Is it an uncomfortable truth for the uninvited? An old aching wound that some Indigenous Relations would rather not think about?
Does it put scratches of clarity in the rose colored hipster glasses of today’s blissfully ignorant Indigenous youth?
I notice over the day of colonist thanks taking, among all the social media pictures of enormous spreads of commercialized Indigenous food and posts about black boys shot by white cops in our Indigenous Homelands complete with graphs and charts and pies (both the quantitative and the gastronomic kind) that mostly no one had thoughts about what the so called day of “thanksgiving” Reallllllly is or who it’s really about.
And no one acknowledged that they are living on land taken via the largest GENOCIDE on Earth or that their glutenous feeding frenzy is taking place directly on Anishinaabe land or Creek or Miccosukee or Sioux or Tsalagi or Navajo or 560 or so other Indigenous Peoples Homelands.
Or that where you now park your minivan was once an old growth forest full of living beings, diversified and unified in the web of life.
Or how if you are in eastern “america” odds are high that your house was built on or near a destroyed burial mound where hundreds of loved ones were interred to Mother Earth with intentions of them sacredly remaining together within her forever only to be destroyed and flattened for subdivisions full of all the separately together homes full of all the separately together colonist people that are mindlessly yet “thankfully” “celebrating” the day their white god allowed their relations to smite out the filthy heathens Indigenous to this land, so that they might manifest their “destiny” to become rulers of this living land and all that dwell within it.
This year I decided to just be. To be quiet. To watch and see….if any seeds were planted, if any grew to be yearlings.
Not that I saw. No one acknowledged any of it.
And in all their charts about white on black violence and police brutality across the races, I saw not one shadow or echo of the Indigenous people whose home lands this terror filled colonist drama is unfolding on.
While “Indians” do timeless time in an ever growing rez called prison and in an ever growing prison called the rez, colonists do a mindless mime of a mindless mine, wìth diamonds on their fingers and blood on their hands they perform the american nightmare on a stage of Indigenous lands.