Wintery feeling

A couple of days ago, I was reminded that once I had the idea and intention of writing this blog. I must have forgotten about it, though, while I was writing, reading, or staring at the wall feeling guilty about not writing or reading. Okay. There also was a lot of Netflix involved.

Anyway, thank you so much for reminding me. I am spending Christmas here alone this year, so it’s the perfect opportunity for finding some time to write.

However, if you are a Christmas lover, you might not want to read this one. Because I am basically sick of two things: Christmas preparations, and, even worse, other people’s (read: society’s/the public’s/…’s) Christmas expectations. So this will be about the first reason why I really can’t stand it anymore.

In their attempt to justify why they still celebrate Christmas, a lot of today’s (read: secular, non-religious) people try to make it about love, and warmth, and family. It’s just that in doing so, they unwillingly make it about heteronormative bullshit, too.

The unwritten rules of Christmas, as far as they are known to me, state that it is – as a default – everyone’s duty to go visit their parents. Since it is literally impossible that this rule is followed without exception, there are terrible clauses dealing with this special situation. You are allowed to not go see your parents in case you are married and (applies mostly)/ or(sometimes) have children of your own. Reason: In those cases it is acknowledged that you have your own family. You count as a grown-up.

The problem is just this. There are people who do not give a sh** about founding their own nuclear family. And people who would like to but do not manage to. But in the merciless eyes of father Christmas, they never reach grown-up status. Their family, which might consist of their flatmate, their best friend, and their cat, will never be acknowledged as their family. Christmas tradition divides people into single and non-single, parents and non-parents. But what else than an obsession with parenthood would you expect from a holiday that celebrates the birth of a child which was forced onto (read: into) the mother without her consent.

 

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