LONGITUDES

THE LIVES OF WOMEN in both the Canadian and American Wests have been shaped by a natural resource economy. In the United States this is usually referred to as an extractive economy, in Canada as the staples economy. Furs, fish, and timber; metals, such as gold, silver, and copper; fuels, like coal, oil, and natural gas; and a bounty of agricultural products, chiefly cattle and grains, have flowed out of the region by river, rail, and road. North and south of the 49th parallel, the West is a vast expanse of forests, fields, and grazing districts punctuated by clear cuts, oil wells, strip mines, and the skeletons of old metal mining gallus frames.² For a women’s history course, the questions are these: what are the consequences of this kind of economy for women? How has the growth of this economy affected indigenous women? What kind of paid work becomes available to women? What is family life like? What kinds of communities are built in mining, logging, ranching and farming areas, and what role do women play in those communities?

I approach this section of the course through the frameworks of commercialized and non-commercialized domesticity. In other words, women’s traditional work has been the maintenance and reproduction of the family, an unpaid task that most often takes place in the home. But once the West was conquered, it became a region in which single men were often the majority of the population well into the twentieth century. Demography and the staples economy, which provided few manufacturing jobs for women, dictated that women’s paid work in the West was often some aspect of domestic work. Whether paid or unpaid, women’s work, how it was organized, shared, rewarded, or suffered through, constitutes a main focus of the class.³

A related longitude is tied to the skewed sex ratio generated by the presence of many more white men than white women in the region. What have been the implications of that demographic profile for native and white women, and for men? One of the classic “myths” of the white women’s West has been that scarcity conferred special value. For example, there are many stories from the history of mining towns of men paying exorbitant amounts of gold dust in exchange for a biscuit made by a white woman’s hand or some other seemingly trivial interaction with a white woman. Typically the presence of white women, even in small doses, has been seen as a “civilizing” influence.⁴ Adele Perry, in her essay “‘Oh, I’m Just Sick of the Faces of Men’: Gender Imbalance, Race, Sexuality, and Sociability in Nineteenth-Century British Columbia,” notes that white women were seen as “necessary participants in the process of colony building in three ways: they would raise the moral tone of the white, male-dominated society, quell the rapid development of a mixed-blood community, and ensure that British law, mores, and economic development flourished.”⁵ The same sentiment held true south of the border. Perry offers an anecdote that indicates some national rivalry in the competition for white women. A Canadian in 1865 noted that many respectable single men wanted to make British Columbia home, but “the scope for selecting wives is so limited that they feel compelled to go to California in search of their interesting object, and not infrequently are they tempted to remain on American soil—their industry as producers and expenditure as consumers being lost to the colonies.”⁶ Perry argues that the issue of gender imbalance should prompt us to look critically into the actual relationships between men and women, and between native and non-native women in this demographically tilted terrain. Closely reading some of the nineteenth-century accounts of western travelers is a good exercise through which to pursue this topic in class.⁷

A third commonality between the women’s Wests, also related to demography, is the high percentage of immigrants in both regions during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. For example, by 1940 half of the residents of the Prairie provinces identified themselves as other than British in origin.⁸ In the United States, between 1870 and 1910 the percentage of European-born people who lived in the mountain states was the highest in the nation.⁹ This made for an interesting and sometimes contentious mix of ethnic and racial cultures in western cities and country sides. It also led to the formation of various ethnic associations in which women often played key roles; these were part of the plethora of voluntary associations that women organized on both sides of the border and that have been well-documented by historians. This material allows students to study the parts women played in the formation of communities and to see how different ethnic groups defined women’s roles.

A fourth point of comparison is the role of women in the imperial agendas of both nations. This is a tricky issue to study and a tricky issue to teach. As Catherine Cavanaugh and Randi Warne point out in the introduction to Telling Tales: Essays in Western Women’s History, “integrating women into Western colonization and settlement is complicated by Anglo women’s status as both colonizer (members of the dominant culture) and colonized (by patriarchy) within a country that was both colony and colonizer.”¹⁰ There are several routes into this topic that are effective in the classroom. A fairly direct path is found by examining the activities of female missionaries and teachers charged with the “civilizing” of indigenous peoples. The ironies involved in their teaching Euro-Canadian or Euro-American culture and appropriate domestic skills to native women, while simultaneously escaping from marriage and domesticity themselves, is always intriguing to students. Yet missionary women’s chafing under the male authorities of the church, Indian agents, or boarding school superintendents is a powerful lesson about the limits of Euro-American and Euro-Canadian women’s “liberation.” Fortunately, there is a great deal of good literature on this topic, especially in the works of Peggy Pascoe, Margaret Jacobs, Myra Rutherdale, David Wallace Adams, and Carol Higham.¹¹

