Thanksgiving or Indigenous Peoples Day? Challenging Traditions with Candido Cornejo

It’s Thanksgiving, and it’s such a charged holiday. From its colonial history to the countless table settings, the cup of opinions about Turkey Day runneth over. So, I thought, who better to talk to than Candido Cornejo?

She is a proud member of the Tlaxcalteca people of southern Mexico and of the Nahua people of El Salvador. She is one of the first trans and two-spirit individuals to sit on the CSA board of directors. And I had the privilege of chatting with her on the phone this week about her direct relationship with Thanksgiving as an indigenous resident of Los Angeles.

Andrew Tamarkin: When you hear the word Thanksgiving, what do you think of?

Candido Cornejo: Thanksgiving honestly represents a tremendous amount of sadness.

It’s a bit complex. I grew up celebrating what we thought was Thanksgiving. I think that my parents were just trying to do the thing here that they do in America—get together and make a turkey and have a family gathering. How my parents put it, we’re giving thanks that we’re here. We’re giving thanks that we’re alive. We’re giving thanks that we’re here as a family. And then you learn in school that, oh, you know, the Pilgrims were hungry and cold, and that the Native Americans helped them, and they all had a feast together and gave each other things.

And that is not historically accurate. That is not what happened.

A lot of [my] knowledge of the Tlaxcalteca and Nahua people has been lost in family, and so I have been reconnecting with the Native communities that are local here in Southern California. I have uncovered a lot of truths that are very, very, very hurtful. It’s been a very interesting shift on Thanksgiving for myself and my family.

AT: So what I’m hearing is that you still celebrate Thanksgiving with your family.

CC: My family still celebrates Thanksgiving. I have relatives here who invite the family over and they’ll do the dinner and everything. But these are relatives that I have in the United States.

AT: Do you think you can separate the history from the modern day ‘big dinner on Thursday’ with family?

CC: I personally cannot. You cannot come together and celebrate a holiday that was specifically established on the annihilation of our people. Basically, the way that it works for me and my family, it’s a day of remembrance for us. It’s a day to remember and to honor our people that were eradicated and to honor our relatives who are here locally—you know, our neighbors.

AT: Yeah, it should be a day of vigilance. It should be a day of mourning, like Holocaust Remembrance Day or other days on the calendar where we remember how people were massacred. It’s strange that on this day we celebrate with food and drinks.

CC: Right. Some of my closest friends who are native: we pray on this day. There are names of elders who we have lost that we remember, and we tell their stories. A lot of my culture was lost, for my people in southern Mexico and El Salvador, and I think that there’s a beauty behind trying to rediscover where I come from and who my people are. During this holiday, I dedicate some time for that as well.

AT: What a journey. Growing up in Oregon, learning about “history” and then uncovering that that history affected your ancestors directly. You had to come to terms with the truth that you hadn’t been exposed to for so long.

CC: Oh, 100%. But that’s what happens in this country, right? The attempt to erase our history has existed for so long. People would rather ignore it because it’s easier, right? We’ve known about the boarding schools. We’ve known you cannot speak your native language in these schools. The disappearance of many Native and First Nations children. Why do you think we’re so loud about it?

We continue telling our stories because nobody else is going to talk about it. We will always be the truth-speakers. And this “holiday” is a reminder.

AT: So, of course, we can’t go back in history. We can learn from it. What does justice look like for you?

CC: For me, justice is in the form of action. It’s when people are being held accountable. And that’s the problem, that there is no recognition, there is no acknowledgment.

Sacheen Littlefeather, for example, was booed from the Oscars, from the Academy, when she rejected Marlon Brando’s award on behalf of Native Americans. She had big people that publicly denounced her and blacklisted her, and she basically didn’t work in Hollywood again. 50 years later, two years ago, the Academy gave a formal apology to her. She accepted the apology. But can the damage that was done to her specifically be erased? Her career was taken away from her. But at least she was able to have some sort of peace of mind before she passed—because she passed away shortly after.

[When she accepted the apology, Sacheen Littlefeather] said: ‘all Native and First Nations people please stand.’  And she said: ‘remember that you are warriors and that you are survivors, and you will survive whatever is to come.’

AT: That’s beautiful.

CC: I think, for me: how can I continue exposing truth? How can I help in this fight? How can I try to take this information and give it to people outside of these communities so they can have s an understanding of what these experiences are like?

AT: All those questions you are asking yourself: you yourself are taking action on. You’re casting and creating space in Hollywood for the stories of your peoples and all the different identities that you embody.

CC: I think I’m realizing that I have some contribution to the fight. I’ve always been big on diversity. I’ve always been on inclusivity and advocacy. But I didn’t realize that I had some power to create some change.  There’s only so much that we can do by ourselves, but at least I can share some of the things that I have witnessed and seen.

[I] show up in a room and say, ‘I am indigenous, I am trans, I am two-spirit, whatever it is you’re dismissing, it does directly affect me.’ I was invited to be part of a committee to talk about National Coming Out Day, and a lot of these people were saying, ‘Oh, well it doesn’t really matter. We’re all here. We’re gay. We’re out.’ And I was like, ‘Wait a minute, I’m trans. I just came out as a trans woman. And it was difficult for me, because a lot of you told me that I couldn’t come out because I wouldn’t work again.’ So, to me, it’s still a big thing.

AT: I feel like we’re our strongest when we’re our most diverse. In the United States of America, we should have roundtables with people from every corner of the world. And the fact that we have to fight for that just feels a bit un-American. And to not have Indigenous people present is insanely un-American.

CC: It literally is! Like, this is our land. We’re specifically on the land of the Tongva, of the Gabrielinos. I think you’re right, we’re stronger when we come together, but we are even stronger when other communities come to help you. Because we can’t just be in an echo chamber neither, right? If a Latino thing is happening, and only Latinos show up, that’s great, but who are we educating here?

When we show up and support another community, that is powerful. Because we are supporting somebody that is often not being heard. I hope that people do the same thing for our Native, First Nations, and Indigenous people, because they are often the people that people do not speak about.

On this Thanksgiving holiday, take some time to learn about—wherever you are in the country—your local tribes, and perhaps the best thing you could do is donate to a local Native charity—to the American Indian College Fund, to the Native American Rights Fund, to Indigenous Pride L.A., to your local tribes. It’s something you can do.

Don’t forget the original people of this land.