Welcome to We Don’t Talk About That, a column where I’ll talk about the things our community shuns, misunderstands or simply doesn’t mention enough. I don’t necessarily have a personal stake in the topics I’ll discuss, just a deep desire to be curious – as we all should be!

When the Massachusetts Senate met in its chamber on March 28, 2024, it inadvertently walked itself into a paradox.

That day, the Senate debated and advanced a bill that would ban public schools from appropriating Native Americans in any “athletic team name, logo, or mascot.” Ironically, the hearing was happening in a building adorned with the same type of offensive—and violent—imagery condemned in the bill. The Senate had the right idea in advancing this legislation, but it should apply the same standards to itself and its own logo.

The fundamental symbol of the Massachusetts government—its flag and seal—depicts the figure of a Native American man on a blue shield, holding a bow and arrow. The man stands under a colonial hand brandishing a raised sword. On a blue ribbon surrounding the image is a Latin phrase: “Ense petit placidam, sub libertate quietem” (It awkwardly translates to “By the sword we seek peace, but peace only under liberty.”).

This motto and sword are clear symbols of Massachusetts’ legacy of violence towards Indigenous people: a legacy that couldn’t be any further from the peace the motto claims we seek and a legacy we cannot continue to raise on flagpoles across the Commonwealth. It’s time for a new state flag.

The flag was designed by Edmund Garret and adopted in 1898, an evolution of the original seal of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. That seal depicted a Native American man naked, save for a shrub over his crotch, pointing an arrow to the ground: a symbol of his pacification. A plea to European colonizers pours from his mouth on the original flag: “Come over and help us.”

The flag’s current version is full of these same underlying messages of colonial dominance and Indigenous submission, many of which fuel ideas of violence and racism. For example, the sword brandished above the head of the offensive Native American character is supposed to have belonged to Myles Standish, a Pilgrim military commander infamous for his brutality against Indigenous people in Massachusetts. What’s more, the Indigenous man isn’t even from Massachusetts; his face is based on a photograph of a Chippewa chief from Montana.

The state government has been aware of the issue of the flag and seal since the 1980s when a bill to change it was first introduced. In 2021, then-governor Charlie Baker signed into law the creation of a Special Commission to review the flag and seal of Massachusetts. Two years later, after multiple deadline extensions and a $100,000 budget, the Committee unanimously voted to change the state seal and motto…but didn’t propose a new idea.

Effectively, the commission accomplished nothing. In May of this year, the Senate voted to give another $100,000 to another committee with a one-year deadline to make a new flag. But given the history, I’m not confident they’ll come up with an answer either.

We’ve spent hundreds of thousands of dollars, as a state, trying to find a solution to the problem, but when I talk to other students about our state flag, many don’t even know what the flag looks like, and when they look closer, they are almost always surprised. Despite the state’s efforts to reconcile with its symbols, not once have I learned about the state flag in class, and the rare discussion of appropriation of Native Americans was always about their depiction as mascots for schools and sports teams.

It was, after all, less than 20 years ago that Brookline High School got rid of its controversial arrowhead logo, and only two years ago when this newspaper changed its name from The Sagamore to The Cypress. In both cases, teenagers led the charge for change. So how can a $100,000 state committee barely come up with an answer? Maybe we just don’t talk about it enough.

The lack of discussion, especially in schools, is why, despite the high school’s efforts to be more inclusive and despite this paper’s work to change a 130-year-old name, a racist symbol still hangs on the flag in our auditorium.

Of course, as part of the Commonwealth, this high school isn’t exempt from its emblem. Like it or not, the state flag still represents Brookline, which is obligated to display it—just like it does with the U.S. flag. The problem is the state, which perpetuates a harmful symbol. It fails students who make an effort to change hateful tokens of the past.

Educating ourselves about the impact of symbols that too often go unnoticed and unchanged is crucial. As the state government keeps meditating on a problem it’s been aware of for decades, we can start to change in the classroom. As Massachusetts citizens, we must, at the very least, be aware of the message that is draped in our auditorium. We must, at the very least, talk about it.