For The Buffalo that could not dream, German photographer Felix von der Osten chronicles life on Montana’s the Fort Belknap Reservation, where since 1888, the Gros Ventre and Assiniboine Native American tribes have raised their families and continued to foster a deeply-felt respect for the land.
You know what, I have gotten my life limit of looking at pictures of natives that white people have taken. Hell, we still gotta deal with Curtis and his baggage he left. Also, the photographer was there for a month and suddenly can shoot photos with feeling that a Native couldn’t have done with an eye far more clear for having experienced it their whole life?
No, my friends and family, you want to see some amazing work, look into the book, “Shooting Back From the Reservation”, where Native children were given cameras to capture their lives and did so with grace and laughter and leave this German bozo alone.
All right, Fam, I got some pretty horrible hate mail for this opinion of mine so now I’m going to expand on my LOVE for “Shooting Back from the Reservation”, and why I dislike this German man’s photos of Natives.
If you have seen Edward Curtis photos (and who hasn’t?) these were taken in the same vein and tell about as much about Natives as Curtis’ did (which is not a lot).
Posed, un-smiling, dressed in regalia – heck, not one picture that this Felix guy took has anyone who is smiling! Not even the children! All posed and stern, with serious faces – this is not the full reality and isn’t the most important part of our communities! Even in the landscape pictures he conveyed isolation and emptiness when it’s not really like that. How can the land be empty when my grandpa taught me how to speak to it?
Shooting Back was made by Native children who were sharing and exploring different aspects of their LIVES. It shows how life really is within a Native community by young Native people. It’s not someone who showed up on a reservation for a month because his girlfriend had extended family there and took pictures. This is a glimpse of a moment out of their day and holds so many aspects of their life that you cannot view from an outsider’s pictures.
It shows you that there is no one way a Native is suppose to look,
It has chubby babies with big heads and intelligent eyes,
And shows that often our places are run down, and held together with more than a little duct tape, WITHOUT it being poverty porn,
It shows the love of rez dogs and rez cars,
And dads that make funny faces just because he likes to hear you laugh,
It shows a cemetery with too many graves,
And those medicine wheels that your aunt makes when you get a new to you car,
It shows kids playing, goofing around, and laughing!
And standing kinda awkwardly next to a white guy,
And elders that make silly faces too!
But my favorite part of this book is that in a society where our Native youth have some of the highest suicide rates, where they are silenced twofold because not only are they Native but they are also children and apparently that means that you’re not a full person yet, this book gives them a platform for their voice.
And I. I just really love this book. So if you want to see what Native life is, not just the poverty porn and the Edward Curtis wannabes, please check this book out. That is all.
Just bought the book, thanks for the rec!
OMG!!! So excited about that! Please let me know how you like it!
disabilities = not the problem
ableism = the problem
I will expand on this with an example
The fact I need a wheelchair does not upset me. Going out in my wheelchair does not upset me.
The looks and stares and comments I get from people when I’m out in my wheelchair DO upset me.
I don’t know man… The horrible stabbing pain I feel most of the time? Kind of upsetting
I agree. But everyone feels different about their disability, and it depends on what kind of disability it is too. I don’t mind being autistic, sometimes I even like it, even though people treat me like I’m a dumb kid sometimes and making/keeping friends is hard for me. But I really really hate having an autoimmune disorder. The disability is a problem for me because being in constant pain really sucks, and ableism is a problem because people think I should be healthy and able-bodied because I’m young, so obviously I’m just faking it.
It would be nice to be able to lose the ableism component so I only have my own issues to deal with, instead of everyone’s judgments on top of it.
i know i just reblogged this but i forgot to add that this guy’s name is sarper duman, he’s based in istanbul and he loves playing the piano for all of his cats. you can find him on instagram if you search for his name!!
•buy toys/dolls/crayons
•play with Legos
•play old videogames/dress up games
•weave friendship bracelets
•watch cartoons
•use stickers
•draw pics of your favorite characters
If it makes you feel nice, do it.
Don’t even worry about what other people think, because it doesn’t matter–if it brings you happiness, it’s not “ridiculous”, or “immature”.
You deserve to enjoy yourself.
Let me share with you what I consider to be the most important less I’ve learned in my adult life:
“Growing up doesn’t mean you can’t have Zebra Cakes. Growing up simply means that, if you want to have Zebra Cakes, you buy them for yourself.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Bear?” Well, let me explain. For those of you who live outside of the US, this is a Zebra Cake:
It’s a little pre-packaged snack cake that is horribly cheap and junky and really not that great, but it is like manna from heaven to me. I fucking love these things. When I was a little kid growing up, my mom bought Zebra Cakes but once in a blue moon. They were intended to be put in mine and my siblings’ school lunches, but my brother and I would eat them whenever we wanted, so Mom just didn’t see the point. (They also used to be kind of expensive, at least for our family’s budget.) Needless to say, the coveted Zebra Cakes were a luxury for me, and were one of the tastes of my childhood.
Fast forward to my college years. I was living in an apartment with three other people, doing my own shopping and cooking. I was in the grocery store, picking up some stuff, and I happened to walk past a display of snack cakes. Among them were several boxes of Zebra Cakes.
I paused at this, chuckling to myself. Oh man. Zebra Cakes. I haven’t had those in years. I loved those when I was a kid. I reminisced happily and thought about how much I missed the taste of Zebra Cakes, then started to walk away.
And then I stopped dead.
Because I had realized that there was literally nothing stopping me from buying a box of Zebra Cakes. There was nothing stopping me from buying ten boxes of Zebra Cakes. If I wanted Zebra Cakes, I could have goddamn Zebra Cakes, because it was my money and my decision to make.
I put two boxes in my cart (they were 2 for $5) and never looked back.
Here’s the secret I learned that day: The idea of something being “just for kids” is, by and large, bullshit. What you do on your own adult free time with your own adult money is, by its very nature, adult stuff. It’s like comedian Eddie Izzard (who frequently performed his routines in drag) once said when someone asked about him wearing ‘women’s clothes’: “They’re not women’s clothes. They’re my clothes. I bought them.”
I am 25 years old, and yesterday I bought myself a shark lunchbox. Look at it. Look at how awesome my lunchbox is.
Was this lunchbox intended to by bought for and used by a child? Yes. The tag said it was for ages 3 and up. But it was bought by and will be used by an adult, and anyone who thinks that’s wrong is probably just jealous that they don’t have the self-confidence to rock a shark lunchbox at 25.
So like. Being “mature” and “an adult” doesn’t mean you have to completely abandon the things that made you happy when you were younger. It just means that you may have to approach them in a different way.
Pay attention, there’s a lesson here
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: being an adult does not mean you let the ice cream truck just pass by, it means that you grab your own damn wallet and run out there to buy cheap ice cream with your own damn money
Urocyon's Jaunts 2.0 
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