Light in the Darkness: Reclaiming the Solstice from Consumerism
How to Rediscover Authentic Holiday Traditions Rooted in Community, Connection, and the Spirit of the Solstice
The “holiday season” in the Global North has become an increasingly commodified event, its traditions shaped more by commercial interests than by genuine community or personal meaning. Nearly every holiday we ‘celebrate’ today bears the fingerprints of capitalism, stripped of its original significance and reimagined as an opportunity for consumption. What was once a time for reflection, connection, and redistribution—rooted in communal sharing and mutual care—has been transformed into a spectacle of spending, with every detail, from the decorations to the gifts, choreographed by corporate interests. The rituals we now associate with the holidays often have little to do with their historical roots and everything to do with driving sales.
This shift represents more than just a change in how we celebrate; it reflects a deeper reorganisation of values. The holidays, once a time for fostering community bonds and sharing resources, have been co-opted as a wealth transfer mechanism, funnelling money from the working class to the ruling class—often at confiscatory interest rates. The pressure to consume, to spend beyond one’s means on gifts, decorations, and experiences, serves to maintain the capitalist status quo, ensuring the continued flow of profit to those at the top. The communitarian, redistributionist spirit of old holidays—where abundance was shared and the focus was on collective well-being—has been forced aside to make way for an individualistic, consumption-driven ideal.
This transformation is reinforced and perpetuated by media depictions of the ‘perfect holiday.’ Across adverts, films, and social media, we are inundated with images of pristine homes, lavishly wrapped presents, and joyful families dressed in their best. These narratives don’t just sell products; they sell an unattainable standard of aesthetic and emotional perfection. In doing so, they tie our worth and happiness to our ability to conform to these manufactured ideals, reducing the holidays to a shallow exercise in performance and consumption, far removed from their original intent.
Historical Context: Standardising the Holidays
The holidays we recognise today, particularly Christmas, have their roots entangled in colonialism and capitalism, two forces that have shaped and standardised celebrations across the globe. Britain, as a colonial power, played a significant role in exporting its own interpretations of the holidays, stripping them of their local diversity and historical complexity. The transition from Saturnalia, a Roman festival of revelry and communal sharing, to the Christianised version of Christmas, is one example of how revisionism was used to align existing traditions with the dominant religious and cultural ideologies of the colonisers. These revised traditions were then imposed on colonised populations, erasing the richness and specificity of their own seasonal celebrations to create a homogenised, globally recognisable holiday.
Over time, Christmas became less about its diverse roots and more about conformity to an idealised, standardised celebration. This homogenisation accelerated during the 19th and 20th centuries with the rise of industrial capitalism and modern advertising. Companies saw the holidays not as sacred or communal occasions but as opportunities for profit. One of the most famous examples is Coca-Cola’s reinvention of Santa Claus, transforming him into the jolly, red-suited figure we know today—a commercial mascot as much as a cultural symbol. Through relentless advertising, this image became synonymous with Christmas, linking the holiday inseparably with consumerism.
Industrialisation also played a key role in reshaping the holidays. Mass production made it possible to churn out endless supplies of holiday goods—decorations, toys, and gifts—encouraging a culture of buying rather than creating or sharing. Today, this has reached an extreme, with vast quantities of cheaply made plastic items flooding the market each holiday season. These products, often designed to break quickly or lose their novelty, fill landfills and pollute oceans, leaving an environmental legacy that starkly contradicts the supposed spirit of the holidays. Far from embodying goodwill or generosity, this cycle of production and waste exemplifies the exploitation and environmental disregard inherent in modern capitalism.
What was once a season rooted in the shared human experience of the winter solstice—a time when diverse cultures across the globe marked the turning point of the year with reflection, community, and celebration—has been transformed into a global spectacle of consumption, driven by colonial imposition and capitalist exploitation. The holidays, in their standardised and commercialised form, serve not to uplift communities but to perpetuate systems of inequality and environmental harm. Instead of fostering connection and care, they demand conformity to a model designed to maximise profit, leaving little room for genuine reflection or collective joy.
