Lost+in+the+genealogical+ether

The word "indigenous" has been appearing a lot lately in my course readings—here, in conjunction with "race"; in discussions of ethnographic methods; in considerations of environmental crises elsewhere. It's the "elsewhere" aspect that's interesting to me. Although probably most "Westerners" use "indigenous" as more or less a synonym for Other, for the vast of majority of Americans, indigenous really is a synonym for Other. Even though indigenous is technically defined as "originating or occurring naturally in a given place; native" (thank you Mac dictionary), those ideas of "originating or occurring naturally" are qualified by a certain longevity and genealogical history. I "originated," for example, in Hawaii, but I would hardly be considered "indigenous" to Hawaii. My mother and her parents "originated" in Massachusetts. My father, in California; his parents in what was then Hungary. Now, "indigenous" also carries with it certain connotations: we prefer people we label "indigenous" to be very different from us—to live nomadic, subsistence lifestyles; to wear exotic body ornamentation; to practice polytheism. It is certainly a word that is usually used by imperialists to describe those peoples whom they have conquered or believe could conquer. But with a little stretching of cultural assumptions, it isn't hard to imagine my paternal grandparents as "indigenous" to Hungary. From within the bounds of history (confines of context?), that particular genealogy has always been situated there, at least until my great-grandparents left. They were "native". Neither they nor their ancestors had "originated" anywhere else. For the vast majority of Americans, all of us understand ourselves to be descendants of immigrants, we can never be indigenous. My maternal grandmother traces her line back to the 1600s, with everyone living in a pretty small swath of the Massachusetts-Maine seaboard, which is pretty good, but not good enough. Because there's a known point of entry, a known break with the past. In 1643 (or whatever it was), left Yorkshire and came here. And because that transition is specifically known, that line of people can never be indigenous. They are always transplants, immigrants, intruders, imposters. Even if what was known was fuzzier—if all that was known was that our ancestors had come from somewhere else, that somewhere else is all it takes to make it impossible to think of ourselves as indigenous to anywhere.

So what about "native"? I sometimes get asked if I'm a "native of Virginia," usually as part of a series of questions from someone who's trying to peg my accent. The answer is no. I've lived there longer than anywhere else, but I didn't start there, and there was certainly nothing characteristically "Virginian" about my family (whatever that might mean). Ok, well, I've lived in the U.S. all my life, an army brat, can I at least call myself native to America? Not without causing some serious confusion. "Native American" does not parallel with "native Irish". In this country, you can only be "native" if you are also "indigenous". Which leaves me, (and most any other American) in a kind of weird space. I started this by thinking about how "indigenous" must necessarily always mean someone else to most Americans, Other, but in some ways it also forces us to Other ourselves. (Where else could I use "other" as a verb?) In some way, we aren't quite real—we aren't grounded; we didn't originate here. We didn't really occur naturally; we aren't native. And when I start thinking I'm not real, I've clearly exceeded my tolerance for sleep deprivation, so I think I will now go try to rememdy that....