A Queer Carol {iii}: The Ghost of Christmas Present

(Or: Chosen Family Saves Christmas)

read parts {1} and {2}

This spirit arrives in full drag regalia—we're talking Saturnalia meets Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. Their robe features every pride flag variation, and they're serving looks that would make the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come feel positively underdressed.

They transport our Scrooge to contemporary celebrations across the globe. Here's a Hanukkah party in Ukraine where queer families are reclaiming traditions while their American cousins simultaneously navigate Christmas with in-laws who still use "lifestyle" unironically. There's a chosen family Friendsgiving-Christmas hybrid in San Francisco, where trans elders and baby queers share chosen names and chosen joy.

We witness the Krampus—that delightfully camp Alpine demon who predates Christianity and punishes naughty children during Yule. With his horns, fur, and chains, he's giving leather daddy energy that the bears of Bavaria have been appreciating for centuries. Pagan midwinter celebrations understood something the Victorian moralists tried to suppress: darkness isn't just something to fear; it's when we find each other, when warmth matters most, when authentic connections illuminate the longest night.

The Spirit shows our protagonist the Cratchit family reimagined—perhaps Bob Cratchit is actually Roberta, and Tiny Tim is discovering they're actually Tiny They/Them. Mrs. Cratchit might be Mx. Cratchit, and their Christmas goose is ethically sourced and everyone's pronouns are respected. "God bless us, every one," Tim declares, and this time it means everyone—no exceptions, no asterisks, no "love the sinner" loopholes.

We glimpse Marsha P. Johnson handing out Christmas dinners to homeless queer youth in 1970s New York. We see Harvey Milk hosting holiday parties in San Francisco, creating spaces where "family" means the people who actually show up. We observe the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence blessing the queer community in full habit and full face Gloriana pancake every December, turning religious imagery into radical care.

"Abundance isn't about hoarding," the Spirit explains, adjusting their spectacular wig. "It's about circulation—of resources, yes, but also of love, acceptance, and fabulousness. Scarcity mentality is so heteronormative, don't you think?"

{iv}: The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come (The Serving Realness We Deserve)

This phantom appears in silence, shrouded and mysterious—honestly giving major Death tarot card energy, which depending on your reader means transformation, not termination. Our Scrooge trembles, but really, what could be more terrifying than a future where we never become who we're meant to be?

They visit a future where Christmas has been fully reclaimed from commercial Coca-Cola Christianity and returned to its queer pagan roots—a celebration of survival, of light returning, of community over consumption. The tomb they visit isn't Scrooge's literal grave but the death of his false self, the demise of his fear-based existence.

The Spirit shows him two possible timelines: In one, he dies alone, unmourned, his wealth distributed to distant relatives who never knew him and wouldn't have liked him if they had. In the other, he's surrounded by chosen family, his name spoken with love at holiday tables where everyone brings their full selves, no editing required.

But here's the twist Dickens couldn't write in 1843: The ghost reveals that every ending is really a return to the darkness before rebirth. The solstice isn't just about the sun coming back—it's about what we do in the darkness while we wait. The ancient queers understood this. Every oppressed community understands this. We've been gathering around fires, telling our stories, keeping each other warm through the longest nights for millennia.

Read part five tomorrow: