MARQUETTE ‘FIRST WARRIOR’ ADVOCATES FOR CHANGES
Oneida tribe member’s face used to create logo
When Marquette University student Mark Denning was asked to represent the school in 1980, he was initially eager, hoping to show Native people in a new light that went beyond racial tropes.
For three years, Denning — a member of the Oneida tribe — dressed up and portrayed the “First Warrior” at men’s basketball games, and his face was used to create the silhouette that became the Warriors logo used by the school until a switch to Golden Eagles in 1993.
His family was proud, too, including his mother. “‘That’s my son, he’s going to college,’” Denning said of his mother’s sentiment around the widely circulated logo. “That’s an experience in my family we didn’t really have.”
But the racial stereotypes followed him, onto the basketball court and into the classroom. Worn down, he eventually stopped going to classes as a senior at the school in 1983 and then left entirely, even though he was so close to graduation.
For years afterward, he hoped Marquette would change the “Warriors” name.
But when he heard the news in 1993 the school was doing so, he was surprised by his immediate thought: “How do I tell my mom?” Denning laughed at himself for having that reaction, but it demonstrates the complexity of his feelings. These topics have followed him into his postcollege life, from his work as a speaker and consultant helping people appreciate a more holistic picture of Native people, to a recent conversation with strangers in a Walmart about Washington’s NFL team being forced to “cave” to corporate sponsors and change its name.
Denning has advocated for the removal of race-based mascots in local high schools, which he says is important but only part of a larger process of unraveling racist systems.
The response to Washington’s NFL team’s high-profile move away from its own racist mascot will show that, said Denning, whose ancestry also includes Menominee, Mille Lacs Ojibwe, Stockbridge-Munsee and French and English.
“I think it’s a major blow and a major support on the leg of racism that’s been kicked out,” he said, “but that table of racism still stands.”
‘This needs to work’
Denning chose to attend Marquette in 1979 because it was close to home, and he was intrigued by the Catholic faith.
As a freshman, he attended an American Indian Student Association meeting at Marquette Hall — there were “maybe 13 students” there, he said — and sat in the back to listen to a presentation from an athletic department representative.
“They were working with Native students and Native staff to develop the First Warrior, and it was going to be called a symbol for the university, not a mascot,” Denning said.
The school reached out to 11 tribes to discuss how they would like to be represented and asked them to contribute articles of regalia that were important to their culture, Denning said.
As a sophomore, Denning became the second of three students to perform as the First Warrior.
Being part of the process made him feel responsible for the success of the First Warrior, and he was determined not be discouraged by racial insensitivity he encountered.
“In the rebellious spirit that I had, (I was thinking,) ‘This needs to work,’” Denning said. “People need to see Native people in a new light and we can define who we are . ... We’ve got our foot in the door.’”
During games, it was common for him to hear derisive remarks from the student section: Go scalp someone. Go grab a cheerleader from the other team and run off.
Other students, he said, would counter: “Shut up! What are you doing? What are you saying?”
“It was a microcosm of the debate that was happening in America and a microcosm of how people were being seen,” Denning said. “It was all there in this mix, very complex.”
During his first season as “First Warrior,” men’s basketball coach and athletic director Hank Raymonds asked to meet with Denning to discuss the cultivation of an authentic “Warriors” logo for the university.
Denning said he felt Raymonds’ first couple of suggestions were too close to Willie Wampum, a cartoonish mascot deemed offensive by Marquette and retired in 1971, including an image with a feather and a spear. Denning rejected those ideas and left the meeting concerned he’d face punishment for being uncooperative.
In a subsequent conversation, though, Denning agreed to be photographed wearing a headdress. Marquette employed a silhouetted effect on his likeness.
“The profile was purposely meant to not be an identifier,” Denning said. “It wasn’t any vision I had, just the work of a committee up against a deadline, and they said, ‘Let’s just take an image of a student.’
“I signed my likeness away, and that’s what they used,” Denning said. “I never really talked about it until afterwards. The only people (in my circle) who really knew (it was me) was my mom and anyone around my mom at social gatherings.”
