Revisiting Columbus Day: The Mythology of Whiteness in American History

Indigenous Peoples’ Day, observed alongside the federal Columbus Day holiday this Monday, continues to spark discussions about the complex legacy of European colonization in the Americas. As the national conversation evolves, historians and cultural critics are reassessing Christopher Columbus’s place in American mythology.

The traditional narrative portraying Columbus as the heroic discoverer of the Americas has been increasingly challenged. Historical records document that Columbus’s arrival in the Caribbean led to violence, enslavement, and exploitation of indigenous populations. What’s less examined, however, is why Columbus remains such a central figure in American identity despite numerous factual inconsistencies in his mythology.

Columbus was neither the first European to reach the Americas—Norse explorers arrived nearly 500 years earlier—nor did he even believe he had discovered a new continent. He died convinced he had reached Asia. Archaeological evidence suggests explorers from Africa, Rome, and possibly even Japan may have reached the Americas before Columbus.

The United States isn’t named after Columbus; America derives its name from Amerigo Vespucci. Columbus didn’t establish the first permanent European settlements in what would become the United States, nor was he English or Spanish—the colonial powers most associated with early American history.

Cultural historians argue that Columbus’s elevation in American mythology serves a specific purpose: his deification became a cornerstone in the construction of “whiteness” as a cultural concept in the Americas. The legacy of whiteness as a social construct can be traced to the arrival of European imperialists and their interactions with indigenous populations and, later, enslaved Africans.

“Whiteness is artificial; there is no ‘White Homeland,'” notes one cultural critic. “It was invented to justify a caste system.” This racial categorization evolved over time—initially including only English colonists, later expanding to French and Scottish settlers. Even Benjamin Franklin once considered Germanic peoples to be “swarthy” and outside proper “whiteness.”

The construction of this racial hierarchy directly connects to Columbus’s arrival, as it marks the beginning of European colonization that would transform the Americas through genocide, disease, and displacement of indigenous populations. What European settlers encountered wasn’t an empty wilderness but rather a post-apocalyptic landscape where advanced civilizations had been devastated by disease and violence.

Before European contact, dozens of indigenous nations existed across the Americas, many with sophisticated urban centers and trade networks stretching from Canada to Chile. Disease preceded direct colonization in many areas, with gunpowder weapons and steel technologies accelerating conquest.

The Columbus narrative serves as what scholars call a “keystone myth”—a story that, once questioned, causes other historical assumptions to unravel. This explains the fierce defense of Columbus’s legacy in some quarters, particularly among those opposed to curriculum reform in public education.

The movement to replace Columbus Day with Indigenous Peoples’ Day represents more than a symbolic gesture. It reflects a growing acknowledgment that reconciliation requires truth—an honest accounting of historical actions and their consequences that continue to shape American society.

Educational efforts surrounding these historical realities face significant political headwinds. Critics of revised historical narratives often label them as “revisionist history” or, more recently, as “woke”—terms that effectively shield traditional narratives from critical examination.

For many Americans, particularly those from indigenous communities and other marginalized groups, these historical reckonings aren’t abstract academic debates but necessary steps toward healing historical trauma. As one educator noted, “Black people and Native Americans don’t have the luxury of cognitive dissonance about this history—they know the truth about their past, even when it’s absent from mainstream education.”

As Americans continue navigating these complex historical waters, organizations like the Native American Rights Fund work to address ongoing legal and social justice issues facing indigenous communities—reminders that Columbus’s legacy isn’t merely historical but continues to shape contemporary American life.