xmas

[image: an extemporary, candid shot of me engaging in unbridled Xmas cheer. circa 2014]

I am anti-Xmas.

Alright… Hang on… Perhaps not anti-Xmas so much as not a fan of the excessive hoo-ha (not to be confused with “hoohaa”, of which I am rather a fan) that obtrusively powers the steamroller it is.

Nope… Wait… What am I saying? I am anti-Xmas… even as I wish to temper the sentiment…

I’ve observed and examined my feelings regarding this, over the course of many years. For a long time, I’ve been quite clear on my perspective - only growing clearer as I’ve come to know myself more within the context of our society, culture and world. However, for an equally long period of time, I’ve tended to socially present certain reasoning that has watered-down my opinion (and my self), and / or has been largely self-deprecating in an attempt to duck judgement from others... “Oh, I'm a Scrooge...", "Yeah, I'm a Grinch...” (said with mocking relish), “Well, yes, significant beloved family members have died, so I must be anti-Xmas because I'm sad… and weird…”.

In actual fact, I am none of these things (ok, I’m sometimes sad and always weird… but I’m definitely neither a “Scrooge” nor a “Grinch”). My anti-Xmasism (as I now like to call it) exists because my core beliefs, values and views (and endeavours to authentically live by them) do not align with the predominant practices at this time of year. And just as I find myself indirectly apologising for it, I’m keenly aware I don’t want to anymore. I want to own my point of view, be at ease with it and even proud of it.

In saying that, I do not wish to be misconstrued. I am very, very happy to celebrate human connections and love and giving - in genuine forms - and I truly hope people are lucky enough to experience belonging and lightness and joy. But I wish such things for everybody all the time, while uncomfortably knowing there are a great many people for whom belonging and joy are painfully elusive privileges – even without the extra stress and alienation caused by such excessive materialism as abounds this time of year.

I’m also no Xmascist (I’m not here to perform some kind of Xmas exorcism on you). Although, I cannot lie, watching all and sundry maniacally engage with Xmas hoo-ha - wielding anxious demeanours, maxed out credit cards and utterly diminished self-determination - is remarkably akin to the disturbing trauma of watching a possessed child violently engage with her hoohaa with a pair of (let’s say, gift wrapping) scissors [this is a reference to a classic horror film, in case you didn’t know that and were therefore ever-more disturbed by the image I just presented]. I’d love to free you from it, if you want to be freed, but I most simply wish to express what seems to be my strangely taboo perspective on the whole shebang. If it’s not your thing, fine. However if it gives you moral support in your own already existing anti-xmasism, or some food for thought and action wherever you stand, then that’s great! You may, indeed, end up allowing yourself to avoid situations where your head rotates 360 degrees as you vomit copious amounts of Xmas pudding and mutter gravelly-voiced incantations at your extended family members (and all the offensive comments they make).

Side story: the last time I attended an extended-family Xmas gathering, I bit at some socially / politically inflammatory bait a somewhat-estranged uncle cast (no-doubt deliberately) into the conversational waters. The situation heated and escalated, of course. I ended up removing myself to find solitude and air in an uninhabited room… in tears... Another uncle (a great-uncle, or actually is he my second cousin or cousin once removed? - my dad’s cousin) came in to console me. He gave me a big, warm, comforting hug and with genuine care, concern and earnestness said, “Ahh, Meg… It’s ok… I used to be idealistic too…”

I’ll just leave that here… with you...

“I used to be idealistic too…”

I guess, when I was little, I participated in Xmas with some sense of investment and excitement. I had – and still have – a deep, insatiable longing to inhabit the hopeful reality of the imaginary… the magical… all that exists within the fringes and shadows of perception, understanding, possibility... I once yelled my dad into wounded humility when he accidentally, in my presence, alluded to Santa not being real (in conversation with one of my older sisters who, by then, was proudly across it) at an age when I should’ve - perhaps - already accepted it (I think I was about 9 years old, and my vehemence was no doubt due to the fact that – while I was, at the core of it, justifiably defending my right to believe in possibility and desperately upholding the sanctity of personal fantasy vs reality – I knew I was defending an idea that was, at best, rather shaky*). Oh, my poor, wonderful dad. Love to you, where’er you be. [ *i still very much believe in openness to possibility – in all areas of thought and life – it is a quality and attitude absolutely worth maintaining]

I also look back with nostalgia, laughter and love at the kooky (thanks to dad - the best!) way my unique family unit (my two sisters and dad) engaged with holiday time and festivities. For some reason, right now, I’m experiencing lightning flashes of vivid memories involving wearing underwear, or appropriately-coloured plastic bags (think old-school Grace Brothers), as festive headwear - always captured on camera, of course (I must try and find the evidence). We were definitely the black sheep of our extended family gatherings and I am beyond happy about that, even proud. I also recall being (and I am, still) grateful for the privilege of growing up in a comparatively stable, safe, loving, caring and creative home, where it was possible to spend (mostly peaceful, but for the odd sibling sling) holiday times together and engage in some kinds of seasonal festivities.

