Close your eyes and picture Thanksgiving. What do you see? If you’re like most Americans, a particular image probably pops into your head a large turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing and pumpkin pie. It’s the same meal you see in every movie, every sitcom special and every supermarket ad from October onward. Now, take a look at your actual Thanksgiving table. Does it match? For my family, the answer is a resounding no. Our feast is always a delicious chaos that never quite makes it onto a Hallmark card. The gap between the Thanksgiving we’re sold and the Thanksgiving we live creates a quiet rift. The holiday becomes defined by a narrow checklist of specific foods, and if your table doesn’t check those boxes, it’s easy to feel like you’re celebrating on the sidelines. There was always a feeling of exclusion during Thanksgiving conversations among friends or at school because I couldn’t tell you what stuffing or casserole tasted like. And whenever I tried to chime in on my experience or what my table looked like, I was looked at as if I had six heads. In fact, I had never even had turkey on Thanksgiving until two years ago, because for my family, Thanksgiving isn’t about replicating a 17th-century New England meal. Instead, it’s about taking the idea of a harvest feast a day dedicated to gratitude and abundance and crafting it onto our own rich cultural roots. And we are far from alone. Across the country, tables groan with the weight of dishes that tell a different story of America. In countless households, the centerpiece is a pot of biriyani and jerk chicken, celebrating Caribbean traditions. In others, it’s a platter of tamales, a labor of love that brings the family together for days of preparation. For many Italian American families, lasagna or baked ziti often shares the stage with, or even replaces, the traditional turkey. The scent of a whole steamed fish, symbolizing abundance and prosperity, fills the kitchens of Chinese and Taiwanese homes. This incredible diversity reveals a core problem. The mainstream narrative of Thanksgiving is too narrow to hold our vast and unique realities, so its focus should move away from the food. The holiday’s “branding” is weak, not because gratitude is a flimsy idea, but because its commercial packaging is monotonous. When the symbol of the holiday fails to reflect the people who celebrate it, it’s no wonder the connection feels fragile. The holiday seems easier to brush aside in favor of the more universally marketed Christmas. So, what is the solution? It’s definitely not to force a turkey onto every table. To connect, to be seen by our loved ones and to give thanks for the bounty in our lives is the holiday’s true, beating heart. This need is a profound and universal human constant. This is what we are truly hungry for, far more than any specific pie or sauce. By shifting our focus from the menu to the meaning, we can reclaim Thanksgiving from the brink of irrelevance and restore its power. The solution is to perform a simple but radical act of reclamation to remember that the power of Thanksgiving was never in the turkey, but in the “thanks.” It was always in the intentional, sacred act of pressing pause on our hectic lives to gather together and openly express our gratitude by collectively building a meal with our loved ones. It’s time to consciously shed the pressure of the “traditional” checklist and pour our energy into what truly matters to us. Let’s build our own traditions, ones that resonate with the specific, wonderful people at our table. What might this look like in practice? The ritual of gratitude: Make going around the table to share what you’re thankful for the nonnegotiable centerpiece of the meal. No one-word answers. Let it be messy, emotional and real. This single act is more central to the holiday’s purpose than any poultry. The joy of connection: After the meal, don’t just scatter to different screens. Dig out a board game, start a puzzle, put on music and dance, take a walk through the autumn leaves together. Prioritize activities that foster laughter and conversation. The freedom of the feast: And yes, this includes the food. Give yourself and your family unconditional permission to cook the food that you actually love and are thankful for. Is your family’s idea of a celebratory feast a massive pot of gumbo? Then make that. Do your children dream of your homemade lasagna all year? Let that be the star. And if it’s about the cranberry sauce, stick to what you know. The most “traditional” thing you can cook is the dish that holds the story of your family. By embracing this mindset, we stop celebrating a historical reenactment and start celebrating our own lives. A holiday that celebrates us in all our diverse, flavorful and grateful glory is a holiday worth making room for, long before the first Christmas carol begins to play. Suhiliah Lall is a junior majoring in cinema. [ITALICIZE] Views expressed in the opinions pages represent the opinions of the columnists. The only piece that represents the view of the Pipe Dream Editorial Board is the staff editorial. [ITALICIZE].
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