I was browsing through the Etsy forums earlier today when I noticed this thread about how the women from the Texas sect of the Fundamentalist Church of Latter Day Saints are beginning to sell their handmade clothing to people outside the community on the internet. As a Salt Lake City Tribune article explains, this served not only as a way of keeping their children in the traditional clothes that were familiar to them while they were in state custody, but also as a way of bringing in some income, which became necessary as they began to move off of the ranch and have to support themselves non-communally in the mainstream world. In fact, it’s for the latter reason that they’re continuing with the venture, now that the children have, in large part, been returned to their mothers.

While I’m a little bit perplexed as to the market they’re targeting, I’m looking forward to seeing how this enterprise turns out. If it’s successful, it might be an interesting model for making non-mainstream cultures economically viable in the mainstream, and therefore preserving it. I’m thinking about this mostly as it applies to indigenous cultures; it makes me think of the Otavalenos of Ecuador.

While cleaning out my bookshelf at my mom’s house the other day, I found my journal from last year in Ecuador, and happened upon an entry I had written about what I saw as the erosion of traditional Ecuadorian culture:

My father has come to visit, and we were just in Cuenca.  We went to the Musel del Banco Central which had an excellent ethnographic exhibit on the incredible diversity of traditional Ecuadorian culture: the Chagras, the Otavalenos of the Sierra, the Shuar and the Huaroni in the jungle, the Afro-Ecuadorians of Esmeraldas — to say the least! And it made me kind of sad because more than anything else it made me realize how much as been lost.  That I have lived in Pichincha for 7 months but need to go to a museum to learn about the culture of the Chagras.  But Supermaxis, now these I have experienced firsthand.

Of the 162 kids in the school where I teach, I know of 2 who speak Quechua — although many have indigenous names: Quishpe, Gualotuna, Chugchilan, Pachacama, Tipan, Llumiguoma, Paucar, etc.  There is no pride in indigenous heritage; the kids use “indigena” to say idiot, basically.  Their uniform is jeans, sweaters, and shiny black shoes; they learn English but not Quechua; their school books tell stories portraying indigenous peoples as backwards, ignorant, dumb.  Throughout the country, typical styles of dress have been replaced by halter tops and stretch jeans.  Those who can shop at supermarkets identical to their North American counterparts; those who can’t aspire to.

My dad said, it’s too bad that there isn’t a way to integrate people into the modern economy, let them rise out of poverty, etc., but still allow them to maintain their culture.  Isn’t there though? Take the Otavalenos, the most prosperous indigenous community in Ecuador, and the one — at least in the Sierra — that has best held onto its roots.  The other day my friend Eva was flying out to Bolivia, so I was waiting for her at Quito’s Mariscal Sucre airport to say goodbye.  I stood outside the international departures section for about 15 minutes and in that time two separate Otavaleno families showed up and went inside to fly away.  The arrived in new, comfortable-looking cars, they were well-dressed and about to board international flights, but the men wore their hair in long braids under traditional felt hats, the women wore the traditional frilly blouses and gold necklaces, and the snatches of conversation I overheard were most definitely not in Spanish.  They obviously were very connected to and proud of their heritage, yet they were certainly not living in poverty; on the contrary! On the other hand, the blue-jeans wearing children I work with would never dream of stepping on an airplane, let alone one bound for a destination outside the country.

Oh globalization! It is strange to be a North American and watch a country be so devoured by our cultural imperialism.  I wish the Otavalenos were the norm, not just a notable exception….

Anyway, it seems to me that what the Otavalenos have done successfully, and what the FLDS must be hoping to do, is market their unique culture to a more mainstream audience.  I think that this is one of the best ways to preserve a culture — to make it economically viable, cynical though that my sound.  Although I’m not sure how I feel about the preservation of such an oppressive and repressive culture, if this FDLS experiment is successful, it will definitely be an interesting model for ethnographic marketing!