Depression is resistance.
How do you fuck the system? Demonstrations, campaigns, riots and militant actions? Sure, we’d love to. Just one problem: We can’t even deal with our own lives. Our days are fully booked with self pity, lethargy and online shopping.
We’re not gonna write any flyers or grab any guns. Instead, we sit in our closets feeling like absolute shit. Sounds whiney? Who gives a fuck!
We have no interest in being constructive members of society. We’d rather take a million selfies, try out new tranqs from the Darknet or get pissed off because we just finished a whole bag of chips on our own – again. We’re too sick to work, don’t have the motivation for therapy and too scared for suicide. Oh yeah, and we suck at fucking. Coz we constantly feel too ugly and start crying during sex.
In a society oriented around maximum productivity, doing nothing is an act of resistance. Our existence is parasitic: We are burdens on social systems, hospitals and our partners. We refuse to become good citizens or productive economic entities. Though we’re not the cause of the huge collapse, we’re crippling the system. We’re leftist passivists, and we’re proud of it. Our mission: Bitching against the Patriarchy!
“Why are y’all
so sad all the time?”
It’s simple: We’re the girls into which you made us. There are clear reasons why so many more women suffer from anxiety and depression. We were given the shittiest hand in this big game of gender-cliché-poker. Men are taught from a young age that they are rational creators and that they’re good at math. We women on the other hand are: fragile, pretty and constantly controlled by emotion. Looking back thousands of years, ancient scholars blamed mental illnesses on “wandering wombs“! Officially, nobody believes in that anymore. Still, the roles remain.
We’re taught “Y’all have so much potential! If you’d just put effort into it, you could achieve great things. And if you fail: It’s nobody’s fault but your own!” We’re supposed to be thin and sexy, ambitious and passionate, independent and strong, attentive and balanced. Thigh Gap and Bikini Bridge. Authentic, no makeup but blemishless. Work overtime, ofc for our own dreams. After work, clean up after our husbands. And throughout all this: don’t forget to smile!
In short: In our oh-so-free society we’re buried in expectations that, in their sum, aren’t even achievable. We sad girls chase an unattainable goal.
In theory, we should be doing great! We’re the product of central european prosperity. The ideal of privilege: white, cis, pretty and well-bred. We play the game, follow the rules. We take everything that capitalism gives us: the newest iPhone, extra strong vibrators, that cool vintage suede leather jacket. We have enough cash to make all our wishes come true. And still, everything feels… meh. This is the hidden truth: There is no happy ending in capitalism. There was never supposed to be.
We reproduce in order to
showcase this truth.
We know how pathetic we look. Others cope, so what’s wrong with us? The kurdish womens-militia YPJ helped in fucking with ISIS. Meanwhile, we can barely get our sorry asses out of bed. Nevertheless, there is one small modest contribution we can make towards an end of the bullshit in its entirety:
We Sad Girls show up the cracks in the system. We’d like you to see us as an incarnation of ideological criticism. We showcase how the ruling zeitgeist gets entangled in its own contradictions. So yeah. That’s why it’s vital that we, the fangirls of the american dream, occasionally sob and puke into a toilet, take pics, slap on a retro-filter and post these to Instagram. This is how we uncover the neoliberal promise of happiness as a scam. Amen, Bitches.