December 22nd 2024.
Last Christmas, while many people were caught up in the festive whirlwind, I decided to take a different approach. Instead of waking up early to exchange gifts and indulge in holiday traditions, I stayed in bed until noon, savoring the peace and quiet. I was relieved that I no longer had to worry about Santa's visit, and there were no familiar scents of turkey or chestnuts filling the air. While others were playing festive songs on repeat, I found solace in the blissful silence. I had no idea what my family was up to that day, and as I made myself an omelette, I couldn't help but wonder why we hadn't stopped celebrating the holidays long ago.
Growing up, my mother had always gone above and beyond to make the holidays magical for my quadruplet brothers and me. Our house would be adorned with decorations for every holiday, and my mom would plan large gatherings and spend an abundance of time and money to make everything perfect. I have many cherished memories from those years, but when my mom announced that she would no longer be celebrating Christmas, I was completely on board. In 2022, she had converted to Islam and decided to make some lifestyle changes, such as wearing a hijab and no longer observing religious holidays.
My mother had always been the glue that held our family together during the holiday season, so when she told us she would no longer be celebrating, I couldn't help but question the point of it all. It seemed pointless to celebrate without her. I wanted to not only abstain from the holidays with my family, but also make it a part of my own lifestyle. The truth is, I never really enjoyed the traditional Christmas festivities. The colors red and green were not my cup of tea, and I found the whole theme of Christmas to be cringey. Surprisingly, my brothers agreed with me on this one – my spiritual brother, who was against materialism, was happy to no longer have to lecture us about the commercialism of the holiday. My other brother, who was a workaholic and only visited during the holidays, was disappointed, but I was all for it.
I had grown up watching my mom stress herself out to make the holidays perfect for us. She would try to please everyone and inevitably snap at anyone who disrupted the forced-festive atmosphere she had carefully curated. My brothers and I never even considered celebrating Christmas without her. When I told some friends about my family's decision to stop celebrating, they immediately invited me to their celebrations, as if I had lost something. But for me, the only thing that was gone was the pressure to conform to the holiday expectations. I politely declined their invitations, not wanting to take on the colorful stress of their families.
Naturally, there was some apprehension about not celebrating Christmas for the first time. What would happen if we didn't have perfectly toasted marshmallows on our sweet potato casserole? Would the world stop if we didn't have an abundance of gifts under a beautifully decorated tree? The answer was no. If anything, we all felt more at peace than ever before. Without the feeling of obligation, I willingly decided to visit my mom to mark our new tradition together. As she entered the kitchen after finishing her daily prayer, she nearly slipped and caught herself, saying "Merry Chris…I mean, good morning!" And that was as festive as things got.
To be clear, none of us converted to Islam with my mom, but we all embraced the idea of accepting our differences and finding ways to appreciate our similarities. For example, my mom could no longer sit at a table where alcohol was served, which worked well for me, as I struggled with alcoholism. I can't speak for my brothers, but they also seemed to welcome the liberation from the holiday expectations. And the best part was that none of this meant we spent any less quality time together. We still saw each other because we wanted to, not because we felt obligated, without all the stress and running around town that used to come with it. December became a month of recharging, reflecting, and planning for the upcoming year, rather than a month of stress, spending, and headaches.
As another Christmas approaches, I don't feel like the Grinch at all. If Christmas truly was about expressing love rather than measuring it with a price tag, I would feel less cynical about it. But for many people, there is a constant feeling of not being enough – whether it's because they can't afford expensive gifts or their festivities don't live up to those on social media. And for those who work tirelessly to make others happy during the holidays, is it really enough? It's uncomfortable for people to imagine someone spending the holidays alone, just like it's uncomfortable for couples and parents to pity singles or those without children. But for me, my liberation from religious capitalism is something worth envying, and I wouldn't have acquired it if my mom hadn't led the charge.
Ironically, I can't imagine how disappointed my mom would have been if I had told her I was abandoning the holidays before she converted to Islam. But as another Christmas approaches, I don't feel like the Grinch at all. For those who love it, I say go out, celebrate, shop until you drop, and feast until your bellies are jolly. Just don't expect a response from me. My phone will be on silent, and I'll be checked out of social media until the holiday chaos passes. As for what I'll be doing on December 25? Whatever I damn well please.
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