butterflies came to be. Long ago, Spirit Woman had twins, a boy and a girl. They were loved and taken care of by the animals. However, the twins were unable to walk. Nenabozho, our culture hero, was concerned and asked Gichi-Manidoo (the Creator) what to do. He was told to journey to a mountain where he would find thousands of small, glittering stones of various colors. Nenabozho collected the stones but didn't know what to do with them. He tossed one into the air and it fell on the ground. He tossed a few more and the same thing happened. Then he grabbed a handful and tossed them into the air. As they came down, the stones changed into winged creatures of many colors and shapes. They were the first butterflies. They followed Nenabozho back to the twins. The twins were delighted. They began to crawl to try to catch the butterflies. But the butterflies were always beyond their reach. Then the twins began to walk and even run in their efforts to catch the butterflies. (from Basil Johnston, "Tales the Elders Told") Within the narrative is the story about the boy and the wolves. The story is narrated by Ajidamoo, or Aji, Collin's deceased brother. Orenda has a copy of the audio and lets Collin listen to it in three parts. The story is about a baby who is borne away from his village during flood. He is found by a wolf pack and raised by a mother wolf. The baby grows into a young boy. At one point, the boy and wolves are separated after the forest is destroyed by construction crews. The boy is sent to the city where he is "placed in a school and forced to go to church, so he could be a good human boy." He escapes because he "was too wolf to live with the humans. He didn't fit in." Eventually, the boy returns to the wolves and helps them find a new home. The two worlds of wolves and men start to merge together. "Some humans became wolves and some wolves became human...This is why man and wolf must get along...Because even though we look different, we are family." Adjidamoo's story reminds me of our origin story of Original Man and the Wolf whose fate of existence is Inextricably linked together. Collin says: "I realize that I am the boy in the story. I am from two different worlds." Collin could be speaking for all of us who live in two different worlds. And, we know from the origin story that what happens to the wolf, happens to us. In her review of The Brave, Debbie Reese writes: "...the noun [Brave} is outdated, old-fashioned, or offensive. In my experience, white writers use "brave" instead of man or boy. I've never heard any Native person call a Native man or boy a "brave." And, throughout her review, Reese notes the use of brave, as used in its noun form, in the dialogue of the characters. For Reese, the use of brave is problematic and perpetuates a stereotype. brave [brāv] ADJECTIVE 1. brave (adjective) · braver (comparative adjective) · bravest (superlative adjective) ready to face and endure danger or pain; showing courage. NOUN the brave (plural noun) · brave (noun) · braves (plural noun) 1. (the brave) people who are ready to face and endure danger or pain. 2. dated - an American Indian warrior. a young man who shows courage or a fighting spirit. VERB brave (verb) · braves (third person present) · braved (past tense) · braved (past participle) · braving (present participle) endure or face (unpleasant conditions or behavior) without showing fear. Reese may have never heard a Native person call a Native man or boy a brave. However, I, and many others, have heard Native people use the term Brave. The term is used widely in Princess and Brave categories to denote royalty. Throughout the year, Native communities host competition for their youth to select those who will represent their community in the coming year as Princess and Brave. Certainly, the term is problematic given its origin - Late 15th century: from French, from Italian bravo ‘bold’ or Spanish bravo ‘courageous, untamed, savage’, based on Latin barbarus (Oxford Dictionary). In addition to powwows, there are Native schools with sport teams named Braves. In this regard, it isn't the stereotyped term, i.e., Brave as savage, that is perpetuated; rather, it's the adjective, or more specifically, the quality - of showing courage - that is emulated or sought. One of our seven guiding principals is Zoogide’iwin (Courage/Brave): to face the foe with integrity. And, Brave, as a noun, is integrated into our language - Ogichidaa means warrior or brave. As it is, Bird uses the adjective more than the noun. However, the use of the noun, i.e., Brave, isn't outdated, old-fashioned, or offensive. It may be dated but it is still used. And, that's because it is rooted in Ojibwe language and in the vernacular of many tribes. Certainly, Brave doesn't equate to the N-word as some would assume. I loved this book. As a cancer survivor, it speaks to me about courage, hope, and love. And, no, Orenda doesn't have cancer. But her fortitude in bravely facing a catastrophic disease speaks volumes to those living in the shadows of such diseases. And, Orenda's message goes beyond her own immediate concerns. The wisdom she gains from her experience helps Collin deal with his OCD issues by instilling courage and bravery into his life, and connecting him to spiritual experiences. That The Brave doesn't address issues such as racism, reservation and urban violence, and historical trauma doesn't diminish its strengths as a book about a facet of Ojibwe/Native experience. There will be other Ojibwe/Native writers who will write such books. What The Brave gives us is about the significance of cherishing life despite medical or mental afflictions - or being different. To face life's struggles, one needs Zoogide’iwin. Or as Orenda says: "To be brave as a brave." © Robert DesJarlait, 2021
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