There’s a riff in our nation that it can’t seem to heal from. It was carried over from Europe by the nation’s “forefathers.”
The rage, the indignant insistence of privilege and power, of control — multiple nations of people already existing, be damned. History tells us that violence of many sorts were introduced to our budding culture. Deceit, murder, oppression and the pursuit for more, more of anything they could say was worth more than the next.
The easier it was to steal and pillage, the more dominant they seemed to feel. The practice of domination came with prestige. The more you could resort to humiliation and violence the more reverence. This isn’t the narrative taught in American history classes.
As I’m sure we all know by now, the victor writes the story. We have learned, if nothing else, that there are certainly two sides to a story. For everyone who didn’t believe the story of the oppressed, the oppressors are finally telling their truth. They stand on stage and spill vile, depraved lies and twisted truths. They reverse rhetoric, project and then gaslight. They are demonstrating their truest side of the story. It’s not a myth, it wasn’t a fabrication or dramatization. They are exactly who they say they are, and they have always been who they are.
Now we have to think: How long did a nation not believe the abused? For how long did this nation placate the survivors and the victims, how long did we normalize this level of unhinged and unfounded hatred toward fellow citizens?
Which part was the lie? Liberty and justice for all? Or was it the lie of “manifest destiny”? Whose destiny? Was it your destiny to glorify genocide in order to fulfill such perversion? Perhaps it is the part that is echoed — all men were created equal — or was it the hero’s story of conquest and valor?
Who we see now is their truth, naked and exposed. Do not look away, these are your people. This is our nation.
We are at a precipice to discover who we will become. The truth of the oppressors or the courage of the oppressed. If history serves me right, the story of the oppressed, written by the oppressor paints a picture of a soul broken, not worth saving.
Yet the second side of that story is we are still here. We held our ancestors’ pain and their warning. We stayed woke, we stayed vigilant, weaving courage and hope into our children’s hair. We kept music in our feet and held our joy close to our heart. We passed our lessons of family and unity forward. We look forward to our future for balance, not for conquest.
A soul of a nation is not saved by the people without one. This nation is here because we are. Together, we are this nation. It is time for our story to be the story heard, to be respected, to be studied and understood. Our story heals. Now is the time, if there ever was one to ask, Where is our character? Where does this story of lies and grandiose and violence end?
It is by choice that a legacy rot with anger and ignorance can end with you. It is a by choice, and as the pages of history write themselves, your choice is evident in the last words written.