I should probably begin by saying that I did not read any of the Little House books as a child. Therefore, as a 40-year-old white mother, I didn’t approach sharing this book with my 8-year-old white-appearing daughter with much more than a purpose to have intentional conversations about the racism found within. Without the sentimentality that some people have attached to these books, reading this book with a critical eye was not difficult.
Little House on the Prairie is one of a series of semi-autobiographical (but technically fictional) books for middle grade readers about a family of five who moves to Kansas during the western settlement that drove many American Indians from their land. In this post, I will sometimes refer to American Indians as “Indians” when speaking in context of the novel, which is how the author refers to them throughout.
We weren’t too far into the book when I found myself having to explain why the settlers felt like they were free to move into “Indian Territory.” Throughout the book, Pa is often the voice of reason, appearing to understand that the American Indians’ upset is justified, and yet still also believing in his own right to settle on Indian land. After the first mention of that, I stopped and asked if my daughter thought that is was fair for the Ingalls family to move onto land that belonged to someone else. She felt it was “snotty,” which, while not a word we typically use in our house, is pretty accurate and I feel a close synonym to privilege. I felt like she understood this.
I explained that the government felt white people would “civilize” the land. In the government’s view, to civilize meant to make the area more similar to white civilization. By taking this stand, the government allowed American Indians to be forced out of their homelands. I explained that it is difficult for some people to view other cultures and see value in the way others live if it is different from their own way of life. Sometimes, instead of seeing differences as just part of people’s uniqueness, fear takes over and people who have power make decisions. Those decisions affect people who don’t have power. I then related it to gentrification and lost my daughter there. Too far, Lindsey, I told myself.
But the question “Whose land is it?” comes up in one of the more tense moments halfway through the novel when two American Indians visit the Ingalls home while Pa isn’t there. “Their faces were bold and fierce and terrible” Laura says, and the illustrations depict a stereotypical image of two nearly naked men with skunk-skin loin cloths.
Wilder goes into great detail about the odor of the two men— emanating from the skins. The girls and Ma are terrified. The men point to things in the house, Ma gives them food and tobacco, and they leave.
Once the tense moment passes, I closed the book and had the following conversation with my daughter:
Me: What do you think just happened?
Her: The men came in and asked for food.
Me: Why do you think that Ma and the girls were scared?
Her: Because they are always scared of the Native Americans.
Me: Why do you think that?
Her: Because they don’t know much about the Native Americans.
Me: What do you think about the Native Americans taking the food and the tobacco?
Her: Well, maybe that’s how they do things in their tribe. It doesn’t feel right, but maybe it wasn’t stealing it was just sharing since they had to share their land.
Me: What do you think you would do if you were Laura in that situation?
Her: Oh, I don’t know...I’d probably do whatever Ma was doing.
Like most kids, she would model her parents’ behavior.
There were some phrases such as “The only good Indian is a dead Indian,” said repeatedly by a neighbor, that we had to unpack. We talked about how those were racist statements and if we ever heard someone speak that way about other people we should call that out. Similarly, Ma often chastised Laura’s curiosity about American Indians; we discussed how exploring other cultures can be a beautiful thing as long as it is done respectfully. Throughout the book, Laura wishes to see a papoose (incorrectly defined in this book as a Native American baby). Her obsession with papooses reaches a fever pitch toward the end when she sees a baby and demands to have the baby—to take the baby from her own mother so that she may keep it as if the child were a doll. My daughter and I had a long talk about that one. The Ingalls family viewed the American Indians as being so different from themselves that they often objectified them. In doing so, they prevented themselves from seeing the Indians as family members and moms and children, the same as themselves.
The climax of the novel (spoilers ahead) is when three tribes come together to determine what to do about the settlers. We see this from the very frightened perspective of the Ingalls family who can hear the drumming and war cries from their home. The family endures many sleepless nights listening to the nearby ceremonies with mounting fear until the tribes reach a solution with the help of the only American Indian who is humanized and called a “good Indian” by Laura and Pa. He earned this distinction by putting an end to the things that were making the Ingalls family uncomfortable—which is a common trope used to pigeonhole people of color into only serving to help the white people in a story. After reading this tense chapter, we spent some time exploring You Tube videos watching traditional war dances and war cries. I asked my daughter if she found this scary and she said “No, but it's because I know why they are doing it.”
A little education goes a long way.
As I have mentioned, Pa often calms Ma’s attitude toward American Indians or explains why the nearby tribes are not happy with the settlers. However, Pa’s true colors show at the end of the novel (again, spoliers) when he learns the government is going to allow the American Indians to remain, thereby making it unsafe for the Ingalls family to settle there. We have seen Pa face medical emergencies—nearly drowning, a wolf pack attacking him—and we never see him break a sweat or lose his temper. But after he learns this latest news, he throws a Pa-sized tantrum.
I had the following conversation with my daughter:
Me: Have we seen Pa so upset?
Her: No. Me: Why is he so upset?
Her: Because he worked so hard to build that cabin and now they have to move again.
Me: How do you think the American Indians feel about that?
Her: They are probably happy.
Me: How do you feel about that?
Her: I think I would rather the American Indians be happy.
Me: Why?
Her: Well, Laura’s family will be fine
(note: here I think “She’s got it! She understands privilege!”)
Me: What makes you say that?
Her: Because you said there are tons of other books about them. They must be okay.
So, maybe my daughter didn’t walk away with a full understanding of white privilege, but she can now better identify when someone is being “snotty” to another person for racial or cultural differences. She also has a better understanding of our country’s treatment of its native people. And that is a foundation that we can build upon. One log at a time.
If you would like to read books similar to Little House, I recommend Louise Erdrich’s Birchbark House series told from the perspective of an American Indian family.