Essay on Why Christopher Columbus Should Not Be Celebrated

In the historic neighborhood of Santo Domingo, settled within the coast of the Dominican Republic is the oldest European settlement of the Americas known as the Colonial City (Ciudad Colonial). This is a historical attraction that encompasses 12 blocks of the city and receives tourists consistently. Within the center of the colonial zone lies a 19th century statue of Christopher Columbus, and at his feet stands Anacaona, a chief and warrior of the Taíno people, one of the many Indigenous tribes that belonged to the island. Anacaona was a figure of post-colonial resistance and agency, she fought against the oppression of her people and she rallied against the authorities of the Spanish slave traders and colonizers. Her strive for independence should serve as a trademark for the landscape of the city.

Through the lens of commemoration, this paper will be proposing a statue in honor of Anacaona for the human rights abuses and the atrocities, she and many Indigenous people endured at the hands of European colonizers who invaded the New World. This paper aims to commemorate Anacaona as a voice and visibility to the murdered and enslaved Indigenous people of island, while decommemorating the statue of Christopher Columbus in its place. The statue of Anacaona must serve as a national landmark that expresses the awareness of the genocide, sexual violence, discrimination, and colonization of the Taíno people. Her commemoration should receive higher respect and recognition as a sign of heroism, independence, decolonization, and reclamation of the nation. The intended audience for this initiative is the people of the Dominican Republic and the tourists who visit the Colonial City but are often misled by the history of the island of Hispaniola.

Decommemoration of Christopher Columbus in Santo, Domingo

No nation in the Americas can claim a closer relationship to Christopher Columbus than the Dominican Republic and Haiti. During his first voyage to the New World in 1492, Columbus landed on the mountainous Caribbean island of Hispaniola--home to the present-day nations of Haiti and the Dominican Republic-- where he established the first European settlement (Monagle & Hardy,1991). Four years later, Columbus founded the city of Santo Domingo, the capital of the Dominican Republic. From Santo Domingo, merchants, missionaries, and soldiers were commissioned to establish Spanish control over all of the New World (Monagle & Hardy,1991). In comparison to the rest of the Americas, the arrival of the Spanish caused an atrocity for the Indigenous people of Hispaniola. The island was inhabited by the Indigenous people before the Spanish arrived. Hispaniola consisted of several zones, each encompassing different tribes and with a king for each zone. Anacaona was the wife of one of those kings (Rodriguez, 2019, p.85). Of the 8 million Taíno people who inhabited the island, none were left alive 50 years after the Spanish conquest (Monagle & Hardy,1991).

In the Dominican Republic, the Spanish are remembered as ancestors rather than as colonizers (Johnson, 2003, p.80). The Spanish commemorated Columbus as a “Hispanic godfather” and a sacred hero, and his “savior complex” is widely known and exhibited in the Dominican Republic (Viala, 2014, p.2). As the process of the commemoration of Columbus became widely normative, the genocide of the Indigenous people became repressed from the collective memory of the island.

As a performative action, the issue arises when the commemoration of certain historical figures or events is commemorated based on racialized or political values that reflected that particular period (Light & Young, 2014, p.669). The commemoration of Columbus became normalized and it desensitized the new generations, as the meaning behind their statues and monuments became the norm of their nation (Johnson, 2003). People must consider how these decisions are often made by wealthy and political elites; they decide who should be accepted, respected, and commemorated. They instill significant values and beliefs that must be socially accepted by the public (Rodriguez, 2019). Through the process of toponymic cleansing, de-commemoration is valid as members of the public become self-aware and reject dominant ideologies through acts of resistance and political change. The decommemoration of the Columbus statue, would reconstruct a new ideology that reinforces a change in national identity, national history, and memory (Light & Young, 2014, p.682). Social movements are a way of redefining a nation’s identity as a whole. It can dismantle a collective memory that should not be ignored, but changed through the process of a ‘landscape cleansing’(Light & Young, 2014). For example, his commemoration is shown in three forms of memory: “submerged, residual, and eruptive” (Viala, 2014,p.8). The submerged memory is evident in the landscape of the island, this took shape in the form of cathedrals, a statue, and a mausoleum monument that represents Columbus and the Christianization of the Americas, as opposed to paying respect to the Indigenous people who fought for their independence (Johnson, 2003).

