Whimsy, a defense
Gruesome Details
I want to start out by saying this: I was a known hater of whimsy from 2008 through to this year. Whimsy was the attitude de rigueur for the post-housing market crash era. Manic pixie dream girls abounded and, as sketch show Portlandia immortalized, everyone’s sister was making jewelry.
These capricious free spirits seemed to contravene reality, focusing on aesthetics rather than the seedy side of the Obama era, with its corporate bailouts, increased state surveillance, and international drone strikes.
I think I was right then. I also think I’m right now. (One thing about me? I’m going think I’m right.)
Whimsy and “girl boss hustle” culture of the 2010s and pre-Covid era has been replaced by sweeping, money-hungry nihilism. As one teen-cum-scammer said in a three-year-old video I watched recently: “Scam or get scammed.”
This sort of nihilism (“no ethical consumption under capitalism” said as you make your 12th Amazon purchase of the month is included here) is easy. You do nothing. Things get worse. You will not be surprised, but you will be affected.
Whimsy, with its attendant hope, is more difficult. How can we feel hope as fascism fully blooms on American shores?
I am hopeful (and whimsical) because there are no other options.
Whimsy seems the perfect pose for people and mass movements to adopt in this moment. Fascism wants you scared, isolated, alone, depressed. Whimsy is about being silly, earnest, and almost naïvely open to the world around you.
I have said “goodbye everyone in the grocery store line” at least twice last month. I’m trying to up those numbers in April.
A few years from forty, I write and print out a local newsletter which I distribute to my neighbors. In any circumstance, that would be embarrassing. But, in our current circumstance, it feels necessary to open myself to potential embarrassment and judgement. This risk is what, ultimately, allows me to create community with those around me.
You cannot establish connection without taking that leap. We cannot fight what is coming without hope and joy.
I dream of extremely stupid protests. I dream of theater troupes doing mime at cops, and thousands of adults skipping in the street. Arresting people is one thing. Arresting people who are skipping makes you both look stupid.
Fascism may be on the rise, but no one can legislate my vibe. This year, I’m putting the manic back in the pixie dream girl.