This is our glass. On this American life, we tell stories about when things change. Like for this guy, David, his entire life took a sharp, unexpected and very unpleasant term. And it did take me a while to realize it's basically because the monkey pressed the button. That's right, because the monkey pressed the button. Surprising stories every week, wherever you get your podcasts. Let me ask you a question. Do you care? Or are you so over it? Because people on and offline have started bragging about how numb they are to pretty much everything these days. You can see it in the Gen Z Pout, the pride of expressionless Botox chic, the boastful statements from people saying, I don't follow the news. I'm thinking about this now because a few weeks ago, I had this conversation with beauty writer Jessica DeFino about this lifeless aesthetic that's all over social media and the beauty world. Here's how she describes this cultural obsession with numbness. It's this pose of acting like you don't care. And maybe the pose becomes so real that you actually don't really care. Like there's an element of that effortless. Yeah, like devil may care like whatever. Yeah, nonchalance. Nonchalance. And I think that has escalated to dissociation. And dissociation is a big part of glamour and beauty today. I want to go deeper on my being numb is so cool right now. To get into it, I'm joined today by Raine Fisher-Quan, a culture writer who coined the term dissociative pout, and Sophie Wilson, a culture writer who wrote a piece about why we are so obsessed with lobotomies, which is very relevant to this conversation. And you'll find out why soon. Raine Sophie, welcome to It's Been a Minute. Hi. Thank you for having me. Hello, hello. I'm Brittany Loos and you're listening to It's Been a Minute from NPR, a show about what's going on in culture and why it doesn't happen by accident. OK, I want to start off with just kind of like a survey of the land. The numb girl aesthetic, which is what we've been calling it on our team. Like what would you say are like the top three defining features? Like give us a picture of what this is all about to you. Yeah, it's like that sense of detachment and irony. I think in terms of features, you have like the deadpan voice of vacant gaze. And it kind of reflects this like world weary cynicism that is still coded as cool. And it's meant to look really effortless, but it's still highly curated and very self aware, usually. If we're talking about a visual aesthetic, like making kind of like an expression on your face, like you don't care that you're being photographed or like you don't even notice that the camera is there. Like a sort of purposeful detachment from the image making that you're doing online, like both promoting your image, but also detaching from like the consequences or the implications of posting and curating your image online is a big part of it. I think, as you said in your introduction, a political detachment is a big part of this wider aesthetic, like a purposeful, ironic attitude towards like the news or towards current events and a type of like conscious detaching from like the emotional and political implications of what's kind of going on in the world. It's like there's a desire to be seen or a desire to be seen in a certain way, whether that is beautiful or cool or even just to have people acknowledge your presence. But without seeming like you want those things, that seems like that's a big part of it as well. Yeah, I think that is something we've seen like throughout the history of the internet and culture. I mean, like you had it in the 90s where it was cool not to care with like heroin, chic aesthetic and things like that. Runway models have always had quite a detached, non-emotional gaze when walking the runway or in fashion campaigns. Like Victoria Beckham once said like fashion stole my smile. So is that kind of thing? I mean, Charlie XCX is a really classic example of like playing with these highly ironic, detached aesthetics. And she, I think, talks about this really openly, both in interviews and also in her music, as like a reaction to the unimaginable effort that it takes to work in pop music and to like the exhaustion of how much effort goes into the curation of your image. Yeah, I mean, it's the embarrassment of having to work so hard to be beautiful and to be seen. And I think that used to be something that was like relatively unique to celebrities, like this intense constant curation and surveillance of your image. And now it's like everybody, most people who are on the internet in any capacity have really engaged with the total humiliation of caring so much about how you're perceived and having to work constantly to be perceived as hot and cool and beautiful. And it is humiliating to like so openly have to beg people to think of you a certain way. And I think that these detached aesthetics are an obvious reaction to that, like an attempt to like temper the humiliation by sort of saying that you don't actually care. When you bring up Charlie XCX in this like very much like ironic, cool girl, detachment, also makes me think of Gabrielle, like the model who's like a friend of hers. I've seen photos of Gabrielle like before she's famous. She's always been beautiful, but there is this kind of like clean cut sort of healthy tan, all American sheamed her in a way before she became famous. And now after, very often she's adopted this like almost like Lauren Bacall, like putting the chin down, letting the eyes float up so that there's some white space underneath like her irises. And she has like this, you know, like kind of notable pout. Like she very much, I feel like captures like a certain like ideal of cool, like her specific look. Yeah, I think that one of the most recent examples of just how mainstream this aesthetic has gone was Demna's first runway show for Gucci, which Gabrielle walked in Emily Ratikowski also walked in. And I just wonder what it says about where we are in society when now the epitome of female sexuality and fashion is this like numbed out, disconnected look. Like are we supposed to find that attractive