A more circuitous route into issues of colonialism, but one that offers the advantage of visual aids, is a discussion of the role of women artists and patrons of native arts. Joan Jensen, Margaret Jacobs, Laura Moore, Douglas Cole, and Lisa MacFarlane, among others, have written about the role that non-native women collectors and patrons of the arts played in “reviving,” shaping, and developing markets for “traditional” native arts in the United States and Canada.¹² This is a more subtle part of the colonial project but speaks to the topic of indigenous peoples’ self-representation and cultural production and its appropriation by non-native consumers. Another facet of this is the way in which non-native women artists chose to represent native people, their cultures, and their landscapes in photography and paint. There is now considerable literature about non-native women who photographed aboriginal peoples, much of it appropriate for class discussion, with images all over the Web for easy access. After studying some of these images, a good exercise is to have students hunt for contemporary native women painters and photographers and analyze how their work addresses issues of conquest and colonialism.¹³

It is also telling that North America’s three most prominent women artists, Emily Carr, Georgia O’Keeffe, and Frida Kahlo, were all intimately engaged with painting cultural artifacts and landscapes associated with indigenous North America. I end the class with a week examining the work of these three women, drawing upon Sharyn Rohlfsen Udall’s book, Carr, O’Keeffe, Kahlo: Places of Their Own. There are many websites that have digital images of all three women’s paintings, providing students access to a wide array of their work.¹⁴

LATITUDES

I COME NOW to the latitudes of this project—that is, how the policies and practices of Canada and the United States cut through the meridians of women’s lives north and south of the border. Despite the shared Anglo culture of the majority of peoples in Canada and the United States, political structures, property laws, and foreign policy developed quite differently. To illustrate how the state affects women’s lives, we need to focus on some particular issues, and among those possibilities are homesteading and women’s property rights, the situation of women in the relocation of Japanese Americans and Japanese Canadians during World War II, and the legal status of aboriginal women.

Women homesteaders and farmers are a favorite topic of western women’s historians, and accounts by rural women form some of the classic texts of the field. Among these are Elinore Pruitt Stewart’s Letters of a Woman Homesteader, published in the United States in 1913, and Georgina Binnie-Clark’s Wheat and Woman, published in Canada in 1914.¹⁵ The stories of farm women’s lives echo across the border. Isolation, loneliness, hard physical labor, high birth rates and a dearth of competent medical care, as well as love of the plains and prairies, satisfaction found in gardens and raising poultry, pleasure in dances, pie socials, and club meetings are common experiences of women in the Prairie provinces and the plains and mountain states. But American and Canadian stories diverge when it comes to access to land ownership. Women on both sides of the border could buy land, but many more women in the United States could claim free land under a variety of homestead laws. This forms a basic difference between the experiences of Stewart and Binnie-Clark. Elinore Stewart filed on a homestead and used her prose to advertise the happiness and independence western homesteads could provide women. Georgina Binnie-Clark was barred from homesteading and had to buy her farm. She used her pen to agitate for women’s right to homestead.

In Canada the only women who could file on homestead land were widows, divorced women, and—if well documented—separated or deserted wives who had children under eighteen years of age for whom they were the sole support.¹⁶ Rural Canadian women’s lives were made even more precarious by the abolition of dower laws in the Prairie provinces, which eliminated women’s control over the disposal of family property and negated widows’ legal guarantee of inheritance. Both issues prompted long political struggles for women’s property rights. In the United States controversy revolved around married women’s rights to homestead, but the original Homestead Act of 1862 held that single women could claim free land. And while dower rights steadily eroded in the nineteenth-century United States, Married Women’s Property Acts, passed in a variety of states beginning in the 1850s, predated those laws in Canada, and gave women south of the border economic protection that women north of the border did not have.¹⁷

