How My Parents Lied to Me About Pocahontas

Most people learn their history and fairytales from Disney.  I know I did, but unfortunately Disney doesn't always add the details in that makes the stories actually factual.  That is why my parents were able to get away with a devastating lie--the lie about Pocahontas.



My parents and I were walking in some random forest in the middle of Oregon, complete with big trees and park rangers.  My parents then told me that this was where Pocahontas lived.

Shocked small child face.

I immediately went on a search for Grandmother Willow, Meeko, that annoying little hummingbird, and the ab-tastic Kokoum.

Mesmerizing thoughts about Native amazingness.

I imagined myself on the hunt, looking far and wide in my authentic canoe for my new best friends.  Would I let the white invaders come?  No.  I would shank them with my oar, successfully stopping the colonization of the Americas.

   

And if John Smith came in search for my stash of Luckycharms gold, I would've let Kocoum beat his ass in.

But, I went home dejectedly, never finding Grandmother Willow and my posse of animal friends humming along to tunes of river bends and wind.

A couple years later when teachers finally decided that we were competent enough to know about how white settlers fucked over Indians, I learned the truth.

Pocahontas was from Virginia!  Damn it!  I spent a whole half of an afternoon in search of magical Disney friendship complete with berries, corn, and cool tattoos!

My parents lied to me.  Pocahontas didn't live in Oregon.  She probably knew as much about Oregon as inner-city New Yorkers do-- zilch, nada... the Orygun Trail?  No.

-K