On the third floor of Van Meter, Lena Dunham’s 2012 hit-show “Girls” is invading the psyche of freshman brains. What started off as me blabbering about the show 24/7 has turned into a Lena Dunham addiction for many of my female friends. But why? What about this show, which consists of four aimless 20-somethings in Brooklyn, speaks so profoundly to them?
The main character, Hannah Horvath, played by Dunham, describes herself as “not what you would call a chill girl.” Hannah decides to combat her handsy boss by trying to seduce him (I know, not necessarily logical) and in the hour before her book deadline, she impulsively decides to give herself a heinous bowl haircut.
Hannah is raw, careless, and imperfect. She’s constantly doing something unwise, reeling from its consequences, then proceeding to do something even more unwise. She’s “’chalant.” She’s “fazed.” She’s “ruffled.”
In response, the media relished despising Hannah. She even it to round two of The Atlantic’s #ActualWorst competition in 2015, in which Hannah squared off against Hannibal Lector for the title of “the most terrible person on television.” That’s right, Hannah Horvath, a semi-narcissistic novelist from Michigan was pitted against Hannibal Lector, a cannibal. And yet, for all her committed “horrors,” there’s something about Hannah that spoke to young women in 2012 and still does today.
Her messy behavior makes us cringe and look away, but based on my anecdotal experience and that of my friends, the viewer always returns to the show eager for more “Hannahisms.” Hannah’s weaknesses and vulnerabilities are also a breath of fresh air within the suffocating environment of social media and beauty expectations. Love her or hate her, I think all young women should be a little “Hannah.”
In the article “The Smartest Women I Know Are All Dissociating,” writer Emmeline Cline coins the term “female dissociation.” Cline argues that women “adopt the daily, quotidian dissociation of getting dressed in the morning or prepared to go out at night, a process that involves stepping outside your body to see it from the outside.”
Beauty expectations call on us to view ourselves through the eyes of our perceivers. The need to look “cool” and be perceived as “cool” on social media goes so far that the level of dissociation turns women into something almost inhuman. However, Hannah is utterly human – utterly in her own body and uniquely unaware of people’s gazes on her – and that can feel mind-blowing to the female viewer.
Our first instinct is to find Hannah self-involved, but as a separate Atlantic article that mentions “Girls” states, “what distinguishes this run of TV tragicomedies isn’t their heroines’ unlikability, but rather, their vulnerability, that is, the frankness with which they disclose feelings and experiences women have long been encouraged to suppress.”
Whereas Hannah’s mistakes are always on display, many young women today strive to present an “unbothered” and unflappable persona to the world. There’s a need to make our Instagram feeds appear effortless yet chic; our pictures must seem carefree even when we’ve taken them twenty times to get that candid effect.
By looking at ourselves through other people’s eyes, we dissociate from our existences and life – with all its ups and downs and bowl haircuts – is kept at arm’s length.
Social media encourages young women to always be “chill” and “cool,” but if you just took a hilarious picture of your friend with bedhead, why not post it? Why not share joyful and authentic experiences with people around us? If you see hopscotch scribbled on the pavement and you have the urge to jump through the boxes, why not do it, even if you feel a little goofy? When we squash our messier thoughts, we’re sanitizing ourselves and losing our humanity in the process.
Recently, I’ve seen multiple TikTok videos of young women commenting on “Girls.” One young woman writes, “[My life] is an episode of Girls where I test the limits of how badly I can embarrass myself more & more everyday.” Another says, “Watching Girls changed my life because now whenever something embarrassing happens in my life I act like it could’ve been a part of a Girls episode and I don’t feel bad because I’m 20.” The too-embarrassing-to-watch element of “Girls” speaks to young women because it encourages us to let loose and embrace our faults and failures.
In my mind, Hannah is no Hannibal Lector. Viewers are only taken aback by her because her lack of self-filtering is alien to us. But this plague of female dissociation – female censorship – can and should be combatted. Using Hannah as a blueprint could be the surprising first step.
In one episode, Hannah takes to Twitter in a frenzied state, writing iconically: “all adventurous women do.” All adventurous women do “bad,” do “good,” do “funky.” For all her shortcomings, Hannah is wise in asking us to remember that.
Sally Mendelsohn can be reached at [email protected].
