We are approaching the holiday season, which means grocery stores are already stocked with Thanksgiving decorations, holiday music is starting to make its way into every public space, and many of us are beginning to think about travel plans, family gatherings, and what we are bringing to the dinner table.
For a lot of people, Thanksgiving is one of their favorite holidays. It is a time to slow down, spend time with family, share a meal, and reflect on what we are grateful for. Maybe it is a tradition you grew up with. Maybe it is one of the few times a year your entire family gets together. Maybe it is less about the history and more about the people sitting around your table.
And I think there is room for that.
But I also think we need to have a conversation about the history of this holiday, the people who have been left out of the story, and what it means to celebrate something connected to colonization, genocide, and stolen land.
Before I go any further, I want to acknowledge where I am coming from in this conversation. I am a white woman writing from a position of privilege. I am not Indigenous, and I am not writing on behalf of Indigenous people or attempting to explain their experiences for them. That is not my story to tell. My intention is to use the space and platform I have to bring attention to perspectives that have historically been ignored, challenge the narratives many of us were taught, and encourage others, particularly those of us who benefit from these systems, to take responsibility for learning and action.
I recognize that even writing about this topic comes with a responsibility to be thoughtful about whose voices I am amplifying and whose experiences I am discussing. Indigenous people have been telling these stories for generations. We do not need to wait for a white person to validate that history before we listen.
I am not writing this to tell you not to celebrate Thanksgiving. I am writing because I believe we can enjoy traditions while also being honest about where they came from. We can be grateful for our families, communities, and the food on our tables while making room for the history that has often been erased from the holiday.
Both things can be true.
So, before we start planning the menu, let's talk about what we are actually celebrating.
The History of Thanksgiving
Most of us probably learned some version of the same story in elementary school. The Pilgrims arrived in America, struggled to survive the winter, and were helped by Native Americans who taught them how to grow food and navigate the land. Eventually, the two groups came together for a peaceful feast to celebrate a successful harvest. And that, we were told, was the first Thanksgiving.
It is a nice story. It is also an incomplete one.
In 1621, English colonists and members of the Wampanoag Nation did gather for a harvest celebration that lasted several days. The Wampanoag people had already been living on and caring for that land for thousands of years. They had established communities, political systems, agricultural practices, trade relationships, and extensive knowledge of the land long before the English arrived.
The Wampanoag were not simply strangers who happened upon the Pilgrims and decided to help them. They were a sovereign nation making strategic decisions in a complicated political environment. Their interactions with the English were shaped by diplomacy, existing relationships with other Native nations, and the devastating effects of European contact, including disease and enslavement.
The relationship between the colonists and the Wampanoag did not remain peaceful. Within a generation, conflict and war resulted in the loss of Wampanoag political independence and significant portions of their territory. The story we often hear about a friendly meal between two groups who came together in harmony leaves out the violence and colonization that followed (National Archives Museum, 2021; National Museum of the American Indian, 2024).
And here is another piece of the story we do not always talk about. The 1621 gathering was not actually called the first Thanksgiving at the time. The event became part of a national origin story much later, as the United States developed its own traditions and identity. President Abraham Lincoln declared a national Thanksgiving holiday in 1863, during the Civil War. Over time, the story of the Pilgrims and the Wampanoag became a convenient way to create a shared narrative about American unity and belonging.
But whose version of unity? And who was left out of that story?
The Racism Behind the Story We Were Taught
The problem is not that people gather for a meal or practice gratitude. The problem is that the version of Thanksgiving many of us grew up learning was built around a romanticized story that minimized colonization and erased Indigenous perspectives.
Think about the images we associate with Thanksgiving. Pilgrims wearing black hats and buckled shoes. Native Americans represented by generic feathered costumes. Children dressing up as either group in school. A friendly meal that supposedly symbolizes the beginning of a peaceful relationship between two cultures.
These images are not harmless simply because they are familiar.
