YOU WERE LIED TO ABOUT THANKSGIVING! History and Origins of Thanksgiving | Native American History

When you think about Thanksgiving, what comes to mind? Maybe it's the mouth-watering smell of a turkey roasting in the oven, the comforting chaos of family all squeezed around a table, or that satisfying post-meal food coma. We've all grown up with this warm and fuzzy idea of Thanksgiving, a day carved out for gratitude, pumpkin pie, and of course, a parade of leftovers. But here's the thing. The story we learned in school, the one about pilgrims and Native Americans sitting down together for a peaceful, picture-perfect feast, doesn't quite tell the whole story. It's a lot more complicated than that. Behind those charming depictions of bonnets and buckled hats lies a history that's both darker and more thought-provoking than the tale most of us grew up with. How did a simple harvest meal turn into one of the most significant, and let's be honest, most misunderstood holidays in American culture? Why do some people celebrate with joy, while others view the day with mourning and reflection? The truth is, Thanksgiving's roots are tangled up in moments of gratitude, survival, betrayal, and loss, all intertwined together in a way that's both fascinating and, at times, uncomfortable to face. So, how did we get from that 1621 feast to today's mix of turkey, football, and Black Friday madness? Buckle up, because this story has layers, and maybe by the end of it you'll see Thanksgiving in a whole new light. You know, it's easy to think of Thanksgiving as a strictly American tradition, but honestly, the whole idea of pausing to show gratitude for what you have is nothing new. People have been doing this kind of thing for thousands of years. Picture it. Across ancient cultures, people would celebrate the changing seasons, honor the gods of agriculture, and give thanks for good harvests and fertile lands. These celebrations were full of rituals, prayers, and community gatherings. In Native American culture, gratitude for nature's gifts wasn't limited to one big annual feast. It was a way of life, deeply interwoven with everyday practices. Different tribes had their unique ways of celebrating, often centered around significant events in the agricultural cycle. The Iroquois, for example, had the Green Corn Festival, a multi-day celebration that honored the first corn harvest of the season. This event brought people together to dance, feast, and perform rituals that acknowledged the spirits believed to guide and bless their crops. And on the other side of the ocean in Europe, harvest festivals were just as essential. People in England, where many of the early settlers came from, would host autumn feasts filled with roasted meats, seasonal fruits, and naturally plenty of ale. They'd sing songs, decorate their homes with greenery, and give thanks to God for keeping them fed. The Pilgrims, of course, were familiar with these customs. So when they eventually made their way to the New World, they already had the blueprint for a Thanksgiving-like celebration. The point is, before Thanksgiving became what we recognize today, it was built on centuries of traditions, each adding its own layer to the holiday. And although these rituals differed, they all shared one common thread— a sense of community, gratitude, and a celebration of the life-sustaining gifts from the earth. So let's paint a clearer picture of that famous gathering in 1621. The Pilgrims, who had endured a brutally harsh first winter, were probably just relieved to be alive. Almost half of them had perished due to disease and the unforgiving cold. Morale was low, and survival was anything but guaranteed. But with spring came hope, and along with it, an unlikely hero—Tisquantum, known to the Pilgrims as Squanto. Now, Squanto wasn't your average Native American. He'd had a pretty wild life up to that point. Years before, he'd been captured by an English explorer, sold into slavery in Spain, and somehow made his way to England, where he learned English. By a twist of fate, he eventually found a way back home, only to discover that his entire Patuxet tribe had been wiped out by European diseases. It's no wonder he had mixed feelings about the newcomers. Despite this, Squanto chose to help the struggling Pilgrims. He taught them essential skills like how to grow corn using fish as fertilizer, and where to catch eel and other seafood. Without his guidance, there's a good chance the colony would have collapsed. But with Squanto's help, the Pilgrims had their first successful harvest. It wasn't the overflowing bounty we see on modern Thanksgiving tables, but it was enough to feel like a real victory. So, they decided to celebrate. The Pilgrims invited their neighbors, the Wampanoag people, as a gesture of friendship and gratitude. The Wampanoag, led by Chief Massasoit, showed up in force—about 90 men. Keep in mind there were only around 50 surviving Pilgrims, so the guests significantly outnumbered the hosts. Still, the Wampanoag came prepared. They brought deer for