Denning said he had numerous allies on campus, including Jesuits committed to living simply and pursuing social justice. But he also encountered those who accepted skewed ideas about his heritage. So much of his time was spent trying to “justify my existence,” he said, and his sense of self-worth suffered.
“I just didn’t want to go through it anymore.”
So, he left campus his senior year. He came back a decade later to speak to the university as the debate raged over whether Marquette should retain the Warriors nickname and imagery. He threw a curveball at the students who’d packed the university ballroom for his speech.
Marquette — seemingly intentionally — hadn’t articulated the angle Denning’s speech would take, and many students expected him to be on the side of keeping the mascot, since technically it was his face that was being erased.
He spoke for about an hour, laying out the reasons Marquette needed to move away from Warriors. The response: “Deafening silence.”
“There wasn’t a raucous round of applause,” he said. “I could see people talking. That was the best kind of response I could have had.”
Marquette’s decision to cease using the Warriors name and imagery made him proud, he said.
In 2005, Marquette appeared to be on the precipice of another change. Pressure to return to the Warriors name built from students and alumni, catalyzed by a surprise multi-million dollar donation offer to revert to Warriors by an alumnus speaking at the MU graduation ceremony.
“Marquette stood steadfast,” Denning said.
Over the years, Denning has heard all of the justifications for the name, including from Marquette icons such as national championship-winning basketball coach Al McGuire.
“If we’re getting our identity ... thrust upon us by another culture, who are we really?” he said. “Are we just shallow reflections of what someone thought we were?
A different ‘Warriors’ and an ongoing fight for his family
Denning lives in Muskego with his partner, Siobhan Marks, a member of the Ojibwe community who operated an advertising practice for 16 years. Their two children attended Muskego public schools.
The mascot at Muskego High School? The Warriors.
Marks said their kids asked them to steer clear of any advocacy during their time in school.
“It would have been difficult for them,” she said. “They have always been supportive of our culture; they are proud of who they are and their ancestral heritage, but they would rather fit in than take that stance.”
It’s something Marks confronts regularly, though.
With Denning, she’s been to dozens of hearings on race-based mascots over the years. In December, Menomonee Falls made the contentious decision to eliminate its “Indians” mascot. Over the years, she’s seen local school board members and advocates face significant backlash from the public over pushing for a change.
Perhaps the most interesting example took place in 1999, when Milton held recall elections for three school board members over a change from “Redmen” to “Red Hawks.” All three kept their seats.
People feel it “on a visceral level,” she said. “Just so angry and passionate and, ‘How dare you tell me we can’t be the Indians or Warriors or Fighting Sioux?’”
She’s seen those loyal to a mascot argue that’s it’s been part of the identities of families and students — going back generations — and that it’s wrong to take that away.
But that’s exactly what those schools and mascots have done to Native people, she said, by co-opting their identities to build brands and inspire team loyalty.
“We do not feel respected, we do not feel honored. We need people to be open-minded and listen to why we don’t.”
It’s a difficult conversation and a concept that’s hard to accept, Denning added.
“Along comes someone who says what you’re doing and who you thought you were is wrong. That strikes an emotional chord that’s deep in their psyche and person-hood. (It’s easy to say), ‘That’s just somebody’s opinion.’”
This also extends to some Natives who identify positively with logos and insignia but may not have a deeper understanding of the educational psychology at work.
“A lot of our culture has been ripped away by people outside of our culture, so then where is our culture seen positively?” Denning said, pointing to the devotion inspired through thick and thin by fans of athletic teams.
A logo may be the only thing a Native person can identify with, he said.
Changing the system starts with education, Marks said, though it’s often the educational institutions that are promoting problematic mascots.
“They have to be willing to listen. There’s tons of data on how race-based mascots and logos harm children.”
Denning said the idea of recognizing racial disparities, lifted by the protesters filling the streets to amplify the Black Lives Matter movement, has helped spread awareness of these very issues to workplaces and beyond.
“Become educated on the topic, even if you don’t believe or agree on the outcome, at least be willing to listen,” Marks said. “In the end, truly, once you know better, do better.”