Media, Marketing, and ‘Looksmaxxing’ the Holidays
The holidays, as portrayed in media, are a masterclass in aesthetic conformity, presenting a highly curated, unattainable version of the season. From glossy adverts to sentimental films, the imagery is the same: perfectly decorated homes glowing with warm lights, pristine snow blanketing photogenic neighbourhoods, and well-dressed, “conventionally attractive” families exchanging gifts with effortless joy. These depictions are steeped in cis-heteronormative ideals, reinforcing a narrow vision of who belongs and what the holidays should look like. They prioritise appearance over authenticity, turning the season into a performance of perfection. This isn’t by accident; it’s a deliberate marketing gimmick designed to sell the promise of the “perfect holiday,” one that can only be achieved by purchasing the right decorations, clothes, and gifts.
These holiday aesthetics are not limited to appearances but extend to homes and lifestyles, linking the season to the broader concept of Looksmaxxing. Just as Looksmaxxing pushes individuals to “maximise” their physical appearance, media narratives encourage families to “maximise” their holidays—creating picture-perfect scenes that reflect not genuine joy but adherence to consumerist ideals. The underlying message is clear: happiness and love during the holidays are tied to how well you can conform to these marketed standards. This manipulative narrative shifts the focus from meaningful connections to shallow displays of affluence and beauty, all to drive profits.
The pressures to conform to these ideals fall most heavily on women, particularly cis women, who are often depicted as the linchpins of holiday success. They are expected to host flawlessly, keep their families happy and cohesive, and look stunning whilst doing it. Advertisements bombard women with holiday-specific beauty products, from glittery makeup to “festive” clothing, perpetuating the idea that their worth is tied to how they present themselves during this season. Meanwhile, trans women are glaringly absent from these narratives, erased from the imagery of holiday joy and belonging. This exclusion underscores how narrow and exclusionary these ideals truly are, leaving little space for authentic expressions of identity.
At the heart of all this is the relentless push to spend, reinforced not only by advertisements but also by so-called “news” stories in corporate media that prescribe the “appropriate” amount new couples should spend on gifts. These figures are often shockingly high, framed as benchmarks of commitment and care. For those without the means or credit to meet these expectations, such narratives sow doubt about their worth and adequacy. The “holiday spirit” becomes synonymous with extravagant spending, where love and affection are measured in monetary terms rather than genuine connection. This consumerist machine commodifies not only the holidays but the very emotions they are meant to nurture, transforming acts of care into transactions. Instead of fostering connection, these narratives trap people in cycles of debt, stress, and insecurity, serving a capitalist system that profits from their longing to belong and their fear of falling short.
The Emotional Toll of a Commodified Holiday
The commodification of the holiday season takes a significant emotional toll, erasing the depth and diversity of what these celebrations once meant. Standardised imagery saturates every aspect of the holidays, leaving little room for local traditions or personal expressions of joy. The season is presented as a uniform experience: a smiling nuclear family around a perfect table, under a pristine tree, exchanging gifts. This rigidity leaves little space for queerness, individuality, or alternative ways of engaging with the season. The unspoken message is clear: there is only one acceptable way to celebrate the holidays, and it is dictated by capitalist ideals of aesthetic and social conformity.
For neurodivergent and marginalised communities, these hyper-aestheticised, consumption-driven norms can be profoundly alienating. Autistic individuals, for example, often struggle with the disruption of routines and sensory overload that the season brings. The invasion of personal space by unwanted or untrusted relatives, the constant noise, the expectation of forced proximity and touching—all these elements can turn the holidays into a source of stress rather than comfort. For those living in poverty, the pressure to meet these unattainable ideals adds another layer of harm, deepening feelings of exclusion and inadequacy. The holidays, instead of fostering inclusion and warmth, become a glaring reminder of the social and economic divides entrenched in society.
