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Indigenous Representation & Resistance: A Feminist Film Critique
Leah Knowles WMS 530 Global Women's Issues 24 May 2010
Word Count: 5219 MLA Documentation
2 Popular film media reaches the masses. In addition, certain genres and films tend to become popularized more so than others. Films that are economically and culturally successful hold significant value because of their ability to influence society in a broad sense. They are generally entertaining in a traditional way, depending on a particular culture's sense of humor, drama, and story. They transcend simple entertainment, however, in that they convey specific messages and images within their plots and through their strategies of character development. When indigenous peoples or persons of the “third world” are represented, the result can edify or demean those societies. Unfortunately, the latter is by far the more common result of these representations. For my purposes, I will define “representation” as it pertains to these films in two ways. First, representation within mainstream film media takes the form of negative or stereotypical images of native peoples. The indigenous cultures in the movies are exoticized/romanticized, portrayed as ignorant, simple-minded, in need of rescue, and all include the “noble warrior” motif. Second, the movies I have critiqued all incorporate some kind of representative who acts on behalf of the indigenous peoples, both as a social hero and a cultural authority. An accurate representative should be an actual member of the native community, but all of these films have white, western heroes. A common theme the films share is the idea of the white hero denying any connection to his roots in the west and becoming an authority figure among indigenous communities. In reference to our course, I also noticed the concepts of private ownership or capitalist gain, militarism, spiritual and cultural appropriation, and multiple consciousness or cultural identity in most of the movies I watched. In particular, indigenous women lack agency and are portrayed as prizes to be won, and “many feminist theorists have argued that there is a connection between patriarchy's disregard for nature, women, and indigenous peoples” (Smith 55). All four films were directed by white males and all convey a seemingly positive message about indigenous cultures. If
3 one looks only slighter deeper, however, the true messages surface. The films I have chosen to critique were all quite successful at the box office. For example, Avatar earned $27 million on its first day in the theaters and almost $3 billion to date (“Box Office Mojo”). I believe that this enormous profit alone is enough to demonstrate the influential power of these movies. By viewing and analyzing the films Avatar, Dances with Wolves, Kill Bill: Volume I, and Australia, I aim to demonstrate how mainstream film media perpetuates innate racism and colonialist paradigms through its use of the western savior and helpless native motif. The common thread of white hero/indigenous victim can be found in the movie Avatar, directed by James Cameron. In this futuristic story, the protagonist (Jake Sully) is a white soldier in the U.S. Marine Corps. He travels to the planet Pandora, which is populated by many indigenous communities. Also present on the planet is an existing human (“sky people”) population engaged in scientific and military actions. The native race is called the Na'vi and their village rests upon a resource the humans need. As with most stories of colonization, there exists a conflict between the natives and the humans and this struggle inevitably escalates to devastation and warfare. When Sully discovers he has been chosen by the Na'vi's goddess Eywa, the humans encourage him to learn the native ways in order to find their weaknesses and to infiltrate the village. As he does, however, he finds that he is enchanted by this society of humanoids; particularly the princess Neytiri. Somewhere along the journey, Sully finds he relates more to the Na'vi and decides to turn against his own race in order to save Pandora. Jake Sully's character becomes the western representative at the film's outset. Since he is the protagonist and narrator of the story, the viewer hears everything from the white, male perspective. In fact, the indigenous characters literally have no voice until about an hour into the movie. Neytiri's character is voiceless and nameless until she discovers Jake Sully. When he is
4 accepted by the goddess, he tells Neytiri's mother (Mo'at) that he desires to learn their ways. She replies, “we have tried to teach other sky people. It is hard to fill a cup which is already full.” Mo'at alludes to the western imperialist mindset and lack of willingness to listen and learn. When Sully returns to the human settlement after his first encounter with the natives, he is cocky about their acceptance. He tells the colonel “hey, I'm practically family. They're gonna study me. I have to learn to be one of them” (Cameron). In this instance he holds power over the Na'vi by nature of their ignorance of his true motivations. As Ien Ang writes in “Local/Global Negotiations: Doing Cultural Studies at the Crossroads,” “...the voluntaristic desire for dialogues with 'the other side' in the border country ...may be a luxury pursuit possible only from a position of relative, arguably Eurocentric privilege” (165). I believe this desire holds true for Sully, as he conceals his actual intentions from the natives. When he decides he wants Neytiri as his mate, the man to whom she was betrothed feels betrayed. He tells Sully that he is not his brother, to which Sully replies, “and I am not your enemy! The enemy is out there and they are very powerful!” In this way, he both belittles the power of the native peoples and identifies with them, making a common enemy of the humans. After the humans attack the village with missiles, Mo'at pleads for Sully's help. “If you are one of us, help us” (Cameron). This is an example of a victimized native and a white savior. The Na'vi have very little agency in their helplessness. Similar to the way in which Sully acts as their savior from a physical enemy, Andrea Smith analyzes the western colonialist goal of cultural and spiritual preservation. “Rather, the common belief is that Native peoples are vanishing, and white people must preserve indigenous cultural practices since Native peoples are unable to do so” (123). Native peoples are stripped of their autonomy on many levels, whether it's spiritual, physical, cultural, or practical.
