LitHub Reflects on Thanksgiving With Tommy Pico

It's a fair question: "Do you celebrate Thanksgiving?" Tommy Pico, a Kumeyaay poet, uses the FAQ mostly commonly asked of him as a Native American as a starting point in this essay on Thanksgiving for LitHub; specifically, "How to Pass the Time on a Holiday Commemorating the Destruction of Your Ancestors." Swallow those turkey leftovers and get ready:

Hi. You probably want to ask me a question. It’s a valid question. It’s the question most non-NDN* (*Indian) people want to ask me this time of year, and you shuffle around a bit and wring your hands and maybe demure: Do you celebrate Thanksgiving?

What we’re not saying is: this holiday has perhaps made you uncomfortably aware of the continuing colonial legacy of the United States—you have maybe read about this. Maybe you also felt it on Columbus Day. Maybe you Tweeted a link to something once or updated your Facebook status. Maybe you were at a Halloween party with a dude in a headband and a feather who kept falling down and bellowed “I’M A DRUNK INDIAN” or with a girl in a headdress who had a sign around her neck that read “I survived the Trail of Tears and all I got was an alcohol problem.” I’ve been there. Those parties suck.

And in that sense, I don’t mind the question: Do I celebrate Thanksgiving? Well, I wake up every day knowing that I live on occupied land. You see 14th Street and I see a massacre, and sometimes that’s all I can see. You’re maybe only a little bit aware of it for a small part of today, in between the family or the baking or the turkey. It might be a twinge. But that twinge is where I live.

The other thing we don’t say is that you’re not really asking if I, Tommy Pico—poet-thing, lover of interspecies friendships, mascot brawls, and YouTube bloopers—do I celebrate Thanksgiving. You’re asking, do Indians celebrate Thanksgiving. How should I know? I might be the only NDN you’ve ever encountered. I might be the only NDN you’ll ever encounter (that makes me sad). But still, I’m not your race rep. And in that sense, the question makes me kind of hate you. Ok, no, not really, we’re cool. I know you. I like you. I’m sure you did or do something I admire. We might be friends! I might have a crush on you. I might totally love you.

Back to the question: Do I celebrate a day that amplifies historical propaganda, that celebrates genocide and a manufactured moment of harmony between an occupying force and its subjugated resistance? That elides generations of torture, rape, and cultural erasure?

You’re goddamn right I do.

Reflect onward, with LitHub.