Santa Claus pisses me off. I know that’s highly unfair, with his being jolly and rosy-cheeked and all, but if you stop to think about it for just a moment, you’ll get my perspective. I’ll ignore the obvious religious slant for now. Let’s just look at it as we might any folk tale or legend.
Santa is this twinkle-eyed man who all year plans the gifts that he will bring all of the (Christian) children around the world. He gets his list and checks it twice. He oversees the elves. He delivers the gifts. Now honestly, come on. I cannot think of the last time I saw a man take responsibility for gift-giving. What kind of BS is that? Mrs. Claus gets totally ignored, except as perhaps a marital accessory. That’s uncool. Women’s suffrage should have had a Mrs. Claus clause.
OK. Now that my sexist mini-rant is done, let me really get to the crux of the matter. The truth is I see Santa Claus as a metaphor for much of what is wrong in America. Go ahead, blame Bush. I’m blaming the Jolly Old Soul himself. I remember Santa when I was a child. Do you know how wrong it is that my parents let me sit on some random old man’s lap? And all for a photo op? Sorry to my parents for the public “outing”, but in their defense, they are not the only ones who do this. It happens every year. It should be socially disturbing, but no, it’s an accepted norm. Then they tell me he comes down the chimney or through the keyhole? It’s actually creepy. And they wondered why I looked under my bed.
There’s more to it though. Something that irks me completely. Something so fundamentally wrong that I think it has infused its “wrongness” into much of American society. Think about it. On one hand we teach our children to tell the truth, and then we turn around and perpetuate some antiquated tale of a man in red velvet who watches us year round (still creepy.) When challenged by more advanced children on the logic of how exactly this can happen, parents proceed to cover their arses by concocting far-fetched auxiliary statements to support the premise that such a man actually exists. And some of this really does get far fetched. And how fair is it that such a tale can be used to manipulate children all year round? I was always deeply aware that my mother had Santa’s direct line. She did not have to go through a secretary or drunken elves…no, she could call Santa direct! That’s BLACKMAIL! It bothers me that we teach our children to believe in every random tall tale told to us.
OK. So for many years I was on an internal quest to disprove the existence of Santa. It was highly internal. After all, if I was wrong, well, I knew what list I wanted to be on. One year I finally hit upon a major question. Why is Santa white? That bothered me. Growing up in D.C I was surrounded by children from every nation, religion, and belief system. And so, racial discrepancy was actually my first clue that Santa did not exist. My best friend as a child was African-American (originally from Sierre Leon.) She gave out Christmas cards one year with a black Santa on it. Some kids yelled at her. I took the card and without protest, put it into my Starwars backpack. I showed it to my father later that night. “How do you explain this,” I asked, by then working out that he could not. When he told me there were two Santas, I knew I had him. Just two? Did my Korean friend not have her own Santa? I was young, but I had it figured out. In all due respect, I did not let my parents know that I knew. But my Christmas list doubled every year. Hey, parents are not the only ones who can manipulate.
Having it figured out did not mean understanding it all. Part of it puzzles me even still. WHY do we do this? Why do we, as a culture, perpetuate a total outright lie? Do we not see that we are creating generation after generation of Americans with a sense of entitlement? That now expect that “things” are mysteriously going to be handed to them. That they deserve these things without paying for them. That handouts are the norm. Why do we spend thousands every year during the Holidays only to turn around and let a fat man take credit for it? Why do we remove the concept of earning, rewarding, and responsibility? These things bother me.
The religious slant. I had to go here. I know I am not the only one who sees this. Christmas is a Christian holiday. I respect the beliefs behind Christmas as a religious holiday and wish to insult no one here but the guy with eight tiny reindeer. But honestly, where does he tie in? I’ve read the Bible. I went to Sunday school for a long time, and after that to Temple. There is a total disconnect here for me. Did Jesus’ midwife have eyes that twinkle and a belly that shook like a bowl full of jelly? And how did I miss a reference to it? In retrospect I have to tell you like I feel that Santa was just a gateway drug. You know, try a little Santa, it feels good, you’ll like it. But when Santa is no longer enough, you are already on a specific path to finding answers. Cold realization, my parents were pushers.
In my heart, I understand it all. But just as a Santa makes us feel warm and fuzzy, my understanding makes one feel tainted and un-American. We just simply need something to believe in. Regardless of how silly or unbelievable it might me. We need an understanding that we can consume and easily digest, that makes us feel warm and full. We read old mythology and laugh condescendingly when, at the end of the chaotic and dire story with no clear solution, one of the Gods comes out of the sky, riding a cloud, and with a lecture and a lightning bolt…fixes it all. Have we achieved anything more than this? I mean…how does Santa travel from house to house, across the Earth in one night? And doesn't he put his finger to his nose and gives it a twitch…and UP, UP, UP the chimney he goes...like something out of a Greek myth?
Honestly, Santa is only one offender. I’m pissed at Cinderella, too. And the fairy godmother. And certainly Hansel and Gretel…pushing someone in an oven….don’t they KNOW there’s a list?! I’m mad at the Princess who slept on a pea, like she knew! I’m mad at the Easter Bunny. I’m mad at Beauty (not so much the Beast, he’s got enough social pressures.) I’m really pissed at the Woman who lived in a shoe. Ever hear of Birth control? She alone sets women’s rights back 100 years! I’m not so pissed at Snow White, she has health concerns.
When I have children I want there to be a firm and obvious line between real and make-believe. I know make-believe encourages creativity, but isn’t that what invisible friends are for? I’d like to know what you think. Do you latch on to an obviously false tale that goes against your inner gut feel...all for the sake of a magically happy ending? Am I being heartless here? Or have you, too, asked yourself…what’s up with THAT?