What’s the Point?

I have been struggling to find the will to be creative recently. Actually, it’s been quite a long while. Maybe since reaching adulthood; definitely since trying to make a business out of writing. The thought that I keep coming back to is, “What’s the point?” What’s the point in putting something new out there when no one’s going to see it? What’s the point in trying to market when the people I thought would be some of my biggest cheerleaders don’t even seem to care that I’ve created something? What’s the point in being creative, in seeing the value in the things I create, when the world has become so horrible I don’t even want to be a part of it anymore? What’s the point?

I don’t know. I don’t know what the point is. I doubt there even is one. But the other day, I was thinking about Robert Munsch, and The Paper Bag Princess. And I thought, not for the first time, about how that book influenced me as I was growing up. You see, when you spend most of your early development in a white, rural, conservative, Christian town, it’s very easy to fall into that trap of grow up, wear dresses, attract male, marry male, bear his children, raise his children, and die. But Princess Elizabeth taught me that I didn’t have to settle for that: reading The Paper Bag Princess was my first experience with an alternative. I remember still being so young and taking a moment to stop and think to myself, “Wait. You mean I don’t have to marry Prince Charming? You mean I can run off into the sunset and be all grungy in my paper bag if I want to?”

The Paper Bag Princess was the first experience I remember having where I was given a choice in who I could be. And I liked it. I liked realizing I even had a choice to begin with. It was the first step onto the ladder toward the person I could have been if I hadn’t received so much early programming from the people around me. It was my first step toward finding me. And I owe it all to the ending of one small, fairly simplistic story.

I guess the point I am trying to make here is this: being creative in this day and age feels like a worthless endeavor; I know you’re also feeling this way because I know anyone with even half a shred of decency in them is—and creatives tend to be more empathic than most. But creative people are also the last line of defense against the ignorant.

You may feel like you’re doing nothing of value because you are not out there on the front lines, waving signs and staring down the barrels of the guns that the terrorist organization running the country have pointed at you. You may feel like you’re doing nothing of value because your strengths do not lie in being loud and inspiring the attention of the masses. You may feel like you’re doing nothing of value because you are so immobilized by despair that all you can bring yourself to do each day is sit around and ask yourself, “What’s the point?”

But creative people are the last line of defense against the ignorant.

It’s why the people in charge have spent so much of their time and energy trying to ban books. It’s why they defiled the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts with their politics. It’s why they’ve spent decades slashing the funding for Arts in our education system. It’s why one of the first moves of dictators throughout history is to silence creative outlets. We’re a threat to their agenda, and they know it.

Take it from the young person who realized they didn’t have to get married if they didn’t want to just from reading The Paper Bag Princess. Take it from the adult who finally found their tribe, their friends, through learning to tango and playing Dungeons and Dragons: the world needs your art. Humanity needs your art. Your story, your perspective, is what sneaks into the psyche. Your story is what festers, maybe even unknown for a while, until the pre-programmed brain finally stops and thinks, “Wait. Run that by me again…” Your story is where the disillusioned person escapes this cold, dismal reality to see what could be. And it’s your story that helps drive others—those whose strengths do lie in being loud and inspiring the attention of the masses—to mobilize.

We need your art.

And the next time you find yourself asking, “What’s the point?” imagine what twists and turns your own life would have taken if you had never been inspired by art; by someone else’s feelings; by someone else’s words.

I don’t know if I have the power to make you feel any less helpless in this moment—but if you’re having trouble finding something to do for yourself, or for the world at large, then I’ll tell you something you can do for me: keep creating. No matter what happens. No matter what they try. When they prohibit you from performing in a theater, then you go dance and act and sing in the streets. When they tax crafting supplies to the point they become a luxury only the rich can afford, find a way to make your own supplies, or discover a new medium entirely, and keep on going. When they ban your books from schools, make a Little Free Library in your neighborhood or turn your vehicle into a bookmobile. When they force you to work three jobs just to make ends meet, find a little slice of your free time every day to create something amazing and put it out into the world. Do whatever you can to get your artwork and the artwork of your friends and family right under everyone’s noses. Just keep creating.

Because you are a quiet revolutionary in the battle for our nation’s, our world’s, soul—and it all starts and ends with you.

So just keep going.