How does a trained skeptic write about a “mythology” he doesn’t quite believe in or comprehend because he stands outside of the culture that produced it? I’m not just talking about Native American stories, either. In school, we often study stories as if they were lifeless insects impaled through the heart by long, sharp needles affixing them to a bed of white cotton. It isn’t often possible to immerse ourselves in living oral traditions we aren’t part of, and even if we could we’d always be outsiders to some degree, ethnographers rather than full participants. Still, we might learn something by exploring the ironies, the distance between illusions and reality … we might even lessen the gap a little among skeptics and believers—assuming this is a worthy goal, and I believe it is.
With the best of intentions, a desire for truth and wisdom, is it still possible to be misled by the dragonfly guide–to steal or misappropriate stories that don’t really belong to us because they must be lived to be understood, not interpreted? Whose story is being told or retold? Whose purpose is being served? Whose well being? Recently, I was led to a book that should become essential reading before anyone embarks on this journey of the dragonfly.
A Broken Flute: The Native Experience in Books for Children is an encyclopedic collection of critical reviews of books written about Native Americans for children between the early 1900s and 2003, along with stories, essays and poems from its contributors. In an “Open Letter to a Non-Indian Teacher,” a mother asks “What values, class prejudices, and moral 
principles do you take for granted as universal? [….] Can you help [my child] acquire the intellectual skills he needs without at the same time imposing your values on top of those he already has?” That’s a tall order, for sure, but one that can’t be ignored because lives and identities are at stake.
Three children’s books about Kokopelli are reviewed, all written since 2000 and “all written by cultural outsiders,” the reviewer informs us. She goes on: “[They] will undoubtedly appeal to people who collect Kokopelli lamps, Kokopelli coasters, Kokopelli napkin rings, Kokopelli-printed toilet paper, and the like.” She cites an unnamed but well-known Hopi storyteller who says “In our traditional beliefs, Kokopelli is a Katsina of fertility, he is a deity. He does not go around playing a flute; he’s carrying a cane or rod. And he’s not a ‘humpback,’ he’s carrying a burden. Whenever he appears in our rituals, he is copulating. When the Katsinam come out, he goes around trying to hump people. Grown men run from him! It would be more appropriate to put his image on a bottle of Viagra or on a condom vending machine than in a children’s book.” The storyteller remains anonymous not from a desire to hide but because it is considered impolite to make others appear foolish or stupid.
And so … at the risk of making myself appear foolish or stupid without help from anyone, my journey with dragonfly continues. I invite your comments.
Journey of the Dragonfly 