5 After the Na'vi become aware of Sully's original intentions, they feel betrayed by him. In order to reconcile the relationship and display his bravery and cunning to the people, Sully tames a flying beast which none of them had even considered taming. When he lands in their midst on top of the feared beast, the natives are in awe of his power. As a result, the natives are portrayed as lesser, weaker, and more ignorant for not having the courage or intellect to tame the beast before. Neytiri welcomes him back to the community saying, “I was afraid Jake, for my people. I'm not anymore.” With Jake Sully on their side, the Na'vi might have a chance against the humans. Still, their village has been destroyed, and they now face the reality of war. Sully narrates, “I was a warrior who dreamed he could bring peace. Sooner or later though, you always have to wake up” (Cameron). The implication is that peace can never be achieved between the colonizer and the native. The only natural recourse is to retaliate with more violence. This does not send the antiwar message it seems to. Sully encourages the Na'vi to mimic the humans in their merciless destruction. I find very little redemption in this aspect of the story. Since Sully represents the link between the humans and the indigenous and he knows the military tactics of the humans, he becomes the leader of their army. As he rallies the people for war, he takes full control. In one sentence, Sully both appropriates Pandora's land for himself and introduces the idea of private ownership to the Na'vi. “And we will show the sky people that they cannot take whatever they want. And that this, this is our land” (Cameron)! Haunani-Kay Trask writes on this form of westernization in her article “From a Native Daughter.” She describes how western historians brought the idea of private ownership to Hawaii when indigenous Hawaiians espoused a similar idea about land to that of many American Indian nations. Land cannot be bought, sold, or owned. It is common to everyone (115). Following Sully's speech, the Na'vi fly into battle with Sully as their leader and ambassador. He has authority among them and seems to relish
6 it. In the end, Sully is their hero. The humans have been defeated and must return to their dead planet. He has rescued the indigenous people of Pandora from his own people, and there is a consensual forgetting of his history with western colonization. While it is not shown, it is implied that Sully is revered among the villagers for first having infiltrated their community and then saving it from his own race. Avatar also presents a stereotypical image of indigenous cultures. The characters have animalistic features, including fin-like ears and zebra stripes. This perpetuates the idea of the savage Indian or the less-than-human barbarian. One of the white characters actually refers to the natives as “blue monkeys” (Cameron). Neytiri can communicate with animals by using clichéd hoots and howls. Connection to the earth and the natural world is a common quality among many native societies. When this trait becomes appropriated and exoticized by western observers, however, the value of Native respect for nature is cheapened. White colonialism deems the spiritual and natural realms as utilitarian magic; something they can steal and use any way they want. The element of romanticization in these films seems to present a positive view of native peoples. The white hero genuinely likes indigenous culture and is fascinated by their exotic customs. However, it still creates an unequal relationship between the western representative and the indigenous person. To be fallible is to be human, and worshiping native peoples is another way of “othering” them. As Nawal El Saadawi writes, “to study the other gave them a thrill... the other could not become a part of the self” (125). In Avatar, modern technology has allowed the land of Pandora to come alive. As the camera takes the viewer on an aerial journey over the land, one is reminded of the “exotic” beauty of the Amazon. During his education with the Na'vi, Sully “learns to trust [his] body to know what to do.” He narrates the new lessons he is learning from Neytiri.
