There are two types of people in the world. There are those who love their birthdays, and those who do not. Either you enjoy the celebration so much that you extend it to the entire week or month, or you couldn’t care less. I used to love my birthday as a kid. I was fascinated by the idea of throwing a party and inviting my entire class. I loved the attention and cake and presents. Now, I wish I could just skip over it entirely. Yet I used to say it was my favorite holiday. I couldn’t help but wonder if birthdays are actually micro-holidays, and who determines that. Why do some people receive a national holiday to celebrate their birthday while others—just as influential—don’t? Is it about influence? Popularity? Power? Politics? Legacy? Are you questioning why I have so many questions?
Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story? (Elizaaaa!)
MLK Day, celebrated every January, recognizes King’s profound civil rights impact. But what determines who gets honored at that level? Susan B. Anthony helped secure voting rights for millions of women, yet she doesn’t have a federal holiday. I’d argue both were equally influential and equally committed to fairness. Almost everyone knows MLK. A lot of those same people have no idea who Susan B. Anthony is. Is it because one gets a national spotlight and the other doesn’t?
Here’s what frustrates me: both of them literally reshaped American life. One fought for racial equality, one for gender equality—pretty foundational stuff. But only one gets a full day off work, school assemblies, documentaries, TV specials, and social media posts that flood your feed with inspirational quotes. The other gets… a historical footnote and a quiet little mention if you happen to be in the right classroom at the right time. It makes me wonder how much of our “collective memory” is actually collective at all, or just curated.
Even the smallest things—like birthdays—get shaped by public attention. MLK has a symbolic, widely taught history behind his holiday, so he becomes part of everyone’s cultural vocabulary. SBA technically has a day, but it doesn’t carry the same weight nationally. And when a story isn’t treated as important, people stop learning it.
I went to public school and remember the units on MLK and the civil rights movement. I can’t recall anything on SBA or women’s suffrage beyond a paragraph or two. Her birthday barely gets acknowledged outside a few niche circles. Meanwhile, February 15th gets claimed as “Singles Awareness Day” and “Annoy Squidward Day.” It seems as though birthdays become holidays when the media frames them as symbolic.
Happy Birthday Jesus, Sorry Your Party Is So Lame
I was raised Roman Catholic, but I don’t think I ever viewed Christmas as anything but gift giving, Santa, and snow. Maybe I’m just a sinful girl for wondering why this is even a federal holiday. Christianity is the most dominant religion in the U.S., but it’s been declining for years. And to be blunt, I see way too many Americans claiming to have found the light of God only to turn around and be one of the worst people you’ve ever met. Clearly, claiming to be religious and actually practicing are two different things.
Christmas celebrates the birth of Christ—even though Jesus wasn’t actually born on December 25th. Don’t get me wrong, I love the music and lights. But in such a diverse country, why is one religion’s holiday the main national holiday? Why not Hanukkah, Diwali, Eid al-Fitr, or Lunar New Year? Christmas is great, but it’s hard to deny how commercial it’s become compared to other religious holidays.
This year, Christmas ads showed up before Thanksgiving even happened. The holiday went from religious to materialistic at lightning speed. Everything—sales, travel, food, decorations—gets pushed down our throats nonstop. It’s wild how much the meaning has morphed. And honestly, if we’re not careful, we’ll morph right along with it… if we haven’t already.
I Don’t Know About You, But I’m Feeling 22
You’ve probably guessed why I’m writing about birthdays this week. Yes, my birthday is in a few days. Technically yesterday, if you’re reading on Sunday. Time is weird.
My birthday is usually laidback, but as a kid I’d be asked if I was evil because I was born on the 13th. Apparently it’s unlucky—Judas was the 13th guest at the Last Supper, buildings skip the number, and Jason made a whole franchise out of it. There’s even a phobia called triskaidekaphobia. Personally, I think 13 is great. I mean, I was born on December 13th. How unlucky can it be when the world got me that day?
The only bad luck is who I share it with. Taylor Swift. One of the most popular women in America. Instagram and Snapchat became popular when I was in elementary school, and for birthdays everyone would post embarrassing collages of their friends. I never got one. Instead, my friends would post pictures of Taylor Swift for her birthday. As if she’d see it. As if I wouldn’t lose my mind from the lack of attention.
Every year, my feed becomes a shrine to Taylor. Local news stations wish her a happy birthday. Her team releases new content on the 13th. Amazon and Target send me sales emails about her vinyls. Businesses use her album aesthetics to sell their products. Why???
The only logical answer is the same one haunting this entire blog: people treat celebrities like close personal friends. Fans build parasocial relationships, so they celebrate their favorite artist’s birthday as if it’s for their bestie. The result? A celebrity's birthday turns into a public festival while regular people’s birthdays get absorbed into the noise. Birthdays used to be intimate. Now they’re just… content.
So… Happy Birthday to Me, and Also Everyone Else?
After spiraling about birthdays, holidays, history, religion, capitalism, Taylor Swift, and the number 13… I think I’ve reached a simple conclusion: none of us actually control what gets celebrated. We just show up, eat the cake, and pretend we’re not being manipulated by a giant cultural group chat we never agreed to join. But honestly? Maybe that’s okay. Maybe birthdays don’t need to be federal holidays, or Instagram tributes, or nationwide consumer events. Maybe they can just be a day where you do something small and silly that makes you feel alive. Or maybe you can cry about how old you’re getting. Both are valid.
Either way, whether you’re MLK, Susan B. Anthony, Jesus, Taylor Swift, or just some girl born on the 13th who’s still fighting for the spotlight over a woman she’s never met… you deserve to be celebrated in some way. And if the world refuses to give you your holiday? Fine. Make your own. Declare it. Announce it. Put it in your Google calendar. Bake yourself a cake and tell everyone it’s a national observance. Because at the end of the day, a birthday only matters because you decide it matters—and honestly, that’s kind of the most empowering (and least chaotic) part of this whole thing.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be over here surviving the December 13th Taylor Swift Birthday Bonanza™ on what I’m unofficially calling National Ignore Emily Day. Pray for me.
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