More than a year ago, the murders of nine
members of the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, S.C.,
triggered debate about use of the Confederate flag. Eventually, that flag was
removed from South Carolina’s Capitol. That flag, many argued, is a symbol of
racism, not just Southern heritage.
Symbols evoke feeling and have great power.
So, too, do names.
In “The Anti-Redskin” (The Atlantic,
October), Ariel Sabar writes about the ongoing movement to eliminate the use of
“Redskins” as a mascot for sports teams. While this movement has been going on
for some time, it has heated up in the last couple of years in reference to
Washington, D.C.’s NFL team, the Redskins.
Leading that move, writes Sabar, is Ray
Halbritter, the leader of the Oneida Indian Nation. Drawing on his tribe’s
wealth, Halbritter, a graduate of Harvard Law School and owner of a casino in
upstate New York, has launched “Change the Mascot, a campaign of radio ads,
polls, opposition research, academic studies, YouTube videos, Twitter hashtags
and media interviews.”
Since
the late 1960s, Native American activists have been saying that the
Redskins’ name is a slur, but they got little attention. Now, powerful people
are speaking out. Sabar lists them: “Marquee sports journalists such as Bob
Costas said they would stop using the name, as did more than a dozen news
outlets and the editorial board of … The Washington Post; civil-rights
groups and sports figures came out against it; 50 U.S. senators signed a letter
to NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell …; and the Patent and Trademark Office
revoked six of the team’s registered trademarks, calling them ‘disparaging.’ ”
Why the difference in attention? Money.
Halbritter’s wealth buys media access.
Sabar visited Halbritter and heard a story
that helps explain his passion for this cause. In 1976, his aunt and uncle
burned to death in their trailer as calls to the City of Oneida Fire Department
went unanswered. That, writes Sabar, “was the crisis that sapped the last of Halbritter’s
faith in outsiders.”
Two weeks after the fire, the Oneidas opened
a bingo hall. Over the next few decades, the tribe diversified into other
businesses, including video production, marina management, journalism and
sausage making. “Oneida Nation Enterprises, the commercial empire Halbritter
founded and leads as CEO, is one of the largest employers in central New York,”
Sabar writes.
In
early 2013, Halbritter heard about high-school students in nearby
Cooperstown, N.Y., pressing school officials to drop their team’s long-standing
name, the Redskins. These were white kids in an overwhelmingly white town
taking a stand. He offered Cooperstown $10,000 for new athletic uniforms. The
school accepted and changed its name to the Hawkeyes.
Soon he took on the NFL team with Change the
Mascot. He hired a Yale-trained psychologist to publicize peer-reviewed studies
showing that American Indian caricatures lower young Indians’ sense of
self-worth and possibility, which, Halbritter argues, “abets the cycles of poverty,
alcoholism and suicide.”
Since
2013, at least a dozen schools around the United States have dropped the
Redskins name, including Goshen (Ind.) Community Schools. (Halbritter considers
the names Indians and Braves a lower priority because neither is
“a dictionary-defined racial slur.”)
Other racial slurs have become taboo, but
somehow “redskin” has not. At least not yet. Now that may be changing.
Halbritter thinks change will come, he told students at
Harvard, “because a critical mass of Americans will no longer tolerate,
patronize and cheer on bigotry.”
Let's hope so.
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