Removing statues of Columbus, who was recognized in his time for his barbaric treatment and enslavement of the Taino people, should be the easy part; so should scrubbing Jackson’s name and face from America’s highways, campuses, and currency. A statue to Columbus bears no religious or spiritual meaning, and neither does a road sign for Jackson. They are often cheaply produced and hastily erected. They’re not complex reminders of a complex past: They’re glorifications.
Still, it’s never easy, of course. Once a place as anti-Indigenous and anti-Black as America declares these men legends and brands them in their history books, it is nearly impossible to convince a public systematically educated to ignore Native people that these figures were responsible for horrific, avoidable violence.
The typical response from cultural conservatives in the days following a toppled statue is cyclical at this point. After moving beyond, Our heritage!, they try to tie the offended party in a logical knot: If you remove Jackson and Columbus, who’s next? George Washington? Teddy Roosevelt? Abraham Lincoln? Surely you don’t agree with tearing down these complex men too?
Yes, actually.
There’s a joke in Rick & Morty that involves a character known as Abradolf Lincler, a mashup between Hitler and Lincoln. To the standard white American viewer, which is exactly the audience it was probably written for, the joke likely lands without a hiccup. Here is a character that combines the Ultimate Good Man with the Ultimate Bad Man; have a laugh, let’s move on. To a Native viewer—specifically, to citizens of the Dakota nations, Cheyenne and Arapaho Tribe, and Diné, Apache, and Pueblo nations—the joke likely lands a bit differently, given that Lincoln was America’s chief executive as its military forces massacred and enacted forced removal policies against these and other tribal nations. The same is true of Mount Rushmore, where President Trump will spend his Fourth of July watching fireworks pop and sparkle over Tȟuŋkášila Šákpe, one of Indian Country’s many desecrated sacred sites. This history is present in every remaining gaudy display honoring Teddy Roosevelt. It’s even the case for the hallowed Lincoln Memorial. All of these remembrances were designed to be partial—to remember the side of history that the U.S. wants to acknowledge. They are a physical embodiment of America’s desire for selective memory and serve as just as much of a cover for colonialism as “Andrew Jackson Highway” or the countless Columbus statues. And they, too, will eventually face their day of atonement.