roasting, adding to the Pilgrims' feast of fowl, fish, corn, and other local foods. It wasn't the turkey and cranberry sauce affair we know today. The meal included dishes made from native ingredients, probably seasoned with herbs, and maybe even prepared over open flames. There were games, contests, and perhaps even some uneasy moments. After all, the Pilgrims and the Wampanoag came from vastly different worlds. But for those three days, they put their differences aside. This first Thanksgiving wasn't intended to become an annual event, nor did anyone label it as such. It was more of a one-off celebration, a momentary truce between two cultures in a world that was rapidly changing. But as the years passed, the story took on a life of its own, often romanticized or simplified in ways that left out some crucial context. Yet in that moment, there was genuine gratitude, mutual benefit, and hope, however fleeting it turned out to be. The feast in 1621, often presented as a picture of harmony, was just one moment in a complicated and often tragic relationship between Native Americans and European settlers. At the time, the Wampanoag people were dealing with their own set of challenges. Diseases brought by earlier European explorers had devastated their population, wiping out entire villages. The arrival of the Pilgrims offered a potential alliance, not because the Wampanoag were naive, but because they were being practical. Facing threats from rival tribes, like the powerful Narragansett, Massasoit saw an opportunity to form a strategic partnership with these new settlers. For a while, things seemed to work out. The Pilgrims and the Wampanoag had a mutually beneficial relationship, trading goods and sharing knowledge. The Wampanoag helped the Pilgrims survive in a harsh new land, while the Pilgrims provided the tribe with European tools, and eventually weapons. There was a level of cautious cooperation, but it was always underpinned by a fragile sense of trust. But as more and more English settlers began to arrive, the dynamic shifted. The pressure on Native American lands increased, and disputes over resources and territory became more frequent. The Pilgrims and their descendants began to see the land as something to be claimed and cultivated, not something to share. This belief clashed with the Wampanoag's way of life, which saw land as communal and sacred, not something to be owned. The tipping point came decades later, culminating in one of the bloodiest conflicts in American history, King Philip's War, 1675-1678. Named after Metacomet, the son of Massasoit, who the English called King Philip, the war was a desperate struggle for Native American tribes to defend their land and way of life. Metacomet had watched as the English settlements grew, swallowing up territory and threatening his people's existence. He eventually led a coalition of tribes in a fierce resistance against the colonists. The war was brutal, marked by massacres, burned villages, and immense suffering on both sides. But the outcome was catastrophic for the Native American tribes. Many Wampanoag were killed, and those who survived were captured and sold into slavery or forced into servitude. The war shattered the power of the Native tribes in New England and paved the way for the near-total colonization of their lands. So, when we talk about the Pilgrims and Native Americans, we have to acknowledge this complexity. Yes, there were moments of genuine friendship and collaboration. But the long-term effects of colonization were devastating for the indigenous population. The Thanksgiving story we often hear glosses over the painful history that unfolded, where the initial peace and cooperation were replaced by conflict, displacement, and loss. After that famous 1621 gathering, Thanksgiving didn't instantly become an annual tradition. In fact, the Pilgrims themselves didn't celebrate another feast quite like it for years. The idea of setting aside a day to give thanks wasn't unheard of, but it was used sparingly and for different reasons. In those early days of the colonies, days of Thanksgiving were mostly religious observances. They were proclaimed in response to events like the end of a drought, a bountiful harvest, or even military victories. It was less about turkey and stuffing and more about fasting and prayer. Governors, ministers, and religious leaders in the colonies would issue proclamations asking people to spend the day reflecting, praying, and expressing their gratitude to God. New England in particular became known for observing these days of Thanksgiving, but the idea was still inconsistent and varied from year to year. As the colonies expanded and the population grew more diverse, so did the reasons for Thanksgiving celebrations. Different groups brought their own customs and interpretations, which added new layers to the holiday. By the time we got into the 18th century, the emphasis started to shift a bit. Feasting became more common, especially when the reason for giving thanks was a good harvest. People began to see