7 “I'm trying to understand this deep connection the people have to the forest. She talks about a network of energy that flows through all living things. She says, 'All energy is only borrowed, and one day you have to give it back.'” In these statements, Sully not only appropriates native spirituality, he also exoticizes indigenous connection to the earth. Sully romanticizes the culture as he begins to relate more to the natives than his own race. “Everything is backwards now. Like out there is the true world and in here is the dream” (Cameron). It may seem as though the center has shifted from the west to the margins, but by calling this phenomenon “backwards,” Sully keeps the human race in power. Another film I viewed that follows almost the same plot and themes found in Avatar is Dances with Wolves, directed by Kevin Costner (who, incidentally, also stars in the movie). The story chronicles the journey of Lieutenant John Dunbar during the U.S. Civil War. Dunbar requests a post that will send him to the American frontier. During his time there, he encounters a Sioux Indian tribe and slowly begins to become a member of their community. In the end, he must face the arrival of more white soldiers and finds that he relates more to the Indians than his own race. Much like in Avatar, Dunbar is a white male and is also the narrator of the story. He becomes a hero in the Indian community through a number of different actions. First, he discovers a woman from the tribe who is in such a state of grief that she is mutilating herself. He carries her back to the village and the people are grateful. He also alerts the tribe's hunters to the presence of buffalo, which makes him a self-proclaimed “celebrity” among the people (Costner). In another scene, the men are hunting and Dunbar saves a young boy from being trampled by a renegade buffalo. At the film's conclusion, he is their hero because he leaves the community in order to distract the white soldiers from attacking them. Dunbar acts as the Sioux's representative in other ways as well. He is the narrator, and the
8 viewer is privy only to his thoughts and his voice, through which we hear his perspective on the natives. He creates profiles on the Indians based on first impressions, labeling one “fierce” and another “inquisitive” (Costner). Having the power to act as a detached observer, Dunbar presents himself as an authority on the community's various “characters.” Smith acknowledges this kind of western power over indigenous culture. “...'knowledge' about someone also gives one power over that person” (120). In his narrations, Dunbar also romanticizes the natives. “Nothing I've been told about these people is correct. They're not beggars and thieves. They are not the boogeyman they have been made out to be. On the contrary, they are polite guests and have a familiar humor I enjoy” (Costner). While Dunbar may be correct in his observations, it is not for him to say who the Indians are. The tribe members themselves should have the agency to do so. “It is time to move beyond the Marx who found it possible to say: they cannot represent themselves; they must be represented” (Mohanty 42). Dunbar further exoticizes the natives in his description of the American frontier. “The country is everything I dreamed it would be. There can be no place like this on earth.” About the Indians, he narrates “the man I encountered was a magnificent-looking fellow.” As is the case with Avatar, the white male hero in this film rejects his past with the west and fully romanticizes the indigenous culture. “The Indians have a great pull for me that goes beyond curiosity. There's something wise about them and I find myself drawn to them in ways much stronger than my obligations to the military” (Costner). I believe that from his perspective, the Sioux community in this movie is represented as the romanticized “other.” The image of American Indians in Dances with Wolves is also stereotypical. Some are initially portrayed as savage warriors, others as fearful and meek. They are simple-minded and naïve. When we hear their voice in the film's dialogue, the medicine man says, “it's easy to become
9 confused by these questions. It's hard to know what to do” (Costner). Dunbar appropriates their spirituality by performing a ritual dance around his fire, acquiring his own lodge in the village, and taking one of their women for his own. This resonates with Smith's argument against spiritual appropriation. “...Playing Indian is part of an ongoing genocidal project where white people become the inheritors of all that Indians 'knew'” (127). Dunbar also offers a westernized view of private ownership and improvement. When the Indians approach his station, he says “welcome” as if he owns the land upon which they walk. In his narration, he calls it his home as well. “This is still my home, however, and I remain watchful for my relief and can only hope that my negotiations with the wild people of the plains will bear fruit” (Costner). The Catholic nuns in Nervous Conditions “...had given up the comforts and security of their own homes to come and lighten our darkness. ...With the self-satisfied dignity that came naturally to white people in those days, they accepted this improving disguise” (Dangarembga 105). Likewise, Dunbar uses westernization to improve the lives of the Indians. While he does learn about their culture, he is also eager to teach them about telescopes and coffee grinders. He laughs condescendingly at their amazement. In one scene, the Pawnee Indians are coming to wage war on the village and Dunbar discusses their plan of action. In a show of westernization and militarism, Dunbar informs the warriors that “guns would make one warrior like two” (Costner). This demonstrates Dunbar's view (and indeed, the western view) that indigenous warriors are not strong enough on their own. They need white intellect and technology to survive. Dunbar falls in love with the only woman in the village who also happens to be white. She was adopted by the tribe as a child and acts as interpreter between community members and Dunbar. The indigenous women of the village are presented as a nameless, voiceless, and
