Objectification

by Kiyah Francis

Theories of flesh conceptualize the body and encapsulate the way we think about it concerning agency- the mind- and its relation with the external world. For example, indigenous theories of flesh think of the body and land as holistic and connected. Compared to this, we can see that colonial America’s conceptualization of Indigenous bodies saw them as raw material, and objects to be discarded and carved into. This viewpoint contains a gendered component, as it is informed by patriarchal values of power and authority. In her paper, “Transfiguring: Colonial Body into Postcolonial Narrative,” author Elleke Boehmer writes, “The invocation of the body rests upon the assumption of predominantly masculine...authority and historical agency.” (pg. 273). As we will observe, this process of objectification is an important part of justifying and creating a colonial history not just in the United States, but globally. The objectification of indigenous bodies is inherent to colonialism, and it infects everything from the medical field to museums. To start the process of decolonization, decolonizing our bodies and the representations put onto them by colonialist image-making is important.

To understand colonial theories of flesh and how this imaging of the body is a deliberate tool of conquest. Through reading Venus in Two Acts, written by Saidiya Hartman, we can see how the slave trade- central to the process of colonialization- dehumanized people and turned them into commodities. Venus in Two Acts tells the story of an enslaved girl traveling on the Recovery who was sexually exploited by her captors and then killed. The story grapples with the image of the dead body, with the violence of colonialism enacted upon it, and what can be gained through observing it. King struggles with this as there is no evidence of the woman as human. She is rather recorded by slave traders and captors only as an object to be sold, exploited, and possessed. The woman in Venus in Two Acts is made into a symbol for all the black women who have been subject to sexual violence and colonial violence, turning their bodies “into commodities and corpses,” (pg. 2). The process of objectification lingers even after death, as the woman is denied a proper burial. This act erases the colonized body from history itself, making way for colonial history to replace it.

The objectification of the body can lead to violence and death, but it also works to create the very stereotypes and mindsets that perpetuate this violence. The research paper, “Instrumentality and the Denial of Personhood: The Social Psychology of Objectifying Others,” by Jessica LaCroix and Felicia Pratto, discusses the various psychological functions of objectification in the mind of the objectifier. They outline four specific ways that objectification occurs: through instrumentality, fungibility, violability, and ownership (pg. 188). These dimensions describe the treatment of a person as an object as an interchangeable tool that can be broken and owned. Objectification denies its subject autonomy and subjectivity. We can see these attitudes in the treatment of indigenous bodies and land- whether it be the denial of indigenous history, the creation and dispersion of reservations, oil extraction on those reservations, or the arbitrary creation of colonial maps. These are all forms of settler violence that limit Indigenous peoples ability to achieve and thrive, further reiterating colonial stereotypes of the incompetent native.

In discussing the specific types of objectification that Indigenous people face, I will be focusing on the property of inertia described by Nussbaum as, “The object as lacking in agency,” (pg. 8) They give the example of the sexualization of women athletes being perceived as less capable. Colonial imaging of Indigenous women as sexually promiscuous has a long history in the United States, as described in Gregory D. Smithers's paper, “Predatory Colonialism: Indigenous Women and the Violence of Sexual Objectification in the United States.” This article discusses the stereotype of the “squaw sl*t,” which presents Indigenous women as willing prostitutes, directly leading to sexual violence. This image of indigenous women was marketed by Playboy even in the 20th century, through the appropriation of Indigenous identity by burlesque workers. Through the framing of indigenous bodies as sexually hedonistic, colonial cultures can justify their penetration of the land and people with the defense that they are open and wanting these violations. Sexual and racial entitlement is vital to maintaining colonial narratives.

We can still see the impacts of the sexualization of indigenous women through current-day battles for reproductive rights. In the medical article, “Indigenous Women’s Resistance of Colonial Policies, Practices, and Reproductive Coercion,” by Holly McKenzie, numerous women detail how they were lied to, rushed, or uninformed into medical practices that they wouldn’t have agreed to otherwise. Indigenous women are painted as hypersexual and unfit to be mothers, enabling exploitative and harmful medical practices such as sterilization, tubal ligations, long-term contraceptives, and more. Reproductive coercion is a form of colonizing the body, as seen with medical practitioners taking away women's choice to give birth or not. In the long term, these practices lead to the diminution of indigenous populations, further undermining their claims to the land.

