May Our Myths Become Us

Happy Thanksgiving! And by that I mean “Happy Day to Eat Turkey and Pretend American History is Not So Bad After All.” That is, of course, separate from the other day, back in October, when we pretended that some lost guy actually discovered something and our history was not so bad.

Thanksgiving is a screwy holiday that I actually really like. I like the cooking, and the fuss, and the football, and especially the pie. But as an historian, I am also very aware that America’s fantasized “Pilgrim-Indian Thanksgiving Feast” is far removed from the reality of 17^th century life in what is now known as Massachusetts. To put it bluntly, this is not your kindergarten hand-turkey story.

There are many articles out there that can break down the real story of “The First Thanksgiving,” but let me give you an abbreviated version: there had previously been feasts of thanksgiving in St. Augustine and in Jamestown; Squanto (Tisquantum) had previously been enslaved by Europeans; the Pilgrims settled in an abandoned Wampanoag village whose inhabitants had been killed off  by European diseases; the “Indians” were not one monolithic group, but several rival nations competing for territory & trade; there had already been attacks by the English on the Narragansett.

In essence, the Pilgrims along with their Wampanoag, Narragansett and Pequot neighbors all lived a precarious existence in Eastern Massachusetts built on negotiating alliances, trade deals and territorial claims, against all the others. The story we like involves two of these groups coming together to celebrate a successful harvest, and it’s a lovely story, but it’s more myth than reality. Within a generation, the Pilgrim and Puritan settlers would fight several devastating wars against all of these native peoples and launch a campaign of conquest that led to nationwide genocide.

So does Thanksgiving mean anything at all? To me, identifying it as a myth does not diminish its importance. In fact, I think it’s just the opposite. The fact that we make a big fuss over this national myth of Thanksgiving tells us how we want to think of ourselves, what we want to believe about ourselves. You can say that it’s (literally) white washed history, but I think it’s more than that. It tells us who we want to be … We want to be those people who sat down with folks who were different from us, and shared a meal. The people who acknowledged with thanks all the ways in which “others” had enriched our lives. We want to be the people who live in openness and gratitude, rather than in fear.

And I think we need that myth now more than ever. We are now living in a precarious time, a time in which rival groups are being pitted against each other for resources and there are people stoking the fires of hatred and violence. We need Thanksgiving. Not so you can talk sense into your crazy Trump-supporting relatives, or so you can drown your sorrows in a tryptophan-induced haze. No, we need Thanksgiving because we need to remember how the Wampanoag taught the Pilgrims to survive, to plant, to harvest.

The Pilgrims could have a feast because the Wampanoag had taught them to grow the Three Sisters – corn, beans and squash. These plants thrive when grown together, each complimenting the others, each contributing to the successful growth of the others. Together, they also contain all of the basic nutrients necessary for human survival.

And this is what we need to do … to use our individual strengths in service to each other and to the survival of our country. That is where we will find strength, support, growth, stamina, survival, and ultimately thanksgiving.

At the Pilgrims’ Thanksgiving, they had no crystal ball. We don’t either, but we know enough to know that there are dangerous times ahead. It is now that we need to cling to that myth of Thanksgiving, because it is now that we can give it meaning. Forget the hand turkeys … it’s time to extend a hand of peace, of solidarity, of friendship.

And we can start by standing with the Standing Rock Sioux …

Oh Say Can You Protest?

When I taught college history, I’d often suggest that the entire history of our country could be framed as a history of dissent. The Pilgrims and the Puritans were dissenters. Many of the New England towns broke off to form new ones because of dissent (usually within the church), and of course our founding documents are filled with dissenting arguments.

So when someone says that people should not be protesting – individually and/or collectively – it strikes me as downright un-American. Whether it’s a football player taking a knee, people marching in the streets, the Standing Rock Sioux trying to protect their water, or the cast of Broadway’s Hamilton addressing Mike Pence, protest is inherently American, and it’s one of the best things about America. It’s one of the ways we know we’re still us.

Sure, there are times that protests have annoyed me – maybe because they inconvenienced me or maybe because I disagreed with (or didn’t understand) the object of the protest. But it is so intrinsic to what America is, especially America at its best, that honoring dissent is even more patriotic than honoring the flag. More importantly, it is very much like the flag in Francis Scott Key’s poem.*

When Key wrote it, he was imprisoned during the Battle of Baltimore in the War of 1812, and was searching for sight of the flag to know if the United States was still a country, still alive as an independent nation. “The rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air, gave proof through the night that our flag was still there …”

Those protests – those people on the streets who are loudly and publicly airing their grievances with a president-elect who has threatened so many of us in so many ways – they are the proof that our nation, our “land of the free” is still there. When they disappear, there will be nothing left but the flag, and it will have nothing left to represent.

So whether or not you agree with the protests, perhaps you should stand and salute when they go by. Maybe you should pledge allegiance to American dissent, write songs about its colors, and ask for God’s blessings upon it. It is inherent to who we are.

It is, after all, the words and actions of the brave which will ensure we remain the land of the free.

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*-- As a footnote, I am not glorifying Francis Scott Key, who was not only a slave owner, but was an anti-abolitionist and held very racist views. While we're protesting, maybe we can also change the national anthem .... Just asking.

Be Precise

For those who are saying that the election is over and we should "let it go," can you tell me precisely what I should let go of? My rights? My marriage? My children?

What should Muslims let go of? Their religious freedom? Their beliefs? Their identify? Their basic human rights?

What should immigrants let go of? Their homes? Their jobs? Their children? Their hope for a better life?

And what about women? Should we abandon our rights to our own bodies? Let go of the right to say no? Acquiesce to sexual assault & harassment? Let go of our jobs, military careers, right to walk openly in public?

I suppose the disabled should let go of ramps and other accommodations, right? And our POWs and Gold Star families should let go of any respect they have earned for their service/loss? And should people of color let go of their rights to a fair trial, a jury of their peers, voting rights, public accommodations, etc? Should trans folk let go of their identities, their true selves?

And as Americans, what precisely should we let go of? The Bill of Rights? Separation of church and state? A free press? How about checks & balances, should we let those go as well? How about national sovereignty -- might as well hand over all governance to Putin, right? Should we also let go of our history of standing up against fascism & totalitarianism?

You see, when you say "let it go," there are so many things you might be referring to ... so I will need you to be more precise. When you do so, I will carefully consider your exact request and then tell you, precisely, where you can shove said request.

This is my country. It was founded on some basic principles which matter a great deal to me, and I have no intention of letting them go. But this country was also built and rebuilt upon a long history of dissent. Everything we have achieved as a nation came at a great cost, because millions upon millions upon millions of people refused to "let it go."