Beyond the Myth: The Wampanoag’s True Thanksgiving Story
PLYMOUTH, MASSACHUSETTS – The image is iconic: Pilgrims in buckled hats and Native Americans, adorned in deerskin, gathered around a table laden with turkey, corn, and pumpkin pie, sharing a meal in harmonious gratitude. This cherished tableau, etched into the American consciousness, forms the bedrock of the Thanksgiving holiday. It’s a powerful narrative of peaceful coexistence, a moment of shared humanity in the harsh New World.
This popular rendition, however, masks a far more complex and often tragic history, one largely told from the perspective of the European settlers. For the Wampanoag Nation, the Indigenous people who greeted the Pilgrims, the story of Thanksgiving is not one of unqualified celebration, but a profound tale of survival, betrayal, and the enduring fight for their heritage.
For over 12,000 years before the arrival of the Mayflower in 1620, the Wampanoag – "People of the First Light" – thrived in southeastern Massachusetts and eastern Rhode Island. Their sophisticated society, organized into numerous villages and led by sachems (leaders), stretched across a vast territory. They were skilled farmers, cultivating corn, beans, and squash; expert fishermen and hunters; and meticulous stewards of the land and sea. Their culture was rich with oral traditions, spiritual practices, and a deep understanding of the natural world.
"Our ancestors lived in balance with the land and its resources," explains Paula Peters, a Mashpee Wampanoag tribal member and author. "They had a highly developed society, with trade networks and diplomatic relations with other tribes. This was not an empty wilderness waiting to be discovered; it was a vibrant, inhabited land."
A World in Flux: Disease and Diplomacy
The early 17th century, however, brought unimaginable devastation to the Wampanoag and other Indigenous peoples of the Northeast. European traders and explorers, preceding the Pilgrims, inadvertently introduced diseases like smallpox, leptospirosis, and other viral infections to which Native populations had no immunity. Between 1616 and 1619, a catastrophic epidemic, often referred to as "the Great Dying," decimated the Wampanoag, killing an estimated 75-90% of their population. Villages were emptied, social structures shattered, and their ability to defend themselves against rival tribes, particularly the powerful Narragansett to the west, was severely weakened.
It was into this profoundly altered landscape that the English Separatists, known as Pilgrims, stumbled ashore in November 1620, seeking religious freedom and a new life. They landed in Patuxet, a Wampanoag village recently depopulated by the plague. The winter that followed was brutal for the newcomers; nearly half of the 102 Pilgrims perished from disease and starvation. They were ill-prepared for the harsh climate and lacked the knowledge to sustain themselves.
Their survival hinged on the intervention of two remarkable Wampanoag individuals: Samoset, an Abenaki sagamore who had learned some English from fishermen, and Tisquantum, better known as Squanto. Squanto’s story is particularly harrowing and pivotal. He was kidnapped by an English explorer in 1614, taken to Europe, and sold into slavery. He learned English during his captivity and eventually made his way back to his homeland in 1619, only to find his entire village of Patuxet wiped out by the plague. His unique ability to bridge the linguistic and cultural divide made him an invaluable intermediary.
In March 1621, Squanto facilitated a meeting between the Pilgrims’ governor, John Carver, and the Wampanoag sachem, Ousamequin, known to the English as Massasoit. Massasoit, facing the weakened state of his people and the looming threat from the Narragansett, saw a strategic advantage in an alliance with the English, who possessed muskets and a potential willingness to trade.
"Massasoit entered into this treaty not out of charity, but out of necessity," says Ramona Peters (Mashpee Wampanoag), a historical interpreter. "He needed allies. He saw the English as potential trading partners and a military deterrent against his enemies."
The resulting treaty, signed on March 22, 1621, established a mutual defense pact and promised peaceful coexistence. It was an agreement born of pragmatism and desperation on both sides.
The 1621 Harvest: A Diplomatic Feast, Not a "Thanksgiving"
The "first Thanksgiving" as we know it took place in the autumn of 1621. After a successful harvest, the Pilgrims, following English tradition, held a celebratory feast. Accounts from Pilgrim chroniclers Edward Winslow and William Bradford describe a three-day event. Winslow wrote, "Many of the Indians came amongst us, and amongst the rest their greatest King Massasoit, with some ninety men, whom for three days we entertained and feasted."
It’s crucial to understand what this event wasn’t. It was not a religious "Thanksgiving" in the Puritan sense; those were days of prayer and fasting, not feasting. It was not a planned, joint celebration initiated by the Pilgrims to thank the Wampanoag. In fact, Massasoit and his men arrived uninvited, drawn by the sound of Pilgrim muskets being fired during their harvest celebration. Seeing a large contingent of Wampanoag warriors, the Pilgrims, initially alarmed, were soon reassured. Massasoit, demonstrating his goodwill and alliance, reportedly contributed five deer to the feast, providing much-needed sustenance to the Pilgrims’ fare of wild fowl and corn.
