From Winter Doldrums to Winter Counts: Politics and
Historical Archaeology

Elizabeth Prine

I began the research for this paper two years ago, as part of the process of becoming
competent in historical-period archaeological research. The work of familiarizing my
"prehistoric self' with historical archaeology has been interesting and exciting, but I have also
found it frustrating and challenging. Fortunately, I believe that these are the characteristics of
work that is worth doing; nonetheless, I find that certain questions have yet to be answered to
my satisfaction. What are the goals and purposes of historical archaeology? Why do we pursue
this field of inquiry? How can we best focus our work, theoretically and methodologically, to
fit our goals? Finally, what can we do about the problems that arise when non-archaeologists
commodify knowledge about the past? This paper is a discussion of these problems and some
possible solutions. It focuses on several examples in which the purveyors of archaeological
information did and did not foreground the implications inherent in their choice of theoretical
models and archaeological sources, and the ways in which these choices affected the resultant
versions of the past. While I believe that the examples I have chosen to discuss are interesting
and enlightening, they are by no means the only examples-by archaeologists or non-
archaeologists-that could be mentioned.

Historical archaeology has evolved over the last 30-odd years from Ivor NMel Hume's
"handmaiden to history," to Jim Deetz' belief that it is worthwhile in its own right, especially
when we study periods about which little is known from the historical record (Noel Hume
1964, 1969, 1991; Deetz 1977, 1988, 1991). Today the majority of historical archaeologists
would probably side with Deetz, although many would further problematize the theory and
practice of the discipline. Work by Mark Leone (Leone 1982; Leone and Potter 1992), Mary
Beaudry (Beaudry 1988; Beaudry, Cook, and Mrozowski 1991), Ann Yentsch (Yentsch
1991 a, 1991 b), Suzanne Spencer-Wood (Spencer-Wood 1987, 1991 a, 1991 b), Barbara Little
(Little 1992), and Margaret Purser (Purser 1987, 1989, 1991) illustrates this trend. We seem
to have reached consensus that the goal of historical archaeology-indeed, of all
archaeology-is to gather, examine, and interpret evidence from the past. However, the
purpose of archaeology-its raison d'e'tre-is still the focus of debate.

Why do archaeology? Should archaeology be done for preservation's sake? To gain
"pure scientific knowledge" ? To produce universal laws of human behavior? Because it is, as
Jim Deetz has often said, "the most fun you can have with your pants on"?l While I agree that
these are all reasonable justifications for doing archaeology, I believe that the purpose of
archaeology should be to give ordinary people-the descendants of the people we purportedly
study-some of the tools necessary to combat societal and cultural hegemonies. One way to do
this is to publicize the information we gather about the past to as wide an audience as possible.

Elizabeth Prine, Department of Anthropology, University of California, Berkeley, CA 94720

Kroeber Anthropological Society Papers

There are two major critiques of this point of view. The first is that our primary role
as scholars is to further knowledge without regard to the lay public. While I agree that so-
called "pure research" is important, it is clear that no scholarly work is done in a societal
vacuum. However much we might occasionally wish it to be, we all know that we ride
political tides originating both within the university, as with the current budget crisis in higher
education, and from without, as shown by recent changes in leadership at the National
Endowment for the Humanities.2 The second critique is that archaeology is unimportant or
irrelevant to people today. My response to this is that we all live in a world system in which
corporations and other institutions have as much or more power over our lives as we do-and
that this is the case for all of us, whether archaeologists or lay folk. This situation merits the
exploration and analysis of the history of the world system, regardless of whether the
exploration is pursued by economists, historians, or anthropologists of history.

The close of the twentieth century is characterized in part as an era in which nearly
everything has been commodified, including knowledge. Yet despite intense analysis of the
"behavior" of many commodities, knowledge-as-commodity had been studied very little.
Archaeologists' commodity-our product-is information about the past. The following are
three examples of historical and archaeological interpretations of past behavior, and a
discussion of the characteristics they share as knowledge commodified by people other than
scholars.

The first example is "traditional family values." Perhaps more aptly referred to as
"created family values," these are currently a topic of public debate. The values referred to in
the arguments stem from images of white, upper middle class suburbs in the 1950s. This
atypical ten-year span of time, in a neighborhood hardly traditional in American culture, is
exemplified by television images such as those in "Leave it to Beaver" and "The Donna Reed
Show." It is consistently cited as a model of American life at its heyday regardless of its
validity as a realistic model of historical behavior. Clearly, "traditional family values" are not
traditional nor agreed upon, yet they have made the rounds of the media more thoroughly than
Madonna's latest look or Rush Limbaugh's latest book. Certainly they affect more people in
overt and covert ways than either of these two media personalities.

