As I stand in front of a holiday décor aisle with my two kids, I overhear an adult proclaim, “But the real Santa is white.” My gut reaction is to roll my eyes; it’s a tired narrative that I refuse to entertain. Sure, I’m not about to shatter a child’s festive spirit by pointing out that Santa is a mythical figure, but I can’t help but feel frustrated.
Whether referred to as Jolly ol’ St. Nick, Kris Kringle, or Father Christmas, the notion that Santa can only be white is simply outdated. Growing up, I too was surrounded by a white Santa. I recall those nostalgic Coca-Cola commercials showcasing the “classic” image of Santa, along with the familiar faces in beloved holiday movies like Home Alone and Elf. These portrayals felt universal, yet they offered a narrow representation—one that lacked diversity.
The possibility of a Santa with darker skin didn’t cross my mind until 11 years ago when we welcomed our first child through adoption. This little girl, a beautiful five-pound bundle of joy with coffee-colored eyes and a full afro, changed my perspective forever. A fellow adoptive parent gifted me a collection of ornaments that year, all depicting Santa and other characters with rich melanin. It filled me with joy knowing that my daughter could envision Santa as someone who looked like her.
Over the years, we’ve amassed a delightful assortment of decorations featuring Santas, angels, and nativities that celebrate diversity. Each December, we take our four children to visit a Black Santa, capturing the joy on their faces as they experience the magic of the season. The most heartwarming moment occurs when one of them exclaims, “Santa is brown like me.” This moment of recognition should extend beyond my family; all children deserve to see themselves reflected in the magic of Christmas.
I understand that some might deem my excitement over a Black Santa as trivial. “Can’t we just let Santa be Santa?” they ask. Such arguments often stem from a place of privilege, where the belief that Santa must be white can feel like a threat to the status quo. This idea is rooted in a fragility that resists change and diversity.
Before becoming a mother, the only person of color I saw in Christmas decorations was one of the three wise men in nativity sets. He stood there—solemn and secondary—among a sea of white figures. However, historical evidence suggests that Jesus and his family were not white. If you’re learning this for the first time, it’s time to reconsider those glowing-white images of Jesus that dominate our holiday decor.
Now, as a mom in a multiracial family, I empathize with people of color who have been marginalized in holiday representations for far too long. They deserve to see themselves in every aspect of the season—including Santa.
I’m heartened to see gradual changes in holiday merchandise. This year, I discovered a variety of Black Santas at my local store and felt compelled to document each one to share with my community, which also includes multiracial families. From wrapping paper to ornaments, the diversity in decorations is finally growing. Malls are now offering both Black and white Santas for families to visit, which is a significant step forward.
It’s crucial for parents to embrace this inclusivity and teach their children that Santa’s magic transcends skin color. Let’s celebrate the joy of diversity together and ensure that no one feels excluded from the holiday spirit. After all, ’tis the season to spread joy, not negativity.
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In summary, Christmas should reflect the beautiful diversity of our society, allowing every child to see themselves in the magic of the holiday season. We can create a more inclusive narrative by embracing the idea that Santa can come in all colors and celebrate the joy that brings.