Giving In to a Capitalist Christmas

There is something every person doesn't like about their family’s holiday. Maybe it’s the one-upping sister, or the black sheep uncle that steals Grandpa’s chair, or the thousands of “when are you getting married/having kids/buying that white picket fence” questions.Whatever it is, you make light of it and deal with it because it’s your family. You’re stuck with them.

For me, I’m pretty lucky to have a sane and loving family that doesn't pry (too much) or act inappropriately. What I do have, however, is a large, extended Catholic family that LOVES a giant, capitalistic free-for-all of a Christmas, complete with specifically-priced lists, gifts exchanged among each of us, Black Friday adventures, and one broke ass me.

I’ve begged to try something different. Donate to an animal shelter! Go to an expensive theatre production together! Make balls of rubberbands and watch the cats go crazy! Nothing seems to stick. My mom sort of giggles and shrugs at me, saying “We just really like giving gifts.”

Usually I hem and I haw and then I give in and stress myself out trying to pick out sustainably-sourced local gifts that will actually matter to my family. I work really hard to find something I think will be nice, not break me entirely, and also celebrates the artist/culture it came from, but often I end up just buying gifts that I would like and actually have no meaning for those I’m giving it to (locally-sourced wooden mixing bowl failure, here’s looking at you). So this year I kind of said eff it. I’m trying this capitalistic Christmas thing on.

What does that mean? Without going broke (hopefully), I’m buying the things they want and/or need and/or put on a list for me to pluck from and that will be that. In fact, I’ve already bought my nephew a sustainably-made kite, but I’m taking the gift back. Really, my nephew just wants Hello Kitty Chacocat dolls and legos, who am I to deny him that? Does this make me less or more selfish, less or more thoughtful, I don’t know. I’m still planning to do some thoughtful free things, like the painting I do for my nephew every year of whatever critter he is into, but I’ll also do the big box store thing and get him the legos he wants because how often will he really play with that kite he didn’t put on his list?

I feel both parts traitor to myself and relieved at the same time. Clicking “send” on Amazon may beat the time it takes to peruse farmer’s markets and little local shops, but it’s a sad state of supporting the local economy. For one year, just this one year, I’m going to do my best to get over it and on with living my own life, free from the guilt and anxiety of fulfilling my family’s capitalistic Christmas wishes while also meeting my own standard of what a gift should be.

I realize this is more of a battle with myself than with them. I’m not likely ever going to change them, so why not just enjoy the giving spirit of Christmas and give them things that make them happy? If I let my own list be a reflection of my values—a membership at the Northwest Trek Wildlife Center, a Washington State Discover Pass for hiking local trails—is that not enough? Maybe not for my guilty conscience, but it’s good enough for my family, and they are all that really matters at Christmas.