They reduce diverse Indigenous nations, cultures, languages, and histories into a single stereotype. They portray Native people as characters in someone else's story rather than as real people with their own histories, perspectives, and experiences. They also reinforce the idea that Indigenous people belong to the past, as if they disappeared after helping the Pilgrims survive.
They did not.
Indigenous people are not a historical footnote. There are hundreds of federally recognized Tribal Nations in the United States, along with state recognized and unrecognized Indigenous communities. They have distinct governments, cultures, languages, traditions, and contemporary experiences. They are parents, teachers, artists, business owners, activists, healthcare professionals, and community leaders. They are here.
The National Museum of the American Indian has emphasized the importance of telling a more complete Thanksgiving story by including Wampanoag perspectives and recognizing the ways popular depictions have distorted the historical record (National Museum of the American Indian, 2024).
When we continue to teach a simplified story that celebrates colonization as a peaceful beginning, we participate in the erasure of the people who experienced it differently.
And that matters.
The Connection to Generational Trauma
As a mental health professional, I think this is where the conversation becomes especially important.
When we talk about trauma, we often focus on an individual's experience. We think about what happened to someone, how their nervous system responded, and how those experiences continue to influence their relationships, behaviors, beliefs, and sense of safety.
But trauma does not only happen at an individual level.
Historical trauma refers to the collective impact of traumatic events experienced by a group of people, with consequences that can continue across generations. For Indigenous communities, this includes the ongoing effects of colonization, genocide, forced displacement, land dispossession, cultural suppression, racism, and policies designed to separate families and erase Indigenous identities.
Consider the impact of forced assimilation policies, including residential and boarding schools where Indigenous children were taken from their families and communities. Children were often prohibited from speaking their languages, practicing their cultural traditions, or maintaining connections to their identities. These policies did not just affect the children who experienced them. They also disrupted family relationships, parenting practices, cultural knowledge, and the ways communities were able to pass traditions from one generation to the next.
We sometimes talk about generational trauma as if it is simply something that gets passed down through families. But it is important to understand that historical trauma is not just about something terrible happening a long time ago. Many of the systems and conditions connected to that trauma continue to exist today.
Racism, discrimination, unequal access to resources, threats to Tribal sovereignty, and the continued struggle to protect Indigenous land are not historical events. They are contemporary realities.
Research on historical trauma among Indigenous populations highlights the relationship between past collective trauma, present day discrimination, and the ongoing social and health impacts experienced by communities (Joo-Castro & Emerson, 2021; Nagata et al., 2024).
I also want to be careful about how we talk about this. We should not assume that every Indigenous person experiences trauma in the same way, or that Indigenous identity is defined by suffering. Indigenous communities are not broken communities waiting to be healed. They have demonstrated incredible resilience, cultural continuity, resistance, and strength. Their cultures, languages, traditions, and relationships with the land continue to thrive.
And as someone outside of these communities, it is not my place to define what healing should look like for them. What I can do is recognize the impact of historical and ongoing harm, listen to Indigenous voices, and understand that healing and accountability cannot be separated from the systems that continue to cause harm.
The point is not to define people by what happened to their ancestors. The point is to recognize that historical harm has consequences, that those consequences are not evenly distributed, and that acknowledging the past requires us to pay attention to the present.
Recognizing the Land We Live On
Let's bring this a little closer to home.
Wherever you are reading this, you are likely living, working, gathering, and building a life on land that has an Indigenous history. That history did not begin when European settlers arrived, and it did not end when the land was taken.
Land acknowledgments have become more common in recent years. You may have heard them at conferences, community events, universities, or public gatherings. They are statements that recognize the Indigenous peoples who have lived on and cared for a particular place, often while acknowledging the history of colonization and displacement.
But I think we need to be mindful of something. A land acknowledgment is not meaningful simply because we say the right words.
If we acknowledge that we are living on Indigenous land and then do nothing with that information, what have we actually accomplished?
