Don’t tell anyone — and I’ll deny it if you ask me — but I confess that I like being a Duck. Even before Oregon stomped Michigan, I would occasionally tell people of the pride I take in my Duckdom. And, while I may occasionally get a quizzical look, no one flinches, and no one is offended. It would seem that being a Duck is harmless.
But what if we weren’t Ducks?

Certainly there are lots of other options. Were they not already taken, we could be nasty and tenacious Wolverines; we could be fierce Cougars; we could be militant Trojans. Or, we could be Redskins.
Notice the lack of adjectives. What do you associate with the term Redskin? Personally, I don’t make any particular associations with the term.
If asked to define it, I’d say it is synonymous with American Indian and Native American. If no one told me otherwise, I’d have no clue that the term Redskin is offensive to many — particularly if they happen to be of Native American heritage.
If asked to suggest the origin of the term, I’d guess that the Europeans who took over this country coined the term in reference to the tans (or sunburns) sported by the folks who were here first. That skin would be singled out as an identifying trait isn’t surprising, nor is it necessarily an indication of inherent racism. Skin was one area where the differing attributes of the two cultures would be obvious. After all, one culture was not adverse to wearing abbreviated outfits and allowing nature to have her way with their melanin. The other wore 57 layers of clothing (give or take a few) and dusted the few inches of visible skin with powdered lead to eradicate any trace of said melanin.
Makes sense, right? Wrong.
I’ve been informed that the term Redskin originally referred to the use by some Native Americans of vermilion paint on their faces. I’ve also been informed that whatever the origin, the term went from being a descriptive noun to a value-laden racial epithet.
So, if something was an epithet, does that mean that it must always be an epithet?
Language is a funny thing; it evolves. Once upon a time, our Anglo-Saxon ancestors used words like “fuck” and “shit” without blushing. Why? Because they weren’t considered profane. Before they moved into the dreaded four-letter-word category, they were just words used to describe happenings in the world. Mark Twain freely sprinkled “nigger” throughout Huckleberry Finn without intending it to pass judgment on anyone’s worth as a person. Even more recently — before Gloria Steinem — a man could call a woman he wasn’t dating “honey” or “dear” without incurring a dirty look or a lawsuit.
Times change. Though “fuck” is still verboten in most polite situations, South Park had an entire episode devoted to seeing how many times they could say “shit”; “nigger” is not a word any thoughtful person would casually toss around; and the man who calls me “honey” had better be older than seventy or someone whose hand I allow on my knee.
So, what brought all this to mind? Last week, a federal district court in Washington, D.C. determined that there wasn’t enough evidence to establish that “Redskin” was disparaging to Native Americans. Now, back in 1999, the Washington football franchise using the name had their trademark protection revoked by a three-judge panel of the Trademark Trial and Appeal Board who determined that “Redskin” violated the provision of the Lanham Act prohibiting the protection of trademarks that are “disparaging, scandalous, contemptuous or disreputable.” The ruling last week means that the football franchise will to have their exclusive rights to the name protected.
As I mentioned, I find the word “Redskin” neutral. I don’t associate it with any particular positive or negative values. I learned long ago; however, that the rest of the world and I don’t always see eye to eye. For some folks out there, when they hear that word, they associate it with bigotry and the corresponding hurt, angry and frustrated feelings.
At the root of all the debate about team names and mascots is a fundamental question: Who should bear the burden of changing their behavior? Should those who are sensitive to the use of a particular term realize that times change and a centuries-old epithet just hasn’t got the punch it used to have, or should those inclined to use said epithet and call it harmless put some effort into being more sensitive to the feelings of those around them?
I dunno either. I’m just glad I’m a Duck.