Another example of state policy shaping women’s lives is the story of the Issei and Nisei in the North American West. Both the United States and Canada practiced institutional racism in their treatment of residents of Japanese descent during World War II. Both declared defense or security zones along the West coast and implemented policies to remove the roughly 23,000 Japanese Canadians and 100,000 Japanese Americans from that zone. But the two countries did not carry out their policies in precisely the same fashion, and the differences particularly affected family life. In the United States, although male leaders of the Japanese American community were interned immediately following Pearl Harbor, many were united with their families when moved to relocation camps and, in general, families remained together. In Canada, able-bodied men were initially sent to work in road camps in British Columbia and sugar beet projects on the Prairies, or to internment in a POW camp in Ontario. The remaining Japanese Canadian population, including women and children separated from their husbands and fathers, were moved to former mining towns where they lived in poorly renovated ramshackle buildings or newly built small cabins. There they had to support themselves using their savings, through subsistence, and with the proceeds of state-run property sales, which garnered them a pittance of the value of their belongings. While the majority of Japanese Americans also lost property, it was not taken through government process and in some cases, as in the community of Cortez, California, studied by Valerie Matsumoto, residents were able to arrange custodial management of their property during the war so that they could return to their homes when the government released them from the camps. Perhaps the most significant difference between the two countries is that the United States rescinded exclusion orders in 1944 and 1945, and Japanese Americans were permitted to return to the West coast. In Canada, Japanese Canadians were forced to choose between deportation and relocation east of the Rockies after the war, and they were not permitted back into British Columbia until 1949.¹⁸

There are many powerful works that portray the relocation experience. For class discussion, I have juxtaposed the reading of Joy Kogawa’s novel Obasan, about her family’s Canadian travails, with the film A Family Gathering, produced by Lise Yasui and Ann Tegnell, about Yasui’s family, which was removed from the Hood River region of Oregon.¹⁹ Both these texts provide good historical background about the government policies that devastated the lives of Japanese Canadian and Japanese American families during the war. They are both told from a female’s point of view, and they are excellent means of exploring the impact of state policy on women’s lives and the nature of history as a social and familial construct. Kogawa’s protagonist and Yasui must break through years of silence and sort through multiple tales in each family’s past to uncover pivotal events that took place during the war. The mystery of both texts, as well as the women’s engagement in the reconstruction of their families’ histories, helps draw students to the immediacy of the past and the personal consequences of state policies.

The “politics of identity” is at the core of the internment experience and is an issue that has become an integral part of many women’s studies classes. How do race, class, and gender interact to form women’s identities? How do the political identities of women of different races and classes intersect with feminism? How do we acknowledge and respect the multiplicity of women’s identities and yet find commonalities that affect all women? There are many approaches to these questions, and frequently the investigation seeks answers in the realm of culture, ethnicity, and sexuality. But the state also shapes identity politics, and another way to examine that is through the laws and regulations by which Canada and the United States legislated the identity of aboriginal women who married non-Indian men. The following examples point only to the legal differences in the fate of Indian women who chose to marry white men. In the course of a class they can be put in the context of the long history of intermarriage during the fur-trade era and the social and cultural effects that new legal structures had on family formation and on the status of men and women who stepped outside their cultures to marry.²⁰

In both countries, state practice had its roots in complicated beliefs about race, assimilation, miscegenation, and patriarchy. Both countries started with the premises of English common law, yet the law as implemented in the two nations established different legal, political, and economic conditions for native women. Beginning with the 1869 Enfranchisement Act and continuing through a series of Indian Acts, the Canadian government decreed that “an Indian woman who married a non-Indian man lost her status as a registered Indian, as did her children.”²¹ This meant that she lost her eligibility to live on reserve land. Subsequent Indian Acts deprived her of additional rights and privileges of registered Indians. If widowed, she did not regain her status unless she married another Indian man. If she married an Indian from another band, she was transferred to that band regardless of her own wishes. The law stripped from her many of the structures that supported her Indian identity. Conversely, if a white woman married an Indian man, she obtained legal status as an Indian, as did her children, and they could all live on a reserve. Women and children’s “racial identity” followed that of father and husband, at least in a legal sense.²²

