Do Not Trust the Pilgrims, Especially Trump Supporters
I am Pocahontas, a Chippewa maiden
Though I am not as civilized as you, Sarah Miller, I appreciate your invite to join
your white people Thanksgiving Feast.
Forgive our strange customs, for we “savages” have not had your white advantages, such as fine
schools for white people, libraries filled with books written by white people, or even shampoo
from white brands.
Sarah Miller, you are the most racist person I have ever seen.
Yet, I am thrilled to be your guest.
Though, You have taken the land that is rightfully ours.
You have rewritten our history
And made Disney movies about me?
You know, the one where the Indian Princess falls in love with a white boy,
whose people are trying to murder and enslave her tribe
Not to mention how you portray us Natives
You know, the movie where a white boy doesn’t want to grow up
So, he brings along even more white people
To find out “What Makes a Red Man Red”
Wake up, America
My home has been turned into a Starbucks parking lot
Trashed with cellophane wrappers
And these like “totally cool and trendy dream catcher key chains”
We are a culture
We are the first peoples of this nation
We are the original Americans, not to be confused with
Your All-American football teams, of which we hold the honor to be your red-skinned, feather
Go ahead, place your authentic tribal rug on your living room floor
Just so you can walk over us time and time again
While every cry is silenced by closed doors
And the freshly cleaned windows you look out of
As you take a shopping spree to Neiman Marcus for fashionable moccasins for the white man to
You know our names only for urban legends but never for righteousness.
Wear our clothing for style but seldom for respect
Familiarize our faces, but merely for commercial value,
Because every great chief has his face painted in the sky,
but not in Mount Rushmore.
While you gather your friends and have your artificial “powwow” in the breakroom with filtered
water and catered hors d'oeuvres
Others will succumb to drug addiction, alcoholism, and crime ignored by American authorities.
We wear war bonnets, we are ridiculed.
You wear our pieces as a costume to Coachella, you get signed modeling contracts.
You make paper feather hats for your children on days like today
We get beaten and sprayed with tear gas when all we want is water.
You say, “No denim”
We say, “No DAPL.”
You say “like back to your country...”
We say, “We’ve never left.”
You say, “I am part Cherokee on my great grandmother’s side.”
We say, “My great grandmother was considered “white” because Native Americans were not
seen as citizens until 1924.”
You say, “Make America Great Again.”
We say, “Make Native America Great Again.”
While you drive your golf carts and wrap your designer scarves,
We’ll be celebrating what little we have left to call ours with fry bread
and handmade Jewelry
Made on a reservation in one of the wealthiest countries in the world.
The gods of my tribe have spoken.
They have said “Do not trust the pilgrims- especially Trump supporters.”