10 homogenous group. The fact that Dunbar did not desire one of the native women implies that he could not desire them. To be intimately linked to another person is to be an equal with that person. Where is their equality and autonomy? As Devon Abbot Mihesuah writes, “aspects that, for the most part, have not been addressed in historical works are the feelings and emotions of Native women, the relationships among them, and their observations of non-Natives” (4). The simple fact that these films all represent women as trophies to be earned is unsettling (primarily because of this trend's normativity). Smith writes “the forceful act of gazing at the other, gaining knowledge and control over her by seeing her, is likened to sexual intimacy” (133). A culture of rape is closely linked to cultural colonization and spiritual appropriation. The third movie I watched and critiqued is Kill Bill: Volume I, directed by Quentin Tarantino. The story follows the character of “the bride,” who is horribly attacked and almost killed by a gang of assassins of which she was once a member. They killed her husband-to-be and cut her baby out of her stomach. After she awakens from a long coma and regains her strength, she sets off to right the wrongs that have been done to her. The film is essentially a comic-book style quest for revenge. The bride goes on a killing rampage, targeting each member of the gang. At first glance, Kill Bill: Volume I deviates from the other films in that it seems to be a story of feminist strength and triumph. The protagonist is a white female who conquers every obstacle in her path. On the surface, this powerful female warrior seems to be the hero. She has been greatly wronged and the audience relates to her thirst for revenge. The character displays an astounding amount of strength and determination. But in actuality, the message she sends with her actions begets violence with more violence. The brand of power she exhibits reflects patriarchal domination as she mercilessly kills everything in her path. Jacqui Alexander reflects this mirroring of patriarchal militarism when she writes “imagine finding one's voice in the promotion of war!
11 Imagine rising to the power of one's persuasion while announcing one's intended use of the technologies of killing” (95)! The movie is also different from the others because it does not represent indigenous characters. Instead, Kill Bill: Volume I portrays a negative image of Asian cultural identities. The white hero may be female, but she still acts as a western representative for people of color (specifically the Japanese). I acknowledge the fact that Japan has a history of imperialist and colonialist oppression, but in the modern-day American context (and in this film) I believe the white identity is presented as being above Japanese ethnic and cultural identity. The bride is a gifted martial artist and swordswoman, much more talented than almost one-hundred Japanese warriors. Not only is this fact unrealistic, it's inherently racist. She appropriates Japanese spiritual practice and combat style and performs it better than the “real thing.” As a white woman, she also carries white privilege. When she enters a restaurant knowing the owner is the finest sword maker in Japan, he grants her wish by making the finest, deadliest sword he has ever crafted. He calls her “yellow-haired warrior” which reminds the viewer that although it is unusual for a white woman to be an expert at martial arts, she is completely accepted as such (Tarantino). After she has received her sword, she goes to challenge O'Ren, a ChineseJapanese assassin who is also a member of the gang. Before she can fight O'Ren, however, the bride must defeat “the crazy 88,” O'Ren's personal gang of assassins. Barely breaking a sweat, she massacres all of them single-handedly. Like the women of the Na'vi in Avatar and the indigenous women in Dances with Wolves, the warriors are nameless and silenced. Chandra Talpade Mohanty illuminates the problem of homogenizing and objectifying women of color and women from the “third world.” In our representation of third world women, we become the subjects while they remain objects (19). In the end, even powerful
