A celebration of genocide is not a celebration, but a continuation of colonialism. A facet that is so widely accepted in modern American society. One manufactured to create a desirable image, one that aligns with majority values. We turn away from the ideas that make us uncomfortable because the truth makes us feel guilty for the past. We allow the false narratives to be told so much that they become the truth. Sometimes the societal acceptance of “truth” hides the reality of the land. Staring at the reality of indigenous means true reconciliation efforts will have to be made, a long road the government does not want to unpack.
Often taught in schools across the United States is that Thanksgiving was a feast between the Indigenous peoples and the pilgrims. Whilst this is far from the truth, Thanksgiving did not become an official holiday until 1863 during the Civil War.
Barely a year prior, there was a mass execution of Dakota tribal members. The United States’ government starved the Dakota tribe to the brink of desperation. This issue led the Dakota tribe to fight back, marking the creation of the Dakota War in 1862. At the end of the war, President Abraham Lincoln ordered the hanging and murder of 38 Dakota men.
Thanksgiving was created as an official holiday to create “reconciliation” between the American government and indigenous communities.
Thanksgiving serves as a deep reminder of the indigenous people we lost. Indigenous communities across the United States often take this as a day of mourning. I know I personally do. We burn our sacred medicines, especially tobacco, for our ancestors who survived. A federal date that reminds us of all we have lost and all we have survived. We don’t feast for friendship and gratitude on this day, we feast to mourn our dead.
The first “Thanksgiving” was in 1621. Many are familiar with Squanto, Tisquantum, of the Wampanoag tribe. About six years prior to the Mayflower arriving, Squanto had been captured by slave-traders. With help from the Catholic Church, he was able to return to North America in 1619. As he returned, and all there was in his village of Patuset was piles of bones. The diseases from Europeans killed indigenous people so quickly they did not have time to bury their dead. Squanto discovered he was the last remaining person from his village. Due to Tisquantum’s ability to speak English, he was held prisoner by the Massasoit to be used as a translator between them and the pilgrims. Tisquantum went on to teach the pilgrims how to survive rather than continue a life of involuntary service to the Massasoit. To celebrate the harvest’s success in 1621, the Pilgrims shot their guns into the air. This caused the Massasoit to prepare for battle, which then became a feast due to negotiations.
The holding of Tisquantum by the Massasoit was bred out of need for survival, as native communities did not often engage in war in the way society today sees wars. There is a lack of archaeological evidence to support the notion of widespread wars between tribes.
Many recipes still used for modern Thanksgiving come from our traditional foods. Beans, squash, and corn, the three sisters plants. These plants are only still around due to the adaptation of primarily Cherokee people during the Trail of Tears. Black beans, corn, and various squashes only still exist because Cherokee women, when forced to relocate, would sew the seeds of the traditional foods into the hems of their skirts. This allowed the Cherokee people to ensure they would still have their traditional foods, as their food was being poisoned during their forced removal.
A lot of modern American society continues to see Thanksgiving as a time for gathering with family and friends, a time to show gratitude. Whilst indigenous communities do celebrate the harvest, feasts between communities are not traditional. The notion that Thanksgiving was simply a friendly feast between indigenous people and settlers is far from the truth. We must confront the realities of Thanksgiving and the modern standard of living for indigenous people.
From Thanksgiving until modern day, 2025, there is still an ongoing genocide of indigenous people. Approximately 26 indigenous women and girls go missing every day. This grief, one our ancestors have held for 500 years, is still deeply alive today. The land on which you walk holds the blood of native children. The grief of our warriors. Most importantly, the re-writing of history. The idea of the friendly feast between the two communities makes it easy for people to believe the United States’ government wants to help indigenous people.
Lincoln declaring Thanksgiving a federal, official, holiday was one of the biggest movements to rewrite history against indigenous people. It is standard practice in many elementary schools to teach this story of the feast between native people and the pilgrims. If they teach the children a false narrative, they will teach their children this story. Until you get generations so far removed from history that reality makes them uncomfortable. The children are taught about the feathers we wore and the “chants” we did. We don’t teach them what native people survived.
For people like me, a mixed and inter-tribal native person, the grief is heavy. The promotion of the false narrative around Thanksgiving continues to strip native people of their history. Family members forever lost, years of searching through documents to try and piece my family back together. The continuous alteration of my last name often separated us from the rest of my family. I spend Thanksgiving reading birth certificates and letters from the children who were abducted to residential schools. I cannot find myself to hold gratitude for a country that continues to re-write history.
Colonialism is often silent, but costly.