I really felt a longing to be together, then, with family - a serious yearning, undoubtedly due to the loss of my mother to an aneurysm when I was 7 - even through what became (as I grew in awareness) more apparent tensions inevitably and invariably arising when extended family members who shouldn’t have been spending time together forced themselves to out of some sense of obligation... to familial ties? ...to confused love? ...to “acceptable” social behaviour? ...to history and memory? …to loyalty? To what...? And why…? WHY…?! Why do we do this if it is not enjoyable and fulfilling?! [note: I know all extended (and immediate) families can experience such tensions. I’m also positive that any who claim not to are lying to themselves or to each other or to us (or are simply ludicrously, ludicrously, ludicrously lucky)! so there is no shame in it, people!]

I don’t recall ever feeling terribly invested in what I did or didn’t receive. I knew not to (and didn’t want to) expect anything and I was taught to graciously and gratefully accept any good-will gestures and gifts that came my way (regardless of whether I wanted or liked them). I don’t recall wanting or craving or comfortably asking for anything, especially particular things. In fact, I recall feeling extreme discomfort asking for anything at all (even when my dear dad was (I realise, now) trying to obtain some kind of helpful information to provide for three children he always felt somewhat inadequate providing for – there are understandable, moving reasons for this – another story…). I was also acutely aware that my dad was a single parent raising three young humans, and doing a damn good job (for all his flaws). For what more could I ask than what he was already giving? It seemed wrong. And broadly speaking, all the wanting (apparently by everyone, everywhere), to me, even then, seemed strange and distasteful.

I remember understanding it was a time to come together, to celebrate, to share and give. A time to focus on goodness of heart and generosity of spirit (again this confused me, because shouldn’t this be par for the course… in life… all year round…?). And I wish to stress, none of the above is because we were particularly well-off. It wasn’t that we were so comfortable we didn’t have to care. It’s actually because we lived very simply. While we were privileged enough to have a family and a home and holidays and community and celebrations, our house and household never had mod-cons or the newest gadgets or fashions or “desirable” things. We rolled with second hand. Hand-me-downs. Home-made. Black & Gold. No Frills. We existed within, and learned, a value system that wasn’t materialistic or social-status driven (within our family home, though one can never divorce oneself from wider community and society). I knew other people had all sorts of *things*, but I somehow never coveted them. Again, there were other things my sisters and I knew (were taught) to be more important - inner values, inner valuables.

“It is a complex time - for everyone!”

A point that can no longer be avoided is, I am not Christian. I do not follow any specific religion. I know the person in question existed and I agree with his compassionate, loving, healing, anti-capitalist, revolutionary tendencies… but he is not represented accurately in mainstream coverage and the many stories that surround him (including their imaginative, population-controlling creation, development and bastardisation across political ages) are deeply questionable (to say the least). There is so much bullshit the powers-that-be have pedalled, for no-one’s gain but their own. It should be an affront to all of us… Yet, it lives on, cozily couched in the chosen ignorance of seasonal *cheer* (however forced it is).

This, and the fact that so much of the tradition we identify as “Christmas” actually stems from non-Christian (pagan) background (to which my values align more fully), means you’ll never hear me call it “Christmas” (unless I’m wishing a person I know to be Christian “Merry Christmas”). I am vaguely happy (though not entirely, it’s still fraught with discomfort (because who-am-I to know what this time of year means or doesn’t mean (in all of life’s ways) to random individuals who cross my path)))* to wish people a joyous “festive season" and fun "festive times" and lovely “family and friend times” and good “holiday times”, cause that’s… you know… nice… But I usually won’t say any of this until I have spoken to someone long enough to know what their experience is at this time of year. It is a complex time - for everyone! (surely!) - yet, all the above phrases carry so many assumptions of uniformity and privilege they immediately negate the incredible diversity of individual social experiences. [*yes, that was three parenthetical thoughts nestled within each other, imbedded within an overarching thought, you’re welcome]

Again, to contextualise, I attended Anglican church when I was little - via my mum’s heritage and influence. I attended Xmas mass on some Xmas eves. I was even an alter girl, for a short while (maybe for a few months, a year or two after mum’s death), as I explored my then fascination for the concept of “spiritual purity” and experimented with perceptual and philosophical methods of making sense of existence. Thankfully (and I say this with awareness), my sisters and I were raised with many philosophies around us. And this was welcomed by Dad. We lived in a community of people with diverse backgrounds, lifestyles and outlooks. Dad engaged non-judgmentally with everyone; with every single experience, idea and perspective. And he allowed us the freedom to listen and engage and learn and choose and develop our own ideas and beliefs, as we grew. Indeed, I had exposure to / sought out / acquired philosophies that I connect to far more deeply than the – what I have found to be (I acknowledge this is not everyone’s lived experience) – damaging and hypocritical teachings of Christianity.

