Column: “The New Sinterklaas Celebration.”

“A Tradition Under the Spotlight.”

Over the years, traditions have been cherished, defended, and sometimes even misused. Today, I want to reflect on a celebration that once felt unquestioned in our society: Sinterklaas.

As a child in Suriname, it was presented to me as something joyful—gifts, sweets, songs—yet it carried an undercurrent of fear: Zwarte Piet, the rod, the idea of being taken away to Spain.

I remember being six or seven years old, experiencing the celebration with mixed emotions. On one hand, there was excitement—the energy of classmates, the stories, the smell of treats. But alongside that lived fear. And not just any fear, but a very specific one: fear of Zwarte Piet.

In Suriname, we were told he could punish you with his rod if you had misbehaved, that he might grab you by your leg at night, that he could take you away to Spain if you didn’t listen. For adults, these were “just stories,” but for me as a child, they felt real. His appearance, his sudden arrivals, his voice—everything about him made me genuinely afraid whenever his name was mentioned.

It was especially the evenings that stayed with me. Once the sun went down, the atmosphere would shift. Children in the neighborhood and family members would warn each other, as if something unspoken was in the air. I remember adults knocking on windows or doors “to let us know he was nearby.” For them, it was teasing. For us, it was serious.

I would lie in bed with the blanket pulled up to my chin, listening to every sound outside. A shuffling footstep, a voice in the street, the wind brushing against the window—anything could mean he was near. Those are the kinds of nights a child never forgets.

And yet, we participated—because it was part of life. There were presents, laughter, a sense of belonging. In my early years, I even loved the celebration. But as I grew older and began to understand the origins of certain elements, something shifted.

There was a tension—between the warm memory of a joyful childhood celebration and the reality that aspects of it were directly tied to a history of slavery, a history you do not simply detach from as a Black man.

That realization was not small. It lingered. And yes, it was difficult to reconcile, because your childhood stays with you whether you want it to or not. But let’s be honest: ignoring that pain is a deeper form of denial.

For decades, it was treated as if everyone experienced this celebration the same way. As if certain images were harmless. As if Black people should simply accept it because it was “tradition.”

But reality told a different story: children and adults being mocked, compared, bullied. The uncomfortable looks as December approached. The requests to “play Zwarte Piet.” These were not isolated moments—they were the result of a cultural blindness that lasted far too long.

Fortunately, there were people who refused to go along with that narrative. People who spoke up, who challenged the status quo, who exposed the injustice. Because of them, change began.

Today, we see soot-smudged Pieten, a celebration that is becoming more inclusive, a space where more people feel welcome. And that is not only beautiful—it is necessary. Children should inherit joy, not the weight of a past that excludes or diminishes others.

I understand that change was difficult for some. Change always is.

But it gives me hope to see more and more people recognizing the value of that change. That participation is growing. That awareness is expanding—even if there remains a group that resists letting go.

Still, one thing must be clear: a celebration that causes pain has no future.

Traditions must make room for humanity.

There should be no trace of racism in a children’s celebration. None.

That is why I am grateful for those who have widened their perspective and made space for change. They have shown that traditions can evolve—that it is possible to create a celebration where no one is reminded of a painful past. Because of their courage, this celebration is becoming something that truly belongs to all of us.