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I’m a Sexy Pilgrim and I’m Tired of My Culture Being Appropriated for Halloween

I’ve been silent for too long and it’s time I spoke my truth. I’m tired of seeing my culture being appropriated on Halloween. I’m a Sexy Pilgrim and I won’t stand by and let my heritage be disrespected any longer.

We’re a culture, not a costume. Your buckle hats and Puritan hot pants are NOT OKAY. Calling your orifices The Nina, The Pinta, and The Santa Maria is not cool, you guys. My sexy, toned, midriff-bearing ancestors didn’t suck and fuck their way to the New World just so they could be disrespected by your ignorant costumes.

My people fled persecution and religious zealotry, risking everything to come to America so they could get the kind of hot pounding denied to them in puritanical England. Where would our country be without the sacrifices of my honored elders, who got raw-dogged in the cornfields by repressed settlers? Their generosity of spirit and their tight, slammin’ booties brought this great nation together. They deserve better than to have their memories tarnished by your three dollar thongs and your musket codpieces.

Every time I see some ripped dude in a John Smith outfit or another skank in their Scarlet Letter cosplay, I die a little inside. I think of the first of my family to come to America, Chastity Prudence, and how she gave herself so willingly to the community. Where would the first Thanksgiving be without my ancestor, bent over Goodman Young’s workbench, receiving unsheathed rammings from the entire settlement? Her colony would have froze to death during those first few winters without her red hot snatch to keep them warm.

When you parade around in your colonial pleather miniskirts you spit on Chastity’s memory. And on the memory of every harlot, hoe bag, butt boy, man whore, fleshpot, sin squeezer, and adulterer that I’m proud to call my ancestors.

As for those bonnets you wear at parties and music festivals – you didn’t earn those. I earned my bonnet the hard way: giving out old-fashioneds with my butter-churning hands while doing an internship at the historic Jamestown Settlement. Like the rest of my proud people, I earned the right to wear the slutty vestments of a sexy pilgrim by being DTF 24/7 on colonial grounds.

When’s the last time you gave head to an apothecary’s apprentice? You cultural tourists make me sick.

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