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When most Americans discuss Memorial Day beyond travel plans and the start of summer, we present it as a day to remember our loved ones and the heroes who gave their lives for any of the United States’ military conflicts.

Yet the origins and present-day ramifications of the holiday deserve discussion beyond mourning. More specifically, the Civil War, which was a for the inception of the holiday in the first place, ought to be at the forefront of Memorial Day discourse—not only to commemorate those who died fighting to preserve the Union, but also to consider the ongoing significance of one of the most seismic political changes in our country’s history.

and generally dominate contemporary discussions of the bloodiest war in American history. But less talked about—and arguably more worrying—is the fact that a plurality of 48 percent of Americans believe that the conflict was according to a 2011 Pew Research Center survey. If you take even a quick look at speeches from Confederate leaders at the time—most notably Confederate Vice President Alexander Stephens’ “”—you can see just how whitewashed the views of nearly half of Americans truly are.

How did we get to this point?

A key reason for this warped historical perspective is the “Lost Cause” narrative, which developed over 80 or so years following the end of the Civil War. By writing and advocating for the consumption of Southern , art (see “”), monuments, and holidays, old Confederate officials, Confederate veterans, relatives of Confederate veterans, white supremacists, and others perpetuated myths that the Civil War was mainly about “Northern aggression,” or preserving the Southern way of life. This narrative still permeates U.S. society today, and Memorial Day is, in a way, the embodiment of this lack of honest Civil War remembrance.

In fact, the holiday began , with the North honoring those who died preserving the Union and the South honoring those who died trying to break it up. The holiday was celebrated on different dates depending on the state, and that the two sides began memorializing deceased veterans together.

Despite the fact that Union victory in the Civil War was slowly diluted out of Memorial Day remembrance, Confederate Memorial Day will still be celebrated separately, on some level, in . This parallel—Union memorialization transitioning into more general military memorialization, while Confederate memorabilia remain strong—suggests the willful ignorance of the United States regarding history within its borders. In how many other instances have military victors allowed those they defeated to celebrate as the South does?

Just as the North soon forgot about the enslaved people it fought to free and allowed regression into the violent Jim Crow era following its victory, it neglected memorials, too, failing to nurture true cultural victory after sacrificing lives to gain it.

Crucially, this isn’t to wade into the debate over taking down Confederate memorials; that’s a subject that warrants its own conversation. Rather, this is to argue that the United States ought to intentionally inject critical Civil War discourse into the American narrative. As the Pew Research Center found, of people believe that the conflict is still “relevant to American politics and political life,” so there’s clearly broader interest in the topic.

Indeed, Memorial Day is—or could be—the perfect reminder that what we consider the ideals of the United States today haven’t always been agreed on, that there was once a time when “all men” were absolutely not created equal. Union victory was in no way assured when conflict broke out, and the total industrial and military effort of Northern populations played a massive role in freeing millions of enslaved people. Other countries, including Germany and others, more effectively remember state-sanctioned historical atrocities—why can’t the United States?

And this sort of historical interrogation doesn’t have to be purely self-critical: Why can’t the United States better recognize perhaps its greatest military victory—or at least the one that inflicted the greatest physical toll? Why can’t it discuss how brave its Union soldiers were at Antietam—the bloodiest day in American history—as it does with D-Day? Should the (who at one point represented one-tenth of the Union Army), , , (who protected and sheltered enslaved people who had run away), or (probably the most influential abolitionist) really take a backseat to the losing Confederacy in our collective memory?

That the Civil War isn’t discussed enough at a national political level has important implications. For one, this elision has allowed narratives to sustain incorrect historical beliefs and contribute to the “” debate. If the accurate history of the war were better broadcast and taught, the true context of the conflict might be understood by greater portions of our country, especially in parts of the South, where the racist ideal of the failed Confederacy is the backbone of neo-Confederate and other white-supremacist hate groups—.

Enslaved people, and those who died freeing them, deserve honest remembrance via distinct, official recognition. The South created its Lost Cause narrative, in some ways, via holidays and celebrations, so why can’t the United States promote a truthful narrative using that same approach?

If veterans don’t want to change the description of their holiday—despite the fact that Veterans Day and Armed Forces Day exist—then here’s my proposal for another national holiday: Why not ? This was the day when Robert E. Lee, champion of Antebellum-era “proper” Southern ideals (), surrendered at the to the muddied, disheveled Ulysses S. Grant, formally ending the Civil War.

This “Appomattox Day,” which is already celebrated in some capacity but receives very little national publicity, doesn’t have to be a day of bashing the South. It can be a day of commemorating both the reunification of the United States and a major victory for human rights.

Would Southern states accept Appomattox Day as a national holiday? Something tells me that it wouldn’t be so easy. But if that’s the case, well, maybe the central antagonism of the Civil War still isn’t over—and all the more reason to be honest about our history.