Thanksgiving days as a time to come together as a community, but the deeply religious roots were still there. Here's where things start to get a little awkward. The stories and proclamations from this period often ignored the Native American contributions to the survival of the colonists. The narrative was framed in a way that highlighted divine providence and the colonists' hard work, while the help they received from tribes like the Wampanoag faded into the background. The focus was more on the perceived blessings and successes of the European settlers, rather than the complex and often strained relationships with the indigenous people. In some ways, this rewriting of history started early. As colonies grew more secure and prosperous, there was less inclination to acknowledge how they'd gotten there. Instead, Thanksgiving evolved into a symbol of American resilience, with the backstory often polished to make it more palatable. The complexities of colonization, the land disputes, broken treaties, and violence were conveniently swept aside in favor of a story that emphasized gratitude and abundance. This selective memory would set the stage for Thanksgiving to become more of a national identity symbol in the years to come. But before it got there, it needed a strong advocate to push for the holiday's unification and standardization. Enter Sarah Josepha Hale, the determined woman who would change everything and give us the Thanksgiving we know today. Let's talk about Sarah Josepha Hale, the woman who essentially became Thanksgiving's biggest cheerleader. Now, you may not recognize her name immediately, but she was quite the influential figure in her day. Aside from being a writer and the editor of Godey's Ladies Book, a wildly popular women's magazine in the 19th century, she was also the author of Mary Had a Little Lamb. Yeah, that Mary. Hale had a vision for Thanksgiving, and she wasn't going to let it go. In the early 1800s, Thanksgiving was still mainly a New England thing, celebrated inconsistently across the United States. Hale believed that a national Thanksgiving holiday could bring the country together, especially during times of division. To her, it was more than just a day of feasting. It was about promoting unity, family, and gratitude. Given how fractured the country had become in the years leading up to the Civil War, it's not hard to see why she thought this was important. Starting in 1846, Hale embarked on a tireless campaign to make Thanksgiving a national holiday. She wrote countless letters to presidents, governors, and influential figures, arguing that a united day of thanks would benefit the entire nation. Year after year, she published editorials, recipes, and ideas for how families should celebrate the holiday. Her vision of Thanksgiving was a warm, domestic affair, filled with roasted meats, seasonal vegetables, and pies, all shared around a family table. But there was a glaring omission in her campaign. She rarely, if ever, mentioned the contributions of Native Americans or the complexities of the original Thanksgiving story. Still, Hale's persistence paid off. By the time Abraham Lincoln was in office, she had gained enough momentum that people were taking notice. In the fall of 1863, amid the Civil War, Hale finally found success. She managed to persuade Lincoln to issue a proclamation declaring Thanksgiving a national holiday, to be celebrated on the last Thursday of November. Lincoln hoped that a day of gratitude and reflection could provide some comfort to a nation ravaged by conflict. And just like that, Thanksgiving was no longer a regional tradition, but a unifying holiday for all Americans. The irony, of course, is that Thanksgiving's roots in the complicated and often painful interactions between Native Americans and European settlers were mostly ignored in this new, idealized version of the holiday. Hale's focus was on family and the American spirit, not the historical realities that made the feast possible in the first place. But give Hale some credit, her vision of Thanksgiving is the one that still resonates today. The cozy gatherings, the emphasis on family, and the idea of setting aside a day to appreciate what we have. That all started with her relentless campaign. Sure, it left out some crucial history, but it did give Americans a reason to pause, reflect, and come together, even in times of deep division. Hey everyone, just a quick intermission here. I wanted to say thank you for watching this video. It really means a lot to me. Did you know that over 80% of you who are watching right now aren't subscribed to the channel? If you've enjoyed this content so far, it would be incredible if you could hit that subscribe button. It's a small gesture, but it really helped the channel grow and ensures that you won't miss any more of our fascinating stories we explored together. Also, if you're feeling generous, please give this video a thumbs up, leave a comment, and share with anyone else who may enjoy it. Your support really does make a difference and keeps the content