Our struggle with the myths and truths of Thanksgiving

The November holiday we have come to know as Thanksgiving, which runs against the tail-end of our nation’s election cycle, is a reminder of the dark thread between the colonization of our fields, our plates and our minds. The similarities may go unnoticed or at least diminished in favor of the more delightful, amicable tale of “pilgrims and Indians.” You know, the one we all learned and sang about at our first-grade recitals, wearing headbands embellished with feathers made from our small, traced hands. Afterwards, families would accompany their little ones through the lunch line at the school cafeteria to be served turkey smothered in gravy alongside perfectly square-shaped dressing with our carton of cold, frothy, white milk.

The custom of food as a connector is a unique yet familiar part of our collective existence. Food has shown up during times of respite and bereavement in Black and southern white communities for generations; it’s a communal link to our shared experience as rural, Southern people. Food has also been at the center of our joy in times of celebration, so the idea that the “first Thanksgiving” at Plymouth Rock in 1621 was a cross-racial feast of geese and other waterfowl stuffed with onions and herbs, venison, corn, squash and nuts is actually not a far removed one.

Equally important is the fact that the presence of European colonizers pre-dates this supposed gathering by several years. So by the time of the “first Thanksgiving”, Africans had already been forcibly enslaved on the continent for a number of years and the presence of colonizers had already sparked the spread of mass disease among Native communities. The irony of this outbreak, which reduced the Native population by nearly 90% in only three years, being referred to as “Indian Fever,” is an early indication of the manipulation of language as a political and cultural weapon.

The tactic of labeling those impacted by the condition, as the source and cause of it, has become a divisive, political strategy, making particularly poor white communities fight against their own interests. This manipulation of language has been one of the primary culprits in today’s political debates of everything from mask wearing to critical race theory. As a result, air quotes are becoming our new gang sign as we try to dissect truth from fiction. The term “pilgrim,” which means a “traveler to a holy place,” gives credence to the belief in manifest destiny — the white supremacist cultural belief in an inalienable right to colonize Indigenous land — which is at the root of the story of the “first Thanksgiving.” Throughout these debates, there is little mention of the legacy of white-washing of language that has rescued colonizers from their sins on a mass scale.

But the rampant spread of the Coronavirus over the past three years, with Black and Brown communities being nearly twice as likely to die from the virus, lends little irony to the story of an American holiday season that is indeed more reminiscent of the exploitative Thanksgiving tale. In my essay about the negligence of the meatpacking industry in caring for its “essential workers during the pandemic called, “My Family Pays the Price for America’s Chicken Dinner,” I wrote:

“As we recognize the devastation of COVID-19, and the fearsome cost to meatpacking plant workers, we also recognize this: The resilience and resolve of Black women has persevered in the wake of violent and demeaning conditions from southern fields, to plantation kitchens, and now processing plants.”

That same determination has been indicative and often expected of Indigenous communities for generations. The historical snapshot of masses of colonizers dependent on the culture, skills and societal well-being of Indigenous people for their survival is an all too futile connection to these past few years. Many people often wrestle with the complexity associated with this holiday season, and 2020 and 2021 has served up a new and large helping of truth to this country, hitting it square in the face. We can only hope that our quest for virtue and redemption can soon supersede our need for heroes and legends.

This story was originally published November 25, 2021 at 12:00 AM with the headline "Our struggle with the myths and truths of Thanksgiving."