As the year draws to a close, the holiday season offers a time for reflection, renewal and celebration. Living in Japan, I’ve come to embrace a blend of traditions that echoes the life I’ve crafted here.
This season, I find myself reflecting on the principles of Kwanzaa, the serenity of Japan’s year-end holidays and the charms of Christmas — as well as how they intertwine in this country I’ve come to call home.
It has been 10 years since my Japanese partner, Miki, and I began building a life together. Coming from very different backgrounds, finding common ground wasn’t always easy — Kwanzaa didn’t roll off her tongue any easier than shōgatsu rolled off mine. But we’ve gradually blended our traditions to make the holidays work for us.
Back in Brooklyn, my family celebrated Kwanzaa, an African American holiday that Miki hadn’t heard of. So for our first holiday season together in Yokohama, I donned my cultural ambassador cap (which is never far from me in Japan) and introduced her to it.
On each of Kwanzaa’s seven days, Miki and I would light the appropriate candle, discuss the principle that day represented, and reflect on its meaning. They are, in a nutshell: umoja (unity), kujichagulia (self-determination), ujima (collective work and responsibility), ujamaa (cooperative economics), nia (purpose), kuumba (creativity) and imani (faith). It was awkward at first, with all the Swahili and philosophical concepts new to Miki. But the principles have a universality to them, and she soon found their equivalents from her own experience.
Take kuumba, the focus of the sixth day of Kwanzaa, which calls on individuals to use their talents and creativity to make an impact in their community, no matter how big or small. This deeply resonated with Miki’s approach to community life. She found similarities to the Japanese notion of omotenashi (hospitality), which transforms ordinary interactions into extraordinary experiences, creating moments of connection that brighten people’s days.
Both concepts remind us that creativity isn’t limited to art — it’s woven into how we treat others, build community and shape our environments with love, care and intentionality. Kuumba and omotenashi encourage us to use what we have to create something meaningful, whether a handcrafted gift or a perfectly prepared cup of tea.
Eventually, Miki and I began hosting an annual “Kwanzaa in Yokohama” event, providing our community with a place to eat, discuss ideas and celebrate African heritage. Giving back to the community with my partner has only strengthened our bond.
A new type of New Year's
When it comes to year-end holidays, Japan goes all in on shōgatsu (New Year’s). There are some similarities to how I would celebrate the new year in New York. For example, we have our own osechi ryōri (traditional New Year’s dishes) called “Hoppin’ John,” which is made of black-eyed peas, rice, collard greens and cornbread, and eaten for good luck and prosperity.
When Miki told me that Japanese people also carve out some time for religion at the new year, I was keen to take part. Though not a practicing Christian, it’s next to impossible to grow up in the Black community back home and not be influenced by the church. So, I wasn’t opposed to paying an annual visit to the House of the Lord, taking in some timely sermons, soul-stirring gospel and sending up prayers to the powers that be.
Of course, Miki didn’t take me to church on Jan. 1. What she turned me onto was hatsumōde, the first shrine visit of the new year, which is a central part of shōgatsu traditions. Now, some Christians out there may take issue with praying at a shrine, but I’m nondenominational in the strictest sense, so I never had a problem with it. I believe the Creator is looking out for all of us, no matter how we pray — or even if we don’t.
Over time, our traditions as a couple have evolved, including our approach to hatsumōde. Since building our home in west Tokyo, not far from the border with Saitama Prefecture, we’ve begun driving out to Mitsumine Shrine up in the mountainous Chichibu region. It’s a beautiful, peaceful location with air so pure that you can feel the healing just by breathing it.
Sometimes, we’ll even stop by one of Chichibu’s many hot springs after our shrine visit, have a nice lunch and just enjoy the view together. The new year period is an important time for family in Japan, so I’ve learned to make time for Miki during shōgatsu. And it’s worth saying: If you’re single in Japan, make this a time for your chosen family — reach out to those you’d be happy to call brother or sister.
Christmas in common
Miki and I both grew up celebrating Christmas, although in different ways.
For Miki, Christmas meant gifts. Her family would put up a tiny Christmas tree — just a slight nod to Western traditions — and she would wake up on Dec. 25 to find presents under her pillow. By the time she was in junior high school, she was all in on Japan’s unique take on Christmas: fried chicken from KFC, a Christmas cake — the whole shebang.
Before coming to Japan, I celebrated more of a secular Christmas. There was always lots of food, of course, as well as Christmas movies from “It’s a Wonderful Life” to “Die Hard.” In spite of this festive atmosphere, my family stopped bothering with a tree or even exchanging presents long ago.
I never regretted the lack of all that gift-exchanging business, and my choice of words is deliberate here — I’m not fond of the commercial nature of Christmas, the Black Friday of it all. Miki’s ideal Christmas, though, involved her receiving presents from her American beau. So, without a discussion about it, on our first Christmas together she bought me a computer to replace the raggedy, rattling machine I owned — and I came to her empty-handed.
I tried to give my “Bah, humbug!” speech about commercialism and the holidays, but how could I stand on that when she had given me a computer? When this kind of culture clash happens, I’ve learned that, first and foremost, you should remain appreciative of the other person — and I appreciate Miki’s patience in listening to my side of the story.
After all, I wasn’t some kind of Scrooge; I’d just subscribed to the Kwanzaa approach to gift-giving, where presents are generally exchanged on the day of imani and are more symbolic in nature. Handmade gifts have always been my favorite since they depend more on effort than a credit card. It was a hard sell, but eventually Miki bought into it. Since then, we’ve exchanged more sentimental and creative gifts (but we splurge on the big-ticket stuff for birthdays).
Miki even started to embrace the idea of taking the materialism out of Christmas. And that’s when it becomes more about something spiritual, an element that also exists in Kwanzaa and Japanese New Year celebrations. You concentrate more on people, the community, your city — even the planet. It’s a ceasefire for the soul where you relax your defenses, set aside all that pent-up stress and prioritize affection, generosity and joy.
Over 10 years, Miki and I have learned to figure each other out, and I think we’ve done a good job. With all its holidays, the end of the year is a fitting time to celebrate that effort. You don’t have to be a couple to do it, either; the community, the city and the planet are all relationships that you can take a moment to appreciate during this symbolic conclusion of one chapter and opening of the next.
So if you’re in Japan, go ahead and have some osechi, Christmas cake and Hoppin’ John. Turn on “Die Hard” or head out and take in some illuminations or a shrine. Take time to reflect, revive and revitalize. That’s what the McNeils will be doing, and we wish you all a healthy, prosperous new year.
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