Dear Black Santa,
As a little black girl from the South, all I ever saw was white, rosy-cheeked Santa Clauses plastered on Christmas posters and gluttonously eating all the milk and cookies on those propagandized holiday commercials. I never saw him for more than what he was – fiction.
He was another white fictional character sent to save the day, bring holiday cheer, and give to the poor little children. Someone reminiscent of white Jesus, or Batman.
I didn’t grow up in a household that pushed the whole Santa narrative, and I wasn’t tormented with the “naughty or nice list.” Perhaps my parents did not like the idea of a white man being seen as a superior being or something. My presents always said from Mom, Dad, Auntie, Grandma and so forth. As far as I knew, my presents were not the result of some jolly, corpulent, white man shimmying down a chimney but, I digress.
You see, I’ve decided to believe in you Black Santa, not because you too are being used as a promotional tool in one of the biggest capitalist holidays, but because of what you represent.
You are a racist’s worst nightmare, a catalyst for white fragility, and best of all my brotha!
Amazing day at @mallofamerica capped by a visit with #SantaLarry, who is kind, engaging and thoughtful! 🙌🏽 pic.twitter.com/iHyVN9eaJA— Sean Jensen (@seankjensen) December 4, 2016
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