It was the year 2000 when I had an epiphany about Christmas. I’ve never been able to go back from what I saw in the flash of one consequential moment. To say that I came to this realization all on my own wouldn’t be completely accurate. It started with something my boss, Jeff, mumbled to himself while returning from lunch one day in Manhattan. Lost in thought and shaking his head, he said, “the vulgarity of it all.” I looked up quizzically from my desk. He whipped his hand in the air in a sweeping motion and said, “All the Christmas, for what?” then walked into his office without another word. Jeff was a natural clown and rarely serious. Seeing him so bothered left me feeling puzzled.
Later that day I stepped outside right in the middle of Times Square where jumbotrons and glitzy Christmas displays dazzled the millions who came to shop there every year. As I looked up and around, Jeff’s words crept into my mind. I shrunk back a little and stood there stiffly, blinking my eyes. Suddenly, it was as if a massive stage prop collapsed right in front of me and all that was left was clamor and confusion. “For what?” Jeff had asked. “Oh my God,” I thought. “I have no idea.” That was the beginning of a long personal journey, an inquiry into an alternative perspective, one that has permanently changed my relationship to the holidays.
I walked around the city feeling oddly detached, shaken by what I had seen. I remembered I needed to buy a few gifts for some friends so I walked into a fancy scarf store. Scanning the wall of hundreds of scarves neatly folded in their little cubicles, a weighty confusion came over me, more like a jackhammer actually, boring a hole into my head. “This is impossible,” I thought. “Why am I doing this?” I felt weirdly exasperated, offended that I felt obligated to buy these gifts. I didn’t know that it would be the last time I bought Christmas presents.
A few days later I was hanging out with friends. They were sharing stories about complicated travel plans or difficult family members or the stress of what to buy this Aunt or that Uncle. They repeated things I’ve said and have heard many others say. “My mother-in-law has everything,” “my sister is impossible to buy for,” and so on. I heard stories of previous holidays, delayed flights, bad weather, fights with a sibling. I also heard stories of grand gifts, too much food, wonderful expressions of love and generosity. I listened carefully and my epiphany remained. None of this made sense to me anymore. I felt anxious and embarrassed, like the way you might feel when you realize you’re sitting in the wrong classroom on the first day of school.
I lived alone and none of my family lived anywhere near me. Most of my friends were traveling. I didn’t have anywhere I was required to be, so I sat in my apartment and thought long and hard about what all this could mean for me in the future. I was no longer enchanted by the magic of Christmas.
Out of curiosity, I decided to walk through a few malls and around the city on Christmas Eve. I thought it might pique some nostalgic excitement. I saw frantic people, angry people, mean people, drunk people, lovers, parents trying to hang on to their wiggly children. That same eerie feeling came over me again. “None of this is real,” I thought. I began to marvel at the change in my reality. The more I observed, the clearer it became that Christmas is not what I and countless others have thought it was: an annual time of love, sharing, and generosity. It is a response to an exquisite, seductive, living presence. This presence is exceptionally cunning in its nature, creating an illusion so clever, so subtle, its roots are untraceable.
Since that experience more than 20 years ago, I’ve made a lot of changes around how I deal with the holidays. It’s still a journey largely traveled alone. In the beginning I half jokingly said to my friends and family, “my gift to you is for you to take me off your christmas list.” In the years to follow, while still living in New York, I offered rides to the airport for my friends. During those rides they would confide in me, telling me how envious they were of me sitting at home enjoying my paid time off without having to deal with all the holiday stress. I would tell them that they could join me any time they liked and that they might really enjoy the freedom. They would sigh and say it was impossible - “way too many obligations and expectations.”
Other times when I’ve shared these thoughts with people, some would say, “oh, we really just do it for the kids.” I never say anything. I just nod and smile a little. I don’t want to hurt their feelings or make them feel uncomfortable or judged. I don’t feel judgment toward them. If anything, I feel disheartened. I’d love to say, “but don’t you see, the kids grow up and then they’re obligated to do the same thing. It never ends.” I guess that is a judgment. I don’t mean it to be.
I’ve managed to make some sense of my thoughts by asking myself really tough questions and gathering a little research. I’ve been happy to learn that there are other people like me who have grappled with the same conundrum. My hope is that sharing my personal experience will help explain my unwillingness to engage in the holiday festivities.
I asked myself:
Is all this affection real?
Most people experience the rousing feelings of love, nostalgia and generosity that come with Christmas. I started to honestly examine my own feelings, and considered what I observed in others. I asked, “Is it possible that what we’re observing in others and demonstrating ourselves is a well-rehearsed performance handed down through generations rather than actual genuine sentiment?”
So often we experience relationships with an amplified intensity during the holidays. People might act on what appears to be a budding romance. Maybe an unimaginable infidelity occurs or an unforeseen breakup. We make promises we later regret, knowing we can’t keep them. Perhaps a partnership that has long since run its course is prolonged another year because “things really aren’t that bad.” Knowing many of the unresolved issues in my own family, and most likely to some degree in every family, I’ve asked myself, “what is it exactly that we’re clinging to?” “Is there something we’re afraid of, hiding or hiding from?”
