Across the continent, in hundreds of languages.

The word for people - or the First People - was what they used.

Other people existed, to trade and talk and fight with.

But the continent was vast and travel slow.

There were no horses and wouldn't be for millennia.

No group could know all the others.

So there was no single name for all.

Then, from across the sea, came a new other people.

Who brought with them great and terrible things.

They too had a name for themselves in their own language.

But they also brought a name for the First People: Indians.

We are in the future from this past.

And you in the future from my present (possibly the far future).

And the word 'Indian' may have just made you uncomfortable.

So let’s talk about words.

Words are what we make them.

Without the words surrounding them,

without brains to interpret them,

words are but whispers of wind.

It’s a word’s utility to the speaker

and the reaction of the listener

that causes words to be born and to live and to die.

Long after its first use in the New World,

the early British and American Empires needed a word

to collectively describe the First People.

And 'Indian', despite its confused origins, was that word.

As the Empires expanded, there was terrible conflict.

The First People found themselves decimated and scattered.

Many forcibly moved to reservations.

Land unknown with others unknown.

Needing to act as one new group to survive.

To hold onto any sovereignty.

As the world progressed from horses, to steam, to electricity,

the nature of conflict changed.

Fewer guns and germs.

More minds and laws.

But the First People were now a tiny minority in the land

While also a multiplicity of groups.

For comparison, there are about 200 countries in the world.

Within the United States, the reservations number more than 300.

Within and without those areas of special sovereignty,

there are more than 500 federally recognized tribes.

Each with a different name.

To win the minds of the majority,

to get laws securing sovereignty,

hundreds of different names for different groups is not helpful.

A collective name - one clear in the minds of the majority - is needed.

A name useful for unity.

In the time of Civil Rights, 'American Indians',

shortened to 'Indians',

was (despite its confused origins) that name.

For words are what we make them.

And we can unmake them.

As I write this script looking at the past,

and toward you in the future,

I will bet that future history will unmake 'Indian'

in favor of 'Native American', or something else.

You know if this has happened.

But here, as part of working on this series,

I've traveled to many reservations to see them

and to talk to the people who live in them.

On reservations, the word 'Indian' is still used

without hesitation or negative connotation.

Used as identity, not universally, but near it.

You, like me, may be surprised to hear that,

given the word’s confused origins.

But words are what we make them.

And Indians have made the word theirs.

Now, as for 'Native American', while preferred by some,

there exists in others a strong dislike

and resentment of the name.

The word created to explain

this dislike was passed on to me.

And the only way to explain fully is to pass it on to you.

[Grey takes deep breath] So, the dislike comes from… 'overinclusivity'

[audience gasps] I know. I know.

*I know.*

But let’s stay thoughtful and examine

what this word was created to communicate.

For at least 300 years,

'Indian' has meant the first people in this part of the world.

Separated at first but thrust into a shared history.

It is clear. It is sharp.

The word 'Native American', less so.

It can include everyone from the top to bottom of two continents.

A vast number of different cultures

and current-day goals and concerns.

The histories of North, Central, and South America

are as divergent as the histories of Asia, Europe, and Africa.

To call a person from here, here, or here

a 'Native Afro-Eurasian' would be so over-inclusive

as to make it difficult for that human to strongly

identify with or rally others under.

So it goes for 'Native American'.

Additionally, it can feel like yet another thing forced from the outside.

Talking to people about this project over the last…

[Grey sighs] Five years… revealed a strong correlation.

The closer a person had ever been to a reservation,

the more likely they would use 'Indian'.

The farther, the more likely they would use the word 'Native American'.

And that's understandable.

Is 'Indian' okay?

*Maybe.*

But 'Native American' won't be wrong.

And it's useful to express concern and sensitivity as an outsider.

But this creates an unstable balance

between insider and outsider use of a word.

If the majority hesitates over a word,

it slides into uncomfortability or worse.

If the majority decides a word is unacceptable,

so it becomes.

Groups should be able to name themselves,

but when they’re small, they often can't.

The word used to describe themselves,

outsiders, through sheer numbers, redefine.

At the time of writing, this is happening to 'Indian'

but the leading replacement is not as universally well-regarded

inside reservations as those outside may expect.

As we will talk about, many things have been given to the First People.

Promises. And rights. And lands.

Only once used and adopted by them to be taken away.

So it may go again.

Thus, this series will use 'American Indian' or 'Indian' for three main reasons.

One. The word is clear in geography and history.

Limited to the first people of what is now the continental United States.

Two. The tribal governments and the United States government use 'Indian'.

The Bureau of Indian Affairs, staffed by Indians, which mediates

between the two governments also uses 'Indian'.

To call governments and departments and laws by names

other than what they are would be pointlessly confusing.

Three. At the time of writing, 'Indian' is used by Indians

on Indian reservations to describe themselves.

Ok. [hands clap] We're well past that point where you hear a word

so many times it starts to become meaningless.

Fun fact. There's a word for that: semantic satiation.

Delightfully alliterative and will cause itself,

but I leave that as an exercise to the viewer.

This has been 1300 words in an attempt to explain 1.

That complete we can now move on to the next part.

[gentle campfire folk fiddle music fades slowly]