PlainGeets

It’s that time of the year again—Christmas. You can’t escape it. You can’t outsmart it. And no matter where you are in the world, its jingles, garlands, and endless barrage of “joy” will find you. Christmas is no longer just a holiday—it’s an institution, a juggernaut that steamrolls over everything in its path, forcing itself into your life whether you celebrate it or not.

From late October, the world starts its annual transformation into a tinsel-coated wonderland. Shops swap out Halloween decorations for Santa hats. Ads start screaming about “the perfect gift.” Streets light up with garlands, carolers, and, of course, that one Mariah Carey song that you cannot unhear no matter how far you run. Even in countries where Christmas isn’t a traditional holiday, you’ll find malls decked out in fake snow and twinkling lights, as though they’re auditioning for a Hallmark movie.

It’s everywhere. On your TV. In your inbox. On your social media feed, where influencers peddle holiday-themed products with captions like, “All I want for Christmas is this 500 skincare set.” The omnipresence of Christmas is exhausting. It’s like that overenthusiastic neighbour who refuses to tone it down—even when it’s literally not their holiday.

Let’s talk about the stereotypes, shall we? Family, warmth, and cozy clichés (that have been around since before the current popularity of Hygge). Christmas, we’re told, is all about family. Togetherness. Love. Sitting by a roaring fire in your ugly sweater, sipping mulled wine while snow gently falls outside. Cozy, isn’t it?

Except, hello, the Global South exists. Snow? Warmth? Fireside evenings? Try sweltering heat and monsoon rains. Many countries celebrate Christmas in shorts and flip-flops, yet the global narrative insists on white Christmases, chestnuts roasting, and Rudolph pulling a sleigh through frosted skies. This one-size-fits-all portrayal of the holiday is alienating.

And the “family” stereotype? Not everyone has the picture-perfect Hallmark family to gather with. For many, Christmas can be a reminder of estrangement, loss, or loneliness. Yet the pressure to conform to this ideal is relentless. Even if your idea of a good holiday is binge-watching Netflix alone, society tells you you’re “missing out.” It’s exhausting.

And then there is the rather blatant materialism garbed in Santa’s clothes! For all its talk of love, generosity, and goodwill, Christmas is unapologetically the capitalist king of holidays. The entire month of December is a masterclass in marketing psychology. You’re bombarded with ads convincing you that buying the right gifts will strengthen relationships, heal old wounds, and make you a better person.

Christmas isn’t about giving anymore—it’s about buying. How much you spend has become a metric of love, and heaven forbid you show up to the Secret Santa exchange with something unbranded or handmade. The holiday has become a race to outspend, out-decorate, and out-celebrate everyone else.

Let’s not forget the waste. The wrapping paper that gets ripped apart and tossed. The plastic decorations destined for landfills. The endless parade of “holiday specials” that promote overconsumption. If Christmas is supposed to be about joy, why does it generate so much guilt—financially and environmentally?

But perhaps the most insidious thing about Christmas is how it’s managed to colonise beliefs. Originally a Christian holiday, Christmas has been stretched, diluted, and exported until it’s become a global cultural juggernaut that’s unrecognisable from its roots. It’s been appropriated by secularism, commercialism, and Hollywood until it feels less like a religious celebration and more like a mandatory global event.

And let’s not ignore how this holiday was spread. Colonisers didn’t just steal from us – they also exported their culture. Christmas, with its hymns and Nativity scenes, was imposed on countless non-Christian societies under the guise of “civilising” them. Today, even in places where Christianity isn’t the majority religion, Christmas is celebrated with fervour—not because it’s meaningful to the culture, but because globalisation demands it.

But I am exaggerating a bit.

It’s not all bad. Christmas markets can be fun. Vin chaud and sausages dowsed in cheese? Gimme more, I say! I have celebrated Christmas with enthusiasm, and even had a tree at home for several years. It also allows the world to tie up the year rather neatly with a series of parties. Many people genuinely find joy in Christmas, and that’s great.

But can we please acknowledge the sheer absurdity of it all? The pressure. The stereotypes. The forced cheer. The environmental cost. And the unspoken rule that you’re not allowed to question it because it’s “the most wonderful time of the year.”

So here’s my radical Christmas wish: let’s stop pretending this holiday is universal. Let’s call out its materialism. Let’s reject its monopolisation of December. Celebrate it if it brings you joy, but let’s allow room for nuance—and, for heaven’s sake, room for those who just want to be left in peace.