The Holiday Season Without a Holiday For Me

As I write this, millions of families across the country, and even the globe, sit with each other opening presents, having a holiday meal, or watching Christmas movies. For them, it is Christmas, one of the biggest holidays of the year, and soon it will be New Years’. For them, it is the holiday season, a magical time of year filled with joy and laughter, made possible not only by their own efforts but a country-wide professional calendar that caters to this season. Schools are dismissed for winter break, and many (but not all) employees get time off to celebrate with their loved ones.

For me and millions of other Americans who do not celebrate Christmas, however, today is just another Monday. Well, not exactly. I am still home with my family for winter break, and I was actually able to greet my dad this morning since he did not have an early shift to attend to on Christmas Day. While we are certainly glad for the chance to relax, it does not come with the same celebratory cheer that seems to have possessed the world outside of our home. There is no ornamented tree in the living room, no special dinner, and no Christmas jingles to permeate the comfortable silence. In our home, it is just another Monday. 

This is not to say that Christmas is the only holiday in this season. There exists celebrations for many cultures, whether it is Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, or Yule, just to name a few, though Christmas tends to be the main focus in the American public sphere. Other cultures’ celebrations continue to get sidelined or completely ignored in American public education and official work schedules. 

Coming from a devout Muslim family, the only holiday I have ever celebrated is Eid, which occurs twice a year, and while the dates shift a couple of weeks back every year, neither has yet to occur during the “holiday season” in my lifetime. When Eid does come around, I am either lucky enough to celebrate it during summer break, or I can hope that I miss nothing important when I take the day off from school, because as much as it caters to Christian holidays, the American calendar can never seem to cater to me. 

I have a complicated relationship with the holiday season. Christmas is not just a Christian holiday, as plenty of nonreligious people and even some people of different faiths celebrate it, but it undoubtedly has Christian elements and is woven into the very fabric of American culture. Growing up as a Muslim American child, then, I was trapped in something of a paradox. There was nothing wrong with Christmas, and it is wonderful that so many could find joy and community in it, but it was not my holiday, and yet it seemed inescapable, pressing down on me in every aspect of public life with the pressure to conform and assimilate. 

It was in the crafts at school, where we would have to color reindeer and cut out paper ornaments. It was in the supermarkets and department stores, where wreaths and mistletoe hung from ceilings and Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You” echoed from every speaker. It was in the lights lining my neighbors’ roofs, sparkling against the Minnesota snow that caked their yards. It was celebrated by all my favorite characters in the movies I watched and the books I read. And so, its presence was an unquestionable fact of life, something I easily learned to expect, and yet, as a devout Muslim, something I could not partake in, making it both familiar and alienating. It was something that I lived in and was surrounded by, but it was not for me, no matter how much American schooling and mainstream culture wanted it to be. 

My feelings about the holiday season were not singular. There was alienation, but there was also comfort in the beautiful twinkling lights when I looked out my window. There was a longing to fit in, to partake in the pretty lights and build gingerbread houses and share with my classmates what presents my parents got me that year (or maybe I just wanted more presents). More than anything, however, there was frustration that I was forced to partake in someone else’s holidays when they couldn’t even bother to learn the names of mine, much less celebrate it in school, the institution that shaped my daily life.

That was my childhood. Since then, I’ve developed a different relationship both with religion and with the people around me as a result of learning more about people of different faiths and cultural backgrounds, as well as becoming closer friends with them. It was through these friendships and my personal research that I gained an understanding of Hanukkah and Kwanzaa that goes deeper than the superficial mentions of them in elementary school. I also came to learn about celebrations I have never heard of from different cultures, such as Diwali and Midsummer. While I am excited to continue to learn about others’ celebrations, it is disappointing that my formal education did nothing to encourage that process.

By learning about and engaging with other cultures, I have also been able to build a better relationship with Christmas, seeing it as an opportunity for cultural exchange rather than succumbing to the pressure to assimilate. In my senior year of high school, the week we got back from winter break, my friend handed me a hand-crocheted baby cow. It was blue, a little lopsided, and full of love. It was my first and only Christmas present. Now, two years later, I continue to set it in front of my pillows when I make my bed every morning.

I don’t think Christmas or any other holiday in the winter season will ever have the nostalgia or the magic for me that is expected from the average American. However, I’ve learned that it is nice to send my friends a “Merry Christmas!” and immerse myself in the lights strewn around the trees in a city square. I’ve learned to partake in the joy of the little things of these holidays without getting swept up in the cultural and capitalist pressure of it all, and in later months, to share my own holidays with those who may be unfamiliar with it. 

I am still frustrated with American institutions’ neglect of the holidays of other cultures and religions. To embrace my American identity does not just mean to embrace what we currently refer to as “the holiday season,” but to expand it to include others. This means giving other celebrations the same care and attention in public institutions, giving children an opportunity to engage with cultures outside the American mainstream, and to give us all the time and space to celebrate our own holidays without a penalty for not operating on the same cultural schedule. 

This continues to be a work in progress, but positive changes are occurring. For example, in 2015, New York City set a precedent by adding the two Muslim holidays to the official holiday calendar, and dozens of school districts across the country have followed in their footsteps to accommodate the diversity of their communities. This is a great step towards positive change, but there remains much work to be done. More cultural education needs to be implemented, and more schools and workplaces should accommodate the religions and cultures of their diverse communities and stop pressuring them to assimilate. We are beautiful in our diversity.

Christmas is still not my holiday, but for now, I don’t mind nibbling on a gingerbread cookie or baking date-filled cookies on Eid to share with my friends who don’t come from an Arab or Muslim background. There is always room for more cultural exchange and joy, and I am glad to be a part of that process.

Happy Holidays to those who celebrate, and a restful end of the year for all!