I begin this article by acknowledging the Original People’s of the Wampanoag tribe, their traditional custodians, and all elders, past, present and emerging, around the world.
Autumn 1621.
The majestic “Mayflower” sails from Plymouth, UK, to “Plymouth Rock”, Massachusetts, USA.
“Thanksgiving dates to the time when the pilgrims reached America and were greeted “warmly” (as recorded) by the Wampanoag Native Americans, also known as Indians. Over time these pilgrims mixed into the culture and the life of the Native Americans, which gradually developed into the nation that we know today.”
This baloney is just about as believable a yarn as how the First Nations People’s of what would come to be called “Australia”, “warmly greeted” white man as he rolled up with what was essentially an army of sea-sick soldiers and convicts and a few verminous species (that would end up decimating the land, just quietly), under the guise of “breaking bread” and discussing their intention to cooperatively and peacefully farm and establish community. In the fine print, however, what they really meant was, “We’re here to take your country”.
When are we going to stop feeding this ridiculous “mutually beneficial” BS and cease celebrating stories that are in truth, deliberate massacres of Original People?
Thanksgiving is nothing more than a glorified “Invasion Day”, just like the one here in Australia each January 26, one that is deeply upsetting to our Originals, and one that is (thankfully) now recognized for what it really is, because of the hard work of intelligent, compassionate and conscious citizens, both black and white, in this country over recent years. “Australia Day”, with its union jacks and hollow anthems has been nothing but offensive to all indigenous people since its inception, and Thanksgiving Day is no different.
Behind the traditional versions of both tales, lie dark truths full of blood and conflict.
The “official” Thanksgiving story goes something like this, so strap in if you’re game to keep reading and learn some raw truths.
In 1621, a motley crew of Pilgrims set sail on the “Mayflower” from Plymouth, UK, and after a rough and ragged journey, arrived on the autumnal shores of what they thought was a new and unchartered land. They had however, been pipped at the post by previous bands of pilgrims who were already settled and enjoying the fruits of the local harvests.
Celebrations meant to give thanks for the harvesting season (which mostly fall around the same dates each year), were plentiful and varied, long before the standard pilgrim story, which makes it hard to pinpoint one single event as the actual birth of the contemporary version of the holiday. For example, since 1619, other settlers in Virginia celebrated their arrival with an annual Thanksgiving Day. Decades before, some Spanish settlers in the colonies had a yearly get together with the Seloy tribe. Others believe Thanksgiving truly began in 1637, when Massachusetts governor at the time, John Winthrop, declared a day to “give thanks” for the fact that more than seven hundred lives of members of the Pequot tribe, including women and children, in Connecticut, were lost at the hands of colonial soldiers.
And so that doesn’t get lost in translation, “Lost at the hands of colonial soldiers” doesn’t mean they couldn’t find these people after they had wandered off unannounced and didn’t come home. It means they were MURDERED.
It is well-documented – and a huge understatement also – that the English, and later the Americans, didn’t get along with their native neighbors. If you speak to the right, unbiased historians and dig deep enough to discover what really happened, the story unfolds as such:
Native Americans were relentlessly hunted, driven out of their land and virtually exterminated by the settlers during the centuries following the colonialist’s arrival, so it’s hardly surprising that the story surrounding Thanksgiving involves blood and ravage, and no, movies like “Dances with Wolves” are not accurate depictions.
Though it is true that initially, the Plymouth settlers held rather good relations with the Wampanoag tribe – in fact, they had an official alliance against the French and other rivals – this friendship eventually eroded, as most pacts do when strangers renig on handshakes shared after invading your territory.
The word of (most) white men, back then at least, was temporary and could not be trusted, whereas the blood pacts and vows of the indigenous, is sacred.
After enduring much oppression and injustice, a new leader rose to power among the Wampanoag. Metacomet, son of Massasoit, knew his people had reached their tipping point and were ready and willing to fight back for their freedom. Dubbed “King Philip” by the English – because they do love their titles after all – this brave new warrior ordered raids against the colonies after many of his men were executed for murdering a Punkapoag interpreter. Nobody is clear upon the exact details of this situation to this day.
In 1675 this conflict led to all-out war with catastrophic consequences.
On top of famine and disease, raids, abductions, slaughter, razing, and pillaging also became everyday affairs and both sides suffered massive casualties. But whereas the colonists had the privilege of relocating to more fortified settlements, the Wampanoag were forced to leave their villages (and their dead, we can assume, left unburied) and flee to the safety of distant regions. This would have been devastating for them.