Another instance of the reinvention of "tradition" is the nostalgic "confirmation" of
the prehistoric man-the-hunter/shaman/trader hypotheses with the discovery of "Otzi." This
man, frozen in a glacier on the (then nonexistent) border between Italy and Austria some 5,000
years ago, has also been the focus of much media attention. Just why, exactly, are we so
excited about a 5,000 year old coroner's case anyway? Was Otzi any more typical of members
of his culture than you or me are of ours? Is there such a thing as a typical individual? Or is
this the prehistoric equivalent of excavations at the homes of the "great men" (i.e., George
Washington and Thomas Jefferson)?3

The third intriguing use of the past that I'll put forth is the emergence of Goddess
Worship, a popular religious movement based on the work of the late folklorist-turned-
archaeologist Marija Gimbutas of UCLA (Gimbutas 1972, 1982). While I have no quarrel with
Goddess Worship, it is disturbing that archaeology-and unquestioned, essentializing,
archaeology, at that-is repeatedly invoked as justification for a religion that is perfectly
capable of standing on its own.4

138

No. 79

From Winter Doldrums to Winter Counts

Each of these examples have three qualities in common. You'll recognize that these
qualities are shared to some degree by most archaeology that has been put to political use:

*   They privilege. Each example privileges the role played by a single

group in the past and ignores or minimizes the contributions of other
groups. It discusses that group, whether white suburbanites, Neolithic
men, or Goddess-worshipping agriculturists, as if they were the only
inhabitants of a monolithic past.

*   They naturalize. The interpretation of the past given by these examples

mirrors the current status quo in American culture. This is the case even
when the purpose of the interpretation is to IQI support the present state
of affairs. For instance, Gimbutas' Goddess model shows that violence
and oppression in our culture are ways to accomplish one's goals,
because these methods worked exceedingly well in the past and are part
of world, or at least European, heritage. Gimbutas invokes invasion by
blood-thirsty Kurgans as the primary cause for change in Neolithic
Europe (Gimbutas 1972, 1982); this is a straightforward prime mover
model, and is terribly simplistic given the range of space and time that
the model purports to cover. That its current audience of otherwise well-
educated believers resists challenges to such portrayals of the past (i.e.,
Conkey and Tringham 1995) implies a series of problems in the ways
scientific and humanistic knowledge(s) are presented to and digested by
the public.

*   These cases are insidious. As explanations of the archaeological record

they are not just unproblematized, they are an integral part of American
and international popular culture. They are repeatedly referred to by
media figures and lay people alike as illustrative of the way "things
have always been," and are infrequently questioned-even by organized
groups with a vested interest in presentations of the past, such as
feminist, African American, and gay and lesbian communities.

The above illustrations show that archaeological explanations-interpretations of the
past-can be appropriated to support almost any agenda. While this is especially the case
when archaeologists are not part of the recounting of the historical (or prehistoric) tale, it has
also been thoroughly demonstrated in cases where archaeologists have been involved (Trigger
1980, 1984, 1985, 1989; Leone 1981, 1982; Hall 1984a, 1984b, 1993; Leone and Potter 1992).
How can we combat such misuse of archaeology's authoritative voice while still presenting
our stories to the public?

The simplest answer to this question is to limit "unauthorized" discussions of
archaeology-to shut down the dialogue between archaeology and the public. This is of course
counterproductive and unrealistic if our purpose is to inform people about the past. I offer two
examples as alternatives to such a shut-down. The first example draws from a completed
archaeological survey, the second is excerpted from work currently in progress. In "The
Northern Cheyenne Outbreak of 1879: Using Oral History and Archaeology as Tools of
Resistance," one essay in the McGuire and Paynter volume The Archaeology of Inequality

Prine

139

Kroeber Anthropological Society Papers

(1991), Douglas McDonald, Larry Zimmerman, A. L. McDonald, William Tall Bull, and Ted
Rising Sun discuss a survey conducted in 1987 at the request of several Cheyenne elders. The
purpose of the survey was to confirm or invalidate Cheyenne oral history reports of a series of
events that took place in and near Fort Robinson, Nebraska, during the winter of 1879. The
project was a cooperative attempt by archaeologists and tribal members to consider alternative
forms of evidence as part of a revision of the "official" history, which had been written by the
US military. The military, and therefore academically and publicly accepted, accounts relate a
very different version of the story than that told by archaeologists after this study. The military
account has been used for these past 100-plus years by scholars and the public to deny the
validity of Cheyenne claims to the past and to their part in it. In this case, the archaeology was
able to work in concert with and confirm the Cheyenne oral history reports of the events.

