prevalent, as “preconception seemed to have created image, and image in turn became fact” (17). The problematic effects of this can still be seen in modern literature. Joel W. Martin makes this evident in Before and Beyond the Sioux Ghost Dance as he discusses deprivation theory in relation to certain Native American prophetic movements, such as the Delaware revolt of 1763 for which “[g]ame depletion and land loss were concerns explicitly and prominently addressed by prophets” (683). According to Martin, through linking such negative aspects of colonization to these prophetic movements in a way that denotes a causal relationship, deprivation theory does not allow for indigenous groups to have agency throughout history (683-684). This minimizes the active role Native Americans play in their own lives, contributing to a narrow view that ignores traditional cultural influences within groups. Scholars writing with preconceptions rooted in colonization only perpetuate such problematic framing. The extent that such biased writing can influence society is evident as one looks at John G.
Neihardt’s Black Elk Speaks. Neihardt claims to authentically give voice to Black Elk of the Oglala Sioux. However, as Martin reveals, the work actually “gives a highly selective and romantic vision of the man and his religious life” (679). DeMaillie’s annotations in the Premier Edition of Neihardt’s work show that the poetic descriptions of Black Elk’s speech are framed by the author’s biased desire to present an image of the poor, deprived Indian. This is evident when Neihardt includes Black Elk’s discourse as, “you see me now a pitiful old man who has done nothing, for the nation’s hoop is broken and scattered,” for which Demallie reveals is “Neihardt’s summary” (218). Such distorted interpretations of the deprived Native American spread throughout the United States in the 1960s and 1970s when “the book exploded into surprising popularity” (Preface to the 1972 Edition). Therefore, the biases of an author writing history have the potential to influence society on a great scale, reinforcing false images that erode difference and erase agency of diverse groups of
people. Clearly, the dominant voice in the canon of history yields great power. A scholar can perpetuate stereotypes. I heard Sunny Dooley, a storyteller of the Diné people, say on Wednesday, “We believe our words create motion, action, and change.” Perhaps, as scholars look at Native American religious practices, they should think about the importance of their own language, and how it shapes perceptions of history that still influence people today.