12 O'Ren has been vanquished by the “yellow-haired warrior” (Tarantino). The last movie I watched was Australia, directed by Baz Luhrmann. In the film, a wealthy English lady travels to Australia in 1939 where her husband owns a cattle station. She meets the drover, a rugged cattle herder who worked for her husband before he was killed. When she arrives, she finds the cattle business is competitive beyond what she can imagine. The land is rough, and the people are rougher. She becomes attached to Drover and a young mixed-race Aboriginal boy named Nullah when she accompanies them on a drove to keep her station afloat. Throughout the film, Drover and Lady Ashley (also known as “Mrs. Boss”) fight to keep her land, as well as to keep the business afloat while simultaneously attempting to save the Aboriginal children who have been sent to a mission for the white assimilation process. Western representation in Australia can best be defined by cultural authority. Every time a fact or question about Aboriginal custom is introduced, Drover is the one to answer. When he first meets Lady Ashley, he lectures her about the importance of story. When the group faces certain death in the desert during the drove, Drover acts as cultural expert, telling Lady Ashley that King George (Nullah's Aboriginal grandfather) will sing them across the desert. In the end of the film Drover explains to Lady Ashley that Nullah must go on walk-about. Nullah and King George are not able to explain their traditions or represent themselves to Lady Ashley, so it is left to the white male to take the role. Mrs. Boss acts as representative in a more heroic sense. She attempts to convince a white doctor that “life on the station with people who care for these children is far better than life in a government institution.” He responds with the scientific rationalization of the time: “The mixedrace children must be dislocated from the primitive, full-blood Aborigine. How else are we to breed the black out of them? It's a fact of science: the Aboriginal mother soon forgets her off-spring”
13 (Luhrmann). Lady Ashley works with Drover to save Nullah and the other children from the mission when Australia has been bombed by the Japanese. In the end, when it comes time for Nullah to go on walk-about, he looks to Lady Ashley in search of her blessing. This signifies the authority she holds over him, a white woman over an Aboriginal boy. As with most of these films, western representation is often accompanied by a lack of indigenous agency. Australia begins with these words: “It was a place where Aboriginal children of mixed-race were taken by force from their families and trained for service in white society. These children became known as the stolen generations” (Luhrmann). They were stolen by whites; they were rescued by whites. They have very little agency to act on their own. Another indication that the white characters rule in this story is the fact that Lady Ashley and Drover are adults and Nullah is a child. Age and maturity are often synonymous with power and so it is in Australia. The images of both Aborigines as well as all women are presented in a negative way as well. The story follows Nullah, a “half-caste” boy who seems to have magical powers with animals. In one scene, he interrupts an intimate moment between Drover and Mrs. Boss and asks them if they are performing a “ceremonial dance,” to which Lady Ashley replies, “uh, yes. It's called the Fox Trot.” This conflation makes a mockery of the intentions behind Aboriginal ceremonial dance as if it's as simple as dancing for entertainment. There also exists a kind of hierarchy among the characters. Drover, being the white male authority between two clashing cultures, is at the top. Mrs. Boss is second because she is naïve about the land and culture but is white as well. Nullah and the other Aboriginal characters are at the bottom. After the drove is successful, Lady Ashley earns her place at the bar with the men (women and men were segregated in social establishments). Drover speaks for her, saying, “she deserves a drink like any man” (Luhrmann). Not only is he making a sexist comment by acknowledging the supposed inequity between women and men, he is
14 also acting as her paternalistic representative in a hostile environment. During the conversation Mrs. Boss has with the doctor, she is being auctioned off for the first dance at a ball. When the man representing her biggest cattle competition wins, the announcer speaks into the microphone: “Let the king take his prize.” I am uncomfortable with any practice that allows an audience to place bids on human beings as if they were objects. If we look at the rest of the white women in the movie, they are all presented as naïve, good-hearted souls who know nothing of their husbands' ruthlessness. Capitalism, colonization, and private ownership are also major themes in this movie. Fletcher, the villain who wants Lady Ashley's land, attacks the Aboriginal workers on the station. In response, she kicks him off “her” property which is her first act of heroism. Nullah responds to the situation, saying, “from that day on, we call her 'Mrs. Boss.'” Fletcher refuses to give up on stealing her land and business. When he returns to tell her his plan, Lady Ashley responds: “I will never sell you my land.” Fletcher replies, “Your land? My family worked this property for three generations. My father died making people like you rich. Faraway Downs belongs to me” (Luhrmann). The two bicker over ownership of the land and entirely exclude all mention of the Aboriginal people who always have and still occupy the land. After Drover and Lady Ashley rescue the mission children, she says “let's go home,” referring to the station (Luhrmann). She has become attached to Australia and appropriates the land for herself because she has economic and legal rights to it. “This practice of taking without asking, and the assumption that the needs of the taker are paramount and the needs of others are irrelevant, mirrors the rape culture of the dominant society” (Smith 126). One concept we discussed in class only exhibited in Australia is that of multiple
