Over the past few years, I’ve seen a ton of content about how women take on the bulk of physical and emotional labor that goes into making the holidays special. And I can confirm that the rumors are true.
Each year since I was a girl, I witnessed my mother make Halloween costumes by hand, chef-up entire Thanksgiving spreads, and work full time to afford whatever it was me and my sisters put on our Christmas lists — all while somehow keeping the house clean and decorated. Christmas morning was the height of the holiday season for us, filled with hyperactivity and excitement. My mother, on the other hand, spent it hiding under her covers, recovering from the marathon that is the holidays.
Seeing my mother, grandmother and aunties care for their children, grandchildren and spouses in a way that required so much diligence and intention reinforced the idea that women are solely responsible for creating holiday magic. Eventually, it became an expectation I thought I had to fill when I became a mother. For the first few Christmases with my son, I experienced an overwhelming level of anxiety that escalated throughout the course of each season.
Some of that anxiety was triggered by the constantly evolving culture of over consumption and hypercapitalism, e.g., social media trends, ugly sweater parties and lavish gifts that we are made to believe measure the love we have for our families.
This past year, I decided I’d had enough. I wanted to alleviate some of the pressure I put on myself, and so my goal was to (at least slightly) ungender the creation of holiday magic. I want to show my son that gender does not dictate who does the work of caregiving — not just on Christmas, but broadly as well.
Like most young-ish couples, my partner and I navigate a ton of internalized patriarchal myths that sometimes trip us up in our relationship. However, for some time now (with the help of therapy), we’ve been working to make it so that on most days — and especially during the holidays — I don’t feel like a Macbook Air operating with 100 tabs open. So this year, I verbalized the pressure I was feeling to my partner. He helped me see that, first and foremost, Christmas doesn’t need to be a Broadway-caliber production. He insisted that it’s perfectly normal to do what is financially sensible and realistic.
He also pledged his commitment to making the holiday magical — and that was a huge relief. I realized that while women and fem-identifying people have been charged with the task of making the holidays magical since the beginning of time, disrupting that dangerous expectation can combat burnout all year long. With that said, we found ways to split the holiday responsibilities as evenly as possible, which has made the season feel all the more special.
While we still have a lot of work to do to completely free ourselves of gender norms, carving out time to talk about our expectations and what we are capable of has helped my family a lot. Making a holiday gift list, and sticking to a feasible budget that we both agree on, has helped ease a bit of the financial stress. I’ve also decided to just buy less, because my son really doesn’t need every toy he circles in the Christmas toy catalog. I have to remind myself that buying, baking and doing everything during the holidays does not equate to a happy childhood for my child. Being there for him in general is a much higher-level indicator that the kid is going to prosper.
When it comes to making our home look festive, I decided that decorating is most fun when it’s done together. We even recruit our 5-year-old son to hang ornaments and help tend for our Christmas tree. Same deal with gift-wrapping — there’s no need to create a one-woman sweatshop when there are family members (of all genders) around to help. And we’re trying to make it fun for our son, instead of a task or a burden. And gift-wrapping can be a ritual; the quiet time conspiring around the joy a gift might bring a loved one elicits all the warm fuzzy feelings. It also provides a space for connection and conversation.
Overall, ungendering the holidays can more evenly distribute responsibilities, but it also creates space for us to expand our awareness and ability to care for others. This work — the kind that makes memories — is all about perception, and changing that perception is crucial.
Making the decision to make the holiday to-do list a joint effort has helped me exercise self-care as a caregiver, which for me not only looks like making time for the hair salon and rest, but also showing my family that the holidays can be even more special when we make the magic happen together.
It has also allowed my son to see two people doing their best to tap into the intention of care. My biggest hope is that by the time he is celebrating it with his family, it’ll be the norm for every member to do their part and enjoy doing it.
