I think it’s time to reinvent the tradition of the mistletoe.
Long before this yellow-green flowering plant became the center of holiday attention, mistletoe was revered by Celtic Druids, ancient Greeks and Romans, the Norse and Germans. A poisonous, partial parasite, the plant magically remains verdant in winter, while attached to a host tree or shrub that has often lost its leaves. Mistletoe has also been used in folk or alternative medicine by cultures around the world. (It is currently utilized as a complementary medicine in cancer treatment). Its woody stems and clusters of white berries are associated with male fertility because they explode with a sticky, translucent, viscous fluid that in dwarf varieties shoots from the parent plant at 50 mph. For the botanical record, the flowers are bisexual or unisexual. European mistletoe bears fruit in clusters of two to six berries; the American species has longer stems with clusters of ten berries.
Through the centuries, an entire ecosystem of myths, rituals, and customs revolving around the regeneration of life has emerged from these magical berries. In the 70’s of my youth, mistletoe was used as an excuse for girls or boys to elicit a kiss during the holidays. This not-so-innocent practice, that today would be considered harassment, has a much darker origin rooted in male privilege. During the eighteenth century, the Brits invented the tradition that a man could kiss any woman he discovers standing under a sprig of mistletoe, and asserted that all sorts of repercussions would befall a woman were she to refuse. By the early nineteenth century, Washington Irving reports that American men were entitled to bestow as many kisses on a woman as there were berries on the stem above her head, a literal manifestation of the power-aggression paradigm that bedevils us to this day.
While thankfully this “charming” holiday custom has fallen out of fashion, like all deadly viruses, it has mutated into an entire seasonal industry dedicated to the strategic placement of mistletoe’s oval leaves, pronged twigs, and berry clusters on men’s underwear, sometimes with the command, “Kiss me”.
It’s high time that we reinvent this holiday convention, rescuing it from the gutter. Why not turn the mistletoe into a festive game that encourages us to use our words to express both vulnerability and appreciation, while we practice the habits of mind essential to healthy relationships. “I hope it’s okay to say this, but you look amazing in that dress.” “You know, you’re not so bad, for a guy.” “I’m feeling a bit anxious about expressing my feelings to you. You’re so incredible, and I’m just a regular Joe.” “That was an epic roast you cooked, dude.” The entire holiday season would then become a gentle, annual reminder of the power of words to initiate real, heart-to-heart connection, not the B.S., mind-games that social media and dating apps serve up.
Mistletoe is an outdated symbol of male privilege. Let’s start a new holiday tradition.
—