Dispossessing people of their land or property and colonization are never an act of peace but can only be achieved through aggression and coercion. For the Indigenous Peoples of America and the Caribbean who showed a lot of resistance to guard and keep what nature bestowed on them, and who were killed in the process, dispossessing them of their land is an act of war. In his book, War is a force that gives us meaning, Hedges (2014) opines that war “dominates culture, distorts memory, corrupts language, and infects everything around it … War exposes the capacity for evil that lurks not far below the surface within all of us. And this is why for many, war is so hard to discuss once it is over” (p. 3). This means that the historical memory and traumatic experiences of the Indigenous Peoples of America and the Caribbean were hijacked, suppressed, and sent into oblivion until recently because the perpetrators did not want such traumatic historical memory to be transmitted.

The Indigenous Peoples movement to replace the Columbus monument with a monument representing Indigenous Peoples, and their demand to replace Columbus Day with Indigenous Peoples Day, are indicative that the oral history of the victims is gradually becoming articulated to shed light on the traumatic and painful experiences they endured for hundreds of years. But for the perpetrators who control the narrative, Hedges (2014) affirms: “while we venerate and mourn our own dead we are curiously indifferent about those we kill” (p. 14). As noted above, the Italian Americans built and installed the Columbus monument as well as lobbied for Columbus Day in order to celebrate their heritage and contributions to the American history. However, since the atrocities committed against the Indigenous Peoples of America and the Caribbean during and after the arrival of Columbus in the Americas have not yet been publicly addressed and acknowledged, does the celebration of Columbus with his elevated monument in the most diverse city of the world not perpetuate indifference to and denial of the painful memory of the Indigenous Peoples of this land? Also, has there been a public reparation or restitution for slavery which is associated with the arrival of Columbus to the Americas? A one-sided celebration or education of historical memory is very suspicious.

For centuries, our educators have simply regurgitated a one-sided narrative about the arrival of Christopher Columbus to the Americas – that is, the narrative of those in power. This Eurocentric narrative about Columbus and his adventures in the Americas has been taught in schools, written in books, discussed in the public spheres, and utilized for public policy making decisions without a critical examination and questioning of its validity and truthfulness. It became part of our national history and was not contested. Ask a first-grade elementary school student who was the first person to discover America, and s/he will tell you it is Christopher Columbus. The question is: did Christopher Columbus discover America or America discovered him? In “Context is Everything: The Nature of Memory,” Engel (1999) discusses the concept of contested memory. The challenge associated with memory is not just how to remember and transmit that which is remembered, but in large measure, it is whether that which is transmitted or shared with others – that is, whether one’s story or narrative – is contested or not; whether it is accepted as true or rejected as false. Can we still hold on to the narrative that Christopher Columbus was the first person to discover America even in the 21^st century? What about those natives who were already living in America? Does it mean they did not know they were living in America? Did they not know where they were? Or are they not considered to be human enough to know they were in America?

A detailed and in-depth study of the oral and written history of the Indigenous Peoples of America and the Caribbean confirms that these indigenes had a well-developed culture and ways of living and communicating. Their traumatic experiences of Columbus and post-Columbus invaders are transmitted from generation to generation. This means that within the Indigenous Peoples’ groups as well as other minorities, much is remembered and transmitted. As Engel (1999) affirms, “each memory rests, in some way or another, on the internal experience of recollection. Much of the time these internal representations are surprisingly accurate and provide us with rich sources of information” (p. 3). The challenge is to know whose “internal representation” or recollection is accurate. Should we continue to accept the status quo – the old, dominant narrative about Columbus and his heroism? Or should we now turn the page and see the reality through the eyes of those whose lands were coercively taken and whose ancestors suffered both human and cultural genocide in the hands of Columbus and his likes? To my own assessment, the presence of the Columbus monument in the heart of Manhattan in New York City has woken the sleeping dog up to bark. We can now listen to a different narrative or story about Christopher Columbus from the perspective of those whose ancestors experienced him and his successors – the Indigenous Peoples of America and the Caribbean.

To understand why the Indigenous Peoples of America and the Caribbean are advocating for the removal of the Columbus monument and Columbus Day and their replacement with the Indigenous Peoples Monument and Indigenous Peoples Day, one has to reexamine the concepts of collective trauma and mourning. In his book, Bloodlines. From ethnic pride to ethnic terrorism, Volkan, (1997) proposes the theory of chosen trauma which is linked to unresolved mourning. Chosen trauma according to Volkan (1997) describes “the collective memory of a calamity that once befell a group’s ancestors. It is … more than a simple recollection; it is a shared mental representation of the events, which includes realistic information, fantasized expectations, intense feelings, and defenses against unacceptable thoughts” (p. 48). Merely discerning the term, chosen trauma, suggests that group members like the Indigenous Peoples of America and the Caribbean or African Americans willingly chose the traumatic experiences they suffered in the hands of European explorers like Christopher Columbus. If this were the case, then I would have disagreed with the author since we do not choose for ourselves those traumatic experiences directed at us either through natural disaster or man-made disaster. But the concept of chosen trauma as explained by the author “reflects a large group‘s unconsciously defining its identity by the transgenerational transmission of injured selves infused with the memory of the ancestor’s trauma” (p. 48).