If all this love, joy and embrace is real, then why isn’t this a normal occurrence in our everyday lives?
Psychologists often write articles expressing concern and offering advice to families who plan to gather for the holidays. They say that forcing people into close quarters for extended periods can unearth hidden agendas or ignite conflicts in relationships that are already wound too tight. And for some, this is all compounded by a mountain of debt from Christmas extravagence that does nothing to fix the deeper, hidden problems, insecurities or hurts.
Why can’t I help myself?
While getting caught up in the Christmas frenzy, how often have our emotions lured us into making impulsive decisions like purchasing expensive, unnecessary, or frivolous gifts, or paying outrageous prices for travel and entertainment? Sometimes the buying frenzy even pushes its way into January. We can hardly wait for those tantalizing after-Christmas deals, the major purchase we come to regret.
I can attest to my own poor decision-making driven by marketing. When I finally got a credit card I felt empowered, too young and naive to understand what was about to happen. Like so many around that age, I was finally able to buy nice things for people and travel a little better. I bought beyond my means, I bought out of pressure, I bought out of guilt, I bought to feed my ego, I bought so I could impress people. Buying was intoxicating.
It’s been said that somewhere around the 24th of January is when people feel the most depressed. It’s not from the winter blues. It’s the date that most of the credit card bills start showing up from the holidays. If we know that depression and buyers’ remorse follows such a glorious time, why do we have amnesia starting around November? Why do we jump on that train every year?
I worked in New York for one of the most successful marketing companies, whose data, particularly on youth and young adults, was the envy of the world. Armed with that kind of in-depth information, most major retail companies across multiple industries increase their marketing and advertising spending significantly in the months leading up to Christmas, some up to 50% or more of their annual marketing budgets.
Many marketers hold advanced degrees in psychology along with their business degrees. I supported a sizable sales and marketing team who were masters at using insights into human motivation, personality types, perception and decision-making. They snatched up mind-boggling millions upon millions of dollars from retailers who would impatiently compete for ad space and air time.
How many billboards and commercials have we seen, and how many songs have we heard while Christmas shopping that deeply touch us, reminding us of happier times from our childhood, times of family togetherness, times when Grandpa was still alive? Many commercials tell deeply emotional stories using such beautiful imagery and music that our hearts quiver and our eyes are a well of tears. These feelings of connection not only pull hard on our heartstrings, but hard on our purse strings.
I’ll admit that, although it’s been more than two decades since I quit Christmas, sometimes when I see those gorgeous commercials and experience the powerful, tearful, heartwarming emotions they evoke, I scold myself. “How can you be so cold, so selfish? Is it really so bad to do this once a year?” “Stop making people feel so awkward around you!”
In those moments I feel tempted to backslide to a place of comfort where I fantasize about being welcomed with open arms. I’d fit in again. I’d organize Christmas singalongs and play the guitar like I used to. Everyone would love me and say how special it is to have me play those songs by the fire. I’d muster up my best holiday persona and float from one gathering to the next offering songs, hugs and plates of goodies. But in the next moment that fantasy shatters like a ball smashing through a window. It would be easy to succumb to the exact objective of those advertisements. Even though all the warmth and togetherness might feel wonderful, I can see that it has been manufactured for me, for everyone, over and over again by a caboodle of professionals that actually couldn’t care less about us.
FOMO: "limited-time only," "while supplies last," "countdown to Christmas" - How often do we see that flashing on every screen? “I better jump on this or I’ll surely kick myself later!”
The mantra around every conference table at every marketing meeting is, “eyeballs people, we need more eyeballs and we need them for as long as we can hang on to them.” The first time I heard this at a marketing meeting and observed all the glances and groans around the room, I thought, “Damn, we really do rule the world…”
What’s that smell?
Most of us know about the manufacturing conditions in China. And to be fair, I have plenty of stuff lying around the house that I’ve bought on Amazon, things that have undoubtedly passed through the hands of an unschooled child who lives in poverty. This is obviously a bigger problem than just at Christmastime. But Christmas is one of the biggest drivers.
China manufactures huge volumes of Christmas decorations, toys, electronics and other holiday gifts to export to U.S. markets. It is estimated that 60-80% of the world's Christmas decorations and artificial trees are made in China. This manufacturing gears up in the months leading up to the holiday season - to meet our demand, to help us celebrate Christmas.
Hundreds of thousands of workers are employed during this short window. They’re often exposed to harsh conditions working up to 15 hours a day where toxic substances are used with no safety measures in place. Wages are meager and dorm accommodations are contemptible. To add to this, child labor is still frequently used during the pre-holiday season. Typically, kids 12-13 years old from poor rural areas are hired or trafficked to work. China has labor laws prohibiting the hiring of children under 16, but enforcement is negligent. The high demand for cheap labor during the pre-Christmas months contributes to this “blind eye.”
