By Antoine Pepper
Let’s start with the obvious.
Santa Claus is impressive. He travels the world in one night, remembers every child, delivers gifts flawlessly, and somehow never forgets a detail. A logistical genius. An icon. A legend.
But here’s the thing no one says out loud at Christmas dinner:
Santa has help. A lot of it. And most of it looks like women.
Every year, we tell the same story. One man. One night. Endless magic. But behind the scenes, in homes across cultures, continents, and time zones, women are quietly doing what they’ve always done: planning, remembering, organising, anticipating feelings, and making sure no one is left out.
If Santa is the symbol, women are the system. And maybe it’s time we rewrite the story, not to cancel Santa, but to expand him.
Because magic doesn’t happen by accident.
Someone makes the list before Santa checks it twice. Someone remembers who doesn’t like raisins, who’s allergic to nuts, who secretly wants something but won’t say it out loud. Someone buys extra gifts “just in case.” Someone wraps at midnight. Someone notices when the energy feels off and fixes it.
That someone is usually a woman.
Rewriting Santa doesn’t mean replacing him with a woman in a red suit, although, aesthetically, that would be stunning. It means recognising that Santa has always represented something feminine at its core: care, generosity, foresight, and emotional labour.
Across cultures, Christmas magic doesn’t live in sleighs or chimneys. It lives in kitchens. In group chats. In handwritten lists. In women remembering traditions long after the original storytellers are gone.
Think about it.
Who teaches the songs? Who passes down the recipes? Who insists, “We always do it this way” even when no one remembers why?
Women don’t just celebrate Christmas. They hold it together.
In many homes, Christmas is less about gifts and more about hosting. Cleaning. Cooking. Decorating. Managing personalities. Making space. Making peace. The invisible work of making everything feel warm, intentional, and memorable.
And somehow, this labour has been romanticised into “magic” instead of recognised as effort.
That’s where Santa becomes convenient.
Because when magic is credited to a myth, the real work disappears.
The beauty of the Santa story is that it teaches generosity without keeping score. But the danger is that it trains us not to see who’s actually giving. Not to notice who’s tired by the end of the day. Not to ask who made sure everyone else felt special.
In real life, Santa doesn’t wake up exhausted on Christmas morning.
Women do.
Mothers. Aunties. Sisters. Daughters. The ones who arrive early and leave late. The ones who think five steps ahead. The ones who carry Christmas in their heads weeks before December arrives.
This isn’t bitterness. It’s truth, and truth can still be festive. Because rewriting Santa isn’t about removing joy. It’s about placing it where it belongs.
What if Santa wasn’t a man, but a mindset? A collective spirit of care. A shared responsibility. A reminder that generosity works best when it isn’t gendered. What if Santa wasn’t one person doing everything, but everyone doing something?
Imagine a Christmas where the labour is visible. Where help is offered without being asked. Where women don’t have to perform joy while quietly managing everything else. Where magic is shared, not absorbed. That version of Santa feels more realistic. More sustainable. More human. And honestly? More joyful.
Because when women stop carrying Christmas alone, the season gets lighter for everyone.
So yes, let’s keep Santa. Let the kids believe. Let the songs play. Let the red, the gold, the sparkle, the drama of it all live on.
But alongside the myth, let’s tell a fuller story.
One where we acknowledge that behind every perfect Christmas moment is a woman who planned it, protected it, and powered it.
One where we realise that the true magic of the season has never been supernatural, it’s been intentional.
And if we’re rewriting Santa this year, maybe the biggest gift isn’t changing the story.
It’s finally naming who’s been writing it all along.
