Notes On Being (Too) Thankful

T’is the season when we’re told to be thankful and grateful. We’re supposed to be appropriately humbled by all we have that is good and fortunate. We’re often asked to write it down or declare it out loud. Sometimes, somewhere in the midst of all this thankfulness, we’re also asked to think of those who have less and who are struggling.

I’m on board with all of this, even/especially in these weird times. I really am doing okay. I’m fed, clothed, comfortably housed, educated, and even entertained. I do indeed have a lot to be thankful for. In no way do I wish for what I’m about to suggest to sound ungrateful.

My worry is that being full-on thankful sometimes dulls or obscures the other part: the part where we recognize that there’s a lot we ought not to be thankful for— all the things that need fixing and improving. At the risk of being a total downer, I don’t want “thankful” to be equated with being quiet, unobtrusive, or resigned, and I think sometimes it has a tendency to be that way. We tend to heap “toxic positivity” on our plates along with all the other goodies, and we let it stretch into the rest of the year like we try to stretch out our leftovers. We get so overstuffed with “Yay to all of this!” that we become hazy around “What about that?”

I can be thankful for all that I have and still wonder how it got there. A great deal of it is due to dumb luck. My pretty good life is at least somewhat built on happenstance because I turned up in the world at the right place at the right time. I’m keenly aware that the good things I have “by chance” could very well come at the cost of someone else. It’s not just that I have what I have while others have less, but I have what I have because others have less. It wasn’t my idea, and I didn’t mean for it to be that way, but it still is. Something about being thankful for “gifts” that spring from privilege gives me indigestion. I can be thankful while still admitting as much.

I can also be thankful and simultaneously recognize that both I, as an individual, and we, as a collective, can do a lot better than we have been. I don’t have to accept “shut up and eat your turkey” while public health fails, our education system crumbles, our environment suffers, human rights are taken away, and wars break out. There isn’t enough tryptophan to numb all of that entirely—no sugar high strong enough.

I’m not trying to harsh anyone’s buzz, especially at a time when there are fewer opportunities for joy and celebration. I simply mean to point out that gratitude can coexist with frustration, doubt, and even rage without one canceling the other out. Think of them as side dishes, if you wish. I can fête the “wonderful” while arming myself against “awful.” One can even fuel the other. I can be deeply grateful that while we still have such a long way to go, we do have the means to become aware of what’s missing and what’s broken. I can be even more deeply grateful that we have the tools to fix things (if we want). I just don’t want being thankful to dull my motivation, my momentum. It’s okay that the good stuff is not enough.

Maybe the spirit of holidays like this shouldn’t be “Well, isn’t everything just awesome?”, but rather “Eat up. Enjoy. We’ve got work to do.”

Food for thought, to go with the rest of the feast.