15 consciousness. This idea is embodied in the character of Nullah. “Everybody happy except for me. Cuz I not white fella. I not black fella either. Me half-caste. Creamy. Me belong no one” (Luhrmann). Nullah represents Ruth Behar's notion of “homelessness and homesickness” (49). Throughout the film, Nullah must find a balance between pleasing Mrs. Boss and remembering the culture from which he came. Nyasha's character in Nervous Conditions exhibits the tragedy of dual-consciousness as well. “...now they're stuck with hybrids for children. And they don't like it. ...I can't help having been there and grown into the me that has been there. But it offends them —I offend them” (79). “'Look what they've done to us,' she said softly. 'I'm not one of them but I'm not one of you'” (Dangarembga 205). A more abstract form of multiple consciousness can also be found in Edwidge Danticat's Krik? Krak!. “There are two kinds of women: day women and night women. I am stuck between the day and night in a golden amber bronze” (84). All four of the films I reviewed carried themes of colonialism, western representation, and negative images of native peoples. While the message of the helpless native/white hero is subtle, it is very present in many popular movies. This idea is normative. Were it not, it would certainly be challenged or criticized more frequently. In fact, the truth is abnormal. There are films that have been produced which demonstrate a more accurate, positive image of indigenous cultures and these films represent feminist, indigenous resistance in the media. Movies like Mohawk Girls, Hollywood Harems, and The Grace Lee Project aim to present a fair and authentic portrayal of native populations and people of color. They are not only made by and about indigenous people, but by and about indigenous women. These films of resistance tend to be documentaries and have a political message, which is why they do not reach a mainstream audience as much as adventure/romance stories do. They are labeled as “niche” films, catering only to a small audience. I hope there might be a way for films of resistance to reach the masses with
16 their honest message, but indigenous and feminist activists must consider the potential sacrifices along the way. We must never neglect to listen to the voices of indigenous women or claim to speak for them. Like researchers, film makers must remember that “in participant witnessing, the lines between ethnographer and informant blur as each hears the other in a way that encourages self-representation” (Gordon 383). Native women must benefit from these films and find truth and pride in their creation. It may be easier to perpetuate stereotypes, but as Danticat reminds us, “these women, they asked for your voice so that they could tell your mother in your place that yes, women like you do speak, even if they speak in a tongue that is hard to understand” (222). Above all, we must continue to combat the profitable, colonialist paradigms of mainstream film media because our work is not over. “The persistence of continuities ought to give us a great deal of pause about announcing the premature end to things, as in the end of history; the 'post' of things, as in postcolonialism, for history proceeds in a way that makes ruptures neither clean nor final” (Alexander 93). El Saadawi reiterates this dangerous claim to a world beyond racism and colonialism. “...We do not live in a post-colonialist era as the postmodernists claim” (174). As all of these films prove, there is yet work to be done.
17 Alexander, Jacqui. Pedagogies of Crossing: Meditations on Feminism, Sexual Politics, Memory, and the Sacred. Duke University Press, 2006. Print. Ang, Ien. On Not Speaking Chinese: Living Between Asia and the West. Routledge, 2001. Print. Behar, Ruth, and Deborah A. Gordon. Women Writing Culture. University of California Press, 1996. Print. “Box Office Mojo.” Avatar (2009) – Box Office Mojo. [[Internet Movie Database]]. Web. 24 May 2010. Cameron, James. Avatar. 20th Century Fox, 2010. Print. Costner, Kevin. Dances with Wolves. MGM (Video & DVD), 2004. Print. Dangarembga, Tsitsi. Nervous Conditions: A Novel. New York: Seal Press, 2004. Print. Danticat, Edwidge. Krik? Krak! 1st ed. New York: Vintage Books, 1996. Print. Luhrmann, Baz. Australia. 20th Century Fox, 2009. Print. Mihesuah, Devon Abbott. Indigenous American Women: Decolonization, Empowerment, Activism. University of Nebraska Press, 2003. Print. Mohanty, Chandra Talpade. Feminism Without Borders: Decolonizing Theory, Practicing Solidarity. Durham: Duke University Press, 2003. Print. Saadawi, Nawal. The Nawal El Saadawi Reader. London: Zed Books, 1997. Print. Smith, Andrea. Conquest: Sexual Violence and American Indian Genocide. Cambridge, MA: South End Press, 2005. Print. Tarantino, Quentin. Kill Bill - Volume One. Miramax, 2004. Print. Trask, Haunani-Kay. From a Native Daughter: Colonialism and Sovereignty in Hawaii (Revised). Rev Sub. University of Hawaii Press, 1999. Print. Women Writing Resistance: Essays on Latin America and the Caribbean. Cambridge, Mass: South End Press, 2003. Print.