coming. Thanks again, and let's get back to the story. With Abraham Lincoln's proclamation in 1863, Thanksgiving officially became a national holiday, but it still took some time to settle into the familiar celebration we know today. Lincoln had declared the holiday as a gesture of unity during the Civil War, hoping that it would bring some sense of togetherness to a country literally tearing itself apart. But the war dragged on, and even after it ended, the healing process was far from smooth. Thanksgiving became one of the few things people from the North and South could agree on, something that helped bridge the deep divides left by the conflict. Despite Lincoln's proclamation, Thanksgiving wasn't immediately consistent across the country. Each state still had its own way of celebrating, and some people just didn't feel the holiday yet. It took decades for Thanksgiving to really become embedded in American culture. Part of this was due to how families celebrated, by sitting down to elaborate dinners that included dishes like turkey, mashed potatoes, and pies. These meals were often modeled after the hearty New England-style feasts that Sarah Josepha Hale had championed, even though she had idealized and modernized the original menu. Fast forward to the 20th century, and Thanksgiving started taking on a more unified, almost formulaic feel. By the early 1900s, Thanksgiving had become about more than just family dinners. It was also about parades, football games, and yes, even the commercialization of the holiday. The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York City began in 1924, quickly becoming a national spectacle. The holiday also became closely tied to football, with college and professional games drawing huge crowds, and becoming a Thanksgiving tradition in their own right. But then came the Great Depression in the 1930s. As the economy spiraled, President Franklin D. Roosevelt thought he could use Thanksgiving to help boost retail sales. In 1939, he controversially moved the holiday up by a week, hoping to extend the holiday shopping season. This decision sparked outrage. People called it, Franksgiving, and the country was so divided over it, that some states stuck to the original date, while others followed Roosevelt's new plan. It wasn't until 1941 that Congress finally settled the matter, passing a law that fixed Thanksgiving on the fourth Thursday of November, where it remains today. Throughout this evolution, the story of the Pilgrims and the Wampanoag people was sanitized and romanticized even further. Schoolchildren learned simplified, feel-good versions of the first Thanksgiving, complete with construction paper pilgrim hats and feathered headbands. The reality that the Wampanoag people's kindness was met with eventual betrayal and devastating loss, was often omitted from the narrative. The holiday, for most Americans, became a symbol of abundance and gratitude. But it also served as a tool to reinforce a national identity that downplayed the darker sides of America's founding. At the same time, Thanksgiving grew into a celebration that people from all walks of life embraced. Immigrant communities added their own foods and traditions, making the holiday a unique blend of American cultures. It became a day where, at least ideally, people could set aside differences and come together around the dinner table, even if the history behind it was a bit more complicated than what most school textbooks would have you believe. Now here's where Thanksgiving takes a more reflective and sobering turn. While many of us think of Thanksgiving as a day of food, family and feeling grateful, it's a painful reminder for many Native Americans of what was lost in the wake of European colonization. The arrival of the Pilgrims and the stories that followed are often celebrated as a moment of cultural exchange and cooperation. But for Native American communities, that period marked the beginning of centuries of displacement, broken treaties, and cultural devastation. In 1970, Native American activists established the National Day of Mourning. It's observed each year on Thanksgiving Day in Plymouth, Massachusetts, right near the spot where the Pilgrims settled. The purpose is to remember and honor the millions of Native people who suffered and died as a result of European colonization. It's not about rejecting the idea of gratitude, but about acknowledging the full historical picture, one that includes loss, grief, and resilience. During the National Day of Mourning, hundreds of Native Americans and their allies gather on Coles Hill, overlooking Plymouth Rock. It's not just a time of mourning, but also a time to raise awareness about ongoing struggles faced by Indigenous communities. Speeches are made, prayers are offered, and moments of silence are observed for ancestors who endured unimaginable hardship. The event serves as a platform to talk about issues that Native communities still face today, like land rights, healthcare disparities, and cultural preservation. The contrast between the