In relation, in 1992, following Spain’s initiative, Europe celebrated the 500th anniversary of Columbus’ explorations. This commemoration caused turmoil created a shock in Caribbean memory and led to the eruption of the submerged trauma of colonization among the people of Latin America (Viala, 2014, p.10). The anniversary reflected a commemoration that chose to forget a mass genocide that resulted in the violence, rape, and extermination of millions of Indigenous people. This ‘post-Columbus syndrome’ attempts to form a sense of ‘cultural nationalism’, in which memory is weakened by nationalism and creates a commemorative imagination that attempts to shield away from the atrocities committed by the ‘saviors’ (Viala, 2014,p.12). Public space is a platform for celebration and reinforcing resistance against atrocities. The commemoration of Columbus does not reinforce the island’s cultural, historical, and Indigenous identity (Viala, 2014, p.134). The commemorations that represent the oppression of the Taíno people are a political measure used by authorities to control and regulate a space that carries colonial ideologies (Azaryahu, 2011, p.28).

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Through symbolic retribution and “toponymic cleansing”, the decommemoration of Columbus serves as an important turn in uniting communities against the common oppressor(s) (Azaryahu, 2011). Its about taking the power back over their communities, land, or territory. It is the basis of using one’s voice to collectively combat against oppressive systems of power. The decommemoration of the monuments and statues of Columbus serves as a political statement and as a unifying stance against historical and current colonized ideologies (Johnson, 2003). For instance, the colonial city reflects much of this historical and colonial ideology that makes the area significant to the country’s history. The statue of Columbus and his ‘discovery’ of the new world was meant to project the image of a grand discovery to the rest of the world while masking the atrocities and traumas that are buried deep within the island (Viala, 2014,p.131). It's important to take into consideration how colonization and political discourse have played a role in normalizing a figure as heroic. The people of the Dominican Republic must be self-aware and voice the oppressive nature and colonial ideologies that have been deeply engraved on the island for generations.

Remembering Anacaona

In contrast, of the narrative and perspectives that emerged from Columbus’ voyages, “one of the most powerful is the story of the Taíno leader Anacaona” (Tracy, 2018, p.102).

The commemoration of Anacaona will instill remembrance of the atrocities that occurred on the island. Commemorating Anacaona will establish the island anew within a “wider, regional and inter-Caribbean perspective, such as that of resistance and independence” (Viala, 2014,p.8). This will transcend the repressive freedom and oppression that was once instilled into the nation. A statue of Anacaona in the center of the colonial city will serve as a reflection of cultural heritage, national identity, and political solidarity (Rodriguez, 2019, p.18). As a form of collective remembrance, proposing a statue unfolds the memories of the past and it encourages the discussion between urban space, human rights atrocities, public memory, and political power (Light & Young, 2014). This allows a nation to dismantle and reconsider historical figures, statues, and memorial sites that emerged from colonization, racial and political influence, or ideology (Light & Young, 2014). The statue of Anacaona is meant to initiate respect, give a voice to the voiceless, and provide a historical context to the colonization and extermination of the Indigenous people on the island. Born in 1474, Anacaona came from a line of respectable Taíno leaders, and after the death of her brother, she vowed to lead her people to resistance (Viala, 2014, p. 12). As the Spanish monarchy attempted to suppress the “blurring lines between the Indigenous and the Spanish”, the Taíno people were ambushed and mass murder took place (Rodriguez, 2019, p.19). In 1503, at the age of 29, Anacaona was arrested and hanged after Nicolas Ovando, a Spanish governor and one of Columbus’ successors, had suspicion that Anacaona and the Taíno people were planning a rebellion against the Spanish government (Rodriguez, 2019, p.20). This is a human rights atrocity that reflects the attack against a marginalized group(s) as they are perceived as a threat against authority, power, and colonial expansion.

