The Invisible Labour of Thanksgiving

You promised yourself that this year would be different. You’d keep it simple, just turkey, a few sides, maybe a store-bought pie. But now it’s Thursday night, you’re polishing the good cutlery, and there’s a spreadsheet on your phone with oven timings and allergen notes for six different guests.

Because somehow, even when you’re tired of hosting, you still do.

For many women, Thanksgiving doesn’t just mean gratitude and gravy. It means project management, event planning, emotional support, and quality control, all disguised as “tradition.” Long before the first guest walks through the door, we’re already deep in the work of making the day happen.

We call it hosting.But really, it’s labour, invisible, emotional, and exhausting.

The Mental Load of Gratitude

Thanksgiving is marketed as a day of thanks, but for many women, it’s a day of thinking, of anticipating needs, diffusing tensions, keeping everyone comfortable. It’s remembering who doesn’t eat dairy, who can’t sit next to whom, and who might need an extra pep talk before dessert.

And when everyone finally sits down to say what they’re grateful for, it’s often the host who’s too tired to think of anything at all.

This isn’t to say we don’t love it. There’s real beauty in gathering the people we love around a table. But somewhere along the way, that beauty got tangled up with pressure, to make it perfect, to make it meaningful, to make it look effortless.

Redefining “Host”

Maybe this year, hosting doesn’t have to mean doing it all. Maybe it means opening your home, and letting other people bring the rest.

Ask for help. Let your sister handle dessert, even if her baking style leans “chaotic neutral.” Use paper napkins. Buy the pie. Order the gravy. Light the candles and call it done.

There’s no medal for exhaustion. The most memorable dinners are rarely the most polished, they’re the ones where someone forgot the cranberry sauce but nobody cared because the conversation was too good to get up.

Gratitude Without Performance

Women are often the keepers of joy, the ones who make holidays feel like holidays. But sometimes, the kindest thing we can do for everyone (including ourselves) is to let joy arrive on its own terms.

What if this Thanksgiving wasn’t about performing gratitude, but actually feeling it? What if you gave yourself permission to be present instead of perfect?

Maybe gratitude looks less like a curated tablescape and more like your feet up on the couch after everyone leaves,

pie plate in hand, candles burned low, music still playing softly in the background.

Because here’s the quiet truth: hosting is an act of love, but it doesn’t have to cost your peace to count.

This year, you’re allowed to make it easy.

You’re allowed to say no.

You’re allowed to be tired

— and still thankful.

That, too, is something to celebrate.