Tactical Frivolity and Protest: Historical Lessons in Following Portland’s Frogs
The news can feel dreadful to read – but then you see the frogs. 😂
From Mother Jones article: "Portland's Inflatable Costumes Deflate Trump's Narrative"
For those who haven’t heard, “war-ravaged” Portland has had quite the response to ICE:
Inflatable costumes. Naked bike rides. Dance parties.
In the face of fascism, Portland has chosen ridiculousness.
And this is actually one of our oldest (and most effective at delegitimizing those in power) styles of protest. In activist spaces, it is known as “tactical frivolity” – the art of using humor and absurdity to challenge the status quo.
Here are some examples from history:
Dada Art
During World War 1 as countries all over Europe went to war, a group of artists began to make art in a way that would fundamentally shift the shape of the art world.
Their work – whether it was poetry, performance, or visual art – was ugly by artistic standards, made very little sense to most people, and leaned heavily into the absurd. (I remember first studying this movement in high school and thinking…what the hell is this?)
As a response to the logic that led to international war and human suffering, Dada artists intentionally created illogical works of satire.
As the artist Hans Arp wrote:
Revolted by the butchery of the 1914 World War, we in Zurich devoted ourselves to the arts. While the guns rumbled in the distance, we sang, painted, made collages and wrote poems with all our might.
Gaining global attention (and in many cases rejection by liberals, conservatives, and institutions of all kinds), this was an anti-war protest based on emphasizing ridiculousness.
ACT UP’s Kiss-Ins
On April 29, 1988, more than a thousand LGBTQ protestors joined together in New York City, marched up Christopher Street, and started kissing.
The first “kiss-in” protest of its kind, this event was meant to counter the ridiculousness of homophobia with a stop-you-in-your-tracks show of care: the joyful imagery of a thousand people at once engaging in an act of collective, unafraid, unashamed queer love. And shown on TVs across the United States.
In a hetero-centered media landscape that insisted that anyone with AIDS was dangerous – which was often meant to include all gay folks in general – this protest issued a visually unapologetic and counter-cultural statement: look at us and see our beauty, love, and humanity.
Maxine Wolfe, an ACT UP organizer, later shared that the protest had been specifically designed for “visibility, access, and outrage.”
Taking a page from the nonviolent protests of the ‘50s and ‘60s, the organizers ensured media coverage would be present, knowing the imagery would shock the country into paying attention and questioning their beliefs and existing narratives around homosexuality and the AIDS epidemic.
Pussy Riot
In a country where dissident speech is strongly repressed, there my be no protest group more famous in the past fifteen years than Pussy Riot in Russia.
Dressing in clashing neon costumes and shouting feminist punk lyrics, Pussy Riot’s main tactic is to transform any public space into a stage. They appear intentionally chaotic and unserious as a way to mock and expose the fragility of Russian power structures.
In one of their most famous protests, five members rushed to the altar of Moscow’s Cathedral of Christ the Savior, a space where women are typically barred, and began a several-minute punk music concert. In response, the State arrested three members and charged them with hooliganism, leading to two being held in prison for two years and Vladimir Putin signing into law a bill imposing jail terms and fines for "insulting religious feelings."
Across Russia, and certainly internationally, Pussy Riot’s protests and the disproportionate reactions to them only amplified the obvious injustice and misuse of power at the center of the Russian state.
So what can we take from this?
1. Authoritarian movements shrink in the face of reality-based humor. Nothing exposes the fragility of the State and the absurdity of their “radical left terrorism” claims quite like inflatable dancing frogs. Nothing breaks down narratives of “they are a danger to you” quite like a group of people kissing in public.
2. There is always a space for joy. Things are heavy right now, but these protest movements and moments remind us to dance, play, love, and even act-a-fool. To maintain a tender connection with our squishy center and common humanity.
3. Community is how we make it through. I once had a friend who told me “never do anything alone” – meaning, if I was going out anywhere, to invite someone with. All of these movements rely on people coming together, talking together, challenging each other, creating in unison, and building capacity side-by-side.
As Heather Cox Richardson writes:
“Democracy is always a work of community. It survives when ordinary people show up, care for one another, and refuse to be cynical.”
Engaging in tactical frivolity isn’t about scale – each of us can start small and right where we are. Here are three ideas for you this week that center joy and community:
Write platonic love notes — tuck these into library books, send to random addresses, or share directly with your people as letters of gratitude.
Host a “craftivism night” — invite three friends together to play music, drink some wine, munch on snacks, and knit, collage, or otherwise create protest art. Then, publicly share the art out in your communities.
Do a “joy drop” — leave flowers, affirmations, or jokes in unexpected places around your neighborhood. Alternatively, you could chalk sidewalks with joyful and compassionate messages. (This is a great one to do with kids!)
For those who attended a No Kings protest this past weekend, I hope you got to experience some of this – I certainly did. Tacoma’s protest included inflatable animals, face-painting, and the snarkiest of signs.
My son with his sign: “Leave people alone, ICE!”
Joy and community and protest and ridiculousness swirling together. 🙂
