By Douglas V. Gibbs
For years, America has been told that using Native American names for schools, streets, and sports teams is an act of “cultural appropriation.” The claim is repeated so often that many assume it reflects the consensus of Native communities themselves. But the truth, as expressed by Native leaders who refuse to be spoken for, is far more complex, and far more revealing.
One of the clearest voices in this debate is Frank Black Cloud, a leader within the Native American Guardians Association (NAGA). He has become a national figure precisely because he challenges the narrative that Native names and imagery are inherently offensive. His argument is simple, powerful, and deeply rooted in the lived experience of Native people:
Erasing Native names does not protect Native culture. It erases it.
Black Cloud has said publicly, including in appearances on Fox News, that the movement to purge Native names from public life is not driven by Native communities, but by activists who neither understand nor represent them. According to him, fewer than ten percent of Native Americans support the idea that respectful use of Native names is harmful. The overwhelming majority see these names as honorific, educational, and culturally sustaining.
This is the part of the story the media rarely tells.
The Paradox of “Protection”
The cultural appropriation argument claims to defend Native identity. Yet its practical effect is the opposite:
• Removing Native names from schools removes daily reminders of Native history.
• Removing Native mascots removes opportunities for students to learn about Native cultures.
• Removing Native imagery removes visibility, and visibility is the lifeblood of cultural survival.
Black Cloud calls this what it is: cultural erasure disguised as cultural sensitivity.
He argues that when a school proudly bears a Native name, it becomes a point of connection, a place where students ask questions, learn stories, and encounter a culture that predates the United States itself. When that name is stripped away, the culture doesn’t become safer. It becomes invisible.
Who Gets to Speak for Native America?
A recurring theme in Black Cloud’s advocacy is the question of representation.
Who decides what is offensive?
Who decides what is honoring?
Who decides what is erased?
For too long, the answer has been: not Native people.
Black Cloud insists that tribal voices, not academics, not activists, not distant bureaucrats, should determine what constitutes respect. And when Native communities are actually consulted, the results are strikingly consistent: they overwhelmingly support keeping Native names in public life, provided they are used with dignity.
This is not cultural appropriation.
This is cultural continuity.
The Constitutional and Cultural Stakes
From a constitutional perspective, the push to eliminate Native names raises deeper questions about free expression, historical memory, and the right of communities to honor the cultures that shaped them. A nation that erases its symbols erases its story. And a nation that erases its story erases its identity.
Black Cloud’s position aligns with a broader American principle: We do not protect culture by hiding it. We protect culture by teaching it, honoring it, and keeping it visible.
A Voice Worth Hearing
Frank Black Cloud is not a celebrity activist. He is not a political operative. He is a Native American leader speaking for his own people, and he is saying something the country needs to hear:
Representation is not the enemy. Erasure is.
In a time when America is struggling to remember who it is, voices like Black Cloud’s remind us that honoring the past is not an act of harm. It is an act of gratitude. And gratitude, unlike outrage, builds nations rather than dismantling them.
— Political Pistachio Conservative News and Commentary
