Turkey Genocide

Progress is the real usher of change. Often overlooked, how much can one really count that in? With the holidays upon us some of the consequences of community are starting to emerge vividly. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about community recently. What is it actually and what does it mean to accept whole people… Even the concept of a “whole person” kinda makes me cringe. It implies there’s a scale of completeness dictated by social acceptability further layered through my faulty lens. The multitude of person is a concept I occasionally slip within the context of daily life, and I admit it’s difficult to step back from the cyclical patterns of my personal existence. To get over oneself if you will, a luxury to even ponder upon I recognize.  

This isn’t a rally to Kumbaya just a few questions I can’t seem to shake.

What does community cost? 

How much does individuality matter if there’s no one around to witness it? How much does community actually flourish without individuality? 

How does one accept the entirety of a person? With that, I wonder how does one enjoy a person for who they are without worry of how they fit into life? Because do they have to fit into life? Can’t they just exist? How does one find symbiosis with an individual who doesn’t not fit into personal preference? 

How does one recon with community if the social contract is broken? What even is the social contract anymore? Is it just a principle which to yield upon others as if to eradicate difference?

Does performance trump progress? 

False harmony, a soundtrack to consumerism upholding hollow gratitude. A party bummer indeed.

As I find myself reaching for comforts in the ever uncertainty looming amongst this society, I can’t help but see the irony. The we of it all. The intense urge to surround oneself with ease sprouting out of the cracks commercial concrete rather than the fire of change.

I yearn for community and find myself fraught from the realities as real community is often inconvenience, uncomfortable and unyielding at times. To separate me from the cushion would be similar to stepping upon a front line, a preposterous notion I can’t help but mock. Irksome and true at that. See, I can’t help but shake that sometimes community means yielding to the acceptability of others’ standards. 

Thanksgiving is a clear example. The principle of thankfulness exerted loudly on a annual intemperate celebration. As if to note, this society won’t show gratitude unless scheduled. Layer the fanciful fabrication of thankfulness, only in existence to shroud the participation of genocide from settlers upon Native American peoples, with the fiscal requirements of capitalism and the falsehood becomes unbearable. The dichotomy of dutifully celebrating performed thankfulness while systematically blinding the eye to real time oppression really dampers the willingness on my end. All that and a grocery list. Woof.

All this to ramble and still no answers. All I can say is that performed existence is weird and I’m unsure there’s a corner to evade in. Happy Genocide day. I’m glad y’all moved on from killing people to turkeys even though I’m sad ya’ll killing turkeys in exponential numbers. I’m picking my battles.

FoodPunk