The holiday season has always been an odd time for me. It is painted on our television screens with such joy and discussed with passing acquaintances as a means for relatable conversation. But what those cheesy Hallmark movies and familiar faces seem to disregard is the group of people who don't have such happy holidays. The people who aren't getting pumped for placing the star on top of the tree and seeing their grandparents. Those who instead harbor guilt about their single parent feeling helpless when the season of giving rolls around, unable to provide the celebration their children deserve. They don't understand the uncomfortability one may feel when all their friends are groaning on about whose house they'll have to travel to or what foods they will feast on.

Growing up and gaging normalcy based solely on my surroundings rather than comparing my family life to my friends', the holidays just seemed to be a little more special than other days. I turned a blind eye to all the small sad details underlying the extravaganza that made my holidays different than my friends'. After I understood Santa wasn't the one paying for the numerous Bratz dolls under the tree, or there wasn't a life size bunny producing the baskets bursting with chocolates, but instead my struggling parents who only strived to make us happy. That is when I realized just how shitty the holidays were. There was all this pressure put on beautiful souls like my mom to purchase dozens of materialistic items for their children, hoping they could see our smiling faces and worry about how the bills were getting paid another time.

And it's easy to say that my parents didn't have to go all out. That if they couldn't provide my sisters and I with these gifts they could have just told us, and we would've been more than understanding. But that's where the true scam of it all lives and breathes. The fact that children are naturally selfish. That they are too immature to understand why exactly it is that they can't have the latest toys they crave. The selfishness and materialism that creates guilt in the ones who loves them most. Their parents.

Our society thrives on shaming those who aren't like the majority. The boys who kiss boys, the people with the darker flesh, the kids who can't afford the school field trip, etc. We act like its all okay, we act like we accept those beaten down by their adversities with open arms, but who was the one that took the bat to their differences in the first place? The one who made their sexuality, race, or economic status characteristics rooted in shame that we now so graciously find it in our hearts to accept? How kind of us! To welcome someone into our "normal" standards by deeming it's okay that they exist. Who are you? Who am I? Who are we? To make someone feel like they must heal for things out of their control that if we truly found no issue with, we wouldn't continuously force them to find shame in.

So like the boy who takes a girl out to the movies only to lay his head on his pillow and think of someone else, or the black girl who straightens her natural curls in hopes that some asshole won't ask to touch her head, my mom gives into our shame based society not because there is a gun to her head making her do so. There is a different, more violent, kind of fear. The fear of her children going to school after the holiday breaks and remaining silent as they listen to their best friends brag about their new boots. Feeling a needling pain run along their insides, from their weak stomachs to their hollow chests, wondering why they can't have these things. Not old enough to understand society wasn't created in their favor and that they must not feel unloved by their parents who gave them empty stockings or didn't cook them ham. Or perhaps even feel disdain for the one in charge of this universe, the Creator who decided they would allow their parents to struggle so they couldn't give them new boots.

The fear of the pain and misdirected resentment the holidays have the potential to produce for those less fortunate keeps people like my mom from confessing the truth. That it isn't until we grow older and more understanding that the holidays are about family coming together and showing your love for those you care about (something you should be doing anyway). That when you are young and impressionable, striving to belong and relate to your friends, it only produces pressure on parents that later places guilt on your tiny shoulders. The holidays may appear to be a time where everyone can forget the brutality of the world and hide away with the ones they love, however for some people, the cruelty of our world merely intensifies. Thanksgiving reminds us of our fucked-up family situations, Christmas shows us we can't have the clothes we want, or Valentines shouts at us about our unfortunate love lives. So, I guess all I really have left to say is….

Happy Holidays!