In the United States, no single federal law addressed the status of men and women of mixed marriages. Instead, states enacted a web of laws to prohibit such marriages from taking place at all. Washington Territory passed a law banning marriage between whites and persons of “more than one-half Indian blood” in 1855. Oregon adopted a similar measure eleven years later.²³ As greater numbers of Asian immigrants and African-Americans arrived in the West after the Civil War, the laws were enforced more stringently to prevent marriage between whites and Chinese, Japanese, Filipinos, Hawai’ians, and blacks, but provisions against marriage between whites and Native Americans remained in place in many states.²⁴

Another significant difference in the attitudes toward mixed marriages and mixed-blood children in the United States was how the state quantified Indians. In 1910, during the height of Jim Crow segregation in the U.S., the Census for the first time enumerated the children of Indian and white marriages as “mixed-bloods,” defined as “all persons of mixed white and Indian blood who have any appreciable amount of Indian blood.” They were to be counted as Indians “even though the proportion of white blood may exceed that of Indian blood.”²⁵ Because most mixed marriages occurred between white men and Indian women, children’s “racial identity” followed that of their mothers.

In addition, a legal twist shaped different experiences across the border for native women who married white men in the United States. Murray Wickett’s study of Oklahoma in the late nineteenth century turned up hundreds of men who took advantage of the provision that “if a white citizen of the United States intermarried with a tribal citizen of one of the independent Indian nations, that person received full citizenship rights in the tribe, including the right to share in tribal lands.”²⁶ Texans seeking grazing lands after the Civil War were assiduous and blunt suitors. One Chickasaw woman declined a Texan’s unflattering proposal that they get married because “you have the land. I have the cattle.”²⁷ When the Indian nations realized how exploitative such marriages could be, they took measures to rectify the situation; in some cases they required that whites provide proof of “good moral character” before receiving a marriage license, in other instances marriage license fees were set so high that indigent whites would be prohibited from marrying natives.²⁸ In these examples, federal and tribal laws, north and south of the border, shaped the identity of indigenous women, their economic welfare, and the communities in which they could raise their children.

Shortly after I began working at Montana State University, I decided that it only made sense to include Canada in my western women’s history class, because the two Wests shared so much in terms of environment and economy. As I have taught this course, I have come to see a reason for teaching a comparative class that did not occur to me when I was simply thinking about being more geographically inclusive. All of us who teach women’s history take as a given that race, class, and ethnicity are part of the constructions of gender and of identity. But I confess that the role of the state in the construction of gender had been something of a sleeping monster in my teaching. Organizing a class that deals with women in different nations makes clear how integral the state is in that process, and further, it allows students to see more clearly how gender is constructed in different times, places, and societies.

Teaching western women’s history in a public western university is enormously fun. Practically all the students have family stories relevant to the course material. In some semesters we have “show-and-tell” days during which students bring in artifacts and photographs that relate to their family’s connection to the region. Students often discover hidden women’s histories in their own families. All the rewards that come from teaching women’s history—acquainting students with a past that, for most, was unknown or shadowy at best, witnessing their outrage at oppression and their admiration for women who defied constraints to achieve personal or social goals—are augmented in this class because using a comparative approach nudges students to see that history’s “unfolding” is not a “natural” process, but is one of struggle and choice that can develop quite differently depending upon the country in which one lives. Introducing students to new women’s voices, telling different stories, allows them to see their ancestors as the actors who engendered this region’s past and to see themselves as contemporary creators of the North American Wests.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

My thanks to Susan Kollin and Sheila McManus for their careful reading of this essay.

