The Washington Redskins have been the last to surrender to the powerful tide of political correctness. The American football team has agreed to change its name after years insisting that the current one (red skins) has never pretended to be a racist insult, but quite the opposite, a tribute and a show of respect for the first settlers of the United States.
The Redskins thus yield to the sign of the times, to the idea, more and more widespread in the country of the opportunities that something must change so that everything remains the same. Just a few days ago, the owner of the club in the federal capital, Dan Snyder, still insisted that they were going to remain true to themselves and that they would not yield to "interested and malicious" pressure. She did so in response to statements by Democratic New Mexico congresswoman Deb Haaland, of a Norwegian father and a native mother, a member of the Laguna Pueblo Amerindian tribe, a woman who has devoted much of her time to promoting changes that demonstrate a new sensibility towards ethnic minorities: "With this resistance to change their name, the Redskins offend me, my people and everything I believe in and what I represent," Haaland had said.
The Redskins have just lost a historic pulse that in recent years had become a matter of principle. In addition to a name with 87 years of history, they renounce their logo, the 'ethnic' inspirational choreography of their team of cheerleaders and a marketing campaign very focused on the 'red skin' identity
“We have been Washington's 'Redskins' for 87 years,” replied a cornered Snyder, “and that name is a fundamental part of our identity and a source of pride. We will never give up on him. ” Snyder even cited a poll published by The Washington Post in 2016 in which nine out of ten Native Americans claimed not to be offended by names like that of his club or that of the Cleveland Indians, of the professional baseball league. "Who do we offend then by calling us what we are called?" Asked the sports leader aloud.
Snyder's angry response was the last attempt at resistance by some Redskins who were beginning to assume that the war was lost. Last Monday, July 13, the final claudication arrived. After receiving pressure from the sponsor of its stadium, the courier company FedEx, the club announced on social networks that it was looking for a new name for the season that starts on September 10 and asked its fans for suggestions. A disenchanted fan proposed on Twitter that the team be renamed Washington No Balls, for having ended up giving in to the so-called 'culture of cancellation' driven, among others, by the Black Lives Matter movement.
Its detractors describe this culture, born in universities in the late 1980s and lately nurtured by activism on networks like Twitter, as the progressive obsession to erase the past and rewrite the present from the point of view of oppressed minorities. Its supporters (who do not speak of 'cancellation', but of 'social justice') argue that it is not a question of erasing anything, but of a simple repair of historical grievances that do not have to be perpetuated over time. Deb Haaland, frequently accused by the conservative press of being one of the leading political representatives of that culture of cultural inquisition and selective forgetfulness, celebrated the Redskins' surrender as a victory of good sense and common sense. Her only objection was that the two most popular new name proposals among the team's fans, Warriors and Redhawks, still seem "somewhat unfortunate" to her. But that will be the next round.
The fact is that the Redskins have just lost a historical pulse (the first requests for a name change date back to the 1960s) that in recent years had become a matter of principle. In addition to a name with 87 years of history, they renounce their logo (an Indian chief in profile, with their tribal braid and feathers), the 'ethnic' inspirational choreography of their team of cheerleaders and a very marketing campaign Focused on the identity 'red skin': not long ago, the distribution among his fans of plastic reproductions of Algonquin axes, the traditional tomahawk, was common . Even his flashy burgundy coat that claims to be red skin would be under suspicion.
The club has not lacked allies in this defense of identity lost today. The Washington press remembered these days Zema Williams, the popular Chief Zee, a Redskins fan who had been attending games for his team dressed as an Apache warrior since 1978 and ended up becoming an unofficial mascot of the club until his death, in 2016 For Snyder, Williams' is an example of the extent to which the identification between the team and the Amerindian tradition “was healthy and innocent”. Sports commentator Barry Richard recounted in his WBSM opinion column that the team, founded in Boston in 1932, took on the name it had just relinquished in 1933, “in the overwhelmingly white Boston of the 1930s and in the surrendering America Western cult and idolized John Wayne. " In a context, finally, "in which betting on such a name was an example of civic courage, progressivism and respect for minorities." The name also began as a private joke, a tribute to its first coach, William Henry Lone Star Dietz, who presumed, apparently without much foundation, to be of Sioux origin.