Our response to traumatic experiences is spontaneous and for the most part, unconscious. Often, we respond by mourning, and Volkan (1997) identifies two types of mourning – crisis grief which is the sadness or pain we feel, and work of mourning which is a deeper process of making sense of what happened to us – our historical memory. Mourning time is a healing time, and the healing process takes time. However, complications during this time may reopen the wound. The presence of the Columbus monument in the heart of Manhattan, New York City and in other cities across the United States as well as the annual celebration of Columbus Day reopen the wounds and injuries, painful and traumatic experiences inflicted on the Natives/Indians and African slaves by the European invaders in the Americas led by Christopher Columbus. To facilitate the collective healing process of the Indigenous Peoples of America and the Caribbean, it is demanded that the Columbus monument be removed and replaced with the Indigenous Peoples Monument; and that Columbus Day be replaced with Indigenous Peoples Day.

As Volkan (1997) notes, the initial collective mourning involves some rituals – cultural or religious – in order to make sense of what has happened to the group. One way to positively mourn collectively is by memorialization through what Volkan (1997) calls linking objects. Linking objects help in relieving the memories. Volkan (1997) holds that “building monuments after drastic collective losses has its own special place in societal mourning; such actions are almost a psychological necessity” (p. 40). Either through these memorials or oral history, the memory of what happened is transmitted to future generation. “Because the traumatized self-images passed down by members of the group all refer to the same calamity, they become part of the group identity, an ethnic marker on the canvas of the ethnic tent” (Volkan, 1997, p. 45). In Volkan’s (1997) view, “the memory of the past trauma remains dormant for several generations, kept within the psychological DNA of the members of the group and silently acknowledged within the culture – in literature and art, for example – but it reemerges powerfully only under certain conditions” (p. 47).  The American Indians/Native Americans for example will not forget the destruction of their ancestors, cultures, and forceful seizure of their lands. Any linking object such as the monument or statue of Christopher Columbus will trigger their collective memory of both human and cultural genocide in the hands of the European invaders. This may cause intergenerational trauma or post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Replacing the Columbus monument with the Indigenous Peoples Monument on the one hand and replacing Columbus Day with Indigenous Peoples Day on the other, will not only help in telling the true story about what happened; most importantly, such sincere and symbolic gestures will serve as the beginning of reparation, collective mourning and healing, forgiveness, and constructive public dialogue.

If the group members with a shared memory of calamity are unable to overcome their sense of powerlessness and build self-esteem, then they will remain within the state of victimhood and powerlessness. To deal with collective trauma, therefore, there is need for a process and practice of what Volkan (1997) calls enveloping and externalizing. Traumatized groups need to “envelop their traumatized (imprisoned) self-representations (images) and externalize and control them outside of themselves” (p. 42). The best way to do this is through public memorials, monuments, other sites of historical memory and engaging in public conversations about them without being timid. Commissioning Indigenous Peoples Monument and celebrating Indigenous Peoples Day annually will help the Indigenous Peoples of America and the Caribbean externalize their collective trauma instead of internalizing them each time they see the Columbus monument standing tall in the heart of the American cities.

If the demand of the Indigenous Peoples of America and the Caribbean could be explained by an appeal to Volkan’s (1997) theory of chosen trauma, how could the European explorers represented by Christopher Columbus whose monument and legacy are passionately guarded by the Italian American community be understood? In chapter five of his book, Bloodlines. From ethnic pride to ethnic terrorism, Volkan, (1997) explores the theory of “chosen glory – we-ness: identification and shared reservoirs.” The theory of “chosen glory” as opined by Volkan (1997) explains “the mental representation of a historical event that induces feelings of success and triumph” [and that] “can bring members of a large group together” (p. 81). For the Italian Americans, the voyages of Christopher Columbus to the Americas with all that came with it is a heroic act for which the Italian Americans should be proud of. At the time of Christopher Columbus just as it was when the Columbus monument was commissioned at Columbus Circle in New York City, Christopher Columbus was a symbol of honor, heroism, triumph, and success as well as an epitome of the American story. But the revelations of his actions in the Americas by the descendants of those who experienced him have portrayed Columbus as a symbol of genocide and dehumanization. According to Volkan (1997), “Some events that may at first seem triumphs are later seen as humiliating. Nazi Germany’s ‘triumphs,’ for instance, were perceived as criminal by most of the succeeding generations of Germans” (p. 82).

But, has there been a collective condemnation within the Italian American community – the custodians of the Columbus Day and monument – for the ways Columbus and his successors treated the Natives/Indians in the Americas? It appears that the Italian Americans created the Columbus monument not just to preserve the legacy of Columbus but most importantly to elevate their own identity status within the larger American society as well as to use it as a way to fully integrate themselves and claim their place within the American story. Volkan (1997) explains it well by saying that “chosen glories are reactivated as a way to bolster a group’s self-esteem. Like chosen traumas, they become heavily mythologized over time” (p. 82). This is exactly the case with the Columbus monument and Columbus Day.