A new writer’s first experience of Christmas turned out to be a surprising trip into the heart of cultural paradox and unrequited love. As someone raised in a Muslim household, the actual celebration of Christmas was not part of my upbringing at all. As an eight year old growing up in Dubai, I was always very intrigued by Western culture. That initial curiosity very quickly turned into a wish to experience the holiday for myself.
Writer Sarah Shaker’s mother, especially with her Iraqi-Egyptian heritage, threw herself into the project of providing an unforgettable Christmas experience. Her delightful spirit created an atmosphere of celebration! She found a tremendously gaudy store Christmas tree and decorated it in truly ugly ornamentation with almost ostentatious decoration with shimmering bling. Her determination turned their house into a wonderland, complete with the over-the-top decoration you see in the movies.
As Christmas drew near, the writer was filled with great excitement and expectation. They cultivated an enduring, childhood crush on actor Macaulay Culkin. They were convinced that living through one magical Christmas would miraculously redempt them, re-connect them to their fallen idol. The author washed it down with dozens of nauseating Hallmark movies, picturing a holiday wonderland full of turkey, tinsel, and toys.
It took about four years, but the writer’s parents eventually conceded. They enabled the writer and their twin brother to participate both literally and figuratively in the Christmas extravaganza. On Christmas morning, the writer as a child, woke up at 5 AM, filling with the excitement of what they had in store.
“Yes, habibi. Look. Our living room looks like Christmas.” – The writer’s mother
It did look like Magical Santa Wonderland up in their living room with a detailed Montessori setup of gifts. The writer’s initial excitement turned almost instantly to dismay. Instead of treats or toys, as they excitedly unraveled the shiny-wrapped packages, most turned out to be just empty tissue boxes.
This surprising result crushed the author’s hopes, creating a poignant memory that was the complete opposite of the fairy tale vacation they imagined. The celebration was born from movement and activity. Then reality set in, and the difference between what we wanted and what they produced became glaringly obvious.