This use of archaeology differs from the examples above because it shares little other
than its location in a political context with them. The three characteristics of commodified and
mass-distributed archaeology mentioned earlier are unproblematized privileging of certain
groups over others, naturalization of the status quo, and insidiousness in popular culture.
Where the Cheyenne Outbreak research privileges one set of voices over another, it does so
consciously and overtly. The work challenges the status quo, questioning the history as written
rather than essentializing it or accepting its normalizing view of the past. Finally, this work
avoids the problems of becoming insidious, and therefore impossible to question, by taking a
cooperative approach. This collaboration of archaeologists and Native Americans was based
on the idea that extra effort both theoretically and methodologically would prove worthwhile
in order to allow alternative evidence in the form of oral history to guide the project. How to
determine which resources to privilege in the final report (documentary, oral, or
archaeological) and which voice(s) to foreground (Cheyenne observers' and historians', Army
officers', archaeologists', or academic historians') were difficult questions to solve within
accepted archaeological and historiographic methodologies. Nonetheless, their resolution
resulted in a qualitatively better retelling of the events of history.

The second example of an alternative approach to what I am calling "media
archaeology" is my own project, which focuses on landscapes and community. I began this
study as a way to examine a place and time that have long interested me, the frontier in
nineteenth-century America. Fieldwork on former frontiers in the United States and South
Africa made me aware of the romantic lens through which we see and constitute "The
Frontier." Parallels in the popular culture of the two places center on depictions of brave,
independent white men and "their women" building families and communities in the
wilderness. The myths and histories of The Frontier in both places follow well-established
cycles used in heroic tales: a hero departs on a journey, is tested and transformed by adversity,
and eventually triumphs through and over the hardships he has experienced.5 The heroic
image of the past is obviously problematic because it ignores or negates the experiences of
those who don't fit the parameters of the prescribed narrative structure. In addition, while
concepts such as "The Frontier" and "The Wilderness" have been examined elsewhere, I have
found very little historical or archaeological discussion of "The Community," which is
inevitably fonned as the result of the hero's triumph over nature. This presents both theoretical
and methodological hurdles, and of course the requisite new line of questioning-why haven't
we problematized "The Community"?

140

No. 79

From Winter Doldrums to Winter Counts

What is community? How is it defined? By whom? Do communities have life cycles
or use lives, as do the individuals, artifacts, landscapes, and institutions that they comprise? If
so, how are they constituted-is community life cycle a concatenation of the cycles of its
constituent parts, or is this a conflation of parts with a larger whole? How can we study
community archaeologically? What methodology is most appropriate for answering these
queries? These are the questions I pursue in my current research.

My intellectual journey began in archaeology and continued on to cultural
anthropology, sociology, folklore, literature, planning and design, and landscape architecture;
my theoretical train of thought has recently arrived at the depot of human and physical
geography. This journey has shown me that "community" is a near-universal concept; scholars
and the public both use the term as if they know what they mean by it. My work has lead to
the following definition of the problem: Community shares a conceptual ambiguity with
similar broadly-used but ill-defined concepts such as "the economy," "the public good," "eco-
systems," and "archaeological cultures."

Most commonly, "community" is defined as a group of people who share some
characteristic, quality, or goal. Beyond this, the definition fragments. The place and purpose of
community has long been debated in anthropology and other disciplines, and consensus has
yet to be reached on the fundamental properties of group interaction, cohesion, and boundary-
making. We refer to abstract entities or ideals like "community spirit" and "community
values"-terms similar to "traditional family values" in that they invoke a set of behaviors
specific in time and space and essentialize and universalize them. We also invoke
"community" to refer to a well-defined organization with a codified set of rules and a unique,
traceable historical record, like "The Catholic Church" and "The City of New York." These
two kinds of community are certainly not equivalent. The ambiguity of "community" is both
its strength and its weakness. It is typical of anthropological concepts in that it represents a
human universal, group interaction, that is analyzed most clearly in case-specific terms but
that becomes almost too fluid to be meaningful when used to consider human behavior on a
broader scale.

