White Hills by Rebecca Roanhorse

I will never look at strawberry smoothies the same way again.

As my first encounter with the author Rebecca Roanhorse, I had no idea what to expect with "White Hills." This story is taken from an anthology entitled "Never Whistle at Night", dedicated to showcasing 'dark fiction' by indigenous writers. It was a thoughtful gift from my wife, who keenly understands my appreciation for short stories and consistently encourages me to explore a diverse range of literature, especially beyond my frequent indulgence of Ray Bradbury.

While delving into this particular story, it became evident that its intended depth and meaning might have eluded me. The author's purpose, beyond crafting a tale designed to elicit shock and awe, remains somewhat elusive. Stripped of its exaggerated theatrics, the story appears somewhat hollow and confusing. 

Drawing parallels with the film Get Out, I couldn't help but notice similarities, albeit with a slight twist. The protagonist, an indigenous woman named Marissa, is married to a rich white man and living a life of luxury. She lives in a mansion located in an affluent white neighborhood, drives a fancy car, wears expensive fashion and has a membership to the most prestigious country club. She passes as white but once the husband finds out that she is "part Native American", things start to go bad for her real fast. However, unlike the movie, the storyline unfolds with her choosing to stay rather than relinquish her white privilege even when confronted with her racist mother-in-law's true malevolence. She is pure evil and will stop at nothing to ensure the purity of her family's bloodline. The turning point of the story is very disturbing when she takes Marissa to see a doctor regarding her pregnancy. It is reminiscent of the scene in Get Out, when the male protagonist is drugged and falls into the sunken place. Yet, despite enduring such atrocities, Marissa frustratingly chooses to remain loyal to this family, defying every instinct to run away and never look back. 

Again, very confusing.  

Unless, the narrative seems to be suggesting that white supremacy operates insidiously, highlighting the pervasive trend of self-inflicted erasure of indigenous identity. This erasure serves as a strategic means to gain acceptance within a predominantly white society, concurrently enjoying the privileges and wealth that come with it. Or maybe I'm just reading too much into the subtext that really isn't there at all.