Thanks to those forgotten

The time of year is rolling back around when we're supposed to give thanks. Well, at least in the United States of America. That's the only place that matters though, right?

Don't get me wrong, I have a lot to be thankful for. Like the fact that I'm a cisgendered, straight, white, wealthy, male human. I have to deal with very little structural oppressions in my day-to-day life, and pretty much the only box on the privilege test I don't tick off is faith. And despite the comfy seat my birth and biological makeup gives me, I think that a time of thanks is also a time to acknowledge the reason I have the things I do. Which is considerably less peachy than stuffed turkey and cranberry sauce. America, believe it or not, wasn't always home to Uncle Sam. Indians, as we still like to call them (Despite the fact that we knew they weren't from India about 5 minutes after good ol' Columbus hit the shoreline) were here first.

Native Americans, being the original people here, were a bit of an issue for the colonizing dreams of the European sailors. So, they scummed it out. Intentionally or not, they distributed blankets and other such goods carrying deadly diseases and germs to the Native American populace. It's estimated that about 90% of the total population was killed by infection (Cook, Noble David Born to Die, p. 13) , which left a skeletal force to resist the European invasion when it came full-force. 10% of a people isn't enough to even come close to winning a war against battle-ready Europeans armed to the teeth, leading to the birth of the US of A.

Now, some might say that "Hey, well look at all of the cool new things Europeans brought the Native Americans", such as new technology, advanced metalworking, and medicine. This, however, is greatly overshadowed by the genocidal effect of their arrival. Who cares about how much medicine is given AFTER 90% of the population is dead? That's essentially chopping a mans arm off and slapping a sesame street band-aid on the stump with a pat and a smile.

So, in this time of thanks, I'd like to give thanks not just to the people who are directly present in my life (My friends, family, and kickass teachers), but also those who aren't noticed everyday merely on the account of them being dead. I choose to look down at the ziggurat of Native American corpses our nation is built upon and acknowledge their plight and the atrocities committed against them as the cornerstone of the USA.