It isn’t surprising that the clown attack of 2016 happened—it’s been a surreal year full of the deaths of revered icons, nation and worldwide elections exposing facets of corruption, and a land-use fight bringing people, the government, and corporations into clashes over what is valuable: water and sacred land, or oil. Sightings of clowns across the United States only add to the insanity of the year, and while some people may be peeking into the shadows for a hint of a rainbow wig and grease-painted face, the legend of the heckling trickster has been a cultural staple since, well, to emphasize the ominous, the beginning.
Now, you may be thinking of the Punch and Judy characters of the European persuasion who exemplify jokes based on rape, murder, and abuse. Perhaps you’re envisioning the Harlequin, the zanni comedic figure in the Italian Commedia dell’arte. The pit might be opening up in your stomach imagining Pennywise. Or, Pagliacci might be playing through your mind, the opera devoted to the clown who hides his severe depression by making his audience laugh. While each clown provides comedic relief, the basis of their humor are dark in nature and rooted in tragedy, serving to generate hilarity from social, cultural, and environmental chaos. And there’s enough chaos today to warrant a hello from a clown archetype that exists in the real world.
Yet, for Native American cultures across North America, the ideology of the clown is a magical creature serves to both entertain and teach. Be it the carnival classic or ancient trickster, these mystical figures are not only comedic heroes in an increasingly tragic world, but remind society of the values held dear through blasphemy and mockery. Instead of Punch and Judy, we have the Cherokee Booger Dance, the Pueblo clowns, the Lakota Heyoka Thunder Beings, and the Mandan Foolish One.
For the Cherokee, the tsu’nigadu’il, translated as ‘many person’s faces covered over,’ is a ritual dance performed by tribesmen who cover their faces with masks made of anything from hornet’s nests to gourds. Representing evil spirits or European invaders, the Boogers cause mayhem by hitting on girls, pretending to have seizures, and starting fights. Only when the tribal leader invites the Boogers to a dance of peace does the insanity lessen. Yet, the Boogers still continue to act scandalous and, much like Punch and Judy, pretend to rape Cherokee women—which, if you look at it, is also used to represent the whole Native American/European relationship.
In the deserts and canyons of the Southwestern United States of the Pueblo and Mayo-Yaqui Native Americans, the striped figures of the Pueblo clowns perform crass acts and dances during ceremonial kachina dances. Dressed in black and white, some with grotesque cloth masks, others painted in clay, each sacred clown is a personification of a spirit expressed through ceremonial transformation, and serves as a hypocritical fool to mock the world and people in it—in other words, to show mankind they are clowns. They are the gross, hilarious creatures that practice magic while farting. Even so, during their ridiculous and sometimes lewd antics, these clowns pinpoint the idiocy of society—such as stressors over inconsequential things, or envy over another’s beauty—that indicate maybe the clown isn’t the fool after all.
If the Pueblo clowns are the fools, then the sacred clowns of the Lakota culture of the Great Plains are the warriors. The Heyoka, or Thunder Beings, twist the trickster archetype to reflect the world like a mirror. By declaring bounty in a time of famine or shivering in the heat of summer, these sacred clowns present a light at the end of the dark tunnel of life—a brightness that teaches values by demonstrating cultural taboos. On a baser level, the Heyoka sacrifices for the greater good. By pretending to be full, the Heyoka gives food to another. By acting foolish to raise a tribe’s spirits, the Heyoka teaches others to see the hilarity in their world and find a way to carry on.
Sometimes the lesson translates into one of strength. For the Mandan of the Dakotas, the Foolish One both entertains and frightens, revealing a terrifying humor that requires the village to overcome the primal, savage darkness that haunted man before the discovery of fire. During the Okipa ceremony, the Foolish One—costumed like a buffalo with a white-painted face—threatens to bring evil if the tribe’s power does not drive him back. When the tribe proves successful, the Foolish One lives up to his name by acting the part of a rutting male buffalo before finally being driven out, indicating the darkness cannot penetrate the strength of the people.
Perhaps the strength of the people is being tested today. Where the world feels topsy-turvy and many feel helpless, the need for unity remains palpable—even among the social media groups and chat rooms. As creepy clown sightings continue to pop up across the country, almost like the revival of the clown panic back in the 1980s, the lesson remains the same. The supernatural world—that odd, right-is-left up-is-down mentality—seeks to disrupt the fortitude of normalcy. Once more, the darkness arises to test the light. The question remains: what will we reflect back to the terrifying, comedic primality?