or is it actually just quite concerning? Yeah, I mean, that's a really good point. I mean, Demna's Gucci was very much about like, I don't know, it felt like a, it felt like the kind of people that you'd see walking into or out of a club at like three o'clock in the morning. A lot of tight dresses, a lot of board expressions, sometimes maybe a little bit of a wobbly walk. I don't know whether it was intentional or not. There's like an impenetrable kind of sheen there. I mean, if that is any indication, which, you know, in many ways, like Demna is a designer who's big on spectacle, big on playing into pop culture and kind of putting up a mirror to people as far as like what they are experiencing or perhaps overindulging or enjoying a lot right in the moment. I think that's such an apt example for this moment and what we're seeing sort of play out aesthetically with them girls. I think that impenetrable is such an interesting word because I think that that is such a big part of this like wider dissociative aesthetic is that like carrying really earnestly about something makes you really vulnerable. And whether that be interpersonally or on social media or also just like in the kind of political environment that like carrying a lot or engaging with like hope or earnest effort like leaves you really vulnerable to like grief and disappointment. And I think that obviously all cultural aesthetic kind of beauty and fashion moments are always related to the context in which they live, the politicals of social context. And I think the political social context right now and for the past decade has been one of like really extreme exaggerated nihilism and alienation where I think like young people, everybody, but I think especially people who are kind of teenagers in the 2010s were really kind of like coming out of this optimistic era into a realization that like their voices really didn't matter. Like it doesn't matter if most people in the United States oppose the war in Iran. It doesn't matter if most Democratic voters want to ceasefire in Palestine. Like the government wasn't responding to the things that people wanted them to do. And I think a lot of people began to feel extremely dissociated and alienated from the political process. And I think in that way, like this nihilism and this numbing, not that it's the right thing to do, but I think in many ways it's like an understandable reaction to a world in which you have like no control, feel like you have no control over like the horrible things that are happening with your tax dollars and with your politicians. Yeah, I agree. I also think it's a reaction to like people feeling like every piece of online activism they do is going to be like criticized or seen as just very tokenistic. At the same time, every time that you're perceived online is trying really hard. If you fail, it's like deeply embarrassing. So I think this is also a reaction to like increase self optimization. We're going to take a quick break. But first, if you're a long time listener or brand new to its bit a minute, be sure to come back every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday for brand new episodes. And did you know you can make it even easier to get new episodes by hitting the follow or subscribe button on your favorite podcast app? Whether you're a new friend or a loyal bestie, join the team by subscribing today. Coming up. It's a very interesting idea that I think a lot of people now are playing with in a lot of different ways, like this idea that checking out of life can actually be some bizarre way of exercising autonomy or of resisting a painful society. Stick around. I think that this numb thing is very closely related to some other online trends from like the past few years, including like all of the different tendrils of quote unquote femininity content, you know, news fatigue, even, you know, something you both have written about this idea of lobotomy chic. I see you nodding, Rain. Can you explain lobotomy chic for those of us who may not be in the know? Yeah, in my, my article in 2022 about like the dissociative pout, I use this term lobotomy chic, which was in the context of the article, like functionally a joke. Like it was like ironic. It was like kind of a funny exaggerated way to describe the aesthetics of the moment. It was almost like supposed to be a little bit mocking or insulting. And then when the article kind of went viral, that phrase was really re uptaken really earnestly. And like suddenly I would see girls on like my TikTok for you page doing like lobotomy chic makeup tutorial and stuff like that. Yeah. Which was very interesting to see happen. I like, I think it, I almost didn't expect the term to be coined so seriously or to be taken so seriously by the culture. But as my friend, Emeline Klein wrote in an article that I think is also really representative of this whole thing called the smartest women I know are all dissociating. It was like a moment where suddenly women all the time, me among them were like joking about like wanting to be lobotomized and wanting to be like treated for his sex. And like wishing that we could just be like, you know, it's a, it's a joke. It's like ironic and supposed to be dramatic and shocking. But it became this kind of, I think, mode for women online to talk about just like wishing that they could completely check out of the world and like, yeah, have, have a part of their brain scooped out because it felt so painful to live. So what about you? You wrote a whole article about the Yeah, I'd noticed a lot of romanticization, often ironically, but also people talking about wanting to be prescribed a trip to the seaside for their mental health. Sophie, what about you? You wrote a whole article about lobotomy chic. What were you noticing? Yeah, I'd noticed a lot of romanticization, often ironically, but also people talking about wanting to be prescribed a trip to the seaside for their mental health. But with lobotomies, it got to the point where I was seeing people on TikTok that had got tattoos of lobotomy tools, which just felt like quite extreme, especially when