Sounding familiar yet?
On August 12, 1676, Metacomet was returning home from New York after a failed attempt to recruit allies. Under the command of Captain Benjamin Church, a group of rangers – aka assassins – who had been tracking him for a while, finally shot him dead as he made his way through the Miery Swamp in Bristol. A disrespectful death for someone of his stature and yes, it gets worse. His body was drawn and quartered and hung from trees, his head mounted on a pike at the entrance of Plymouth, and for over twenty years it served as a warning for those who would rise against the conquering ambition of the colonies.
Who needs enemies when you have “friends” that do this when the food runs out?
The chief’s wife and nine-year-old son were subsequently sold into slavery, a fate many would consider worse than death and at the end of what has become known as “King Philip’s War,” colonists lost around 30% of their people, while nearly half of the Native American population was annihilated. Nice how they pass the blame and label of sole tyrant onto Metacomet for protecting his people isn’t it. This is the legacy the pilgrims chose to create when describing a man who defended his home and his lineage, as any self-respecting tribal leader would?
Don't know about you, but this is why I don’t trust the history books.
There are no merits to this colonial genocide other than a tale of warning against the greed of a technologically superior civilization immigrating into exploitable and (by their justifications) often “uninhabited” land, where vulnerable communities have little chance of defense.
And it’s always under the guise of “breaking bread” and “making peace”. What is it about a “feast” that renders humans (repeatedly) blind to the ulterior motives beyond the dead beasts carved up on the table?
What is the unconscious symbolism of this particular ritual? It has got to be something more sinister, and possibly related to the occult, than what we are aware of, surely. The carving up of cooked bodies, the covert and boozy salutations and “toasts to your health!”, the palpable animosity hiding under the table that everyone pretends isn’t there but knows most definitely is. Smells like more “Halloween-style-organized-fcukery” to me.
If there’s anything positive to glean from this well-worn tale, it’s that immigration by itself can be a great and advantageous thing. The problem arises when those who pretend to settle innocently in a new land, are in reality, so obsessed by greed and a covert lust for power, that they will do anything (to anyone) to ensure they get what they want. Herein, the true recordings of humanity are revealed – relentless and unconscious conquering, crushing and consuming – and the winners always get to tell their version of the story.
What is happening now in this country to our own indigenous communities, is nothing more than a repeat of our collective white sordid past.
Right now, elders and communities are being hounded and rounded up, ushered to “quarantine camps” by military goons – which anyone with a brain, knows is a polite word for “detention center” – and quite possibly, they will be held their until they either comply to taking these experimental injections, or, death takes them. They don’t have covid because covid doesn’t exist. This is all a constructed farce to give them the excuse they have always wanted and that is to exterminate the oldest living culture in the world, and whilst they aren’t using guns (yet), they are using brute force, coercion and imposing their will, the government’s colonialist will, over the rightful owners of this country.
How we as a nation, made up of multiple cultures and lineages born of next level bravery and endurance, are letting this happen again, is beyond my comprehension to be honest.
It doesn’t matter what country we live in, all of our ancestors have done terrible things to one another because human nature has been unconscious and dense and dark for so long. Until now. Now, we, the awakening people, have the rare opportunity to right these wrongs, to stop giving energy to ancient and nefarious practices that are only rooted in pain, suffering and domination, and to UNIFY ALL TRIBES around the world in love, forgiveness, and true mutual respect.
Known as “America’s Hometown” now, Plymouth, Massachusetts holds nothing more than horrific memories for its Original People’s and (I believe) it’s time that good men and women of the living soil rejected this tradition and called it for what it is: genocide.
Let’s hope that one day, finally, humanity will stop honoring and glorifying massacres and conquests in this way and calling them celebrations, “anniversaries”. I pray that we can all join hands with the present day ancestors of those who suffered so horrendously – and who continue to suffer with these annual reminders – with more than turkey breasts and warm ale as offerings of their atonement.
I hope you reconsider your intentions as you plan your own Thanksgiving’s this November 25, and instead of giving thanks and energy to outdated and distorted festivities, you choose to focus on how you can help heal the past by being an evolved conduit for change, reciprocity, and spiritual accountability.
Be thankful for all that you have of course, but never forget those who have come before you.
AHO
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