I was lucky to attend the book festival and some panels with exceptionally talented authors. One of them was Tommy Orange for his debut novel ‘There There’.
I’m ashamed to say I did not know that much about the history of Native American Indians. The book was insightful and powerful, but reading it barely scratches the surface of what there is to know.
In the audience was an elderly American lady who spoke when it was time to ask questions of the writers, Tommy Orange and a fellow Indian author of the memoir Heart Berries – Terese Marie Mailhot. It was more of a statement, a seemingly accusatory one delivered begrudgingly at that about how the novel ‘There There’ ruined Thanksgiving for her forever.
I commend the authors for their graceful heartfelt responses. Their intention as with most any writers is to write their truths, to highlight the stories of their lives, their communities and in the process, they sometimes bring light to some inconvenient and often uncomfortable realities. It wasn’t meant to cajole or make it easy to hear. Terese was more vocal about the holiday and what it means to many of her kith and kin.
It was one of the more indelible moments of the festival for me. It encouraged me to continue to learn and read and also to pause and contemplate about what it means to me.
I hope not to offend anyone and I’m sorry if I do but I wanted to express my thoughts and opinions. History is not always the truth. We all know that. History is what was documented, by whoever won out. It is what survived. And what survived could be an interpretation, a falsity or perhaps the truth. India, my native home is a land of festivals and many celebrations. When you go to another country, and it becomes your own so do its customs, traditions, and identity. They morph into the fabric of your new self, the integrated, blended reinvented new you. It is perhaps no different from when you grow up in your own land. The landscape changes and you have to embrace, adapt and grow.
And so I did as did every immigrant of this wonderfully diverse country. I heard the saying once ‘No one is from America’. And I learned some truths. My country of origin has its share of dark histories. Do we lament what our forefathers did, so we never move forward? I do not think so. But the truth & to acknowledge it is very important. What hurts the most is being forgotten, brushing over something like it never happened, like it was inconsequential, a trifle – that must really hurt. We honor those that were gone, victims and brave men and women in history. Is one community more worthy of that recognition than the other?
I’m not a German but I have friends who are. What happened during the Holocaust is not my friend’s burden, it is not on them to forever bear the brunt of a forefathers sin. But nevertheless, I don’t see them condone what happened. They live a full life and wish everyone else no less. But they don’t dismiss what happened. I think that is what makes this event especially painful for some.
It’s also vital to recognize what #thanksgiving has become today – family, love & being grateful.
Is it possible then to separate the two? To acknowledge that something that started on the basis of a lie has morphed into quite another thing now. That both have their own place. One to pay respect, to remember and the other to be together. I’m not sure what the solution is nor if there is one that would be acceptable.
I do however think it is not a celebration. But that’s just me. I think it is a time for healing, remembering & coming together as one – be it with family, your community, the country or the world. #therethere
