My grandmother’s voice asking me, “What are you most thankful for this year?” echoed in my ears as I washed the stacks of dirty dishes in my parents’ sink. With each rinse, I asked this question again, wondering what else I am thankful for that had fallen to the quiet corners of my brain during the past months of plateaued gratitude.
I thought of my privileged academic life, my cohesive and supportive family, my self discoveries and actualizations. I thought of the material stability and safety I experience everyday when I dress myself with warm clothing that I also use as a form of self expression. I thought of what Thanksgiving represents and what happens the next day as it is whisked away in the sounds of squeaky shopping carts.
This next day, better known as Black Friday, could be interpreted as a day of generosity from corporations. Such extraordinary sales and deals, helping people to afford products they may otherwise not buy. However, I read annual statistics comparing the numbers of injuries (and rarely but occasionally, the deaths) that result from consumer aggression. As I read these records, I am drawn to juxtapose this day—a day that echoes yet forgets the laughter and conversations of family and food.
Black Friday is a day that, for some, thrills and excites, energizes and enchants. This “recovery day” from the gluttonous (yet important) feast of the night before does not truly create distance from continuous consumption. Rather, it excuses and even promotes another form of gluttony: material greed. On this day, stores are flooded with eager and determined customers, stacked high with hundreds of each product, even more in storage. Yes, this is good customer service, however, Black Friday remains as the anniversary of nationally approved aggression, possessiveness and an extreme consumerism that often leads to violence.
Instead of asking, “What am I grateful for?” I now ask, “Does our American, consumer-centric culture predicate Black Friday on the condition that we give thanks the day before, thus excusing us from the need to be grateful all other days?”
Personally, I do not subscribe to the Seven Deadly Sins, but I think that each one represents an important value in becoming thoughtful, disciplined people. I do restrain from being arrogant, lazy and envious. So, why should greed be disregarded when there is an outstanding sale, especially if it compromises the safety of the shoppers?
As much as I would like to point fingers at this unified, national act of forgetting, my cynicism only takes me so far. Thanksgiving is notorious for encouraging large groups of people to volunteer at soup kitchens and homeless shelters—support of the fact that every person, no matter what the economic status, deserves a warm meal on this day. Black Friday (as well as its Internet counterpart, Cyber Monday), also creates opportunities for giving. The “Giving Tuesday” movement promotes people in America and all over the world to use some of their time on Friday and Monday to prepare for the following date of charity. This day, along with the entire December month, is elevated from potential avarice to a culture full of love, support and giving.
I often enter Thanksgiving dinner not knowing what I am thankful for, only to complete the meal with the realization that I can only know once I dig deeply enough to find the answer. Similarly, on Black Friday, as my family’s tradition is to specifically not shop on this day (mostly for the sake of our stress levels which would escalate enormously in the crowds of shoppers), we are not privy to the reasons for customer purchases. I cannot know if most purchases lead to multiple donations; or, if much of the produce purchased is dropped off at food pantries. However, I do know that with the advent of Giving Tuesday, over 30,000 organizations, corporations, agencies and other businesses have shown their support in 68 countries. Some of the online donation data is even more astounding.
After leaving Thanksgiving with the cynicism that only on that day are people aware of their privilege and metaphorical and literal wealth, I now realize that it was actually I that needed to rethink my own gratitude. Although I tend to avoid Black Friday and Cyber Monday because I am a college student with loans and an extremely tight budget to maintain, restraining myself from taking is not of the same generosity that is giving.
Now that I have removed my fogged perception of my own charity in relation to other people’s consumerism, I add an eighth “Deadly Sin” to my own list: Assumption. I see now that I have no right to assume how much other people spend on purchases, and even more so, I have no right to assume I know how much people give. My duty is to assume that I must give where I can and that by giving, I will remind myself to thank.