NOTES

1. 1.C.L. Higham and Robert Thacker, eds., One West, Two Myths: A Comparative Reader (Calgary: University of Calgary Press, 2004).
2. 2.General texts that describe the economy of the U.S. West include Richard White, “It’s Your Misfortune and None of My Own”: A New History of the American West (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1991), and Robert V. Hine and John Mack Faragher, The American West: A New Interpretive History (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2000). On the Canadian West see Jean Barman, The West Beyond the West: A History of British Columbia (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1991), and R. Douglas Francis and Howard Palmer, ed., The Prairie West: Historical Readings, 2d. ed. (Edmonton: University of Alberta Press, 1992).
3. 3.There are many monographs and collections of essays on women in the U.S. and Canadian Wests that analyze domesticity and work among other topics. For example, see Gillian Creese and Veronica Strong-Boag, eds., British Columbia Reconsidered (Vancouver: Press Gang Publishers, 1992); Mary Kinnear, A Female Economy: Women’s Work in a Prairie Province, 1870–1970 (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1998); Catherine A. Cavanaugh and Randi R. Warne, eds., Telling Tales: Essays in Western Women’s History (Vancouver: UBC Press, 2000); Susan Armitage and Elizabeth Jameson, eds., The Women’s West (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1987); and Elizabeth Jameson and Susan Armitage, eds., Writing the Range: Race, Class, and Culture in the Women’s West (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1997).
4. 4.See Susan Lee Johnson, Roaring Camp: The Social World of the California Gold Rush (New York: W.W. Norton, 2000) for a wonderfully insightful analysis of gender in the gold rush.
5. 5.Adele Perry, “‘Oh, I’m Just Sick of the Faces of Men’: Gender Imbalance, Race, Sexuality, and Sociability in Nineteenth-Century British Columbia,” BC Studies: The British Columbian Quarterly 105–106 (1995): 34.
6. 6.Perry, “Oh, I’m Just Sick,” 33.
7. 7.To help frame the discussion of race and colonization, see Ann Laura Stoler, Carnal Knowledge and Imperial Power: Race and the Intimate in Colonial Rule (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002); and Anne McClintock, Aamir Mufti, Ella Shohat, eds., Dangerous Liaisons: Gender, Nation, and Postcolonial Perspectives (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1997). On western women’s travel narratives, see Brigitte Georgi-Findlay, The Frontiers of Women’s Writing: Women’s Narratives and the Rhetoric of Westward Expansion (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1996).
8. 8.Cavanaugh and Warne, Telling Tales, 9.
9. 9.Mary Murphy, Mining Cultures: Men, Women and Leisure in Butte, 1914–1941 (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1997), 8.
10. 10.Cavanaugh and Warne, Telling Tales, 12.
11. 11.Peggy Pascoe, Relations of Rescue: The Search for Female Moral Authority in the American West, 1874–1939 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990); Margaret Jacobs, Engendered Encounters: Feminism and Pueblo Cultures, 1879–1934 (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1999); Myra Rutherdale, Women and the White Man’s God: Gender and Race in the Canadian Mission Field (Vancouver: UBC Press, 2002); David Wallace Adams, Education for Extinction: American Indians and the Boarding School Experience, 1875–1928 (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1995); and Carol L. Higham, Noble, Wretched & Redeemable: Protestant Missionaries to the Indians in Canada and the United States, 1820–1900 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2000).
12. 12.Joan M. Jensen, One Foot on the Rockies: Women and Creativity in the Modern American West (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1995); Laura Jane Moore, “Elie Meets the President: Weaving Navajo Culture and Commerce in the Southwestern Tourist Industry,” Frontiers: A Journal of Women’s Studies 22, no. 1 (2001): 21–44; Douglas Cole, Captured Heritage: The Scramble for Northwest Coast Artifacts (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1985); Lisa MacFarlane, “Mary Schaffer’s ‘Comprehending Equal Eyes,”’ in Trading Gazes: Euro-American Women Photographers and Native North Americans, 1880–1940, ed. Susan Bernadin et al. (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2003).
