Suicide of my morals

I did a book critique of Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee by Dee Brown. Below is the opinion/reflection section of the paper. Sorry if seems a bit self-oriented but the professor is asking about us and our perception of the ethnicity presented in the book. It's not academic, in fact, I think I'm just ranting in this section but it may help illustrate some of my personal feelings toward to issue. Here:

I very much appreciated this book. As a white male it obviously brought new information to the table for me. This only serves as fuel to the fire because I am involved and plan to be more involved with indigenous activist movements in South America. I have a substantial amount of knowledge (as an outsider) of the plight of the Guarani Indians in Paraguay. I have also conducted fieldwork in Paraguay revealing acts of resistance by the native community against assimilation. My weakness is in the knowledge of the plight, rape, pillage, violation, massacre, atrocity, relocation, etc. of the indigenous natives to the United States. While my interest in Paraguay stems from serving an LDS mission in Paraguay and learning the Guarani language while living with them for quite some time, I find myself, like most white Americans, unfamiliar to what has and what does occur with our indigenous population. I would hope that this inspirational work has served and motivated me to also be involved and active in the indigenous social movements in the United States. I realize that as a white outsider my ability to aid in social movements is limited to the trust that the indigenous population gives to me. I am o.k. with that. To be indifferent to the current situation of indigenous groups and to “hope” for a better future would violate my morals that you would think I would consciously defend.

The effect of this book on my opinion and perception of the Native American ethnicity was profound mainly in one specific way. I was aware that the Native Americans used many forms of resistance against the dominant white society but this book added further detail. Oftentimes white culture looks at the “history” of Native Americans and considers them passive and childlike much like the initial perception of Christopher Columbus. This translates to mean that the Native Americans were foolish children in mind and easily manipulated and controlled. Following such a concept would also imply that they were immature in religion, morals, “civility”, and thus why they were called, “heathens”. Whites consider it their job to either exterminate such a despicable race or educate them to catch up (but stay slightly behind) in “progression”. Over the past few years I have made a conscious effort to turn such a concept on its head and shake the hell out of anyone who continues to adhere to such foolish and ignorant perceptions. What Dee Brown revealed to me is that Native Americans were even more aggressive, active, and independent in defending themselves, their resources, and their ideologies. The book was filled with numerous examples of Native Americans staring the white man in the face and fighting to the death for what should not have been necessary to defend, i.e. their rightfully occupied land and traditions. While many times the Native American was staring the white man in the face to defend what was theirs, on a continual basis, was a white man that sneaked up behind his back to craftily slip in a sharp blade that was only intended for death to the Native. Yes, what has happened is truly a tragedy. But the greater tragedy is the indifference of men and women who claim to live by morals. The tragedy even can be found in the Native American community. Today, when talking with a friend who is 1/4 Cherokee, I asked her why she was not angry about the past and she responded, “Well, they haven’t done anything to me”. The attitude by the dominant of, “I haven’t done anything to them, what my ancestors did is not my fault”, and the attitude of the dominated of, “they haven’t done anything to me”, is what plagues and aids the constant festering of this open sore which we call, “racism”. To me, to push the responsibility of healing the sore to the next generation would be my suicide of my morals.