What is the purpose of this research on community as it relates to archaeological
method and theory? The goal of my research is to arrive at a better understanding of the role of
individual behavior in community formation and the ways that a community, once formed,
enters into a recursive relationship with its members.  Individuals rarely or never identify
themselves with only one community; instead, they place themselves at the center of a series
of concentric "circles of belonging." The intersections of these "lines of belonging" mark the
loci of community networks. Nepotism in its myriad forms is the most common manifestation
of these loci at work.

Community networks define both who one is and with whom one associates. In my
work on community, I have chosen to focus on several questions, including:

* Identification with community. How do individuals come to identify

themselves with a given community? How are they identified by others?
Many communities are fonned on the basis of ethnicity, gender, class,
occupation, religion, and location or place. These "categories of being"
vary widely through culture, time, and space, but seem to share the

141

Prine

Kroeber Anthropological Society Papers

property of bounding their members. Is the major purpose of
community, then, to demarcate rather than to consolidate? Alternatively,
do these categories represent different aspects of a single "category of
being" rather than distinct realms for study? How can we bridge the gulf
between scholarly analysis of these categories and their implications for
peoples' lives?

*   Community's role in creating and reinforcing ideology. Membership in

a given community, whether voluntary, like the Daughters of the
American Revolution, or involuntary, like "communities of women,"
implies some commonalty with other members. Communities as entities
seem to personify or advocate particular ideologies or agendas even
when individual members' beliefs are at variance with the group view.
How and why does a community become an entity greater than its
parts? How is ideology formed and maintained at the group level while
being challenged at the level of the individual? If every individual is a
member of multiple, competing communities, how and why do some
become hegemonic and others recede in importance?

*   Finally, expression of identity or belonging in the material record.

Material culture both reflects and constitutes ideological and cognitive
behavior. How is the dialectic between community membership and
material culture expressed? To what degree can material culture
elucidate the network of communities to which every individual
belongs? How are conflicts in self-identification-between individual
thought and community ideology-played out in the material cultural
realm?

Because these questions are fairly sophisticated given the data, and especially when one
considers that little research has been done on community organization of the American
frontier (see Hine 1980, Doyle 1983, Purser 1987, 1989, 1991, and Osterud 1991 for examples
of completed work), methodological problems persist in the work. How do I get at this
information using the available data? The rift between theory and practice in community
studies is the result of the ambiguity of the concept. How do we define and clarify the dialectic
between actions and interactions of individuals and the composition, maintenance, and
ideologies of groups? The major task for people who study community is to find ways to
bridge the gaps between different scales of analysis, from the individual to humanity. My
solution to this problem is the development of a relational database to integrate different scales
of information, allowing me to move more easily between units of analysis. The database itself
provides the "bridge" between theoretical models of human culture and the particularistic case
study or "practical" part of my research.

The data I track focuses on relatedness and exchange amongst individuals, as well as
their names, genealogies, real estate holdings and dates of acquisition, membership in
churches, cooperatives, businesses, fraternal organizations, farmstead types, building types,
building evolution, and land use patterns. Four degrees of individual relatedness are recorded,
comprising kinship, location or neighborhood, work relationships, and institutions like clubs

142

No. 79

From Winter Doldrums to Winter Counts

and churches. Three kinds of exchange are tracked. Personal exchange meets the
psychological and emotional needs of people. Instrumental exchange focuses on the exchange
of labor and time in non-monetary situations, as when parents drive neighborhood children to
school on alternating days. Monetary exchange is the third category of analysis. Clearly, the
amount of information necessary to track the individuals comprising a community, through
time, requires the sort of multiscalar approach afforded by a relational database. It also
provides for numerous checks and cross-examinations of the reliability and validity of multiple
kinds and sources of data.

I hope to reconstitute community out of these pattems of individual interactions. In
effect, the database mirrors the matrix or web of social entanglements that create and maintain
community. The research focuses on three complementary resources: the documentary record,
surveys of architectural and land use patterns, and oral histories from residents of the area.
While documentary research has provided the basic framework for the study, architectural
survey provides the material culture component of the research. If the basic form of a given
farmstead, house, or community building informs us as to the cognitive ideals of its builder,
then the evolution of the built environment through time parallels changes in household
ideology, composition, and economic well-being. I compare information from the architectural
survey with land-use survey data, particularly information on dates and methods of field
drainage (in 1861 much of the county was wetlands, requiring extensive modification). This
strengthens the quality of the material cultural data as economic and social indicators. Oral
history also provides evidence. Gathered in the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s, held in the
University of South Dakota Oral History Collections, oral histories further elucidate changes
in community and ideology; many of the people interviewed lived in the area their entire lives
and can corroborate information from the documentary and material records. Information from
each of these sources is being compiled into the relational database, clarifying the intersections
of individual behavior, interpersonal connections, and community formation and maintenance.

