Some wear it like a thorny crown.  Others enthusiastically cloak themselves in ravishing glory.

But they all wear it whether they want to or not.  The title.  Role Model.

Not that being a role model is a bad thing.  Let's face it–anybody over the age of 15 gets slapped with the responsibility.  But if you're an Indian, especially  if you're an Indian; an Indian of note and prestige, an Indian of note and prestige in the public eye who's an artist no less–then you're not just a role model, you're a FREAKIN' ROLE MODEL.

Get it?

…This is where it becomes interesting.

The idea of being a good sport who preaches the sermon of being a good sort, well, that's all good.  Simply because you ARE good professionally, however, doesn't mean you're good "unprofessionally."  Which is to say, you may be one helluva actor or bring tears to my eyes with your films and sing like an angel…but maybe you ain't such an angel when the cameras stop rolling.

What's a flawed person to do?  Stop directing…stop performing…worse yet, let the world know you're a hearty partier and think monogamy is monotony?  Mmmmm…somehow that's not the message young people ought to hear.  Though, God forbid, you don't want to enter the halls of hypocrisy and lie about who and what you are.  We have enough phonies already in public life.

Levity aside, there is a serious aspect to this debate.  Because kids–particularly Native kids–need  successful, articulate, attractive members from their own communities to look up to.  To encourage them, providing hope that "if they can make it, so can I."

Which leads back to the quandary of being a FREAKIN' ROLE MODEL.

The irony in all this is that many of the flawed performing artists I know in Indian Country really aren't as flawed as they think they are–they are blissfully human with foibles and habits and shortcomings.  Yet it's with regret they wear the responsibility like tar and feathers; trying to scrub themselves raw at the expense of sharing their gifts with the young on the reservations and cities craving for a fellow Native to give them encouragement.

It doesn't have to be this way.  So my friends, take some advice from someone not nearly as talented as you.  Stop scrubbing and start talking.  For the good of those who count on you.   

As for peccadilloes; put 'em aside and wear your title–thorns and all.   Even for a few hours here and there.  Because showing the folks back home just how GOOD you are–professionally that is–has much more value than whose bed you rolled out of this morning.  Native celebs who understand this deserve our respect.  They are changing the world; and that is not  hyperbole.  It matters what you do, outside.  It doesn't matter so much what you do, inside.  (With exceptions, of course.  Abusers and criminals need not apply.)

After all, do we care that some of our personal heroes had checkered personal lives?   Sorry, the fact John Lennon was a louse and serial adulterer doesn't detract from his influence on me as a writer.  And do I care Eleanor Roosevelt was a cold, aloof mom?  No, I don't.

No excuses.  Entertain us and share with the youth of Native America what you got.  If you're a good sort on top of that, then more power to you.  Nobody expects perfection.  Just a role model.  A FREAKIN' ROLE MODEL.   And that's all good.