As Stiles explored in his last column, the November table often evokes childhood tales of harmony: settlers and Native Americans feasting together, the genesis of our Thanksgiving tradition. Yet, beneath this sanitized veneer lies a far more poignant reality, particularly for the Wampanoag—the stewards of this land for millennia, whose sacred soil cradles our own Woodcrest.
For the Wampanoag, Thanksgiving tells a tale not of joy, but of survival. The 1600s marked the beginning of profound loss: their ancestral lands became the epicenter of colonial encroachment, igniting centuries of displacement, cultural suppression, and relentless struggle. The generosity for which they are remembered was met with a history that demands reflection, not celebration.
The First Feast: A Misunderstood Moment
The Thanksgiving feast, often romanticized as a moment of unity, belies the true nature of that gathering. The Wampanoag were not invited to the celebration. When the sounds of gunfire rang out from the settlers’ colony as part of their harvest festivities, the Wampanoag initially feared the worst. Believing the settlers had turned on them, they prepared for battle and arrived armed, ready to defend themselves. Instead, they found the settlers celebrating a successful harvest, one that would have been impossible without the Wampanoag’s assistance in teaching them how to cultivate the land and survive its harsh conditions. Despite their uninvited arrival, the Wampanoag ultimately stayed, a testament to their enduring willingness to support and coexist despite the looming shadow of colonization.
The Wampanoag’s history stretches far beyond the settlers’ arrival in 1620, with a vibrant society and thriving trade networks existing for centuries prior. Yet, within decades, they faced devastation from disease, land loss, and violent conflicts like King Philip’s War, one of America’s deadliest per capita. Despite these trials, the Wampanoag have endured, preserving their identity through language, traditions, and stories. Their resilience invites us to reflect on the deeper meaning of National Native American Heritage Month—a time to honor their strength and celebrate their lasting contributions to our shared history.
Embracing Diversity Through Education
Last weekend, as part of my bachelor’s degree in Ethnobotany, I visited the Eastern Band of the Cherokee Indians in Cherokee, North Carolina, where I sat with an elder to discuss not only plants but also language reclamation—a shared effort among Indigenous peoples to preserve their voices for generations to come. Just as the Wampanoag breathe life into their language through the Wôpanâak Language Reclamation Project, the Cherokee work tirelessly to ensure their own language thrives. Our conversation turned to Sambucus canadensis, the elderberry—a cherished staple of Cherokee medicine, revered for its immune-boosting properties and now widely embraced in modern wellness. These reflections underscored the profound connection between language, culture, and nature shared by Indigenous communities, from the Wampanoag to the Cherokee, across this land.
Honoring diversity requires us to look beyond the simplified stories of childhood, embracing the voices and traditions of those often overlooked. By celebrating National Native American Heritage Month and focusing on the resilience of the Wampanoag and efforts like language reclamation, we deepen our understanding of Indigenous strength and ingenuity. This November, let us reflect on the feast and the histories that shaped it, learning from traditions like elderberry’s medicinal use and the enduring wisdom of Native cultures. True diversity is about more than celebration—it’s a commitment to justice, understanding, and growth.
[Editor’s Note: Interested in learning more about the history of the Wampanoag and the settlers? Put on your nightstand “This Land Is Their Land: The Wampanoag Indians, Plymouth Colony, and the Troubled History of Thanksgiving” by David J. Silverman.]