Dear Daily Disaster Diary, July 4 2025

 

This quote is devastating in its clarity—delivered by a war leader who actually defeated the U.S. Army in the 1860s during the Red Cloud's War, only to witness every treaty broken in the years that followed. 

An Open Letter to the Immigrated Americans
From the First Nations of This Land
July 4, 2025

To the Descendants of Colonizers, Settlers, and Occupiers Who Call Themselves “Patriots”:

We write to you not in celebration, but in mourning.

You gather beneath banners of red, white, and blue, lighting fireworks that mimic the cannon blasts that once tore through our ancestors’ bodies. You barbecue and cheer while standing on stolen land, drenched in the blood of genocide, pretending it was liberty that brought you here. But liberty was never yours to give. You didn’t liberate this land—you invaded it.

You call this the “Land of the Free.” But the bones of the original free people are buried beneath your shopping malls, oil pipelines, and gated communities. You wave your flags over mass graves and call it freedom. You sing your anthems over desecrated burial sites and call it pride. You celebrate independence—but whose? Certainly not ours.

Let’s be clear: You are not “native-born” Americans. You are descendants of immigrants—some fleeing persecution, others chasing wealth—but all arriving as uninvited guests who overstayed, overbred, and overreached. And when the treaties didn’t suit you, you broke them. When our languages, cultures, and governments stood in your way, you outlawed them. When our children resisted, you stole them. And you have the gall to chant “Go back where you came from”?

Very well. We’ll echo your own logic:
Kindly self-deport.

Return to your ancestral lands—whether they be in England, Germany, Ireland, Italy, Spain, Poland, or Scandinavia. Take your flags, your corporations, your borders, your bombs. Leave the rivers unpoisoned. Leave the forests intact. Leave the sky unchoked and the soil unfractured. Leave the graves you desecrated, and the people you tried to erase.

Don’t worry—we’ll survive. We always have. Long after your empire crumbles under the weight of its greed, its delusions, and its carbon-soaked contradictions, we’ll still be here, just like we were before your ships arrived—without your permission, without your gods, without your treaties.

You have made yourselves masters of erasure. You renamed Turtle Island to suit your own mythologies. You rewrote textbooks to turn murderers into founders. You made mascots out of our faces, Halloween costumes out of our spirits. And you wonder why the soul of this country feels haunted?

We do not seek to "coexist" on the terms you’ve dictated since 1492. We seek truth, justice, and the repatriation of what was never yours. If your Fourth of July truly celebrated freedom, you'd spend it dismantling the systems you built on our backs, not setting off fireworks over our graveyards.

So enjoy your parades, your hot dogs, your drunken nostalgia. Celebrate the birth of your empire, if that’s what you need. But know this: the land remembers. The rivers remember. And we are the land.

We’re still here.
And no, we’re not going anywhere.

But maybe you should.

—The Indigenous Peoples of the So-Called United States
Unceded, Unbroken, Unforgiven.