Happy Mother’s Day, but sorry about its commercialization

From the bustling streets of Tokyo to the quiet villages of Peru, from the vast landscapes of Australia to the heart of Africa, over 40 countries pause to honor mothers on the second Sunday of May, this year falling on May 10, which is a date circled on millions of calendars across the globe.

This is not a simple, uniform affair. While the date is shared from the United States and Canada to India, China, Japan, Brazil, Germany, and South Africa, the ways in which this gratitude is expressed are as diverse as humanity itself.

The roots of this shared date lie in the determined campaign of one woman: Anna Jarvis.

In 1908, three years after the death of her own mother, the West Virginian organized the first official Mother’s Day observance at a church in Grafton, West Virginia.

She had chosen the second Sunday in May, a time of spring and renewal, and had decorated the sanctuary with white carnations, her mother’s favorite flower.

By 1914, President Woodrow Wilson had signed a resolution making it an official U.S. holiday, and the idea, carrying with it a powerful and simple message, began its journey around the world.

When others co-opted her idea, Jarvis devoted decades to a resolute campaign against the commercialization of Mother’s Day, which she believed should remain a day solely to honor mothers, inspired by the memory of her own.

Across the Pacific, in Japan, the day is known as Haha No Hi. Here, the symbolism of the carnation remains potent. A red or pink carnation is a declaration of love for a living mother, while a white one is a quiet, poignant memorial for a mother who has passed away. But Japanese children also add a deeply personal touch. A beloved tradition involves children drawing portraits of their mothers, some of which are submitted to national competitions and displayed in exhibits across the country, a public and artistic celebration of a private bond.

In Australia, the choice of flower is a practical and charming bit of wordplay. While carnations are still common, the chrysanthemum is a preferred gift, affectionately shortened by the locals to “mums”. It is a small linguistic tradition that personalizes a larger global practice.

Perhaps the most unique and solemn tradition takes place in Peru. There, families with deceased matriarchs do not simply observe a quiet moment of reflection. They gather at the gravesides of their mothers, aunts, and grandmothers. These are not somber visits. They are social occasions. Families will clean and decorate the graves with balloons, flowers, and loving messages, then share food and drink, turning a cemetery into a garden of remembrance and celebration of a life that continues to shape their own.

The celebration in Mexico is a different kind of ritual, fixed not to a day of the week but to a date: May 10. It begins the night before. Children often stay at home, waiting for the stroke of midnight to begin the celebration. The morning of May 10 is frequently announced with a serenade, a heartfelt rendition of “Las Mañanitas,” the traditional birthday song, often performed by wandering mariachis. It is a reminder that for many, being a mother is a life’s work deserving of a birthday-level tribute.

In Europe, the traditions are just as varied. In Germany, Muttertag is a time for direct and open affection, with children told not to hold back their emotions. However, it also carries a historical complexity. During the Nazi era, the day was promoted as a way to honor women who bore many children for the state.

In contrast, the Brazilian Dia das Mães is a celebration of pure family joy. It is considered the second most important commercial holiday after Christmas, and it is marked by multi-generational barbecues where families gather for simple, joyful feasting.

Further east, in Serbia, a child’s love is demonstrated by a playful act of capture. On Materice, the day is known for children sneaking into their mother’s room, “tying” her up with a ribbon, and only releasing her in exchange for a gift or some homemade treats.

Then there are the nations that have woven Mother’s Day into their own national fabric.

In Thailand, the celebration is not in May but on Aug. 12, the birthday of Queen Sirikit, considered the symbolic mother of the nation. Children kneel at their mothers’ feet and offer white jasmine garlands, a symbol of the purity of a mother’s love.

In Ethiopia, the festival of Antrosht takes place not on a fixed date, but when the long rainy season ends, typically in October or November. It is a multi-day homecoming where adult children trek back to their families for a celebration of singing, dancing, and a feast featuring a traditional hash, to which they contribute the ingredients, which their mother then prepares for them.

And for those who wish to dedicate a special thought but find themselves without a single, sweeping tradition, the most meaningful gestures are often the smallest and most personal.

In France, children are known to express their love by composing poetry for their mothers, or by taking over the household chores, giving her a rare day of true rest.

In the United Kingdom, the day, known as Mothering Sunday, still carries the tradition of the fruitcake-like Simnel cake, glazed and topped with marzipan, as a special gift from the children.

From the chaos and cheer of a family barbecue to the quiet dignity of a clean grave and a placed flower, the truth is this: the most potent traditions are not the ones requiring a great expense. They are the ones that require remembrance.

A hand-drawn picture, a handwritten poem, a single jasmine blossom, a cooked meal, or a simple act of service are the oldest and most powerful tributes of all.

Commercialization has dressed the day in ribbons and wrapping paper, but the lasting significance of that second Sunday in May lies not in what is bought, but in what is done and what is said, one family at a time, for the one woman who has done everything for them.