the history itself is so dark. And it was disproportionately performed on women because Walter Freeman, who was the doctor who performed the most lobotomies, believed that their brains weren't as important. It didn't matter if a woman couldn't fully use her brain after the surgery because she was just doing domestic work at home, whereas a man would have to go back out into the workforce outside of the home. And so male brains were seen as more important. I mean, lobotomies were really messed up, hopefully that goes without saying. And as you said, they were disproportionately used on women, and many queer people were subject to the procedure as a way to address what was thought of as deviant sexuality. So I think for some people, joking about wanting a lobotomy has become a shorthand way to say that the brutality we're living with is so, so much greater than this incredibly brutal procedure. Yeah. And I mean, I think it's often a contingent of relatively safe and privileged people who engage with this type of humor, engage with this type of dissociation. I think particularly like, you know, with the lobotomy or something, like there are many women and many types of people who are still subject to criminalization and forced institutionalization and so on and so forth today. And most, you know, most of the girls who are joking about this stuff on Twitter are not per se the most. Not going to end up in a situation where their bodies are completely out of their control in medical context. And I think too, like it speaks to like who's rewarded for engaging with like aesthetics of numbness and dissociation and who can even like materially afford to totally check out of their community and not engage with them at all. I think a lot of people have really accurately pointed out that there's like a whiteness and also like a thinness to the aesthetic. And I think all of that stuff is really true. I'm glad to bring up the whiteness and thinness of it all because I think that that is like, that feels so key to this aesthetic. Whether you are imagining it visually or just sort of imagining the way that it might feel as an attitude, whiteness, it feels like it just permeates throughout the entire thing. But I mean, it's not just white girls who are kind of performing this kind of numbness. I wouldn't, I think it might be a majority of people I've seen doing it online are white, but there are women of a lot of different kinds of backgrounds performing this kind of numbness, but it doesn't always look the same. I might look like performing a step back in terms of political engagement. I've seen plenty of women of color do that in the wake of the 2024 election. It might look like a certain type of femininity content that might privilege wearing like pastel pink sweatsuits, like and not reading the news and trying to live a certain kind of smooth life. That is something that I've seen across the board from women of all different kinds of backgrounds. However, I do think that the white girls stick out in people's minds. The white girls are emblematic of this sort of numb girl aesthetic. In some ways, I think it's much more likely for a white woman to be able to profit from this kind of like numbness or performing it. Why, I wonder, why is white woman's numbness sticky? And why does it seem like white women benefit from this performance of numbness, maybe more than other people? I think there's a lot, a lot of reasons. I think in general, social media algorithms tend to prioritize certain types of people, certain types of bodies and certain skin colors. But I also think that there's something particular about like a constructed white femininity that for really centuries has always been connected to a romanticization of weakness or a frailty or of like a romance of being sort of too soft to live in the world or too fragile. Like I think that's often been a specific type of cultural positioning that has been uniquely available to white women. And I think that feels present today as well. Yeah, I think talking about thinness as well, there are a couple of other beauty trends that can be linked to this trend as well. Like for example, the rise of a zempik that literally does numb you to things like it reduces the pleasure you get from food. And at the same time, with Botox, you can't show the full range of emotions on your face. So that's another way that you would look like you're experiencing the world in a numb way to other people. It's like choosing to take up less space or choosing to be less expressive. In some ways, choosing to have like a perhaps not saying that this is all people who experience weight loss, who are on GLP ones, but thinking about what you were saying earlier, right, about like frailty or at least performing frailty, the idea that your body can only handle so much. Your face can only move so much. There's almost like a constriction there, but it's self-imposed. And the self-imposition seems to be the thing that almost makes it chic as opposed to making it something that someone might pity or demonize. That makes me wonder, thinking about that. Is there some kind of power or agency in this numbness, for women specifically? I mean, it's a really complicated question that I think is very contextual. I think, again, there's like a million different women engaging with this in a million different ways. And I think there's a possible thread to draw, I think, between this and decades-long feminist discourses about refusal. I think for many, many, many years women have been writing about this idea of saying no to this horrible sickening world. And I think in some ways this numbness aesthetic feels like a bastardization of this long-time discourse about women refusing to participate in society or almost doing this sort of kind of protest of society by withdrawing from it. And that has always been a complicated idea. There's this essay by Vivian Gornick, who's a writer that I love, about this woman, Clover Adams, who was like a socialite in, I think, Gilded Age America, who killed herself very tragically. And in this essay about her suicide, Vivian Gornick writes this