Well, It’s Super Complicated

In order to make any value judgment on the ethicality of appropriative acts, or to even label something as an appropriative act, one must first ask, what even is appropriation? Cultural appropriation is typically understood as the act of adopting something from another, often marginalized culture for one’s own gain without the proper understanding or the permission of the owner.¹ But, as Michael Brown considers in his 2003 book Who Owns Native Culture, this raises questions of, well, who owns Native culture?²

It seems as though most people would agree that Native people ‘own’ Native culture, but when it comes to the legality of using Native images and symbols in mainstream society, this would be incredibly impractical to enforce. The concept of ownership thus becomes much more abstract, which in turn makes the concept of appropriation much harder to define.

I thus tend to define appropriation more specifically, as a privileged group or individual taking an aspect of a marginalized culture as their own and for their own gain, without valuing the people themselves, or compensating/recognizing them in any way. However, it is possible that many people do not agree with my definition of appropriation, which thus warrants discussion.

While I have done my best to refrain from labeling the Kokopelli as an instance of appropriation, it is, of course, possible that my own value judgments shine through my research. The conclusion I’ve come to is, unfortunately, that I simply don’t know if the Kokopelli constitutes appropriation or not. What I do know is that the usages of the Kokopelli, the appropriation of Native cultures, and appropriation, in general, are incredibly abstract, subjective concepts, and it thus may be more productive to discuss the associated complexity than to attempt to create neat boxes around these concepts. The reasons for this conclusion are laid out in full throughout the website, but I want to detail them below for clarity’s sake.

The Misunderstanding

First, the fact that the current, commodified version of the Kokopelli is distinct from its roots as Hopi deity adds complexity to the situation, as the mis-association of the Kokopelli name with the flute player symbol from Ancient Puebloan rock art has resulted in the Kokopelli as we know it today becoming something almost unrecognizable from its perceived roots. Therefore, it is challenging to draw a direct connection between the Kokopelli that is used so extensively in the dominant culture and the Kokopelli that was once sacred to the Hopi people.

The Southwest

Additionally, the Kokopelli’s current role as the pan-Southwestern mascot is compelling, as most people who come across the symbol simply associate it with the Southwest as a region, rather than with aspects of Native spiritual life. Of course, there are exceptions to this pattern, but the connection between the Kokopelli as Hopi god and the Kokopelli as commercialized flute player symbol is much looser than, say, the mascots of national sports teams which depict Native person images or white people donning Native headdresses.

Being Reimagined

The fact that the Kokopelli (as already misunderstood flute player) is consistently being reimagined into different forms and roles is noteworthy as well, as many of the forms of the Kokopelli that people come across are even further removed from the origins of the Kokopelli in Hopi spiritual life.

Institutions & Native People

Furthermore, the role of both Native people and institutions devoted to Native experiences cannot be ignored, as they have embraced the commodified Kokopelli and put it to work in ways that benefit Native people, whether by informing the public about Native experiences or by bringing profit to Native artists and individuals. This is evidently distinct from the typical understanding of appropriation, which neglects to consider the agency of the dominated group. Additionally, the fact that institutions dedicated to Native experiences can be seen perpetuating the commodified version of the Kokopelli reveals a deep cultural disconnect between the current conception of the symbol and its origins in Hopi spiritual life.

Public vs. Private

The fact that public and private institutions seem to acknowledge and use the Kokopelli in distinct ways is complicated as well, as the lack of consistency in the usages of the symbol renders it challenging to draw any conclusions regarding the utility of the symbol for those who employ it. The intentions behind using the Kokopelli in these instances seem to vary greatly, which further blurs the line connecting the current conception of the Kokopelli with its origins in Hopi spiritual life.

Lack of Ownership

Lastly, the fact that neither the Hopi deity nor the commodified Southwestern flute player is the legal property of any Native group adds another layer of complexity, as it has allowed the symbol to be adopted and reimagined by countless individuals and businesses, resulting in a new cultural understanding of the Kokopelli detached from its original significance.

When considering all of these factors, it becomes clear that the Kokopelli may be too complex to serve as a cut-and-dry example of cultural appropriation. Generally, the cultural distance between the Kokopelli’s Hopi roots and its current conception as Southwestern logo, demonstrations of Native agency regarding the ‘new’ version of the Kokopelli, and some of the positive Kokopelli usages for sharing Native experiences complicate the necessary connection between its original role in Native life and its current role in mainstream society required to label it “appropriation.”

This doesn’t mean, however, that studying it has nothing to offer on the subject; in fact, I believe that conversations which shed light on complexity are much more productive than falling into binaries and metanarratives that fail to consider nuance. I am still an avid proponent against the appropriation of Native culture, as are prominent groups of Native people—especially when it comes to Native person images that have been proven to be harmful as they perpetuate negative stereotypes and prejudice against Native people.³ However, I have learned that it is important to look for answers in the particularities—even if they may not provide the most satisfaction, I believe being confused with complexity is better than being certain with the absence of complication.

While one symbol might seem too small in scope to be worth devoting this much attention to, this kind of work is nonetheless crucial because symbols are not neutral.⁴ In other words, we as a culture attach myriad meanings to different cultural symbols, making them “realms of memory,” whether they take the form of a flag, a bald eagle, Uncle Sam, or the national anthem.⁵ Within this framework, the Kokopelli serves as a “constructed symbol,” produced “over the passage of time, by human effort, and by history itself,” consistently moving and changing as it is imbued with new meaning.⁶

Symbolic disputes have “largely failed to gain popular recognition as raising salient social and political questions,” despite efforts to foster discussions around their history and significance—such as local and national sports team logos of Native people or usages of the Confederate flag—which are instead “portrayed as sideshows, distractions from truly important public policy issues.” Despite the lack of attention devoted to symbolic issues in American society, symbols hold significant power to “define a particular people’s collective identity,” as identity and memory are inextricably intertwined.⁷

“In other words, commemorative sites are in no way objective markers of a static past; they are powerful, purposeful tools aiding in the continuous creation and re-creation of a group’s historical memory, which, in turn, goes hand-in-hand with the fluid fashioning of the group’s collective identity.”

Grant Burnette Lefever, 2016 Thesis

These cultural symbols are defined by the “dominant” group in power, who “exert cultural authority” through collective memory and solidarity, effectively pushing “dominated” sites of memory to the fringes.⁸

Often, over time, objects, symbols, and “histories” that were in fact products of intense contestation, manipulation, and struggle come to appear as natural, consensual elements of a cultural landscape.”

Grant Burnette Lefever, 2016 Thesis

In other words, the Native history of the Kokopelli, combined with the dominant culture’s more recognized adoption of the symbol renders it inherently social and political and thus studying it can offer insight into how collective memory is constructed with regard to the dominant and the dominated.

Overall, although studying the Kokopelli may be incredibly nuanced and contradictory, I am very glad that I chose to focus my thesis on it, as it forced me to challenge my own preconceptions and judgments, and taught me a lot about the complexities of appropriation, collective memory, and the power of symbols in American society.

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