07/03/2026
It would be easy to write this with anger. As I write these words, I find myself reminding my own heart of something important.
It would be easy to write with the weight of history resting heavily on my shoulders.
But I have learned that truth wrapped in kindness travels farther than truth wrapped in bitterness.
So I am choosing to write this not with a chip on my shoulder, but with hope in my heart.
Not to condemn. Not to divide. Not to make anyone feel guilty for celebrating.
Rather, to gently invite us all to remember a story that is far older than 250 years…
A story that began long before there was a nation called America.
A story of the First Peoples.
A story of this land.
I don’t write these words to diminish anyone’s celebration.
I write them because I believe our celebrations become more meaningful when they make room for the whole story
This year, America celebrates 250 years. There will be fireworks. There will be parades. There will be songs of freedom. But before the sky fills with celebration…
Pause. Listen.
Can you hear the heartbeat beneath this land?
Long before there was a United States… before there was a Declaration of Independence… before there were thirteen colonies… this land was already alive with thousands of Indigenous communities.
Nations flourished.
Governments existed.
Trade routes crossed mountains and deserts. Laws were honored.
Ceremonies carried wisdom from one generation to the next.
Children were taught that the Earth is not a possession, but a relative.
The rivers were not resources.They were life. The forests were not timber. They were teachers. The buffalo, the salmon, the corn, the eagle, the medicines of the Earth…
They were gifts.
For countless generations, the First Peoples cared for this land with knowledge refined through centuries of observation, relationship, and responsibility. Even some of the founders of this nation looked to Indigenous confederacies as examples of how independent nations could unite while preserving their own identities.
The story of America is richer because Indigenous ideas were part of the conversations that shaped it.
Yet when our children learn history, too often the first peoples of this land appear only in the opening chapters… Then disappear.
But we did not disappear.
We are still here.
Still speaking our languages.
Still singing our songs.
Still praying.
Still raising our children.
Still protecting sacred places.
Still carrying the memory of this land.
America’s story did not begin 250 years ago.
That is the story of a nation. The story of this land reaches back thousands upon thousands of years.
These are not competing stories.
They are one story.
A story that is stronger when every voice is heard.
Imagine a celebration where every child learns not only of liberty declared in 1776, but also of the ancient nations whose wisdom, resilience, and stewardship shaped this continent long before the birth of the United States.
Imagine beginning every celebration with gratitude to the First Peoples.
Imagine acknowledging the pain of history without allowing it to define our future.
Imagine a nation confident enough to tell the whole truth.
Not a history built on silence.
Not a history divided by politics.
A history made more complete by honesty.
The oldest roots do not weaken the tree.
They make it stronger.
As America marks 250 years, may we celebrate not only the birth of a nation, but also honor the enduring presence of the First Peoples whose footsteps have echoed across this land since time beyond memory.
The first fire still burns.
The first songs are still being sung.
The first caretakers are still here.
Perhaps the greatest gift America could give itself on its 250th anniversary…
is to finally remember the beginning.
-Shelley ❤️🙏🏽