In order to minimize the "noise" from interactions between locales and from long-
standing historical connections prior to my study period, I work in two townships in Clay
County, South Dakota. The county is generally typical of nineteenth-century American
"frontier" communities from a social and historical standpoint, but also provides unique
circumstances of settlement. This area in the extreme southeastern corner of the state was
homesteaded beginning in 1861. The region was voluntarily cleared of Native inhabitants by
treaty with the Yankton Sioux, the only Dakota-speaking group in the area never to have
fought a war with the US Federal Government. Because the area was artificially "cleared" of
people prior to white settlement, it provides a tabula rasa upon which various ethnic,
religious, and economic groups spread and interacted. In particular, the processes involved in
choosing land, "proving up," and establishing homesteads, farmsteads, and the accouterments
of community such as churches, schools, fraternal halls, and farmers' cooperatives are
recorded in various places and are available for examination.

I present this model for research as a second example of methods we can use to avoid
the three pitfalls that I discussed earlier in this paper, while still fulfilling what I see as the
purpose of historical archaeology: to spread information about ourselves and the past. The
combination of different sources used, privileged, and questioned more or less equally should
provide us with a better understanding of community as it works at a variety of scales. It

Prine

143

Kroeber Anthropological Society Papers

should also result in a program for continued study of the problem of community in its various
historical manifestations-a program that is specifically and overtly aware of the ways in
which it privileges some groups rather than others and naturalizes the status quo. Through
these methods, the work will challenge the "just so stories" that so often pass for history and
archaeology today.

Notes

I   This sentiment came up in numerous conversations the author had with Jim Deetz while

he was her graduate advisor at UC Berkeley.

2   The change I refer to is the replacement of Lynne Cheney with Jane Alexander as head of

the NEH-the result of personnel changes subsequent to the election of Bill Clinton to the
Presidency in 1992.

3   See Tringham (1994) for commentary on similar phenomena in archaeology elsewhere in

Neolithic Europe. Because of the kinds of evidence we use, all archaeologists must
generalize to some degree; however, the European past seems populated with an
abundance of smooth-talking, debonair heroes, shamans, and priests-all men. One must
wonder how this state of affairs came to be.

4   See Conkey and Tringham (1995) for further arguments regarding the use of archaeology

to substantiate the Goddess Movement.

5   See Landau (1991) for a discussion of these cycles in accounts of human evolution.

References

Beaudry, Mary, editor

1988 Documentary Archaeology in the New World. New York: Cambridge University Press.
Beaudry, Mary, Lauren Cook, and Stephen Mrozowski

1991 Artifacts and Active Voices: Material Culture as Social Discourse. In The Archaeology of

Inequality. pp. 150-191. Randall McGuire and Robert Paynter, editors. New York: Basil
Blackwell.

Conkey, Margaret, and Ruth Tringham

1995 Archaeology and the Goddess: Exploring the Contours of Feminist Archaeology. In Feminisms

in the Academy: Rethinking the Disciplines. A. Stewart and D. Stanton, editors. Ann Arbor:
University of Michigan Press.
Deetz, James

1977 In Small Things Forgotten: The Archaeology of Early American Life. New York: Anchor

Doubleday.

1988 Material Culture and World-View in Colonial Anglo-America. In The Recovery of Meaning:

Historical Archaeology in the Eastern United States. pp. 219-235. Mark Leone and Parker
Potter, editors.Washington: Smithsonian Institution Press.

144

No. 79

From Winter Doldrums to Winter Counts

1991 Archaeological Evidence of Sixteenth- and Seventeenth-Century Encounters. In Historical

Archaeology in Global Perspective. pp. 1-10. Lisa Falk, editor. Washington: Smithsonian
Institution Press.
Doyle, Don

1983 The Social Order of a Frontier Community: Jacksonville, Illinois 1825-75. Urbana: University

of Illinois Press.
Gimbutas, Marija

1972 The Neolithic Cultures of the Balkan Peninsula. In Aspects of the Balkans: Continuity and

Change. pp. 9-49. H. Birnbaum, editor. The Hague: Mouton.