The Native Governance Center has encouraged people to move beyond land acknowledgments by creating concrete action plans that support Indigenous communities. This means learning about the specific Native Nations connected to the land where we live, understanding their present day priorities, and considering what resources we can contribute (Native Governance Center, 2021).
Start by asking:
Whose ancestral and traditional homelands am I living on?
Which Tribal Nations are connected to this area today?
What is the history of land dispossession in my community?
What Indigenous communities, organizations, and leaders are currently doing work in this area?
What are the issues those communities are asking people to pay attention to?
Try to be specific. Indigenous communities are not interchangeable, and a generic statement about Native Americans does not replace learning about the specific Nations connected to your area.
And remember, Indigenous people are not only part of the history of the land. They are part of its present and future, too.
What Does Making Reparations Actually Look Like?
This is where I think people can become uncomfortable. We can acknowledge history, recognize that harm occurred, and agree that racism and colonization have had lasting consequences. But then what?
What are we supposed to do with that information?
I think one of the biggest mistakes we make is treating acknowledgment as the finish line rather than the starting point.
Reparations can take many forms, and there is no single action that makes up for centuries of stolen land, violence, and cultural suppression. There are also important distinctions between individual acts of support and larger institutional or governmental responsibilities to address historical harm.
As individuals, we cannot claim to repair harm that we did not personally create, and we should not assume that we get to decide what repair looks like for the communities affected. But we can take responsibility for how we participate in the present. We can listen to what Indigenous communities are asking for, support their priorities, and use our own resources and influence to contribute.
Here are a few places to start:
1. Support Indigenous led organizations.
Look for organizations that are already doing work in Indigenous communities and listen to what they identify as their priorities. This might include organizations focused on language preservation, cultural education, food sovereignty, environmental protection, youth programming, or legal advocacy.
Consider making a recurring donation rather than only contributing once a year when the topic becomes more visible.
2. Learn about land return and land based reparations.
Land return, sometimes discussed through the Land Back movement, is about restoring Indigenous relationships with land, sovereignty, and decision making. This work can look different depending on the community and its goals.
Some people and organizations also participate in voluntary land tax programs, which provide financial contributions to Indigenous communities whose land they occupy. These contributions are not a replacement for land return or government accountability, but they can be one tangible way to direct resources toward Indigenous communities.
3. Support Indigenous businesses and creators.
Buy from Indigenous owned businesses. Read books by Indigenous authors. Support Indigenous artists, filmmakers, educators, and entrepreneurs. Make an effort to learn about contemporary Indigenous culture rather than only engaging with Indigenous history during November.
4. Pay attention to policy and political decisions.
Learn about Tribal sovereignty, treaty rights, land protection, and the policies affecting Indigenous communities. Pay attention when Native communities are advocating for their rights, protecting sacred sites, or challenging decisions that threaten their land and resources.
Use your voice to support the priorities Indigenous communities are already communicating.
5. Be willing to have uncomfortable conversations.
Challenge inaccurate stories when you hear them. Talk to your family about what you learned. Reconsider the way Thanksgiving is taught to children. Recognize when jokes, costumes, or stereotypes are harmful, even when someone insists they are just traditions.
And please, do not expect Indigenous people to take on the responsibility of educating you. There are many resources created by Indigenous scholars, organizations, and community members. Start there.
So, What Do We Do on Thanksgiving?
I want to come back to something I said at the beginning. I am not suggesting that everyone stop celebrating Thanksgiving.
For many families, Thanksgiving has become something different from the historical story we were taught. It is a cultural tradition centered around gathering, food, family, and gratitude. It might be the only time certain family members see each other. It might be a day of chosen family, community, or simply enjoying a meal together.
I do not think we have to throw all of that away.
But I do think we can change how we approach it.
Here are a few ideas:
Make space for the actual history. If you are gathering with family, consider taking a few minutes to acknowledge the history of the land and the Wampanoag people. You do not need to turn dinner into a history lecture, but you can be intentional about not repeating the inaccurate version of the story.