The property of inertia implies a lack of activity, creating the image of an object as incapable of acting on its own, as less intelligent and capable. It’s this mindset that has allowed for the United States self-appointed guardianship of the natives. While these conservatorships presented themselves as helpful, and made on behalf of the natives, they only led to financial exploitation and the stealing of land. Project 1492’s article, “Incompetent Indians,” demonstrates how the property of inertia and an assumed lack of activity enabled the formation of the Indian Competency Commission. This commission decided who would be considered incompetent and placed under an overseer, with, “Indians who still practiced their traditional ways,” being seen as a sign of incompetency or an inability to adjust to the “modern,” colonial world. The characteristics such as looking indigenous, practicing traditional teaching, and having native blood, all gave signs of incompetency to the commission. These judgments prove that indigenous people are considered incompetent and inert by the colonial narrative.

I argue that the property of inertness doesn’t apply simply to activity when it comes to Indigenous people, but that it also includes an assumed temporal inertness. A temporal inertness describes the inability to move along the flow of time, being stuck in the past. While indigenous practices themselves are not tied down in the past, as they can be called upon at any time, there is colonial imaging of indigenous people as objects and relics of the past. This takes place in the possession of Native American cultural items in museums, and the framing of the Indigenous people as a disappearing race, with the intent of studying them. This form of objectification, also known as historicization, aims to erase any indigenous narratives and create space for a colonial future to exist. The body itself becomes the target of colonial history, an object whose cultural differences are itself an artifact from a long-forgotten time. Smithsonian museums like the American Museum of Natural History are only now starting the process of returning Native American remains and funerary objects displayed in exhibitions (11).

Sara Baartman, also known as the “Hottentot Venus,” details a clear understanding of historicization. Sadiah Qureshi’s paper, “Displaying Sara Baartman, the Hottentot Venus,” illustrated the continual sexualization and exploitation that she faced as a Khoisan woman in the late to early 19th century, as part of an indigenous group in Africa. Baartman was sold to a carnival show, where she was then displayed for the size of her breasts and buttocks. While alive, researchers claimed a scientific interest in her body, as well as the other Khoisan women within the tribe, going as far as to take pictures of these women’s genitalia. Baartman is reported as refusing to expose herself to these scientists, but after her death, they violated her and dissected her. Her body was then kept in the possession of the Museum of L’Homme in Paris, where her remains were kept on display up into the early 70’s. Once again, denial of a proper burial is used by colonial forces to degrade and dehumanize the deceased. It’s only when the return and burial occur that the victims can move forward.

We can see that a colonial theory of the flesh rips away the agency, autonomy, and history of indigenous bodies. These images and stereotypes entitle the colonial power to sexualize, dominate, and possess the land and rights of the people. The process of objectification is inherent to colonization, and I argue that in order to free the body of these images we must create a postcolonial theory of the flesh. The body is evidence of settler violence, a disruption to colonial history, and the last form of protest. In the paper, “The Body as a Site of Colonization: Alice Walker’s Possessing the Secret Joy,” author Alyson Buckman details the ways that colonial imaging causes mental and ideological damage, reinforcing racist stereotypes in the minds of those targeted. The simple paradigm of colonizer and oppressed breaks down as other patriarchal systems of authority undermine and take away women’s rights and bodily autonomy.

Only with the deconstruction of colonial images can the object “become subject,” (Buckman 93). This deconstruction begins with breaking the silence and acknowledging the settler violence put upon the body. The process of remembering produces a counter-history to colonial narratives because it depends on the erasure of Indigenous knowledge and people. Buckman and King make the same argument that we must give voice to the untold victims of oppression, a painful unburying of the dead. Once unburied, we may then be able to give these stories a “proper burial”- and in doing so, reclaim the humanity of those it was denied to.