13. 13.Bernadin, et al., Trading Gazes; Laura Wexler, Tender Violence: Domestic Visions in an Age of U.S. Imperialism (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2000); Judith Fryer Davidov, Women’s Camera Work: Self/Body/Other in American Visual Culture (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1998); Anne Maxwell, Colonial Photography and Exhibitions: Representations of the “Native” and the Making of European Identities (London: Leicester University Press, 1999); Carol J. Williams, Framing the West: Race, Gender, and the Photographic Frontier in the Pacific Northwest (New York: Oxford University Press, 2003). On contemporary native photographers, see Jane Alison, ed., Native Nations: Journeys in American Photography (London: Barbican Art Gallery, 1998); and Diane Newmaier, ed., Reframings: New American Feminist Photographies (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1995).
14. 14.Sharyn Rohlfsen Udall, Carr, O’Keeffe, Kahlo: Places of Their Own (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2000).
15. 15.Elinore Pruitt Stewart, Letters of a Woman Homesteader (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1913); Georgina Binnie-Clark, Wheat and Woman (Toronto: Bell & Cockburn, 1914).
16. 16.Binnie-Clark, Wheat and Woman, xxi.
17. 17.Foran overview of western Canadian women’s legal battles, see Alison Prentice, et al., Canadian Women: A History (Toronto: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1988). For a discussion of the homestead dower, see Catherine Cavanaugh, “The Limitations of the Pioneering Partnership: The Alberta Campaign for Homestead Dower, 1909–1925,” in Making Western Canada: Essays on European Colonization and Settlement, ed. Catherine Cavanaugh and Jeremy Mouat (Toronto: Garamond Press, 1996). On U.S. women’s legal status, see Joan Hoff, Law, Gender & Injustice: A Legal History of U.S. Women (New York: New York University Press, 1991).
18. 18.On the experience of Japanese Canadians, see Patricia E. Roy, Mutual Ho stages: Canadians and Japanese during the Second World War (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1990); Roy, “Lessons in Citizenship, 1945–1949: The Delayed Return of the Japanese to Canada’s Pacific Coast,” Pacific Northwest Quarterly 93 (Spring 2002): 69–80; and Midge Ayukawa, “From Japs to Japanese Canadians to Canadians,” Journal of the West 38, no. 3 (July 1999): 41–48. On the U.S. experience, see Valerie Matsumoto, Farming the Home Place: a Japanese Community in California, 1919–1982 (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1993).
19. 19.Joy Kogawa, Obasan (New York: Godine, 1982; New York: Anchor Books, 1994); Lise Yasui and Ann Tegnell, producers, A Family Gathering(PBS video, 1989).
20. 20.For the broad context of these issues see Sylvia Van Kirk, Many Tender Ties: Women in Fur Trade Society in Western Canada, 1670–1870 (Winnipeg: Watson & Dwyer; Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1980); David Smits, “‘Squaw Men,’ ‘Half-Breeds,’ and Amalgamators: Late Nineteenth-Century Anglo-American Attitudes Toward Indian-White Race-Mixing,” American Indian Culture and Research Journal 15, no. 3 (1991): 29–61; Martha Hodes, ed., Sex, Love, Race: Crossing Boundaries in North American History (New York: New York University Press, 1999).
21. 21.Sarah Carter, Aboriginal People and Colonizers of Western Canada to 1900 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1999), 117.
22. 22.For a fuller discussion, see Kathleen Jamieson, Indian Women and the Law in Canada: Citizens Minus (Ottawa: Advisory Council on the Status of Women, 1978), and Jamieson’s update on the law in “Sex Discrimination and the Indian Act,” in Arduous Journey: Canadian Indians and Decolonization, ed. J. Rick Pointing (Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1986), 112–36. Also see Jean Barman, “What a Difference a Border Makes: Aboriginal Racial Intermixture in the Pacific Northwest,” Journal of the West 38, no. 3 (July 1999): 14–20.
23. 23.Barman, “What a Difference a Border Makes,” 18.
24. 24.Peggy Pascoe, “Race, Gender and Intercultural Relations: The Case of Interracial Marriage,” in Writing the Range, ed. Jameson and Armitage, 71; Margaret Jacobs, “The Eastmans and the Luhans: Interracial Marriage between White Women and Native American Men, 1875–1935,” Frontiers: A Journal of Women’s Studies 23, no. 3 (2002): 32; and Roger D. Hardaway, “Unlawful Love: A History of Arizona’s Miscegenation Law,” Journal of Arizona History 27, no. 4 (Winter 1986): 377–90.
25. 25.Barman, “What a Difference a Border Makes,” 19.
26. 26.Murray R. Wickett, Contested Territory: Whites, Native Americans, and African Americans in Oklahoma, 1865–1907 (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2000), 37. Ironically, many of the same Indian nations passed strict laws against intermarriage with African Americans.
27. 27.Wendy St Jean, “‘You Have the Land. I Have the Cattle’: Intermarried Whites and the Chickasaw Range Lands,” Chronicles of Oklahoma 78, no. 2 (2000): 187.
28. 28.Wickett, Contested Territory, 3 8.