Navigating the Shadows of Thanksgiving: A Personal Journey Towards Decolonization
Year after year, I find myself grappling with the complexities of decolonizing a holiday deeply rooted in Indigenous genocide – Thanksgiving. In this introspective exploration, I seek to reconcile the traditional narrative of peace, friendship, and togetherness with the painful history of genocide and land theft inflicted upon the Wampanoag tribe and countless tribes, before and after, European invasion; a narrative that has justified settler-colonialsm, gaslighting Indigenous historical and lived experiences.
As a child, Thanksgiving was a joyous occasion to reunite with family. However, the implications of this celebration and its whitewashed history were seldom discussed. It took years of unlearning to recognize Thanksgiving as a tool of white coloniality, perpetuating Indigenous erasure and ongoing oppression.
While I can only speak for myself, I've discovered a middle ground—a space where I can come to terms with the holiday while honoring the sacredness of my Indigenous identity. Over the years, I've transformed my Thanksgiving meal into a symbolic act of decoloniality. The event evolved from "Not Thanksgiving" dinner to "Resistance" dinner and finally to "Truthgiving" dinner, each iteration an attempt to reconcile the joy of family and the dark history of this American holiday.
In more recent years, decolonizing Thanksgiving means refraining from a formal celebration all together. Instead, I choose to spend the day with my husband and children, engaging in political discussions, watching movies, and responding to Thanksgiving messages with a carefully crafted reminder of the true story behind the holiday and the significance of Indigenous sovereignty. I implore loved ones to support Indigenous causes and remember our enduring pain.
This process is a vital step in liberating myself from the internal and external grips of colonialism. The traditions I've embraced are not static; they evolve with my ongoing decolonization process. The fourth Thursday in November has become a time for an intimate gathering, where I contemplate how to challenge injustices and become a better accomplice to ALL who face injustice. To be an Indigenous Boricua is to be in community with my fellow Indigenous siblings, even if it means stepping away from a "traditional" celebration.
In navigating the shadows of Thanksgiving, I acknowledge the pain embedded in its history while forging a path toward a more intentional, holistic and rebellious gathering—one that honors the resilience of Indigenous communities and our ongoing struggles for justice and sovereignty.