Rather than a time of connection and rest, the holidays often transform into an exhausting performance. Women, in particular, are frequently expected to shoulder the emotional and logistical burden of creating the “perfect” celebration. From cooking elaborate meals to managing family dynamics, the weight of these responsibilities can leave people drained and resentful. The pressure to perform holiday cheer for the benefit of others adds another layer of labour, turning what should be a time of mutual joy into a one-sided effort. For many, the aftermath of the holidays requires days—if not weeks—of recovery, raising the question: if the holidays are so exhausting, are we truly celebrating them, or simply enduring them?
Ultimately, the commodified holiday season strips away the genuine connections it claims to nurture, replacing them with hollow performances dictated by consumerism. The emotional labour required to meet these expectations leaves little room for personal meaning or rest. The holidays should be a time to recharge and reflect, not another obligation that leaves us feeling depleted. It's worth asking: what would the season look like if we stripped away the manufactured ideals and embraced something simpler, something truly meaningful to ourselves and our communities?
A Trans Person’s Holiday Experience
For many trans people, the holiday season brings not warmth and connection, but anxiety and dread. The idealised images of families gathered around tables, sharing laughter and love, can feel painfully out of reach for those whose families are unaccepting—or even openly hostile—toward their identities. Instead of celebrating, trans people often find themselves bracing for misgendering, deadnaming, or outright invalidation, all under the guise of “family togetherness.”
The holidays amplify these challenges because they are often steeped in traditions and roles that can feel alienating or oppressive to trans individuals. Gendered expectations around clothing, behaviour, and family roles can serve as a constant reminder of rejection or misunderstanding. For some, even walking into a family gathering is an act of emotional endurance, knowing that their name or pronouns will likely be ignored, corrected, or even mocked. The insistence on pretending everything is fine “for the sake of the holidays” silences trans people’s pain, leaving them to navigate hostility on their own.
For trans individuals with hostile families, even moments meant to be lighthearted or humorous can feel like traps. Comments about their “old self” or unsolicited questions about their transition can turn conversations into a battlefield. The refusal to respect someone’s identity is not a trivial issue; it is an active denial of their personhood. And yet, trans people are often expected to tolerate these affronts in the name of keeping the peace—a peace that prioritises the comfort of others over their own well-being.
This struggle is compounded for trans people who are neurodivergent, have limited financial independence, or lack a safe space to retreat to. Escaping these situations isn’t always an option, and the emotional toll of enduring them can last long after the holidays are over.
“My younger brother is trans. My parents have been horrendous about deadnaming and misgendering him. At Thanksgiving, I used an air horn to correct them. I fixed a 2-3 year long problem in two seconds. 10/10 would recommend this training method.”
And yet, trans people are resilient. They find creative ways to navigate these dynamics, sometimes with humour and bold strategies, like the quote above of a supportive sibling using an air horn to correct their parents’ misgendering at Thanksgiving. Whilst such tactics may not work for everyone, they reflect a desire to reclaim agency and demand respect in spaces where it is often denied. For others, survival might mean opting out of family gatherings altogether, choosing instead to spend the holidays with chosen family or in solitude. These acts of self-preservation and defiance are a testament to the strength of trans individuals in the face of a world that too often refuses to meet them with the kindness they deserve.
Resisting the Holiday Machine
Resisting the mess that has become of the holiday season begins with reclaiming traditions that reflect personal and communal values. Across the world, individuals and communities are turning away from the manufactured ideals of consumption and perfection, choosing instead to centre their celebrations on connection, rest, and authenticity. Some are reconnecting with the solstice, embracing the ancient practices that honoured the turning of the year through reflection and communal care. These older traditions remind us that the season’s purpose was never about material excess but about strengthening bonds and finding light in the darkest days.
Opting out of consumerism is another way people are pushing back against the holiday machine. Movements like Buy Nothing Christmas encourage a focus on sustainability and mindfulness, urging people to give their time, skills, or second-hand items rather than purchasing new products. Local gift economies and DIY traditions are gaining traction, fostering creativity and reducing environmental impact. Whether it’s crafting handmade gifts, exchanging meaningful acts of service, or organising community potlucks, these approaches prioritise thoughtfulness over expense and connection over conformity. They create space for celebrations that feel grounded and inclusive, far removed from the pressure to overspend.
