Sshhh!

The Mrs. Claus sisterhood has a name for bossy Santas. We call them “peacocks.” These are men who push us out of the way during photo opps, who jump in front of us when we’re being interviewed. (I’m not talking about Santa but the men who wear the costume.)

Yes, America, Mrs. Clauses and elves network with each other to keep the nation together. We discuss contracts and strategies. It takes courage to be ourselves in the character. So many stop signs make us question our business skills, our regional knowledge, and our ethics. We have to do so much WORK before we do the work.

Whether we’re from the Deep South or the Midwest, we hop on the phone to laugh or cry together. We pray with each other, if that’s our practice. We tailor our support.

St. Nicks, if you’re reading, here is a nice list of what we, your female colleagues, expect (and celebrate if you’re doing already):

🍭We expect you to wake up and show up on time to gigs. We are not your alarm clocks.

🍭We love your beards. But if we have to sit through another beard care lecture at a Santa convention, we and the elves go on strike.

🍭We want you to include us in photos and in conversations with guests. Let’s do it together.

🍭We want you to give us credit for our ideas. We will do the same for you.

🍭We want you to speak up if our pay is unfair. No one will ever replace YOU, dear Santa. Ever. But please notice and ask questions.

🍭We want you to enjoy our time together, remembering that children are watching.

Ultimately, feminism can make a nicer planet.

🤶🏻🤶🏼🤶🏽🤶🏾🤶🏿

I was a feminist before I was a Claus. Now, I’m a warrior. My weapon is a bracelet of sleigh bells.

If you like this and want to dig deeper into women and Christmas, click here to visit my friend Ann Votaw (me without a wig). I can say things she can’t. She can say things I can’t through her ventures in standup.