First off, let’s look at what Indigenous Day is supposed to be. Britannica describes it as a holiday observed on the second Monday of October in the U.S. It’s meant to honor Native communities, celebrate their rich cultures and contributions, and acknowledge the historical injustices they’ve faced while also affirming their rights and sovereignty. It was brought about mainly as a replacement for Columbus Day.
Personally, I don’t remember ever having this day off at school or even being told we were celebrating or commemorating anything during mid October. When speaking to friends from other Latin American countries they explained how they used to celebrate “Día de la raza” (Day of the “Races”) which has now been renamed to “Día de la Nación Pluricultural” (Day of the Pluricultural Nation) in México, “Día del Respeto a la Diversidad Cultural” (Day of Respect for Cultural Diversity) in Argentina and Uruguay, and “Día de la Resistencia Indígena” (Indigenous Resistance Day) in Nicaragua and Venezuela. However, they all stem from the same holiday: Columbus Day. The original “holiday” was implemented to remember the first contact between Europe and the Americas, while conveniently pretending like it wasn’t a bloody and horrendous conquest.
I, for one, want to stop pretending that Indigenous People’s Day is truly for Indigenous communities. Over time, it has blatantly become less about honoring natives and more about soothing guilty white consciences. It’s a day often reduced to performative allyship, full of reposting land acknowledgments or sharing quotes from Native activists, as if that’s somehow enough. But who is that really for? Because, if we’re being honest, most of these “activists” on social media aren’t actively showing up for Indigenous communities at all; they’re showing up for themselves. To feel better, to feel “aware”, to feel like they’re on the right side of history. And yet, right when the clock strikes midnight, Indigenous People’s Day ends, and so does their urgency. The Instagram stories disappear, the guilt fades, and the systems that continue to exploit Indigenous lands, culture, and people remain intact.
White guilt is loud on Indigenous People’s Day, but it’s quiet in classroom discussions and corporate emails. There’s a sudden rush to “honor” Native voices for just 24 hours, but where does that energy go for the rest of the year? Where is the outrage when Indigenous communities fight for clean water, land rights, or protection against violence and erasure? It’s easy to feel bad, it’s much harder to actually do something. However, most people would rather feel bad than be uncomfortable. They’d rather post a quote than challenge their family at the dinner table. They’d rather attend a shallow conference before questioning the institutions that exploit and violate Indigenous people; because it’s easier to say “We’re on stolen land” than to actually give any of it back.
Indigenous People’s Day wasn’t created to make white people feel better about themselves. It was born out of resistance, after centuries of genocide, displacement, and cultural erasure. It’s a day that demands truth, accountability, and action; but, instead, it’s been sanitized, repackaged into a feel-good moment of “diversity and inclusion.” Columbus Day was replaced with something that’s supposed to be radical, but we’ve stripped it of its teeth. We’ve turned it into a PR opportunity, a checkbox that says “we care” without actually caring.
The thing is: guilt is useless if it doesn’t lead to change. Feeling bad doesn’t help Indigenous communities. Taking action does, making reparations does, returning land does. Supporting Native sovereignty, amplifying Indigenous voices, and dismantling colonial systems, that’s what matters.
So, if you’re feeling guilty on Indigenous People’s Day, good. Sit with it, but don’t stop there. Ask yourself what you’re actually doing. Ask who benefits from your guilt, and then do something about it. Do something that makes you uncomfortable, because comfort is a privilege and Indigenous People’s Day was never meant to be comfortable for you.
It should be for Indigenous people, to honor their stories, their rights, their futures. Right now? It’s mostly for others to feel like they’re taking action and that’s simply not enough.