1982 The Goddesses and Gods of Old Europe. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Hall, Martin

1984a The Burden of Tribalism: The Social Context of Southern African Iron Age Studies. American

Antiquity 49(3):455-467.

1984b Pots and Politics: Ceramic Interpretations in Southern Africa. World Archaeology

1 5(3):262-273.

1993 The Legend of the Lost City: Or the Man with the Golden Balls. Unpublished seminar paper;

Africa Seminar, Centre for African Studies, University of Cape Town.
Hine, Robert

1980 Community on the American Frontier: Separate But Not Alone. Norman: University of

Oklahoma Press.
Landau, Misia

1991 Narratives of Human Evolution. New Haven: Yale University Press.
Leone, Mark

1981 Archaeology's Relationship to the Present and the Past. In Modern Material Culture: The

Archaeology of US. pp. 5-14. Richard Gould and Michael Schiffer, editors. New York:
Academic Press.

1982 Some Opinions About Recovering Mind. American Antiquity 47(4):742-760.
Leone, Mark, and Parker Potter Jr.

1992 Legitimation and the Classification of Archaeological Sites. American Antiquity

57(1):137-145.
Little, Barbara, editor

1992 Text-A ided Archaeology. Boca Raton, FL: CRC Press.

McDonald, J. Douglas, Larry J. Zimmerman, A. L. McDonald, William Tall Bull, and Ted Rising Sun

1991 The Northern Cheyenne Outbreak of 1879: Using Oral History and Archaeology as Tools of

Resistance. In The Archaeology of Inequality. pp.64-78. Randall McGuire and Robert
Paynter, editors. New York: Basil Blackwell.
McGuire, Randall and Robert Paynter, editors

1991 The Archaeology of Inequality. New York: Basil Blackwell.
Noel Hume, Ivor

1964 Archaeology: Handmaiden to History. The North Carolina Historical Review.

Prine

145

Kroeber Anthropological Society Papers

1969 Historical Archaeology. New York: Knopf.

1991 Martin's Hundred. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia.
Osterud, Nancy

1991 Bonds of Community: The Lives of Farm Women in Nineteenth-Century New York Ithaca:

Cornell University Press.
Purser, Margaret

1991 "Several Paradise Ladies Are Visiting in Town": Gender Strategies in the Early Industrial West.

Historical Archaeology 25(4):6-16.

1989 All Roads Lead to Winnemucca: Local Road Systems and Community Material Culture in

Nineteenth Century Nevada. In Perspectives in Vernacular Architecture III. pp. 120-134.
Thomas Carter and Bernard Herman, editors. Columbia: University of Missouri Press.

1987 Community and Material Culture in Nineteenth Century Paradise Valley, Nevada. Unpublished

Ph.D. dissertation, University of California at Berkeley.
Spencer-Wood, Suzanne

1991a Toward an Historical Archaeology of Materialistic Domestic Reform. In The Archaeology of

Inequality, Randall McGuire and Robert Paynter, editors. pp. 231-286. New York: Basil
Blackwell.

1991 b Towards a Feminist Historical Archaeology of the Construction of Gender. In The

Archaeology of Gender: Proceedings of the Twenty-second Annual Conference of the

Archaeological Association of the University of Calgary. pp. 234-244. Dale Walde and Noreen
Willows, editors. Calgary: University of Calgary Archaeological Association.
Spencer-Wood, Suzanne, editor

1987 Consumer Choice in Historical Archaeology. New York: Plenum.
Trigger, Bruce

1980 Archaeology and the Image of the American Indian. In American Antiquity 45:662-676.
1984 Alternative Archaeologies: Nationalist, Colonialist, and Imperialist. Man 19:355-370.
1985 Natives and Newcomers. Montreal: McGill-Queens University Press.

1989 A History of Archaeological Thought. New York: Cambridge University Press.
Tringham, Ruth

1994 Engendered Places in Prehistory. In Gender, Place and Culture: A Journal of Feminist

Geography 1(2):169-203.
Yentsch, Ann

1991 a Engendering Visible and Invisible Ceramic Artifacts, Especially Dairy Vessels. Historical

Archaeology 25(4):132-155.

1991b The Symbolic Divisions of Pottery: Sex-related Attributes of English and Anglo-American

Household Pots. In The Archaeology of Inequality. pp. 192-230. Randall McGuire and Robert
Paynter, editors. New York: Basil Blackwell.

146

No. 79