in defence of childishness

Or alternatively, the other repercussions of being ‘mature for your age’.

When I was nine years old, I was told by my aunt that I had to start acting like an adult, because my cognitively disabled parents could not do it for themselves. At that age, I could not fully understand the gravity of the situation, but I did know that it was a big responsibility. I was told to stop watching cartoons and start studying harder than all of my peers. I was told to stop whining and start learning how to regulate my parents’ emotions. And as a little girl, I began to envy my peers, who would have fun play dates all of the time, and get to try every new video game.

In retrospect, I did have a decent childhood. But many of my closest friends were not afforded this luxury. Some of them had to parent their younger siblings from the age of eleven, as their parents were emotionally absent. Some of them had families riddled with alcoholism or severe mental illnesses, having to balance their home responsibilities with their slipping grades. I have watched these children grow into incredible, intelligent, and compassionate adults, but at what cost?

The Skipping Rope (1907)

There seems to be an endless pressure for children, in the age of the internet and late stage capitalism, to grow up. Since they have all knowledge in the world at their fingertips, it simply makes sense that they should be able to handle all sorts of situations with maturity. But the fact of the matter is that children who do not yet understand things such as the value of money or health insurance should not be taking on the responsibilities of an adult, and should not be expected to. Yet your parents are now screaming at you, because you forgot to pack your little brother’s lunchbox one morning.

However, the pressure to mature quickly is just not confined to family dynamics. There is also a large societal pressure. Even outside of the fact adolescent girls are made to dress and act like adult women to fulfil predatory sexual fantasies, there is the non-predatory ostracisation of teenagers who like ‘childish things’. Some pieces of youth media are free of this stereotype, such as certain video games and sport-related media (note that these are ‘masculine’ things ‘men’ are ‘allowed’ to like), but the rest are strictly off-limits for everybody above the age of twelve. It is, undoubtedly, a suffocating way of life.

I remember, so distinctly, an instance from when I was ten years old. A friend and I were playing Minecraft on our iPads after school, and two boys from our class came up behind us. I quickly clicked the home button, as I was always afraid of being teased for whatever I was doing at any given time. However, this meant that the game Dragon City was visible on my home screen. One of the boys said to me, “Ew, why do you play Dragon City? It’s for little kids.” The other boy turned to my friend and they struck up a conversation about their mutual love for Minecraft.

For months after the fact, I regretted ever having clicked my home button, wishing to have just been seen playing Minecraft instead, since that would have been the more socially acceptable game to play. It all seems so silly now, but it meant the world at the time, and if even children are teasing other children for acting like children, then that stigma increases tenfold into adulthood.

This begs the question of what the point of all of this is. Why carry all of this shame? So many pieces of media and genuinely enjoyable activities are overlooked for being ‘childlike’. High-quality animated films such as Into the Spider-Verse or Puss In Boots: The Last Wish, while made with younger audiences in mind, are still nuanced and entertaining in a way that can be enjoyed and appreciated by older people. But many still think that animated films like these are for kids only, while adult animation has to be sloppy and satirical, like Family Guy or South Park. Not many thirty-somethings would openly admit to their co-workers at their dry corporate job that they still enjoy watching Avatar the Last Airbender in their free time.

As I have only just stumbled across the threshold of adulthood, I am yet to bear the full weight of formality. I am still free to put cute stickers in my journal, to squeal with my friends in public, to spend my money on little collectible figurines. But I worry about the day this freedom is snatched from me; the threshold of actual adulthood.

None of it seems very fair – to have to stop daydreaming or having innocent fun, simply because a decade or two have passed since you last peed your bed sheets. There is nothing inherently wrong with having ‘immature’ hobbies, yet everyone seems to act like they make you inherently stupid. There is a fine line between innocence and stupidity, whimsy and ignorance, and it is perfectly harmless to stay on the former side. Nobody’s daydream about being a super-powered fairy monarch is hurting you, nobody’s love of collecting Monster High dolls is hurting you, so why do you care so much?

My writing this is a call to action: enjoy what you enjoy, shamelessly, whether you are fifteen or fifty. As it stands, there is already so much pain in the world. If you are brought comfort by something that is deemed silly or childish, then all power to you. The only people who will care are those who are so caught up in themselves that they cannot truly enjoy their lives, and I’d much rather be strange and silly than choked to death by the arbitrary order of things.