In relation, Anacaona represents an identity that is “intimately connected to the culture and history of the Taíno people and the physical landscape and presence of Hispaniola” (Tracy, 2018, p.102). The Indigenous history of the Dominican Republic and Haiti is often lost because of different perspectives of the island; “the reality is that when the Spanish landed on the island, it was one island divided by provinces ruled by related Indigenous tribes that were conquered and eliminated” (Rodriguez, 2019,p.25). As monuments hold the root of memory, European narratives of conquest have hidden the stories of Indigenous people (Tracy, 2018, p.101). To challenge the narrative of Eurocentric histories that have negatively depicted Anacaona and the Taíno people, it's important to “commemorate and celebrate her courage and fight against the oppression of her people and other Indigenous tribes” (Tracy, 2018, p.116). As a symbol of heroism and resistance to the colonizers, the depiction of Anacaona at the feet of the Columbus statue in the colonial city portrays a submissive role; the opposite of her likeness in Haiti where her sculpture is presented as “standing alone and tall with a staff and large headdress; she is depicted as a queen and a warrior” (Rodriguez, 2019, p.30). While modern analyses of Anacaona rely heavily on historical Spanish texts, the representations of the Taíno culture are often contradictory to the representations of Anacaona and her people (Tracy, 2018, p.105). For example, she is presented as cooperative but also described as threatening; “her position as a female leader is often articulated as minor, because of her male relatives, but her final stand as the last independent Taíno leader on the island demonstrates the power she had as a leader in her own right” (Tracy, 2018, p.105).

In comparison to her leadership, Anacona’s courage is reflected in her ability to hunt and fight, as present historians pay homage to her militancy that is “not often credited in historical accounts or other modern representations” (Tracy, 2018, p.115). These binaries reveal the misrepresentation of Anacaona and the Taíno people. While her ‘cooperation’ is celebrated in historical texts, her death demonstrates her resistance to colonial authorities and it demonstrates her power as a female leader (Rodriguez, 2019). These modern historical accounts of Anacaona seem to erase the memory of her agency and they situates her about the histories of colonialism; “they ascribe value based on her interactions with the conquerors, positioning her as either cooperative or defiant” (Tracy, 2018, p.106-107). Collective memory can be explicitly gendered because in Western societies, women, as opposed to men, carry the heavy responsibility of “sanitizing or moralizing accounts of an experience” to silence the actions of some while engaging as part of the process of socialization (Johnson, 2003, p.76). In this perspective, the collective memory of the Taíno genocide reveals a violent past through the eyes of a powerful female leader, “in contrast to the traditional history, which focuses on the lives, actions, decisions, deaths, and wars of men” (Johnson, 2003, p.77).

Anacaona’s Influence on Literature and Artistry

However, the contrasting historical accounts of Anacaona provide a foundation for historians, poets, and songwriters alike to re-imagine her as a cultural continuity and a “model of resistance that exists before, and can continue beyond colonial influence” (Tracy, 2018, p.107). For some time Anacaona remained a marginal historical figure, present in a limited number of small paragraphs in history books. In 1828 and 1830, English poet Alfred Tennyson wrote several poems that reflected on the experiences of the people of Africa and Haiti, known as Columbus and Anacaona (Hack, 2012). Tennyson drew inspiration from the transatlantic voyage, interaction, and media circulation that accounts for the violence, oppression, and power of “one racial regime by another” (Hack, 2012, p.214). The poem depicts the Indigenous people as victims of mass atrocity rather than as slaves, and Anacaona as an innocent but fierce warrior (Hack, 2012). In comparison, Samuel Whitchurch’s 1804 poem, Hispaniola, gives a voice to Anacaona as one of anger, in which she “curses future generations of European conquerors and prophesied the Haitian revolution” (Hack, 2012, p.215).

However, she did not gain popularity until the last decades of the twentieth century, when Caribbean artists wrote songs of Anacaona that presented a different figure than the one expressed in historical contexts (Tracy, 2018, p.110). For example, the feminist and post-colonial movements of the 1960s and 1970s influenced the artistry of Cheo Feliciano, a salsa singer of the 1970s, who reintroduced Anacaona in a salsa piece that became (and remains) popular in Latin America (Tracy, 2018, p.107). The introduction and popularity of the song took a turn towards the Latinx community adopting their Indigenous identity that was once largely ignored, masked, or forgotten (Tracy, 2018). The remembrance of Anacaona influenced the voices of the Afro-Latinx community that engaged in the Taíno culture. Her influence created a sense of freedom known as the “Anacaonian liberation”, which gave a voice to the Caribbean woman’s experience, and put a shift toward reclaiming their narrative as women of color; a space that did not largely include women of color within the intersectional and traditional literary context (Johnson, 2003, p.85). The portrayal of Anacaona and the Taíno people is one of a leader who led a resistance against colonization. This is a nation “who lost their mother tongue and their land, stripped from them by the most insidious expressions of patriarchy, conquest and colonialism” (Tracy, 2018, p.108). As a reminder of this destructive legacy, Anacaona has become an influential and historical figure whose power lies in uniting separate Indigenous tribes against a common oppressor (Tracy, 2018, p.110).