"The Wampanoag didn’t just show up for dinner; they came as diplomats," explains Dr. David J. Silverman, author of This Land Is Their Land: The Wampanoag Indians, Plymouth Colony, and the Troubled History of Thanksgiving. "It was a diplomatic council, a continuation of the treaty, reaffirming their alliance. The idea of them coming to be ‘thanked’ is a later invention."
The menu also differed vastly from modern Thanksgiving. There was no evidence of turkey as the centerpiece, nor mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, or pumpkin pie. The Wampanoag contribution of venison would have been significant, alongside Pilgrim provisions of wild fowl (ducks, geese, swans), cod, eel, and native plants.
For the Wampanoag, harvest celebrations were an annual tradition, a time of gratitude for the bounty of the earth. Their presence at the 1621 event was a testament to their power and generosity, and their continued willingness to uphold the fragile alliance.
The Erosion of Peace and the Dawn of Conflict
The initial peace, however, was tragically short-lived. As more English settlers arrived, their numbers swelling and their demand for land insatiable, the delicate balance began to tip. The Pilgrims, driven by religious zeal and a belief in their divine right to the land, increasingly encroached upon Wampanoag territories. They introduced new concepts of land ownership – individual plots, fences, and deeds – utterly alien to the Wampanoag communal understanding of land as something to be used and shared, not bought and sold.
The Wampanoag also suffered from continuing epidemics and the imposition of English laws and customs. English livestock trampled Wampanoag cornfields, and Indigenous people were increasingly subjected to colonial courts, often with biased outcomes.
Massasoit, despite his efforts, saw his people’s sovereignty eroding. Upon his death in 1661, his son Metacom, known to the English as King Philip, inherited a deeply troubled relationship. Metacom, witnessing the relentless expansion and the systematic dismantling of his people’s way of life, recognized the existential threat posed by the English. He attempted diplomacy, seeking to prevent further land sales and maintain Wampanoag autonomy. But colonial authorities saw his efforts as defiance.
"Metacom tried to find a peaceful solution, but the English wouldn’t listen," says Linda Coombs, a Wampanoag historian. "They wanted more and more, and they weren’t going to stop until they had it all."
The simmering tensions erupted into King Philip’s War (1675-1678), one of the bloodiest conflicts in American history. It was a desperate struggle for survival for the Wampanoag and their allies against the encroaching English. The war devastated Native communities, resulting in immense loss of life, the destruction of villages, and the forced displacement or enslavement of thousands of Indigenous people. Metacom was eventually hunted down and killed, his body dismembered, and his head displayed on a pike in Plymouth for decades as a warning.
The war effectively ended Indigenous power in southern New England, paving the way for unchecked colonial expansion.
Reclaiming the Narrative: The National Day of Mourning
The "Thanksgiving" holiday, as we know it today, was formalized much later. President Abraham Lincoln declared it a national holiday in 1863 during the Civil War, seeking to foster national unity and celebrate a shared, albeit sanitized, history. The Pilgrims-and-Indians narrative became a convenient myth, obscuring the violence, dispossession, and genocide that followed the initial encounter.
For the Wampanoag, Thanksgiving is not a day of celebration, but a National Day of Mourning. Since 1970, on every Thanksgiving Day, Native Americans and their allies have gathered on Cole’s Hill overlooking Plymouth Rock. This tradition began when Wampanoag elder Frank James was invited to speak at a state dinner celebrating the 350th anniversary of the Pilgrims’ landing. His planned speech, which detailed the Wampanoag perspective of colonization and betrayal, was deemed too radical by state officials, and he was disinvited.
Instead, James delivered his powerful speech on Cole’s Hill, stating, "We, the Wampanoag, and other Native Americans, do not celebrate the arrival of the Pilgrims. We mourn the beginning of a process that led to our decimation and the loss of our lands." This act of defiance sparked the annual Day of Mourning, a solemn remembrance of the struggles and sacrifices of Native peoples.
Today, the Wampanoag Nation, though greatly diminished, endures. They continue to fight for their sovereignty, protect their lands, and revitalize their language and culture. They also strive to educate the public about the true history of Thanksgiving, urging a deeper, more nuanced understanding of the past.
"Our story is not just about 1621," says Melissa Ferretti, Chairwoman of the Herring Pond Wampanoag Tribe. "It’s about resilience, survival, and our ongoing presence. We want people to understand the full story, not just the comfortable parts."
As families gather for Thanksgiving across America, the Wampanoag offer a vital reminder: history is complex, often painful, and rarely as simple as the stories we are taught. Embracing the full narrative – including the Wampanoag perspective – is not about erasing tradition, but enriching it with truth, fostering empathy, and paving the way for genuine reconciliation. It’s an invitation to reflect not only on gratitude but also on justice, remembrance, and the enduring legacy of a nation that has survived against all odds.
