Seeing 'Dances with Wolves' is to watch yourself come home

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There was a moment during Dances with Wolves when the forgotten returned. Somewhere during Kevin Costner's historical film I recalled a scene from my life I hadn't thought of in decades.

When I was a small boy, abducted by white people through a strange system called fostercare, we were choosing up sides for a rousing Saturday afternoon episode of :Cowboys and Indians." Only back in those innocent days it was "Cowboys and Itchybums."

We all had our holsters, those little red straw cowboy hats with the whistles on the string, Wyatt Earp badges, John Wayne gait and fantasies of being Pa, Hoss, Little Joe and Adam. As the choosing went on, it soon became apparent we seemed to have a preponderance of cowpoke and a total absence of enemy. Seems that even then Indians were an endangered species.

Reasonably enough my companions decided I should be the savage since rumor had it I used to be an "Itchybum." I remember protesting and protesting against what I felt was nothing short of travesty. All those hours spent sheering for the Rifleman, the Cartwrights, the Crisco Kid and Bat Masterson should have qualified me for in-depth role play. Eventually I ran into the house in tears.

When asked to explain the tears, that little boy who used to be an "Itchbum: answered "because I don't know how to be an Indian."

As I sat through the premiere of Dances with Wolves the memory came back so vividly it was shocking. Perhaps because what I was witnessing was the first realistic portrayal of my people on screen. Some have come close but this was an emotional and spiritual reconnection I've never felt short of ceremony.

Because there was a time when going to the movies meant popcorn, coke and caricatures. A time when "the only good Injun is a dead Injun" was reinforced by screen portrayals depicting murderous, guttural, half-witted pagans hell-bent on victimizing helpless women an children. A time when the bugle cll cemented the rightness and wrongness, the goodness and badness and the inevitable from the hapless in the minds of North Americans.

For years the only Indians this society recognized were the Sioux, Cheyenne and Apache. Indians were to be feared, laughed at and disposed of as quickly as possible so that Slim and the school ma'rm could ride off into the sunset and begin building a decent America from its savage roots.

The Hollywood Indian caricature was imbedded deeply. The depiction swung from the sweeping romantic to the hopelessly insane with no ground in between. It was either the "noble redman" or the "heathen savage." Until Tonto came along to introduce the world to the loyal, slow-witted, slow-talking sidekick, Indians on the silver screen were a tacky-looking lot.

Non-Indians weren't the only ones to buy into the stereotype. Among my circle are a number of previously displaced people like myself who had to go through the early part of their lives with no cultural frame of reference except the Hollywood Indian. All across Canada there's a virtual generation of Indian people who have had to battle their way clear of the images of their people that existed in their minds. So strong was the Hollywood influence that Indian people themselves bought into the mythology.

The sad part in all of this is the number of Indian people out there who have never been able to shake off the stereotype. Like that little Itchybum, there are hundreds who still have no idea of how to be an Indian.

That's why dances with Wolves is important.

Not only are we allowed into the villages, lodges and lives of the people, we are allowed an intimate peek at their psych. We see the Indians as they've never been seen before.

We see a world where men and women are intellectual, philosophical, cultural, and spiritual equals. A world where children are encouraged in their individuality. Where love and other feelings are expressed openly and declared freely, especially between men. A world where the earth is celebrated, venerated and protected. society based entirely on collective well-being and individual freedom.

These are the Indians.

Watching this movie is watching g yourself come home again. The Indian people who hugged in the aisles that night shed tears for the crimes of history and tears for the crimes of history and tears of gratitude for the reconnection. They were a proud group of aboriginal people who walked out of that theater. They knew who they were.

Not only has Costner created a standard for other film-makers to shoot for, he's create an impressive frame of reference for all those "Itchybums" out there who need to know how to be an Indian.

EAGLE FEATHERS - to Tantoo Cardinal, Black Shawl in Dances with Wolves, for the example, the motivation and most of all, the friendship.