Change what children are taught. If you have children in your life, be mindful of the books, crafts, costumes, and stories they are exposed to. Teach them about Indigenous people as living communities with diverse cultures and histories, not as characters in a Thanksgiving story.
Support Indigenous communities as part of your holiday traditions. Consider making a donation together as a family, purchasing from an Indigenous owned business, or learning about an organization doing work in your area.
Learn about the National Day of Mourning. Since 1970, the United American Indians of New England have organized an annual National Day of Mourning in Plymouth, Massachusetts, on Thanksgiving Day. It is a time for Indigenous people and allies to honor ancestors, recognize the history of genocide and stolen land, and bring attention to the ongoing struggles Indigenous communities face. Learning about this observance is one way to understand that Thanksgiving does not hold the same meaning for everyone (United American Indians of New England, 2022).
Make gratitude more intentional. If Thanksgiving is a day centered around gratitude for you, consider what gratitude asks of us. Does it only mean appreciating what we have? Or can it also mean recognizing the people, communities, and histories that made our lives possible? Can gratitude include responsibility?
You can still make your favorite recipes. You can still gather with your family. You can still watch football, play games, and enjoy a day off. But you can also make room for a more honest conversation about the history of the holiday and the people whose experiences have been left out of it.
Gratitude and Accountability Can Coexist
I think there is something important about being able to hold two seemingly conflicting ideas at the same time.
We can appreciate the traditions that bring our families together while acknowledging that the story we were taught about Thanksgiving was incomplete. We can be grateful for our lives and the people around us while recognizing that our history includes violence, oppression, and injustice. We can enjoy a holiday without ignoring the harm associated with its origins.
And I think those of us who benefit from systems built through colonization have a responsibility to do more than feel uncomfortable when we learn about that history. We have a responsibility to keep learning, to question the narratives we have inherited, and to consider how we can use our privilege and resources to support meaningful change.
I am not asking anyone to take my word for what Indigenous communities need or want. I am encouraging us to listen to Indigenous people themselves, seek out their work, and make room for perspectives that have too often been excluded from the conversation.
We do not have to approach this with shame or defensiveness. We do have to approach it with honesty, curiosity, humility, and a willingness to take responsibility for what we can do differently.
So as we enter the holiday season, I hope we make room for more than just the familiar traditions. I hope we make room for the stories that have been left out, the people who are still here, and the work that remains.
And maybe this year, gratitude can mean more than appreciating what is on our table. Maybe it can also mean asking what we are willing to do with what we have.
References
Avalos, N. (2021). What does it mean to heal from historical trauma? AMA Journal of Ethics, 23(6), E494–E498. https://doi.org/10.1001/amajethics.2021.494
Joo-Castro, L., & Emerson, A. (2021). Understanding historical trauma for the holistic care of Indigenous populations: A scoping review. Journal of Holistic Nursing, 39(3), 285–305. https://doi.org/10.1177/0898010120979135
Nagata, D. K., Kim, J. H. J., & Gone, J. P. (2024). Intergenerational transmission of ethnoracial historical trauma in the United States. Annual Review of Clinical Psychology, 20, 175–200. https://doi.org/10.1146/annurev-clinpsy-080822-044522
National Archives Museum. (2021). Thanksgiving: Historical perspectives. https://visit.archives.gov/whats-on/explore-exhibits/thanksgiving-historical-perspectives
National Museum of the American Indian. (2024). Rethinking Thanksgiving celebrations: Native perspectives on Thanksgiving. Smithsonian Institution. https://americanindian.si.edu/nk360/pdf/Rethinking-Thanksgiving-Celebrations-Native-Perspectives-2024-r.pdf
Native Governance Center. (2021, September 21). Beyond land acknowledgment: A guide. https://nativegov.org/news/beyond-land-acknowledgment-guide/
United American Indians of New England. (2022). Orientation for 53rd National Day of Mourning. https://uaine.org/2022_ndom/NDOM%20Orientation%202022.pdf
