Long-suffering mom in A Christmas Story (1983)
It’s a stereotype: women love to shop. Normally I like to shake up gender stereotypes, but in this case, there are few things I enjoy more. Particularly window shopping on a cold December night when the store windows are decorated with fake snowflakes and presents. Never has a cashmere sweater looked so alluring. (For me anyway, the trick is not to confuse all this beautiful sensory overload with the need to take it all home.)
But Christmas shopping is a different animal entirely. It means finding the least objectionable present under $10 for your Secret Santa at work. Guessing which color iPod shuffle your kid must have. And then there’s your dad, who already has a sweatshirt/mug from every academic institution you’ve ever attended. When most of us think of Christmas shopping, fun is hardly what comes to mind. It’s a never-ending list of considerations: if I get so and so a present, must I also give their husband one? what size does my niece wear these days?
And, it turns out, it’s women doing all that considering. According to economist Joel Waldfogel, 80% of time spent shopping for Christmas presents is done by women. Like housework, it’s one of those gender divides that clings. Now, there are several ways of thinking about this problem.
First, women can tell themselves, it’s okay, I like doing it more than he does, just as he likes putting air in the tires more than I do. This one, while not my bag, is what women have been doing for years.
Second, women can ask men to start doing half the Christmas present buying, and not fall into the trap of fretting if they don’t get it “right” the first year. This one is tougher, but if you really can’t scale back the shopping, it’s probably worth it to have someone to commiserate with, at least.
Third, we can let everybody off the Christmas hook, starting with ourselves. Get your kids one good present each. Let somebody else stuff individual grapes with cheese for the Christmas party. Put your foot down, preferably into a nice warm tub. Go ahead. Martha Stewart’s not looking…
Hear, hear! That’s what killed Christmas for me back in the 1970s–all those fraught gift decisions and extra decorating and entertaining and the stress of getting it all right on top of the normal responsibilities of job and family and home. Of course, I grew up reading my mother’s Ladies Home Journal and the odd Better Homes and Gardens and Family Circle in the 1950s. And my husband was conditioned to those rigid gender roles, too. Small wonder I recognized Martha Stewart as the last straw the minute she began showing us how to make-our-own-everything ten times fancier a few decades later. I headed for the nearest exit, throwing the Christmas baby out with the bath. Slowing Christmas down to a a more manageable pace might be worth a try for this recovering Christmas-o-phobe. Thanks for the tips and words of encouragement!
Hallelujah. And for all those women out there (you know who you are) saying “If I don’t do it, it doesn’t get done”, well — let everyone have a taste of what it’s like when it doesn’t get done because they couldn’t be bothered to help do it.