To extend… I believe in freedom of religion and religious practices (as long as they are not causing harm – which can come in physical, emotional, psychological and even financial forms), and I think there are (core?) tenets of Christianity (in their pure form) that are worthwhile. However, there’s also some deeply misguided, egregious, ungenerous, unloving stories, beliefs and views held in the name of the Christian religion that do cause harm (personally and socially). Christian dogma still permeates far too much of our cultural ethical / moral paradigms. Without question (this is a decidedly salient point), our political and social governance should not, in any way, be so inextricably intertwined with the beliefs, outlook and stance of the Christian (namely Catholic) church! Or any religion! No no no! [There’s a whole other world of discourse to be had here, regarding institutional power relationships and the types of control the powers-that-be exert over us.]

I understand a great many adults insist they persist with Xmas festivities (often in the required look, shape and feel of those marketed to us / jammed down our retching throats) “for the children”… I struggle to fathom the depth and breadth of difficulty inherent in denying one’s children involvement in a convention that seasonally crawls into every cranny of our culture (it’s grating jingles infusing the very air around us), especially when said convention involves promises of brand new, shiny stuff (that other grating jingles (and entitled day-care / school friends) have convinced the little tykes they want...). I acknowledge that I pushed through my “grinchiness” for my nephew and niece when both they and I were younger. On the flip side, for many years after my dad died (I was 24 when he died) I committed to carrying on traditions with (and for the joy of) my dearest, beautiful grandma (dad’s mum). Grandma absolutely LOVED Xmas, until her health declined with Alzheimer’s and she heartbreakingly lost her cheer (and some years later died too).

[image: gma. post-produced by my sister, sarah, and taken the xmas before gma died. omg i love her.

Side note: loss of loved ones to death or estrangement (however much these different experiences of loss are accompanied by unique details, variations and combinations of pain) is so deeply, keenly felt at these times - if and when a person has customarily been present - Xmas, birthdays, death-anniversaries, events and places made significant and potent by close experience... A loved ones (particularly recent, but also years-old) physical absence from the world is shockingly tangible. It is heavy and noisy, glaringly apparent. It is felt by all the senses and within every molecule of one’s heart and blood and bones. It shudders through the empty space they would otherwise inhabit. It hurts. And there’s no way around it. Just through it. (Love to all who are navigating this, in any way shape or form).

I ask… For those of us still here… Do we have to engage, if we don’t want to? ...if we don’t believe in it? Do we have to partake? For whose sake, really? Does it benefit anyone, if we’re doing it out of obligation? And if we’re stressing ourselves out in all the ways, how good can that be? And for what?! I know this will be triggering for people with kids, but I also ask what are we teaching young people if we simply play along with a cultural norm that we don’t actually believe in or worse don’t enjoy? What are we teaching them about consumption? About want vs need? About materialism vs spiritualism? Are we so overwhelmed by this particular current we have to swim with it to avoid drowning? Would we drown? Would our kids? Are we not actually drowning in it anyway? How might we go about changing the story, the focus, the culture at this time of year? In what ways can we boycott, rebel or revolt? I know, as pervasive as Xmas is, it’d be a rough time for little ones who weren’t permitted to partake. But it’s also worth noting that it’s already a rough time for all the little’ns (and big’ns) who genuinely struggle or can’t partake due to familial, social or economic circumstances.

“In what ways can we boycott, rebel or revolt?”

There are, of course, other options to full Xmas engagement. I’m an absolute advocate for “orphans” Xmas gatherings, “chosen family” gatherings, or opting out entirely and having time alone (as a number of friends of mine have done in recent years). Also choosing to get together and not exchange gifts at least removes the particularly heinous element of capitalist consumption. I think all these “alternative” options are wonderful for a lot of people, sometimes life-saving! I also know that, for those of us lucky and privileged enough to have holidays, it is one of the only times in the year when family and friends can all be free from other obligations, to be together in the same place at the same time. And this can make the Xmas period all the more potent. It is important, then, to acknowledge the value and privilege of community and choice. Again, not everybody has these. Choice, particularly, is a tricky one when it comes to all-pervasive cultural norms. People must first learn critical thought, how to see the reality of what they’re involved in, before they are able to buck it. And even then, going against the grain can create a wave of other interpersonal and social challenges that may not be worth it for some. Then again... if you try it, it may be...?!

