‘Tis the season to be jolly, to give thanks, to bask in the familial glow and to reflect upon all of the reasons life was worth living again this year.
‘Tis the season of ugly sweaters, warm nights by the fireplace (or the heating unit, no judgment here), of hot chocolate, holiday songs and movies.
‘Tis the season of gift-giving, Christmas caroling, tree lighting and, hopefully, minimal sibling fighting.
‘Tis NOT the season, however, to be a pushover.
You’ve spent the year hearing from this side and that, but it’s your time to speak up, no longer the doormat. This time last year, we wondered where 2016 went; pretty soon 2017 was here and Donald Trump became president.
So, whether you’ve been confused by trends like the eyebrow-squiggle arch, or took the day after inauguration to join the Women’s March, be free and be bold. Let careless comments beware. Your clap back at their bigotry will burn stronger than the eclipse’s flare.
It’s been a rough year, with violence erupting all over the place, so we completely understand why you might just give them space. I’ve avoided family too, spending less time downstairs. But this time, I’ll give deference to the hurricane victims with prayers. Think of Puerto Rico, Houston and the DR, the Caribbean, Latin America—heck, any place affected by natural disasters—you can donate things like these: money (that’s tricky, make sure it goes to a reputable campaign), clothes, feminine hygiene products and more.
See! There’s so much you can offer without having to go back and forth; you can stand your ground with less hostility than the country of the north. It’s as simple as swiping that last bite, the last slice before that family member thought they could, reminding them you’re an adult with opinions, now out of carefree childhood.
Sip your cranberry cider like my little sister, Carmen, does, and do away with all of the negativity because it’s almost 2018, no need to be stationary—especially when the next New Yeara performances have to top Mariah Carey’s.
I’m not trying to shade the queen, but you never know what may occur. Have yourself a merry, little Christmas and if all else fails, tell them, “I don’t know her.”