European settlers killed hundreds of Indigenous adults and kids and set their village aflame. They banned the word Pequot. They celebrated with praise and thanksgiving to God—for such spectacular obliteration of a community that had lived in a place for ten thousand years. Governor John Winthrop of the Massachusetts Bay Colony deemed the massacre date an annual holiday.
Anthony Wayne standing over the dying body of an Indigenous resister...
The last time I did “Turkey Day” was back in the 20th century. As usual,
I’ll be at SuTao Café in Malvern, Pennsylvania—our best local spot for
animal-free dining. I’ll have plenty of company. Not only because people are
going vegan, but because they’ve heard about the 1637 Pequot massacre [Should
We Rename Thanksgiving “National Ethnic Cleansing Day”?].
That’s when European settlers killed hundreds of Indigenous adults and kids
and set their village aflame. They banned the word Pequot. They celebrated
with praise and thanksgiving to God—for such spectacular obliteration of a
community that had lived in a place for ten thousand years. Governor John
Winthrop of the Massachusetts Bay Colony deemed the massacre date an annual
holiday.
Eventually, the celebration went federal. According to Philadelphia
Magazine:
Thanksgiving was made an official federal holiday in 1863 by President
Abraham Lincoln, less than a year after he authorized what remains to this
day the nation’s largest ever mass execution—the hanging of 38 Sioux men in
Mankato, Minnesota in December 1862.
Good ol’ Honest Abe.
Conquest Means Never Having to Say You’re Sorry
In 1880, Anthony J. Drexel and George W. Childs purchased the tract now
known as the Philadelphia Main Line and changed the town of Louella to
Wayne, after “Revolutionary leader and Indian fighter” Anthony Wayne. You’d
think more recent leaders would have renamed the town Sorry Does Not Cover
It, Pennsylvania. Not yet. The Wayne Post Office still features Alfred
Crimi’s mural of Anthony Wayne standing over the dying body of an Indigenous
resister.
For extra glorification, the mural contains additional versions of Anthony
Wayne: the land surveyor; the “gentleman farmer” and equestrian. The
painting is highlighted by recessed lighting on the sides, and
ceiling-mounted spotlights.
For the Smithsonian’s National Postal Museum website, Meghan A. Navarro
described the painting:
Note the fallen Indian behind his boots, positioned as the last barrier
Wayne had to step beyond in order to open up the Northwest Territory to
American settlers, confining the Shawnee, Delaware and Wyandot to only about
25% of their homeland.
The Lenni Lenape (Delaware) people once lived on the land where I’m writing
this article, where the Wayne Post Office now exists. “They would likely not
agree,” Navarro added, “that Anthony Wayne’s victory at Fallen Timbers is
something to celebrate and immortalize on the wall of a Federal public
building.”
But here we are.
In totality, the settlers’ westward sprawl usurped
1.5 billion acres of Indigenous land. Much of it went to the states for
the land-grant colleges which have done so much to advance animal
agribusiness. Is it merely coincidental that the
territory of the United States ranks #1 for extinctions of nonhuman
life?
And what of Indigenous languages and ecological knowledge? In this time of
climate crisis, much of what’s disappearing could be life-sustaining.
Mystic, Connecticut, the site of the Pequot massacre, is now slathered with
dismal distractions: “encounters” with captive whales and trained sea lions.
Our domineering tendencies persist through shape-shifting [Mystic
Aquarium].
Cashew Nut Roast and a Post Script
Will we ever learn to respect evolution, unfettered? Can we acknowledge
genocide that implicates us? Can we find the strength of character to care
rather than compete? To appreciate the role of every living community on
this one and only Earth? Many of our celebrated traditions reflect what we
must transcend.
For those creating new traditions, and seeking ideas for peaceful dishes to
share, let me try to be useful. Here is a satisfying nut roast recipe given
to me 40 years ago, by the person who convinced me to become a vegan then.
Ingredients (organic, as much as possible):
½ lb. cashew pieces; 4 oz. brown rice; 6 oz. rye toast crumbs—include the caraway seeds or a dash of celery seed. One medium onion, chopped; 2 cloves garlic, minced; 2 large, ripe tomatoes; 4 Tbsp. olive oil; up to ¼ cup vegetable broth (depends on the consistency you prefer); 2 tsp. brewer’s yeast; ½ tsp. each dried basil and dried thyme. A squeeze of lemon and a pinch of ground pepper.
What to do with them:
Cook rice until tender; grind cashews. (No machine needed. Run a rolling pin
or jar over bagged nuts.)
Chop onion and garlic finely and heat in oil until they are slightly brown;
chop and add one of the tomatoes; simmer until soft. Add the broth. Combine
all. Press mixture into two glass pie baking dishes. Slice second tomato to
decorate top. Dab the tomato slices with a bit of olive oil; then bake for
30 minutes or a bit longer (until the edges are browning) at 350°F / 175°C.
Cut the roast into slices to serve as a main or side dish.
Post script: As we share our meals in the comfort of heated rooms, may we
stay mindful of the colonial violence that rages in some areas, and
reverberates in others. Diné activists resist Navajo-Hopi land takings by
state-supported fossil fuel extractors. Land defenders from the Fort Belknap
Indian Community and Rosebud Sioux, the Cheyenne River Sioux, and the
Standing Rock Sioux struggle to stop pipeline construction. Queer,
eco-justice, and migrant rights advocates work to protect communities, human
and other, along the US–Mexico border. These are just some examples of
locally organized work to overcome settler colonial mindsets. They need our
support.
And as the festive season draws near, the trail of tears is now trodden by
the Palestinian people; may we refuse to excuse or brush this aside for the
sake of petty peace and quiet at polished and decorated tables. May we
actively support the quests for liberation of all living communities who
live under others’ coercive control.
Thanks go out to Chris Kelly and Harold Brown for conversations helpful
to this writing; and to Robin Lane, from whom I learned that veganism is a
recipe for calling out subjugation.
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