A story Ive been bouncing around in my head. Seems appropriate today. Black Santa “You can’t be Santa,” the little boy told me as he awoke from sleeping on the sofa, “you’re black.” Apparently, he wanted a glimpse of Santa Clause and was surprised to see me. I mean, I do look like Santa, white beard, fat belly, red suit, only … I’m black. Yes, in the year 2018, Santa is black. “Trust me, Daniel,” I reached into my bag and began laying out presents, “I’m Santa. I just happen to be black.” “But Santa is white,” he was still trying to wrap his head around things, “and how’d you know my name?” “Because I’m Santa. I know the names of all the good boys and girls; and the bad ones. You’re one of the good ones.” Reaching into my sack, I pulled out a small, present wrapped in blue paper with snowflakes on it, with a green bow, with his name on it – still have to get used to that but have learned to go with it – and tossed it to him. “Here ya go. Go ahead and open it.” Eagerly, he did, and boy was he surprised. “The ‘Hunger Games Action Figures’ I wanted! Wow, you really are Santa! But why are you black?” There’s a lot I could say. There was a lot I wanted to say. I wanted to wipe away the ignorance and intolerance subtly loaded in that question. I wanted to clear perceptions and remove the unintended bigotry of that question. It was a question I wish I didn’t have to answer. but hundreds of years of racism, white dominance, and privilege were not going to end tonight. I grabbed one of the peanut butter cookies on the small wooden table between the tree and the chimney. It was a nice wooden table, decorated in Christmas colors, with Santa – white of course – holding a cookie in one hand and a glass of milk in the other and smiling. It was obvious this table’s sole purpose was Christmas Eve decoration. The whole living room was decorated top to bottom in Christmas décor. “Snow” frosted windows, festive lights everywhere, a manger scene on one side, stocking on the mantel, with an Elf-on-the-shelf overlooking it all. I winked at the elf. Fortunately, my back was to Daniel and I was blocking his view to the elf, so he didn’t see me wink at it nor the elf wink back. In the small indent on the table I took the glass of milk, still cold and a bit sweaty from sitting out in rather warm room, I closed my eyes, made a heavy sigh, then turned and sat in the chair near Daniel. “It’s quite a story, young man, but I’ve got some time, so I’ll tell ya.” “But won’t that make you late for all the other kids?” “Check you’re smartphone; you’ll notice time has stopped. Look outside. Notice how the snowflakes aren’t moving. We have all the time in the world.” “You can stop time?” “Only on Christmas Eve. Only tonight.” Taking a bite of the cookie and a sip of milk I almost began into my story, “Good cookie,” I couldn’t help but blurt out; it really was good, it was obvious they were homemade and she used chunky peanut butter – I’m a sucker for chunky peanut butter. “My mom made them.” “She’s a great cook.” “No, my dad does most of the cooking; she does all of the baking.” “Anyway,” getting back on track, “you have to understand one thing about Santa Claus. Fundamentally, I don’t exist.” “But what about all of the stories?” “They’re just that, stories. Stories made up by people, mostly white, to explain a phenomenon. So they gave it the name Santa Claus, and you know the rest.” “Does Rudolph exist?” “In a manner of speaking, no, but it doesn’t alter the fact that he’s still on the roof guiding my sleigh. Right Rudolph?” I yelled. Since time was stopped, no one else in the house was going to hear me. On cue, a red light shone down the chimney. “Wow.” “There have been many Santas over the years, of all shapes, sizes, colors, male and female. Most of the time, you don’t see us, but every now and then someone gets lucky. You see, all Santa really is, is a spirit, no real form or shape but in order to carry out its mission, it has to take on physical form.” “So, the first time he was seen it was as a white man? That’s why we think of him that way?” I finished the cookie and milk to hide the brisling I felt at that question. I reached for another cookie and bit into it – so good and calming. So young, yet so…young. “No, actually, the first one ever seen was a Chinese woman named Sin Taus Clau, which got mistranslated by the Dutch into Sinter Claus and later Santa Claus and the name stuck. She was short and wearing a red coat with fur around the collar. Not believing it was a Chinese woman, she got changed to a short Dutch male. Clemet Moore took the distorted image and gave us what we have today.” “So how long have you been Santa?” “Actually, this is my first year…” “How long are you going to be Santa?” Daniel blurted out his next question before I could continue. “Until I decide I don’t want to do it, then the spirit goes off and finds someone else.” “How does it know?” “I have to tell it. You see, being Santa is a great honor but also a great burden. One thing is right in all of those stories that have been on throughout the years, I can only deliver once a year. Any more than that and it would be an incredible strain on the people who are chosen to be Santa.” “What if you die first? Does it go pick someone then?” “I suspect that it would but that has never happened. Everyone who has ever been Santa has always given up the suit. This is very important. You see, because of the time required to do everything, if someone died prematurely while Santa, it would throw the whole Christmas schedule off.” Then I went further into my story. One good thing about the spirit of Santa is that it protects whoever is possessed by it. The downside, though, is once you give it up, you have no real memory of what happened. It’s like you woke up from a dream. You know you were Santa, you even know you did some cool stuff but you forget all the details like the location at the North Pole, the names of the elves, and how the whole operation runs. You’re just left with a feeling of being fulfilled. At least that’s how the previous Santa described it to me before getting a blank look, a big smile and walking away. That occurred on January 7th of this year. That’s when you have to decide whether or not you’re going to keep being Santa. If you do, you continue on, if not, will wander the streets of the world, just appearing in places like you were always there. As the last one told me, he started in Phoenix, Arizona. Turned a corner he was in Cairo, Egypt. Turned another corner, he was in Tokyo Japan. He bounced around until he landed in Atlanta, Georgia, saw me helping a stranger who had dropped his bag. He shook my hand, then a voice asked if I wanted to be Santa and showed me the history. I then said yes and in an instant I knew everything he knew. Blinked his eyes, as if he had awaken from a dream, looked at me, said “Congratulations” then started to walk away. I stopped him and to ask what had happened and that’s when he told me about how he had been Santa and was now passing the mantel on to me. Funniest part of all, he wasnt even fat. He was an older white man, about in his 50s. He said he had been Santa for the past 20 years but was ready to go do something else. I asked him, “What are you going to do, youve done this for so long?” His reply was quite fascinating. “The universe let me be Santa and took care of me for 20 years; it’s not going to stop now just because Ive decided to change jobs. I’ll be fine. I don’t know why but I know I will.” I haven’t seen him since. “Wow! That’s cool! Can I be Santa one day?” Daniel asked. “Don’t know but anything is possible. Well, I think Ive spent enough time here. There’s a whole world waiting for me to bring them toys tonight. Besides, I can only stop time for so long.” I put the glass down, got up, and walked over to Daniel. He laid back down on the couch and I tucked him in. Of course, he failed to notice the sleep sand – I’ll have to thank Mr. Sandman later – I sprinkled on him. Soon, he began to yawn and started to fall asleep. I left him with a little suggestion. “What a great dream you just had. Wow, Santa is black and he’s really cool! I want to keep being a good boy so one day I can be Santa.” “Santa,” he whispered groggily before completely falling asleep. With a smile, I put my finger aside my nose, I gave a nod and up the chimney I rose. Then… Well, you know the rest. Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!
Posted on: Thu, 25 Dec 2014 20:32:31 +0000
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