When celebrations divide more than they unite

The truth is, I do not love holidays. This painful fact was particularly noticeable to me in recent weeks, when current events, historical commemorations and various religious holidays all seemed to converge in time. These moments are said to bring people together, to create joy, connection, and shared meaning. Yet for me, they have often deepened my sense of distance.

I have the good fortune to have kind and attentive friends, and acquaintances that span the globe. For each holiday, I receive countless generous invitations to attend events and celebrations, as well as torrents of friendly greetings and good wishes. But I find myself unable to respond enthusiastically, and my own messages tend to be brief, almost dry. Some friends have complained that I didn’t call or visit, and I struggle to explain my feelings and reactions. Certainly, from my side, there has been no intention to offend anyone, and my friendships are precious to me. But when it comes to holidays, I mostly feel uncomfortable and conflicted.

Maybe the problem is that the people I know come from such a wide range of communities and social circumstances? The almost unsurmountable chasms between the worlds my friends inhabit become particularly salient at each holiday or commemoration, when what is meant to be a time of unity and togetherness becomes a time of division. Differences between religions become more visible, and even within the same religion, divisions between sects and interpretations sharpen. Who is allowed to celebrate with whom? What is acceptable? What is forbidden? What should be shared, and what should remain separate?

And beyond religious divisions, expectations linked to holidays accentuate social divides. Joyous events increase pressures on families to have a beautiful home to present, fine clothes to wear, sumptuous food to serve, generous gifts to give. For many, this can mean months of going without daily necessities, depriving themselves and their children, working long hours in dangerous or demeaning jobs, or even taking loans that they will not be able to repay. Families who have fled armed conflicts, economic deprivation or political oppression will be forced to make difficult choices on who to visit, or may not be able to visit at all. Each holiday becomes a reminder of that distance and separation, that prevents us from embracing those we love.

Perhaps what exhausts me most is not the holidays themselves, but the systems and attitudes surrounding them. The rules, the judgments, the subtle and overt forms of discrimination or exclusion. These have turned something that should represent our happiest moments into something I instinctively withdraw from.

For decades I have been active as a defender of human rights. This may sound pretentious, but for me it was never a ‘career choice’. The work I have done over the years stems from a deep personal aversion to injustice, and my conviction that at the end of the day, we are all members of the same human family. Rituals do serve a purpose, and connect us to the past, but maybe at this juncture it is time to lift our gaze towards the future? For me at least, diversity is the very foundation of our resilience and capacity to evolve as individuals or societies. We are all different and this is our greatest strength. I will never cease to be amazed and curious about all the rich and unique forms our lives and communities can take.

So, what would celebrations look like if they were truly about humanity, rather than identity? About connection, rather than categorisation? I hope that one day, celebrations will return to their simplest purpose: to remind us that, beyond everything that divides us, we are still capable of sharing moments of genuine human connection. Until then, dear friends, remember that my silence is not indifference - just a quiet response to a contradiction that still awaits creative solutions.

Chavia Ali

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