Before you label me as an overly sensitive, politically correct Grinch, let me make a few things clear: I play Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker on repeat, I own several ugly sweaters and I almost liked Bowdoin’s Instagram of an asymmetrically affixed wreath on the front of Hubbard. I enjoy returning to Reed House at 2 a.m. to see the tree that we decorated and the menorah in our front window. I, like most others, thoroughly enjoy the holiday season.
However, I wasn’t thrilled when I came back home one afternoon to a wreath hanging on my front door, affixed that morning by one of Santa’s elves, most likely in the form of a wonderful member of Facilities. Though many will argue that wreaths are of Greco-Roman pagan origins or have simply become de-Christianized, I believe that wreaths, especially when adorned with red ribbons, are indubitably a Christian symbol.
Growing up in a Jewish household, my family abstained from festooning our house with wreaths and lights, instead placing our electric menorah in our front window. For my family, this abstinence was a reminder that, unlike the majority of our town, we were not Christian.This religious separatism, if you will, instilled in me a sense of pride, not only for my Jewish heritage, but also for the fact that my family was different.
When I approach my front door or when I sit down at my table in Moulton and count four wreaths on the interior windows, I am reminded that we live in an overwhelmingly, though simultaneously subtly, Christian society. Our “non-denominational” chapel chimes every fifteen minutes, its beautiful stained glass windows depicting New Testament scenes. (For this reason, we didn’t bring my grandmother inside when she came to visit.)
The omnipresent wreaths represent the normalization of practices reflective of an unchallenged Christian hegemony; we live in a world where our calendar, vacations and seasonal decorations (not to mention vaginal autonomy and rights to marriage) are dominated by Christocentric practices. Intended to be an innocuous way to spread holiday cheer, these wreaths are subtle but constant reminders to those of us who do not identify with Christianity that we exist within this Christian society. When I enter my house, which is more than 25 percent Jewish, this branding of my space is a reminder that I am part of such a society, even on our diverse, non-denominational campus.
I will still throw out a few proposals for making our campus more inclusive in this sense. One alternative is to replace the red bows with more neutral ones—black and white, for example. While this would be a step in the right direction, it would reduce neither the wreaths’ overwhelming presence nor their symbolic value. I propose swapping out these wreaths for lights across campus, akin to the string lights hanging in the Union and from the sprinklers in all of our rooms. Though these lights are still associated with Christmas, they possess a more universal appeal. Multiple winter solstice observances fall into the category of “festivals of light,” in which lights are used to illuminate the darkest part of the year. Hanging lights from the building would honor these multiple holidays, while simultaneously increasing aesthetic appeal and providing additional safety.
I hesitate to end this with proposals, for I believe that that detracts from my intended message. This seemingly trivial issue may not matter in the “real world,” where Salvation Army Santas wish me a Merry Christmas outside of the supermarket or where my friends trivialize my religion by asking what I got for Chanukah last night. I do believe, however, that it matters as we continue to strive to create inclusive spaces on campus. I acknowledge that these thoughts come from a place of extreme privilege when compared to more obvious, oppressive marginalization on campus. However, I hope that my sentiments resonate with others questioning and challenging larger unchecked subtleties and norms on our campus. I hope that we can work together to deconstruct and reconstruct our spaces here to reflect the multiple levels of diversity that Bowdoin is supposed to represent.
Jonah Watt is a member of the Class of 2018.