The upshot is that willingly, happily, easily engaging in Xmas festivities requires a certain level of privilege (financial and social). I won’t hear anyone with any kind of privilege tell me that’s not the case. The psychological and emotional stress of Xmas on individuals (for many personal and social reasons) is palpable even for those with clear privilege. Add financial hardship, illness, homelessness, relationship (of any kind) tensions, family violence (it is no coincidence that family violence escalates at this time of year), familial estrangement, loss of family members to death, or a combination of any and all of the above and it only exacerbates the gruelling nature of the experience.

Considering this, it is disgusting how capitalism has co-opted, branded, packaged and sold us a social image we must fulfil at this time of year - along with all the garishly wrapped food, appliances, toys and non-biodegradable plastics we’re meant to buy and exchange to complete the picture - as the capitalist force (true-to-form) devours everything in its sphere. Not to mention how (again, true-to-form) it makes us feel inadequate if we do not or cannot participate. So… we buy into it…! We literally buy into it, people! The tragic-comic-tragic joke is on us. We are being played. And our pathological consumption, on all levels, is a depressing and disturbing horror show.

There is more I could write – more thoughts, more detail – but I’m sitting here in the physical and mental fog of 40 degree heat and 70% humidity, contemplating the fact that we’re all willingly (and unwillingly, because truly what power do most of us wield…? That’s an actual philosophical and socio-political question… and there are numerous complex answers…) contributing to Climate Change - the cataclysm of our time. Another “great flood” anyone? With chemical poisons dumped in? Or how about some roaring fires? Or mass species die-offs that impact entire ecosystems and ultimately our very own food sources?

Ok, I think I’m done. I’m gonna try and find those photos* I vaguely promised, earlier. I won’t be signing off with any grand conclusion. Instead, I’ll leave some links below to people who - more articulately and thoroughly than I - outline the lies of Xmas and merits of anti-Xmasism. [*There is one particular family photograph I desperately wanted to share, involving dress-ups in random red and white accessories - whatever we could find: enter the plastic Grace Brothers bag headwear (mentioned earlier), a candy cane for a cigarette and a small Clag Glue container being held like a gun (I’m about age 10/11?). I searched and searched and could not find it. I’m currently visiting family and I think the print is in a box at my place, approximately 737km away (I’ll be sure to update this post with it, should it be later located). In lieu of it, now, please accept my offer of the above pictures of myself and a fave one of my Gma, and this following screenshot of a digital photo of an awesomely awkward, weird, dark, blurry, smudged, badly composed print photo of (what must be) my 7 year old self with our family cat, still a kitten really (wearing what appears to be a Santa hat - though who can be sure?).]

[image: an awkwardly blurry photo of little me awkwardly sitting on this lounge with fritz wearing a santa hat and awkwardly reclining on my lap]

I’m now gonna go spend some quality time with my sisters and nephew and niece and dear friends, all of whom I deeply love and wonder what I’d do without (even when things get (thankfully only marginally) challenging). I’m grateful and calmed that none of us here are concerned with buying into any Xmas hoo-ha. We just want to take this rare opportunity to all be in the same place at the same time, to catch up and love and care for each other. I acknowledge, again, the extraordinary privilege I have in this. And I send love to those who may not have access to such privileges. Please, dear people, also find below some contact information for services that provide advocacy and support to anyone doing it tough. This time of year is hard. It’s ok to not be ok.

Big love to all. I do hope, whoever you are and wherever you are, you’re able to have some good experiences with people you want to be with and things you like to do. If you have to work, I hope you’re treated well and paid well and, if you can’t afford a holiday, I hope you can find something lovely to do in the place you happen to be. If you can’t be with your beloved peops, because they are geographically elsewhere, or they have recently or long-ago passed away (and you’re missing them) or if you have other troubles and obstacles to your happiness or safety, I hope you find support in getting through. Take care of yourselves. I hope there is some cheer in there somewhere, somehow. And I genuinely hope the season, for all, can be navigated with as little stress, pain, consumption and waste as possible.

Love. Love. Love love love.

Megxo

🤗

“The Truth About Xmas”  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sdIVIJ7-xfM&t=1s

“The Gift Of Death”  https://www.monbiot.com/2012/12/10/the-gift-of-death/?fbclid=IwAR1GkZbaczO16EWkwyyiuKZeb7B9SerIMxEmsbcyh4334hWoUBHMAphDgwo

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Emergency: 000

Lifeline Australia: 13 11 14

Beyond Blue: 1300 224 636

1800RESPECT: 1800 737 732

Mensline: 1300 78 99 78

Relationships Australia: 1300 364 277

Kids Helpline: 1800 551 80

❤️

———

by megan drury

participationmystique