In the late 1970s, China opened its economy to foreign trade. Since that time, the environmental impact has been devastating, and the West, particularly the US, has contributed a great deal to the problem. Due to high volume manufacturing, dangerous chemicals have been pouring into the air, rivers and soil for over 50 years. China has environmental regulations in place, but like labor regulations, these laws are not strictly enforced. It is stunning to consider that, in a nutshell, our Christmas habit is polluting the world! Perhaps a pithy overstatement, but one to ponder nonetheless.
We often hear about intellectual property and counterfeit issues. There is rampant production of counterfeit goods, including toys and electronics. This erodes global intellectual property laws which in turn exacerbates tensions in already fragile international trade relations.
The blunt ugliness of all this doesn’t come to mind when we’re spellbound in our joyous Christmas jubilee. Unfortunately, we’ve been trained to celebrate the beautiful, but we have not been willing to see the reality of how and why we get to do so.
Cheers?
I whole-heartedly admit how alcohol played a vital role for me in various Christmas settings. It was a valuable attendant to my restless self-consciousness. I can also remember times, especially with my family, where alcohol was forbidden. It was all I could do to keep from drowning in a sea of unwanted emotions. All I could think about was how and when I could finally get a drink.
The tally for drunk driving incidents, alcohol poisoning, and violence all skyrocket during this time. Emergency rooms keep doctors and nurses working overtime. So what is it that is so stirring, whether positive or negative, that creates this need for so much alcohol consumption during the holidays?
One of the less talked about side effects of the illusion is the strain it puts on those unable to afford Christmas gifts and celebrations. Some turn to unlawful means out of desperation to “be a part of it all.” There’s a measurable spike in home and business burglaries. Shoplifting and violent crimes also increase. Statistics find that these types of crimes are largely driven by financial stresses, crowded settings, and alcohol consumption.
If Christmas is so bad, then why is the whole world so happy at Christmastime?
To be fair, I personally don’t think that the majority of people who wholeheartedly celebrate Christmas mean any harm at all. I think they are simply not aware that somewhere between 62 and 75% of the world’s population don’t celebrate Christmas. Regrettably, there is so much social pressure to celebrate Christmas that non-Christians often feel obligated to participate. Imagine if Christians were all suddenly expected to celebrate Eid al-Fitr or Hanukkah or Navrati.
I’m curious to know how many people still don’t know that Christmas was originally the celebration of the winter solstice, with influences from Roman and other European festivals marking the end of harvest. December 25th is not Jesus’ birthday! Christmas didn’t become a Christian holiday until 400 when Constantine was in power. Some say it was set on the calendar to undermine and discourage the “pagan” winter solstice ritual.
Wrapping Up
At this point, you might be wondering what Christmas was like for me as a child. The truth is, our Christmases were spectacular. This was astonishing because when my brother and sister and I were kids our parents drilled into us the value of a dollar and reminded us often of how little we had. Every single penny, every slice of bread was accounted for. But when it came to Christmas, we got more presents than any other kids in the neighborhood. We always got everything we wanted. Everything. The house was meticulously decorated inside and out. Christmas morning was loud and festive - wrapping paper and tinsel everywhere! All the classic Christmas tunes played on the stereo while we sang along. Mom made hot chocolate in special mugs molded into the shape of Santa’s head. We could never figure out how in the world our parents afforded such extravagance since we really didn’t have a lot of means. They finally told us when we were much older that they took out a loan every year and paid it back over the course of the entire next year. Incredible. Heartbreaking.
Over the years I’ve tried to find ways to explain myself, to explain that I don’t think I’m better or more enlightened. In some ways the epiphany is still unfolding. One of my most treasured values is self-honesty. This conviction about Christmas is an honest inability to unsee what I saw in that brief moment back in 2000.
For me, giving up Christmas is an exercise in self-restraint and courage. I realize there’s a risky audacity to this personal turning away, to smiling politely and declining holiday invitations. But after years of practice, the loneliness and alienation has transformed mostly into gratitude and a fascination I still cannot quite describe.
I’m hopeful when I notice people are giving Christmas another look, or when I see a comedy sketch about the absurdity of the holidays, like my personal favorite, the 2022 Saturday Night Live skit called "Blocking it out for Christmas." When I saw that skit for the first time, my jaw dropped and I cheered enthusiastically, "YES!"
When I started this journey, I had no idea how it was going to work out. I pondered the potential consequences for a good long while. What is it that I ultimately wanted to see happen? Did I think all Christmas celebrations should end? Do I now? My answer as you might imagine is a utopian “yes.”
In this dreamworld, I like to imagine we’ve realized our potential, that we’ve come to understand that all the affairs of the world are commonly shared concerns. I like to imagine a collective maturity that abandons the need for a manufactured reason to spread love, togetherness, and generosity. Here, decisively, we will have finally arrived at a place where our mysterious, persistent, yearning gives way to a lasting human connection.
After years of digging, questioning and soul-searching, how do I answer Jeff's question? I'm not exactly sure. What I do know is that a door opened for me that day, and ever since I walked through it, I’ve appreciated every single clue along the way.
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