I was taught to celebrate my killer

I’ve been thinking about this a lot, lately.

Holidays are impossible for me to celebrate. From Valentines Day, to Halloween, they all bring on so much nostalgia, for the times when I used to believe in things, that are now lost forever. Like losing faith in Santa Claus, I lost faith in the happiness that expensive holidays can bring you, I lost faith in the idea that celebrating will somehow make it all okay.

We can change Columbus Day, to Indigenous People’s day, but we cannot change history, nor the ongoing “discovering” of our culture. We can tear down every statue, but there will somehow always be one more. We can beat the South, and yet still have confederate flags, flying high.

We can “beat” racism, yet experience murders, at the highest rate in years.

And we can try to forget Columbus, try to move on, try to stride forward, but by choosing to forget him, we choose to also forget what he did to us. We choose to forget, and erase, the ongoing marginalization of our indigenous people, we choose to ignore the land that is STILL being stolen, STILL being desecrated.

I cannot forget him. I choose not to forgive him.

He is still killing us, in one way or another, his sword is still buried, deep into our people.

We must take the sword from him, and strike back.


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