Thanksgiving celebrated in most American households and the National Day of Mourning couldn't be more striking. One focuses on abundance and gratitude, while the other highlights survival against overwhelming odds. And both perspectives are real and valid. Despite everything—the land taken, the people lost, and the cultural erasure— Native communities have kept their traditions, languages, and ways of life alive. It's a story of resilience that deserves as much recognition as the holiday itself. It's not about guilt or feeling bad for celebrating Thanksgiving. It's about recognizing that the story isn't as simple as we were taught in school. The Pilgrims didn't just share a friendly meal with the Wampanoag and go on to live happily ever after. The Wampanoag people, who once numbered in the tens of thousands, saw their population decimated by disease, violence, and loss of land. The first Thanksgiving may have been a brief moment of peace, but it was followed by years of hardship for Native tribes. Thanksgiving today is a far cry from what it was in the 17th century. What started as a survival-based harvest feast has evolved into one of the most widely celebrated holidays in the United States. It's a day where most of us gather around dining tables filled with turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and pies of every flavor imaginable. And while the menu has become pretty standardized over the years, the ways people celebrate Thanksgiving have continued to evolve and reflect the diversity of American culture. Football has also cemented itself as a Thanksgiving staple. The NFL's Thanksgiving Day games draw massive viewership, and whether your team wins or loses, it's all part of the day's experience. Friends and families huddle around screens, cheering or groaning in unison, and for many, this is just as essential as the meal itself. It's a day where sports rivalries play out alongside old family debates over who gets the last piece of pumpkin pie. But what about the not-so-fun part of Thanksgiving? The pressure and stress. For the person cooking, it can feel like a marathon, juggling a dozen dishes and trying to time everything perfectly. Thanksgiving isn't always a picture-perfect scene out of a Norman Rockwell painting. There are family arguments over cooked turkeys, and the chaos of trying to keep little ones entertained while food is being prepared. Yet, in the end, it's these imperfect moments that become part of the memories. Now, let's talk about the other side of Thanksgiving. Black Friday. This bizarre and often hilarious retail phenomenon has become almost inseparable from the holiday weekend. Once Thanksgiving dinner is over and the dishes are barely dry, some people shift gears entirely, ready to hunt for the best bargains. Stores open at ridiculous hours, or in some cases on Thanksgiving night itself, and shoppers line up outside, braving freezing temperatures just to snag a deal. The lengths people go to for Black Friday deals are nothing short of epic, and honestly, a little unhinged. Some die-hard shoppers camp out days in advance, armed with tents, portable heaters, and enough snacks to survive a mini-apocalypse. And when those doors open, it's a frenzy. People have been known to push, shove, and even sprint down aisles, all for a shot at a heavily-discounted flat-screen TV. You'd think they were competing in some kind of high-stakes, full-contact sport. And let's be real, the stories and videos that come out of Black Friday are wild. We've all seen those clips of people wrestling over the last discounted air fryer, or the person who dives into a sea of shoppers, like they're auditioning for a wrestling match. It's like witnessing a stampede, but instead of wild animals, it's a horde of humans in sweatpants, ready to fight for a $10 toaster. The irony, of course, is how quickly the vibe shifts. One moment, people are gathered around a table, sharing heartfelt expressions of gratitude. The next, they're elbowing strangers out of the way for a doorbuster deal. But hey, if wrestling for half-price electronics is your post-Turkey cardio, more power to you. And for those who prefer to avoid the chaos, Cyber Monday has become a more civilized alternative. You can browse deals from the comfort of your home, wearing pajamas, with no need to throw elbows or camp out in a parking lot. It's a sign of the times, but it does make you wonder about the whole concept of gratitude, and how quickly it turns into a quest for more stuff. Despite the absurdity, there's something undeniably American about the whole Black Friday phenomenon. It's equal parts ridiculous and entertaining, and for many, it's become a family tradition in its own right. So whether you're watching the parade, cheering on your favorite football team, or dodging elbows for a bargain, Thanksgiving weekend has something for everyone. And while we can laugh at the shopping madness, the core of the holiday remains the same. Food, family, and a whole lot of memories, both the heartwarming and the hilariously chaotic kind.