Reimagining the holidays means breaking free from the narrow ideals of aesthetic perfection and embracing authenticity and inclusivity. Instead of striving for picture-perfect homes or flawless gatherings, many are choosing to celebrate in ways that feel genuine to them. This might mean smaller, quieter gatherings, or even choosing solitude to recharge. It could mean embracing non-traditional decorations, meals, or activities that reflect the diversity of one’s household or community. For queer, neurodivergent, and marginalised individuals, it may involve creating spaces that honour their unique identities and ways of being.
By stepping away from the relentless push to consume and perform, we can reclaim the holidays as a time of genuine joy and reflection. Resisting the holiday machine isn’t about rejecting celebration; it’s about rediscovering what truly matters—connection, care, and community—and shaping the season to reflect those values. In doing so, we not only create more meaningful experiences for ourselves but also challenge the systems that prioritise profit over people.
Final thoughts …
The holiday season, as it exists today, has been carefully engineered to serve a singular purpose: the maximisation of profit through the relentless transfer of wealth from the working class to the ruling class. What was once a series of diverse, localised traditions tied to reflection, gratitude, and community has been stretched into an extended period of consumption, spanning nearly a month of spending. The shift from a singular holiday to an entire season was no accident—it is the result of capitalist systems finding new ways to extract profit, from Black Friday’s frenzied sales to the marketing of “must-have” gifts, décor, and experiences that turn the entire season into an economic spectacle.
Under this system, the holidays are no longer about connection or meaning but about consumption and aesthetic conformity. Media and marketing bombard us with unattainable ideals: perfect families in perfect homes giving perfect gifts. The result is a holiday season that feeds on insecurity and guilt, pushing individuals to overspend in the name of love and belonging. For many, this leads to financial strain, environmental harm, and emotional exhaustion—all to sustain a system that prioritises profit over people and planet.
But what if the holidays were something more—something closer to their original purpose? Imagine a season untethered from the demands of consumption, one that honours the traditions rooted in the winter solstice, when communities across the world came together to celebrate the turning of the year. For millennia, the solstice marked a time to reflect on survival, to gather in solidarity against the harshness of winter, and to share resources in a spirit of mutual care. These celebrations weren’t about material excess or aesthetic perfection but about recognising the rhythms of nature and the importance of human connection. They were a time for storytelling, feasting, and gratitude, grounded in the cycles of the earth and the collective well-being of the community.
Reclaiming the season could mean reviving these older, more meaningful ways of celebration. It could mean coming together to share meals that nourish not just the body but the soul, or creating traditions that reflect the unique values, needs, and identities of those who observe them. Rather than being dictated by corporations or narrow ideals, these celebrations could be shaped within communities, rooted in authenticity and care. The solstice reminds us of the importance of light in darkness—not just the physical light of longer days to come, but the metaphorical light of shared humanity and resilience.
Reimagining the holidays in this way would also mean lifting up the voices of those too often excluded—queer, neurodivergent, and marginalised individuals—whose celebrations could breathe new life into the season. By breaking free from the commodified narratives of what the holidays “should” look like, we open the door to a more inclusive, meaningful way of marking the season. This return to the spirit of the solstice—of connection, gratitude, and care—offers a chance to reshape the holidays into something that nurtures both people and the planet, aligning with the values of sustainability and community rather than the relentless demands of consumerism.
To move in this direction, we must consciously resist the pressures to consume and conform. It is possible to reject the excess and instead embrace simplicity, authenticity, and the values that matter most to us. Let this season be about rest, not stress; about connection, not comparison. By stepping away from the commodified holiday machine, we open the door to a more fulfilling, intentional way of celebrating—one that centres people over profits and meaning over materialism. Together, we can reclaim the holidays as a time worth celebrating, not for what we buy, but for the connections we create and the care we share. This shift is not just an act of personal liberation but a collective push toward a culture that values humanity over consumerism.