Christmas Sentiments from a Queer Muslim
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The gigantic snowman balloons, the rainbow-lighted houses and the super-sized wreaths will soon be gone, after tomorrow. The carolers will be sipping tea nursing their larynxes back to health, the jolly old fellow will go back to hibernating for another year, and Rudolph won’t have to worry about the other reindeer making fun of his red nose. And me – I’ll look forward to another year where I won’t feel like an outcast in my own country. *he he*

The truth of the matter is that Christmas has always been a holiday that has intrigued me. As a Pakistani immigrant and as a Muslim (a religious minority), I have never really understood the true meaning of Christmas – either its religious sentiments or its secular ones. Christmas just always seems to be the time of year when I can take advantage of the bargain sales and when I look forward to receiving chocolates and other sweet treats from my co-workers.

My parents and I immigrated to a small town in Connecticut, where I attended Middle School and High School. While my parents didn’t celebrate Christmas at our house, we often participated in the many public rituals of this holiday. My mother always sent “holiday” cards to our neighbors and wrapped all sorts of gifts for her co-workers. My dad was also the recipient of gifts once in a while. After disappearing at night, once every December, he came home with bottles of wine and champagne and wrapped boxes of chocolate. (It wasn’t until I was in College did I realize he was going to his annual holiday party at work). The wine and champagne sat in our garage all year, until next Christmas when he re-gifted them and gave them to out to his co-workers. My mother bought two sweaters one year; one with a big reindeer decorated on it, and the other with snowflakes. And as far back as I can remember, she always wore them every December. While my parents tried their very best to embody the spirit of Christmas, I didn't have so much fun.

Christmas to me was just another time when I looked forward to having two weeks off from school; unless my parents decided that we would go one of their dreaded “family vacations.” Of course I had to learn all the Christmas songs and carols and sing them in my chorus’ annual concert. Band class during this season was also filled with various renditions of Christmas hymns and songs. During our “holiday break,” it was great building snowmen and going sledding, but I was always dismayed at the thought of going back to school. Every year all the kids came back modeling their new Gap sweaters, Banana Republic button-down shirts, Levis Jeans and Reebok sneakers. One girl even got a new hairdo every year. So while every one compared what they got for Christmas and the obnoxious girl paraded her new hairdo, I found myself explaining to everyone why I was an odd-boll in school and why our family didn’t celebrate Christmas. While I enlightened my mostly white and Christian classmates what Muslims did over Christmas (i.e. nothing), there was always a big part of me that was jealous and envious of those that celebrated Christmas.

At my local mosque, our teacher explained to us how important the Prophet Jesus was in Islam and how the Quran had a chapter dedicated to the Immaculate Conception. But while I was proud of my religious heritage, I never understood why my family couldn’t get a Christmas tree or exchange gifts. We only had two religious holidays and unfortunately they occurred within two months of each other. We always got money from family friends and new clothes from our parents, but the rest of the year we had to endure not celebrating anything (except for Thanksgiving, when my family made Curry Turkey – but that’s another story).

Every year since 1987, when my family immigrated to the United States, Christmas has come and gone without much cause for celebration – until now. This year I decided to get into the “holiday spirit” – as much as a queer Muslim can – and see if I can begin to incorporate a holiday that I have traditionally viewed as being very Christian. My dilemma began when my boyfriend who is not Muslim and was born an Episcopalian wanted to buy a Christmas tree this year (something he hasn’t really done in the past). When he asked me how I’d feel about this, at first I wasn’t sure. While the idea of a “festivity bush” – the term that my progressive queer friends call it – didn’t seem offensive per say, I felt that I needed to be included in the celebration somehow.

Not knowing where to buy a festivity bush, my boyfriend announced that there was a place across from my work that sold them. Who knew. As we perused the many aisles, I was surprised to see that the trees came in all shapes and sizes. Who knew? My first thought of course was that we were eliminating our forests every year, but then I thought about the turkey we ate over Thanksgiving. As it turned out, tree shopping was very exhaustive. So we decided to go shopping for ornaments and lights to decorate our future festivity bush. My boyfriend soon decided that he would not refer to the tree as a festivity bush, so we finally compromised on “holiday tree.”

I have never gone ornament shopping in my life, but now I understand why gay men everywhere love this holiday. The variety was enormous. I was in ornament heaven. Of course my boyfriend had picked out a color pattern ahead of time, so we had to stay away from the pastels and any color that could be associated with Halloween. After picking up every cute and adorable ornament I could get my hands on, my boyfriend decided that getting a big holiday tree would be too much. So we sorted through our ornaments and picked out our favorites to take home. On our way out of the store, we discovered the smallest holiday tree I have ever seen. It stood about two feet tall and was in a big pot. It was perfect! I left the decorating to my boyfriend, since he has a knack for such things, but I felt good knowing that I had participated in this American ritual.

I picked up some presents for my boyfriend and his dog and wrapped them in snowman wrapping paper. I left them under our small tree for him to see and before I left on my “holiday break” to see my mom, we opened the gifts and had some wine while cuddling. I also bought some gifts for my boss and an intern at work. I'm not sure if candles or a bath oil box set were appropriate, but they seemed happy when they opened their presents. After more than 15 years of not participating in this annual tradition, I feel that I have finally begun to understand the spirit of Christmas. In their own way, my parents discovered the essence of this holiday a long time ago while trying to integrate themselves into life in a small town in Connecticut.

While my decision to “try out” Christmas this year wasn’t as enthusiastic as it could’ve been, it was nice. Although I'm not sure if I can hear another song from Shania Twain's Christmas CD, I think I may give Christmas another try next year. Will I will start early by listening to Mariah Carey’s Christmas songs at work or by putting up rainbow-colored lights in my apartment. That is what you’re supposed to do for Christmas, right? And then there is picking out the Christmas tree, rather the festivity bush, I mean the holiday tree. They say size doesn’t matter, but it’s probably not true when picking out a tree, eh? Maybe next year I’ll go to the Metropolitan Community Church’s Christmas Eve services, or volunteer at a food pantry. I wonder how they would feel about a queer Muslim participating. Whatever I decide to do, I feel happy that this year I was able to participate in a holiday that so many of my friends and loved ones celebrate every year.

Copyright © 2004 Faisal Alam