Walking through an antique store offers more than a glimpse into the past; it provides targeted insight into revealing a myriad of items used decades ago. Lining the shelves are remnants of a bygone era in the United States: advertising tins, vintage postcards, decades-old board games, first edition books, and metal lunchboxes. Many of the items reflect the cultural temperature of their time. Magazine covers and old advertisements reveal the messages enculturated into the minds of people who absorbed the unstated narrative about who mattered, what was desirable, and what an “ideal” United States family should look like. Walking through the aisles can spark unexpected reflection as you spot a toy you once played with or a familiar cereal box that brings a small smile.

Yet, as the items on the shelves convey the essence of what has been preserved, there is also a loud void of absent voices. The collections on the shelves show whose stories were celebrated and whose stories were never included in the first place.

In the soft light of the store, nostalgia mixes with discomfort. A toy you once played with sparks a smile, yet beside it, a vintage magazine cover reveals how consumer culture once defined belonging. These relics whisper of an era when capitalism painted the “typical United States family” as white, middle-class, home owners, heterosexual, and had a smile plastered onto their face, which portrayed an inaccurate and stifling version of consumerism that excluded many.

Each December, antique stores sell holiday-themed wares with images of what the holidays should look like in a family. There are print ads showing a perfectly cooked meal in a stylish home for the era. Latching onto this marketing style, Coca-Cola commissioned artist Haddon Sundblom to paint a Santa Claus for print ads for the 1931 holiday season. Rising out of the Great Depression, Haddon used his own image as inspiration to illustrate the jolly elf. Coca-Cola’s branding of Santa cemented a vision of holiday cheer that became synonymous with the United States Christmas. This advertisement campaign set the standard for Santa Claus, portrayed in metal trays, calendars, and postcards, all filled with a jovial, very white Santa.

This advertising changed Santa Claus’s appearance to create the image used today. It musters a question to ponder as I walk down the aisles of the store, looking at relics from an era long gone. How did families of color celebrate when the images surrounding them said holiday representation looked only one way?

Rescuing the holiday narrative from white advertising agencies, Bill “Bojangles” Robinson dressed as Santa to bring joy to children in his community. The first recorded Black Santa appeared in Pittsburgh in the early 1900s, and later, in 1943, Blumstein’s Department Store in Harlem hired a Black Santa so that children could see a reflection of themselves in the magic of the season. These were moments of radical presence of saying, we see ourselves, even if you do not.

Yet the erasure didn’t end with Santa. Nativity scenes, too, often depict Mary, Joseph, and Jesus as white, blue-eyed, and blonde-haired despite their Middle Eastern roots. The divine story of love and liberation has, over time, been reimagined through the lens of Western culture, often omitting the truth that the Holy Family were people of color.

The same absence is seen in Thanksgiving imagery, where Indigenous peoples are portrayed as caricatures, savages, or erased altogether, their stories of survival and displacement replaced with sanitized myths of harmony. Our holidays, meant for gratitude, joy, and reflection, too often silence the very people whose presence could deepen their meaning.

So how do we reclaim the season? By shifting from consumerism to community. The holidays often tell us to buy, to decorate, to perform joy. It becomes a season of to do lists, harried shopping, and making everything perfect. But presence requires something different: a willingness to pause. To begin, not everyone celebrates Christmas, and while we can get carried away with the season, some people do not identify with it. Additionally, some people do not look fondly upon Christmas as a season of joy.

Start with intention, and take a good look around the room, noticing whose stories are shaping the celebration—and whose have been quietly erased. By listening to the stories that capitalism has long silenced. By practicing presence, not just by showing up to celebrate, but by noticing who isn’t invited to the table.

In the end, walking through an antique store teaches me something: every object holds a story, but we are the ones who decide which stories continue forward. In a season and society where conversations have become sound bites and comments rather than accurate understanding, it is more important than ever to lean into conversations that promote thinking and perspective shifting. It is more than decorating our homes and crossing items off a list; it is about seeking the voices and memories of those who have been pushed to the margins. Make the choice to see one another fully in the everyday moments and listen to their ways of understanding and meaning-making. For in that space, self-reflection that includes lament, reflection that leads to reconciliation, and resilience that is shared rather than carried alone.

The season does not become more meaningful through what we buy, but through how gently, how attentively, how humanely we choose to listen to each other.

References

The Coca-Cola Company. “Haddon Sundblom and the Coca-Cola Santas.” Www.coca-Colacompany.com, http://www.coca-colacompany.com/about-us/history/haddon-sundblom-and-the-coca-cola-santas.

Wheeler, Brian. “The Secret History of Black Santas.” BBC News, 9 Dec. 2016, http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-38231159.