It’s almost Thanksgiving. I know it’s a holiday, but I’ll be honest: I hate Thanksgiving.

Don’t get me wrong, having ten days to decompress and sleep is awesome. And reconnecting with family and friends is really great. But time with family and sleep aside, Thanksgiving is the time of year when it becomes acceptable to forget the things we normally care about and intentionally ignore a few undesirable aspects of American history.

I first questioned Thanksgiving during high school, after reading the first chapter of Howard Zinn’s book “A People’s History of the United States.” Zinn points out the fact that Thanksgiving historically marks the genocide and massacre of thousands of native peoples of North America. Our country is theoretically founded upon the ideals of life, liberty and pursuit of happiness–but celebrates a national holiday founded on genocide.

Juxtapose Zinn’s description with the happy illustrations of happy Native Americans and pilgrims sharing turkey and corn we are presented in elementary school.

You’re probably thinking, “Well, no one is going to show Jimmy a cartoon of massacres and smallpox.” True. But if that’s where the critical thinking stops, we need to delve further. At 20 years old, I’m the youngest in my family, but my family is still not talking about the historical roots of Thanksgiving around the table.

The next knee jerk response might be that we’re a long way past those bloody origins, why bring them up? If this is true, it’s imperative to recognize the following idea:

Our history is still relevant. So is the fact that we choose to selectively ignore and celebrate certain aspects of American history on Thanksgiving. I’m not saying we should cease celebration and wear black in commemoration, but we do need to recognize the fact that the division between values and behavior is alive and well and equally manifest in our Thanksgiving traditions.

Let’s consider the turkey.

As a vegan for nearly four years, I’ll admit this fixation grosses me out. If it were my goal to persuade readers to opt for Tofurky, I’d list facts about the conditions turkeys are raised in and statistics on the number of turkeys slaughtered each year, but I have a different agenda.

I’ve known several people, normally strict vegetarians, who chose to consume turkey on Thanksgiving. When I’ve asked them about it, all stated with a shrug, “It’s a special occasion.” This baffles me. How does a holiday make someone cease a commitment which stands for the other 364 days of the year?

I see this occurring in other Thanksgiving behaviors too.

While we normally care about moderation, during Thanksgiving we put on our saggy pants and dig in. It’d be easy to say this overeating is insignificant, but it’s actually an indication of a larger phenomenon.

It seems to me that Thanksgiving has become some sort of problematic permission slip we can use to escape from our daily values, an opportunity to let our hidden vices out.

Values control the spin of our moral compass; they keep us on track when we need to make choices. But what good are these values when it’s acceptable to ignore them so we can marginalize Native Americans, eat guilt-free turkey, or overindulge on pie? Further, when we can so easily suspend our values for Thanksgiving, what’s to prevent us from shelving our values for Halloween or every Wednesday? And if we shelve moderation and vegetarianism, what other values might we choose to suspend?

I’m not saying we consciously suspend our values for selfish agendas; that’s far too bold and conspiratorial a claim. However, I want to point out the inherent danger in the phrase “It’s a special occasion.” This justification minimizes and disguises our real actions. That is to say, when we use these words, we willingly suspend the values we use to govern ourselves.

After  writing this column, I’ve realized I need to I recant my opening statement.  I don’t hate Thanksgiving. Rather,  I find our behavior on Thanksgiving  kind of  terrifying.