line where she basically says her suicide was her first autonomous act. It was the first time in her life where she made a decision that other people didn't want her to make. And her decision was that I don't want to be alive anymore, but that for her and for other women, that that has been tragically and bizarrely a way to exercise autonomy, to make a decision that nobody but you wants to make. It's obviously not an endorsement of hurting yourself or killing yourself. But it's a very interesting idea that I think a lot of people now are playing with in a lot of different ways. Like this idea that checking out of life can actually be some bizarre way of exercising autonomy or of resisting a painful society. I wonder, what should we do with the desire to numb out instead? Like what should we do instead? What could we do instead? I think instead of seeing numbness as this end aspirational goal, we should see it as a state that most people experience in reaction to what's going on in the world and see it as something to move through. And you can relate to other people about it, but don't see it as a state that you will stay in forever or something that is an aspirational way to be. Yeah, totally. I think it's so true. We're talking about this as a aesthetic moment or as a trend, but in a macro sense, people have been talking about overcoming desire and resisting attachment for thousands and thousands of years, sort of the basis of many major religions. And these are really human things to feel so vulnerable when you're engaging with your own desire, with your own need to be seen or acknowledged by other people or feeling scared of the world outside. These are things that people have struggled with for a really long time. And I think that feeling as if the crises of this moment are unprecedented, that they've never happened before, that they might never happen again, actually makes it more difficult to engage with the moment as it is and to realize that people have always been fighting these feelings and these feelings of fear and alienation and detachment and chaos. And people have always figured out ways to move through it and to help their communities and help their friends. And yeah, which maybe sounds a bit cliche, but no. You know, actually, this makes me think of that is not really necessarily cliche. I had never read Annie Erno before. And my friend, Maya had recommended, she's like, oh, girl, you got to read her. Her prose is the goat. She's the goat. She's the goat. And I do think a lot of people want to emulate her in some way, aesthetically, when they are thinking about sort of like the numb girl, they're like, I want to be a kind of like chic French woman who's carrying on affairs and like having these like, and kind of like focused on my own like, you know, inner emotional world or whatever. But one of the things, I picked up simple passion and I read it in like a day. I really enjoyed it. And if you haven't read it, I mean, this, this French woman is bugging. She has two year affair with this married man, she's bugging like she's going through it like to such a level. But you know what though, I read the book and some of the stuff she did, I was like, girl, me too, like, I get it. But she talks about like getting not to spoil it. This book is old, but she talks about like having this deep emotional attachment to this guy and then having to detach once the, once the affair ends. And then she comes back around to the realization that even the depths of despair that she was feeling emotionally were, she grew appreciation for them because she like, she actually like, she lived like she felt like she said that she felt like it's something like to the tune of she felt like it brought her closer to humanity. And perhaps the pain of missing someone, the pain of disappointment, of heartbreak, I think that appreciating those feelings for being human experiences, I think that might be a better way sometimes to think about these things. Like if you, you know, numbness is really just trying to escape from the depths of your own misery. But connecting with other, like connecting with humanity, I think helps you to understand that your misery is not yours alone. Yeah, totally. I mean, it's like, I feel like people always say online, the grief is unending, but so is the love. And it's, it's so true. It's like, yeah, it's so painful to be alive. And that's, I mean, I think the ultimate cry of this whole culture, this aesthetic moment and this cultural moment is that it is so, so painful to be alive. And it's also so humiliating. And I think especially on the internet, when all the forms that you engage with are so necessarily self conscious, like where not only are you experiencing all of this classic human humiliation, but you're looking at yourself the whole time doing it, it's, it's a profoundly humiliating and destabilizing experience. And I think a lot of these aesthetics, as we've said the whole time, are an attempt to distance yourself from that humiliation and to save yourself and to protect yourself. But I think as many people have pointed out at many, many periods in history, you're not actually protecting yourself by cutting yourself off from humanity, because that's what makes it, you know, all worth it. My gosh. Well, I don't know, should we, should we let the girl sleep or should we wake them up? Wake them up. That is the question. That is the question. Oh my gosh. Well, Sophie, Rain, thank you both so much. I really enjoyed this conversation. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much. We ended on such a, such a hopeful note. Yeah. We gotta bring back some of that 2010s Hope Court. Yeah, seriously. That was writer Rainfisher Kwan. You can check out more of her work on her sub-stack newsletter called Internet Princess and Sophie Wilson. She's a freelance fashion, music and culture writer. This episode of It's Been a Minute was produced by Barton Girdwood. This episode was edited by Nina Pautuck. Our VP of programming is Yolanda Sanguini. All right. That's all for this episode of It's Been a Minute from NPR. I'm Brittany Luce. Talk soon.
