Lone Ranger Racism

Anti Indigenous racism is lodged so deeply in Canadian and American culture that it should come as no surprise that tough men hide behind masks elbow to elbow, on First Nations land and threaten, belittle and demean Indigenous people. Recently, in Kamloops, they strutted behind a sign that read “Show me the bodies” striking at the heart of one of the most painful episodes of Canadian history. Nasty as these guys are they give us a necessary opportunity to reflect on our society.

My sense is that these fellows believe that no matter how badly they act, no matter how inadequate or how much of a bully they are, no matter how lazy or drunk or drug addicted, no matter how badly they treat their women, no matter what…and I’m not saying they all have these characteristics…I’m saying that it wouldn’t matter if they did, they would still believe that they are better than Indigenous people.

I call it Lone Ranger racism. It’s not in our brains. It’s in our blood. It’s the sort of racism where whiteness doesn’t have to demand or prove anything; it simply assumes pre-eminence and superiority. It’s the sort of racism that expects Indigenous people to continually demonstrate and convince us that they are equal and deserving of equality by supporting our causes and fulfilling our expectations. There used to be an adage that said, “Indigenous people have to work twice as hard to be seen as half as good.”

Remember the Lone Ranger? Commonly known by the awe-inspiring handle Kimosabe, meaning trusty scout, faithful friend and in another interpretation—the knowing one. He embodied the good guy. Kimosabe didn’t smoke or drink or swear. He believed in the best of American values…friendship, equality, self-reliance, democracy, truth. He rode a white horse, a symbol of his purity, and charged into town to spread the word that westward expansion, manifest destiny, that the white man’s right to take the red man’s territory and resources was not only inevitable but it was just and good and sponsored by God himself. He was committing fierce injustice in a good way with Tonto by his side to paint a legitimate face on the takeover.

Remember Tonto? Apparently, the name came from an Indigenous language and meant wild. But in the American psyche it meant and still means stupid, dumb and a fool.  Harold Jay Smith was a Mohawk man who became Jay Silverheels to play Kimosabe’s sidekick, his foil, his silent demonstration of approval. Tonto, Kimosabe’s one-dimensional stereotype of a native person, his loyal Indian, his subservient sidekick, was a role that was meant to validate the invasion, to give the land takeover quasi-Indigenous approval as if Native and white people were old buddies, in the epic takeover. Together. Side-by-side.

Nothing was further from the truth. While Americans loved the compliant foil they didn’t like the man. At least not the Indian man. Hotels turned him away, restaurants wouldn’t serve him, and while Silverheels was a trained Shakespearean actor Hollywood relegated him to bit parts where language was limited to single words and grunts.

And here we are in Canada in 2026 where, for at least the past three decades or so, we have wanted to believe we were moving beyond Lone Ranger-type racism. These days we don’t believe First Nations people are lesser than white Canadians. Or do we?

It’s true. A lot of good work has brought about positive change since the 1990s. But what we have been seeing recently in conservative political camps is an indication of how far we need to go and how deep we need to dig to expose our beliefs about who is better than who.

Just a few examples from my own experience…my friend argues that First Nations aren’t ready to take senior management positions and that years of abuse has left them without the capacity for that work. We need experienced people in senior positions…read…white people. My nephew says the real racism problem these days is against white people…Indigenous people are getting everything without having to prove themselves and white people are getting cast aside. The guest at the Lodge had worked on a reserve and had a litany of stories describing how inadequate the First Nations were and how he had to come in and fix their problems. “Stop,” I finally said to him. “Why do you need to tell me story after story. What are you really trying to say?” Then there’s my past church associates who deeply believe that Christianity pulled Indigenous people out of savagery…without it where would they be? And then the federal government bureaucrats I worked with for decades whose policies were based on the assumption that First Nations could not house themselves and that they needed one government designed program after the other to “fix” their housing problems. And I cannot tell you how many times over the years people have told me that the reason my children are so successful, smart, persistent, you name it…whatever strengths they have…is because I’m their mother…not because the indomitable Carl, a Coast Salish man, is their father and the powerfully intelligent Laura was their grandmother and their linguist phenomenon Ernie was their grandfather.

None of these folks are blatant, in-your-face racists. They despair over the “show me the bodies” thugs in Kamloops. They are good people who practice colonialism, like the Lone Ranger, in a good way. They are often the most ardent allies of Indigenous people. They partner with First Nations whenever possible for all sorts of reasons, including, like the Lone Ranger, for legitimacy for their projects and politics.

But most Canadians have yet to unpack our very, very Canadian assumption that is at the heart of our very, very Canadian version of racism…the assumption we have had from the start and that we have not been required to dismantle—that whiteness simply has the edge—that we ride the big white horse, we are the knowing ones, we are the bearers of all that is good and just and inevitable and that our sidekick, Tonto, well most of us just can’t seem to get out of the way and give space for Tonto to be anything but Tonto.