Giving Thanks to Thanksgiving

 I always go to two Thanksgivings each year. One at my grandma's house on my mom's side and one at my aunt's house on my dad's side. They are both very different. The one at my grandma's house consists of just myself, my siblings, my grandma, and my mom. It is a small group of under 10 people, since my mom's side of the family is very sparse. My grandma is Jewish, while the rest of my siblings and I are Atheists, so it is mostly free of religion. The food is not traditional, as my sister, grandmother, and I are all vegetarian and my carnivore brothers have grown to accept a mostly meat-free family dinner. The conversations are intimate and direct, with awkward silences and glances as my sister and I laugh at something my gauche grandmother has said. It is nonetheless our tradition, as it's bordering on 11 years since my parents got divorced and we had to separate our thanksgivings. 

My dad's side of the family is the opposite. Him coming from a large Irish Catholic family from the suburbs in Boston, there is plenty of witty banter, swearing, and shouting to fill my aunt's moderately small dining room. I have all 10 of my cousins, 9 of my aunts and uncles, my siblings, my dad, and whatever random person accompanies for the rambunctious night. The food is way more traditional, but that also means my plate is smaller, with just veggies and cranberry sauce on it. No turkey for me. My little cousin usually leads a prayer and everyone bows and says "Amen," even if we don't fully believe in Catholicism. I am guilty of bowing my head and not saying anything, since I am brutally honest when it comes to religion. 

While both sides of my family celebrate this controversial holiday very differently, there is one thing that never changes. The women are always in the kitchen. At my aunt's house, all the females have been up since 7am, prepping the turkey, peeling potatoes, and rolling pie dough. The men famously help a bit with the turkey before kicking back on the couch to watch a Bruins game. This is the irony is that it is canonical how similar the food preparation is. It is also always gendered. As Perez says in Religion in the Kitchen, "while elders of both sexes were secluded in the basement during ceremonies, a crew mostly made up of female aborishas fixed meals, set the dinner table, and ensured that the house was welcoming as possible for the benefit of visitors.1 They controlled “the food axis,” the space of food preparation, storage, consumption, and elimination in Ashabi’s home" (Perez, 111). It imitates my family's function as well. The women are not done until everyone is fed and the kitchen is clean, while men are done from the start and only looking forward to the next goal that their sports team will make. It is so systemic in every household unit that it transcends culture and geography. I just want to make it known that these women in my family are the reason we even celebrate this holiday and use it as an excuse to see long-lost relatives while eating delicious homemade food. My goal every year is to give them the credit and make them feel appreciated, as we as a society need to give more thanks to women. For if we didn't have women, Thanksgiving would not happen annually.