My science fiction novels The Willow and the Stone and the upcoming Willow in the Desert have quite of few characters, one of which is
Native American Leo Black Elk. In these
stories, Leo is the last surviving member of the Crow people.
It’s funny that I came up with Leo long before I met my
husband, a member of the St. Regis Mohawk tribe. I claim no Native American ancestry, being
descended from Scots and as lily-white as the day is long. But like many non-natives, I’ve long been
fascinated with the cultures of the first Americans. My best friend in middle school was Cherokee
and I dated a Creek a long time ago.
While my character Leo has some of those characteristics we
non-natives tend to automatically foist on them in our romanticized vision – possessing a wisdom that seems somewhat otherworldly, being in tune with
the Earth, and ancestor respect that borders on deification – I tried not to be
ridiculous about it. Leo has had his
rough times too. He was angry as a young
man, as many young men tend to be when they come from a marginalized race. His temper is something he continues to fight
in The Willow and the Stone. But Leo has also found a measure of
maturity. He’s grown to realize that
when you live with anger every day of your life, even if that anger is
justified, then all you have in the end is anger. You miss out on the joys because you’re so
busy looking for the racism that might be there or might not.
I once worked with a Mohawk woman in her thirties who had
never really spent time off the reservation in the company of other ethnicities. Beautiful and intelligent with a wonderful
sense of humor, I enjoyed being around her.
You can imagine my surprise when she turned to me one day and said, “I
didn’t think I would like whites. I’ve
never bothered with them. But I like
you.” She seemed as shocked by her words
as I was. She’d not expected much good
from me, while I, having had the good fortune to enjoy friendships with many
races, had few pre-conceived ideas about her.
It was an eye-opener, and I based young Leo on her limited view.
While I fought hard to keep Leo’s character from being the
‘noble savage’ stereotype, I do admit to him being a bit romanticized. He is one of the heroes of the two stories,
after all. I went for the ‘noble’ part
of the equation and did my best to eschew the ‘savage’. In the end, he’s a good man who carries on a
few traditional ways from his culture.
I knew some non-natives might think I treated his ties to
his heritage a little light. I kept this
in mind when someone, a white author, mentioned that the name Leonard was
hardly Native American and I should go with something else. It was hard to keep a civil tongue in my head
over that bit of blind prejudice. Yes,
many Native Americans have traditional names.
A huge number also have names like my husband and in-laws: Peter, Natalie, Felicia, and Hubert, to name
just a few. Besides, I took Leo’s name
from an actual well-known Native American:
Leonard Peltier who is, according to many including Amnesty
International, unjustly serving a prison sentence for murders he did not
commit. (Only the name is used; my
character is not in any way based on Mr. Peltier.)
So that’s the genesis of Leo Black Elk: Native American but every day guy who happens
to have ESP. I guess I did okay with him
since no one in my husband’s family has taken me to task over the handling of
his character. I’m still welcome back to
the rez for Thanksgiving and Christmas, as far as I know. It’s a good thing; Leo is one of my favorite
characters and I’d hate to think he was all wrong.
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