'Tis the season of the Karen

It is the most wonderful time of the year. Lights are twinkling, Christmas playlists are fighting for attention, and every store smells like cinnamon and confusion. And yet, somehow, without fail, this season also brings out another special holiday classic. The Karen.

And let me just go ahead and warn you. Y’all are fixing to get mad at me because this is about pure privilege. You and I did not grow up in the same world. My presence was and still is an option to acknowledge. Some people look right through me, like noticing me is extra credit instead of basic human decency.

A picture of a basic blonde Karen

You know the one. The woman who will step directly in front of you, even though you are clearly standing there. The one who reaches right across your body to grab something off the shelf, like you are part of the store display. The one who looks everywhere except at the actual human being she just cut off.

I swear, some people move through life like they were granted an exclusive backstage pass to the world and everyone else is just scenery. And if there is one thing I have learned during the holidays shopping season, it is that a Karen does not “not see me.” She chooses not to notice me.

There is a difference.

And let me be real for a second. I have already had a handful of Karens confront me this season about my existence and my lack of hurry. The audacity some people have when they decide you are moving too slow for their personal pace is unbelievable. They act like the aisles belong to them, and I am just a speed bump in their shopping journey. They look at me like I owe them an apology for not sprinting through Walmart with Olympic-level energy. I refuse to rush my body or risk my balance just because someone else woke up late and chose chaos.

I do not know what it is about me that makes some people walk straight into my space like I am invisible. Maybe it is because I am polite. Maybe it is because I use AAC sometimes, and people assume that means I do not need boundaries. Or maybe it is because some folks simply float through Target on their own personal cloud of privilege and convenience.

But let me tell you something. I am not invisible. And I am not scenery. I am a whole person standing right here with a cart and a purpose.

A picture of a Karen wearing a neat hair bun and a red plaid coat crossing the crosswalk

Here is the part they never think about. When a Karen walks in front of me, it does not just feel rude. It feels like a message. Like, my presence is optional. Like, my space does not matter. Like my time is less important. And the truth is, these people can care less if I lose my balance and fall. They do not pause. They do not think. They just move through me like I am furniture and not a person who actually has to stay steady on her feet. They are so wrapped up in their own convenience that they do not even consider the impact on the person they just shoved past. And honestly, it is unnecessary. All of it. The stepping in front. The reaching across. The pretending I am not there. It takes exactly three seconds to pause, acknowledge another human being, and keep it moving with basic decency.

And can we talk about the way they get confused when you hold your ground? When you do not jump back or shrink or make yourself small just so they can get to their scented candle aisle a half second faster? The shock. The blinking. The full body attitude like you have somehow disrupted the natural order. No ma’am. I am simply existing.

a young woman with her arms full of packages by a Christmas tree

Here is what I know to be true. I have spent enough years shrinking myself to make room for other people’s comfort. I am not doing that anymore. Holiday season or not, this is my space too. And when I refuse to move out of someone’s way, it is not about being sweet or patient or polite. It is about safety, respect, and claiming the space I am allowed to take up.

So this year, when I see the Karens migrating through the aisles like they own every square inch of the store, I will not be moving out of the way. I will be standing firm, sipping my coffee, and minding my business. Because their obliviousness is not my problem. Their privilege is not my burden. Their inability to look around and recognize other humans is not my responsibility.

This is the season to be merry. Not pushed aside. Not ignored. Not stepped over. And certainly not treated like a decorative snowflake someone can walk right through.

My holiday resolution is simple. I will show up. I will take up space. I will stand in line like everyone else. And if someone steps in front of me, I will clear my throat, roll my cart forward, and remind the universe and every Karen in it that Leslie Kate Thornton is here. Present. Visible. And not going anywhere.

After all, this is the season to be kind. Not Karen.