If you had asked me a few years ago whether I’d ever consider celebrating Thanksgiving, I would have laughed and kept scrolling. As an African, the holiday didn’t exist anywhere in my world. It belonged to American sitcoms, Hallmark movies, and families who had autumn leaves in their backyards. We didn’t grow up thinking about turkey carving, gratitude lists, or the emotional weight of a national pause. Thanksgiving in Africa has always sounded like one of those distant concepts you understand, but don’t really internalise.
Yet here I am in 2025, a few days before Thanksgiving Thursday, realising that something in me is shifting. And it all started with one quiet decision earlier this year.
When the year began, I chose “Change” as my word of the year. Not because I had a grand plan, but because something in me felt restless. I was tired of living on autopilot, tired of fearing my own potential, and tired of letting life pass me in rushed, blurred chapters. Choosing “Change” felt like a small act of rebellion against the version of myself that kept shrinking to fit what was familiar and safe. I had no idea that one word would rearrange my entire year.
Since then, everything has been in motion. My routines, my work, my relationships, my confidence, my expectations of myself; all of it is shifting and stretching. Some moments have been beautiful, and others uncomfortable in the way growth always is. But somewhere in the middle of these changes, I realised I wasn’t taking enough time to honour the journey. I was evolving so fast that I rarely stopped to acknowledge what I had survived, who had walked with me, and how far I had quietly come.
That’s when Thanksgiving suddenly stopped feeling like an American holiday and started looking more like something I needed.
Not the giant turkey, the autumn décor, or the Hallmark-style family reunion, but the idea behind it. The pause. The reflection. The intentional gratitude. A moment carved out of a busy year to honour your journey, your growth, your resilience, and the people who helped you stay steady.
And the more I sat with it, the more it made sense. Africans, especially those of us navigating adulthood in today’s unpredictable world, don’t often get slow moments. Most of us grew up in cultures where you simply keep going. You rise, you work, you support others, you navigate challenges, and you keep moving. We show gratitude in small, everyday ways, but we rarely give ourselves the gift of stopping long enough to really feel it.
This year made me see the cost of living that way.
There have been days when I felt proud of how much I was changing, and days when I felt overwhelmed by the weight of it all. Yet I kept pushing through without pausing to notice the quiet victories. Those moments of courage, the healing conversations, the growth I didn’t think I was capable of, the people who showed up when I needed them, and even the challenges that forced me to evolve. Thanksgiving, I realised, offered exactly the kind of pause I’ve been avoiding: a moment to breathe, to recognise the journey, and to honour the becoming.
That’s why I’m choosing to celebrate Thanksgiving this year. Not because it’s trending, not because I want to imitate another culture, and not because I suddenly relate to pumpkin pie. I’m celebrating it because “Change” has taught me the value of reflection. This isn’t about copying an American tradition; it’s about adopting a ritual that supports my growth. It’s about making space for gratitude the same way I’ve made space for change.
And honestly, the celebration doesn’t even need to be big. I’m realising now that celebrating Thanksgiving isn’t about the size of the table or how many people are around it. It’s about the intention behind the pause. Even if you’re spending it quietly or figuring out how to celebrate Thanksgiving alone, the meaning stays the same: gratitude, grounding, and giving yourself a moment to breathe before the year ends.
For me, this Thursday won’t involve a turkey the size of a toddler or an elaborate tablescape from a Pinterest mood board. It might be as simple as making myself a nice meal, lighting a candle, and writing down ten things I’m grateful for, the big shifts, the small joys, the unexpected blessings, and even the difficult lessons that shaped me. It might involve calling someone I haven’t thanked properly this year, or sitting in silence for a moment to acknowledge truths I’ve been too busy to see.
And who knows? Maybe this becomes a yearly ritual. Maybe it evolves with me. Or, maybe it becomes one of those gentle, grounding practices that help me move through life more intentionally. Change opened the door. Gratitude is keeping it open.
So yes, as an African, I never imagined myself celebrating Thanksgiving. But I’m starting this year because I finally understand what it means to honour my own journey. I’m doing it because I want to be more present, more reflective, and more grateful. I’m doing it because life is shifting, and so am I.
And if you feel something stirring in you, too, if this year has challenged you, stretched you, or taught you more than you expected, maybe it’s time to give yourself a quiet Thanksgiving of your own. Not the American version. Your version. A moment that matches the life you’re living and the person you’re becoming.
Because sometimes, the biggest changes begin with the smallest pauses.
