Photos change everything. When you see old, sepia-toned pictures of native tribes from the late 1800s, you probably feel a sense of nostalgia or a "vanishing" history. But that feeling? It’s often manufactured. We’ve been looking at these images for over a century through a lens that was designed to tell a specific, often inaccurate, story.
Most people don't realize that many of the most famous historical photographs were essentially staged. Take Edward S. Curtis, for example. He’s the guy everyone thinks of. He spent decades documenting Indigenous peoples across North America. He was obsessed. He took over 40,000 images. But he also carried a "props" trunk. If a tribal member was wearing a modern clock or a store-bought shirt—because, you know, it was the 1900s and they lived in the modern world—Curtis would often make them take it off. He wanted "purity." He wanted the "noble savage" trope.
Honestly, it's a mess.
We need to talk about why we’re still so obsessed with these images and how to look at them without falling into the trap of colonial fetishization. It isn't just about old photos in dusty books. It’s about how we treat living cultures today when we pull out a smartphone in a remote village.
Why Historical Pictures of Native Tribes Are Often Lies
Photography has always been a tool of power. In the 19th century, it was used to justify "Manifest Destiny." If you could photograph a group of people and make them look like they belonged to a dying past, it made it easier for the government to take their land. It’s dark. It’s calculated. And it worked.
Look at the portraits of the Navajo or the Hopi from that era. You’ll notice a lot of stoic, unsmiling faces. Part of that was the long exposure time of early cameras—you couldn't hold a grin for 20 seconds. But part of it was a stylistic choice by the photographers. They wanted Indigenous people to look grim. They wanted them to look like relics.
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Researchers like Dr. Jolene Rickard, a Tuscarora scholar, have pointed out that Indigenous people weren't just passive subjects. They were often "performing" for the camera, sometimes for money, sometimes for survival. They knew what the white photographers wanted to see. It was a transaction. When you look at pictures of native tribes from this period, you aren't seeing a candid moment. You’re seeing a highly negotiated image.
The Problem with the "Vanishing Race" Myth
The biggest issue is the "vanishing race" narrative. This was the idea that Native Americans were destined to disappear as a result of "progress." Photography was the primary way this myth was sold to the public. By capturing "the last" of a certain tribe, photographers created a sense of urgency that allowed them to sell expensive books and prints to wealthy collectors in New York and London.
But Native people didn't vanish. They’re still here.
When we only celebrate or share photos that look "traditional"—think feathers, buckskin, and war paint—we inadvertently support the idea that "real" Indigenous people only exist in the past. If you see a photo of a modern Indigenous person in a hoodie or working in a lab, does it feel "less" authentic to you? If it does, you’ve been conditioned by a century of biased photography.
The Modern Shift: Reclaiming the Lens
Thankfully, the script is flipping. We’re moving away from the "outsider looking in" dynamic. Indigenous photographers are taking back the narrative. This is crucial because a member of a community is going to capture details that an outsider would never even notice.
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Matika Wilbur (Swinomish and Tulalip) is a massive name here. Her Project 562 is legendary. She set out to photograph members from all 562 (at the time) federally recognized tribes in the U.S. Her goal? To show the diversity and contemporary reality of Indigenous life. Her pictures of native tribes don’t look like the stuff in your high school history textbook. They look like people. They look like neighbors. They look like the future.
Then you’ve got someone like Zig Jackson (Mandan, Hidatsa, and Arikara), who was the first Native photographer to have his work collected by the Library of Congress. He famously did a series where he photographed non-Native tourists taking photos of Native people. It’s meta. It’s brilliant. It exposes the "paparazzi" culture that often surrounds Indigenous ceremonies and communities.
The Ethical Minefield of Travel Photography
If you’re traveling and you want to take photos, you’ve got to be careful. It’s not just about "asking for permission," though that’s the bare minimum. It’s about understanding the "why."
Are you taking the photo to document a memory, or are you taking it to "collect" an exotic experience? There’s a difference. In many cultures, particularly in the Amazon or the Omo Valley in Ethiopia, photography has become a weirdly distorted economy. Tourists show up, pay a dollar for a photo, and leave. This creates a cycle where people are incentivized to dress up in "traditional" ways specifically for the camera, even if they don't do that in their daily lives.
It’s basically human zoo-ism.
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How to Be a Decent Human with a Camera
If you find yourself in a position where you might be taking pictures of native tribes or Indigenous communities, follow these unofficial rules:
- Put the camera down first. Talk to people. Learn their names. Understand the context of what you’re seeing. If the first thing you do is reach for your lens, you’re failing the "human being" test.
- Ask about sacred spaces. Some ceremonies or locations are absolutely not for public consumption. In many Pueblo communities in the American Southwest, photography is strictly banned. Respect it. Don't try to sneak a shot.
- Think about the "Afterlife" of the photo. Where is it going? If it’s just going on Instagram for "likes" and "clout," maybe don't post it.
- Share the results. If you take a portrait, find a way to get a copy back to the subject. Digital files are easy, but prints are even better. Make it a two-way street.
Real Examples of the "Camera as Weapon"
We can't ignore the damage done by the National Geographic era. For decades, that yellow-bordered magazine was the window to the world for millions. But it often leaned heavily into "othering." They would focus on the "exotic" and the "primitive."
A famous example of the complexity of these images is the "Afghan Girl" by Steve McCurry. While she isn't from a North American tribe, the ethics are the same. Years later, it was revealed that Sharbat Gula, the subject, didn't particularly want her photo taken and didn't even know it had become famous. She was a refugee in a vulnerable position. When we look at pictures of native tribes, we have to ask: was there a power imbalance when this shutter clicked? Usually, the answer is yes.
Practical Insights for the Conscious Viewer
When you encounter images of Indigenous people online or in galleries, do a quick mental check. It changes how you process the information.
- Check the credit. Is the photographer Indigenous? If not, did they collaborate with the community or just "capture" them?
- Look for the modern. Does the image allow the subject to exist in the 21st century?
- Question the caption. Does it use words like "mystical," "ancient," or "primitive"? Those are red flags.
- Follow Indigenous creators. Stop relying on the archives. Follow accounts like @indigenousphotographers on Instagram. See what the communities are saying about themselves.
The history of pictures of native tribes is a history of colonization, but the future of these images is one of sovereignty. It’s about Indigenous people owning their own image, their own story, and their own light.
Next Steps for Deeper Engagement
If you want to move beyond just looking at photos and actually support Indigenous visual sovereignty, here is what you do. Start by researching the land you currently live on using tools like Native-Land.ca. This provides context for the people who may have been the subjects of historical photos in your own backyard. Next, look into the "Indian Arts and Crafts Act of 1990" if you're in the U.S., which helps you understand the legalities of "authentic" Indigenous work versus mass-produced knockoffs. Finally, if you're a student or a researcher, look for the "Protocols for Native American Archival Materials." It’s a foundational document that explains how libraries and museums are trying to fix the mistakes of the past regarding these very photographs. Stop being a passive consumer of the "exotic" and start being an informed witness to a living, breathing present.