J.M. Barrie was a genius of imagination, but he was also a man of 1904. That’s the crux of the issue. When you sit down to watch a modern adaptation of Peter Pan, or maybe you’re brave enough to read the original 1911 novel Peter and Wendy, the depiction of the Indians in Peter Pan hits like a bucket of cold water. It’s awkward. It’s messy. Honestly, it’s often outright offensive by any modern standard.
The "Pickaninny Tribe." That is the actual name Barrie used in his text. It’s a term that makes modern readers flinch, and for good reason. It carries a heavy weight of colonial caricature. But to understand why these characters exist and how they’ve evolved—or failed to evolve—we have to look past the surface-level cringe and see what Barrie was actually doing. He wasn't trying to write a documentary about Indigenous North Americans. He was writing about how Victorian children imagined Indigenous people based on "penny dreadful" novels and Wild West shows. It’s a copy of a copy, blurred by time and prejudice.
Why the Indians in Peter Pan Don't Actually Exist
Here is the thing: Great Big Little Panther and Tiger Lily aren't "Native American." They are Neverland constructs. In the logic of the book, Neverland is a place built from the collective dreams of children. Because those children were British kids in the early 1900s, their internal map of "adventure" included the tropes they saw in popular media of the day.
Barrie describes them using language that feels like a fever dream of stereotypes. They are "the redskins." They carry tomahawks. They speak in "Ughs" and broken English. This wasn't a mistake or a lapse in research; it was the intentional use of a specific literary trope called the "noble savage."
- Tiger Lily: She is arguably the most complex of the group, yet she’s still trapped in the "stoic princess" archetype. She is brave, sure. She faces death at Marooners' Rock without blinking. But she’s also a character who exists primarily to be rescued by Peter or to pine for him.
- The Tribe: They are depicted as the natural enemies of the pirates. In Barrie's mind, this was a game of "cops and robbers" or "cowboys and Indians" played out on a cosmic, eternal scale.
If you look at the 1953 Disney version, the problem gets amplified. The song "What Made the Red Man Red?" is probably the most controversial piece of animation in the Disney vault. It’s a literal inventory of every stereotype imaginable, from the skin color being a result of blushing to the exaggerated nose shapes. It’s hard to watch today without feeling a bit of a physical recoil.
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The Evolution of Tiger Lily and Her People
As the decades rolled on, creators realized they couldn't just keep the Indians in Peter Pan exactly as Barrie wrote them. The world changed. Our collective understanding of cultural dignity changed.
In the 1954 musical starring Mary Martin, the "Indians" were transformed into a dance troupe. It was still highly stylized and not particularly "accurate," but it moved away from some of the more vitriolic language. Then came the 1991 film Hook. Steven Spielberg basically sidestepped the issue entirely. He knew. He realized that trying to do a "respectful" version of a caricature is a losing game, so the tribe is largely absent or reimagined.
Then we got the 2015 disaster Pan.
Remember the backlash? They cast Rooney Mara, a white actress, as Tiger Lily. The filmmakers tried to argue that the tribe was a "multicultural" group of "natives" from all over the world, not just North America. It didn't fly. People saw it as whitewashing a character who, despite her problematic origins, was one of the few prominent Indigenous roles in classic literature. It was a classic case of trying to fix a problem and accidentally making it ten times worse.
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What Recent Adaptations Actually Got Right (and Wrong)
David Lowery’s 2023 film Peter Pan & Wendy tried a different path. They cast Alyssa Wapanatâhk, a Cree actress, as Tiger Lily. They actually brought in consultants. They let her speak her native language.
- Language: Hearing Cree spoken in Neverland was a massive shift. It grounded the character in a real culture rather than a vaudeville one.
- Agency: This version of Tiger Lily wasn't a damsel. She was basically the elder sister of the group, the one who actually had her life together while Peter was busy being a brat.
- The Costume: Gone were the cheap feathers and "war paint" tropes, replaced by clothing that felt more authentic to actual Indigenous craftsmanship, even if it was still "fantasy."
But does it work? Sorta. You're still dealing with the fact that these characters are fundamentally rooted in a story about British colonialism. No matter how much you "fix" the tribe, they are still living in a world created by a man who saw them as "others."
The Cultural Impact of the "Neverland Indian"
We can't ignore how these depictions shaped real-world perceptions. For generations of kids, the Indians in Peter Pan were their first introduction to Indigenous people. That’s a heavy burden for a fictional character to carry. When the only representation you see is a "stoic" warrior who says three words and lives to serve a white boy who won't grow up, it skews your worldview.
Scholarship on this is pretty extensive. Dr. Adrienne Keene of Native Appropriations has written extensively about how these "harmless" childhood stories contribute to the dehumanization of real people. When you turn a culture into a costume, you strip away their humanity.
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Moving Toward a Better Neverland
So, where do we go from here? Do we cancel Peter Pan?
Probably not. You can’t erase the history of literature. What you can do is engage with it critically. You can tell your kids, "Hey, this is how people used to think, and it was wrong." You can point out the difference between a caricature and a person.
The most successful modern takes are those that move away from the "Indian" label entirely and treat the inhabitants of Neverland as a distinct, fantastical culture that doesn't rely on stealing from real-world Indigenous groups. If Neverland is a place of dreams, why do the dreams have to be limited by 19th-century racism?
If you're looking to explore this topic further or perhaps screen Peter Pan for a classroom or family, here are the steps to do it responsibly:
- Watch with Context: If viewing the 1953 Disney film, use the "Stories Matter" advisory Disney+ now provides. Use it as a jumping-off point for a conversation about stereotypes.
- Read Contemporary Authors: Balance the "classics" with books by actual Indigenous authors. Instead of just Tiger Lily, introduce your kids to stories by Cynthia Leitich Smith or Angeline Boulley.
- Focus on the Theme, Not the Trope: The core of Peter Pan is about the fear of growing up and the loss of innocence. That theme works even if the "Indians" are replaced by something that doesn't rely on racial tropes.
- Acknowledge the Source: Recognize that J.M. Barrie was writing from a place of ignorance, not necessarily malice, but that the impact of his words remains the same regardless of his intent.
Neverland will always be a part of our cultural fabric. But the way we populate it says more about us than it does about Barrie. It's time to stop dreaming in stereotypes.