However, voices like those of sports and political journalist Mansur Shaheen disagree with this "sweetened and friendly" reading of the Redskins' story: "The club resisted incorporating African-American players until the mid-1960s. In fact, it was one of the last major league franchises to do so, even though it came under pressure from the federal government during the Eisenhower and Kennedy presidencies to renounce their stubborn policy of racial segregation. ”
Probably the next to renounce their current name will be the Cleveland Indians, who have been at the center of the bull's eye since 2016, the year in which the indigenous costumes with which their fans attended games began to be described as racist.
In an article in Medium magazine , Shaheen recalls that the franchise has just been denounced for harassment and sexist and inconsiderate attitudes against 15 of its workers, most of them cheerleaders, which would demonstrate that it continues to be an “unworthy” institution and prone to "toxic" behaviors. Although it was true that its name is a tribute to the Amerindian tribes, the club "is not up to the task" and cannot claim to become a spokesperson for an ethnic group "that it does not represent and does not do justice". In her article, Shaheen insists that it should not be forgotten that current Native Americans are "survivors of a genocide and a violent and massive expropriation of land." Since centuries later they have not received sufficient reparation for the historical injustices to which they were subjected, they deserve at least "a little consideration and that their name is not taken in vain."
Everything points to the fact that the next to surrender to the new revisionist trend and renounce its current name are going to be the Cleveland Indians, who have been at the center of the bull's eye since 2016. That year they qualified for the world series, and the costumes of indigenous with which part of their fans used to go to the parties began to be described as racist by the national press. The club then tried to whitewash its image with striking concessions such as stopping using helmets and uniforms of its traditional mascot, Chief Wahoo, a young Indian chief with reddish skin and smiling faces who had been representing them since 1947.
It was not enough. The Indians have just made public that they are concerned “to have a positive impact on their community and contribute responsibly to social progress” and that they understand that their name may be “inappropriate”, so they invite shareholders and fans to “a serene debate ”on whether or not to change it.
Much less predisposed to change are the NHL's Chicago Blackhawks at the moment. The ice hockey team believes it has every right in the world to pay tribute to Black Hawk, leader of the Amerindian tribe of the Sauk, a 19th-century indigenous nobleman who allied with the British in an attempt to resist the American colonizing drive. and that today he is revered as a local idol in the city of Chicago and throughout the state of Illinois. However, authoritative voices such as The Nation journalist Dave Zirin denounce that the name is still an example of cultural appropriation by a majority white club and that “the leader of a minority community cannot be reduced to condition of simple pet ”.
Nor does it appear that the latest Superbowl champions, the Kansas City Chiefs, will be able to escape the controversy. Even a prestigious local commentator, Vahe Gregorian, believes that "the time has come to stop being complicit in a cultural offense" looking for a new name for the team. Gregorian, like Zirin, like Haaland and like so many other supporters of the new political correctness, considers it unfair that "Amerindian children and adolescents grow up with the idea that their ethnic identity does not deserve the least respect and can be reduced to a simple joke" . Little has served that those responsible for the franchise reminded that Kansas was inhabited at the time by indigenous tribes such as the Sioux, the Cheyenne, Arapahoe, Kiowa and Wichita, and that the reference to their bosses (chiefs) is no more than a nod to the state's historical memory.
At this rate, as Will Leitch wrote in a complete and controversial article in New York Magazine, even the MLB's Atlanta Braves or the NBA's Golden State Warriors could have problems in the medium term, even though the theirs are generic names, without a direct reference to the Amerindian tradition and therefore they can hardly be considered examples of appropriation or pejorative use of racial expressions. The Braves are especially blamed for their long tradition of using Indian princesses as more or less official pets, although they gave it up several years ago. And in the case of Californians, there is a precedent, that of the Marquette University basketball team, which was renamed the Golden Eagles in response to a group of students of native origin who considered the word warriors to be identified especially with the Amerindian resistance to European colonization and should not receive other uses.
Excessive? William Leitch thinks so. He believes that "progress" does not necessarily have to happen because sports clubs change their name, logo and mascot, chasing the chimera that nothing in their brand image is offensive to anyone. However, as Leitch concludes, "progress is progress", and as such "always runs its course" and runs over anyone who crosses its path. Any act of resistance ends up being sterile.
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