The Gift That is White Girl Fall

It’s that time of year again: everyone’s always a little sick, there’s midterms on what feels like a daily basis, the next break is months away, but all anyone can say is how much they love sweater weather. The crunchy leaves underfoot, the crisp fall air, the pumpkin spice everything just seems to distract us as a species from the fact that the sun is going down a little earlier every night. Every complaint about a paper or a lab report is immediately followed up by a desire to watch Gilmore Girls or listen to Phoebe Bridgers. We find comfort as yet another year dies, watching as nature burns brilliantly red before turning to ashy snow.

We’re wired to enjoy the colder months less, so the joy obvious in the hearts of everyone wearing a massive cable-knit sweater holding a hot drink between their frigid fingers is almost unnerving. Almost as a symptom of the indomitable human spirit, we have managed to make the most depressing time of year something that people actively look forward to. Even though the holidays around this time aren’t necessarily universal, anticipation and excitement are certainly contagious. The environment and anticipation built up around this time of year is tangible everywhere.

I hate the cold. I hate being cold, but I’m chronically cold. I’ve accepted the fact that I will not be truly warm again for the next six months. Despite all this, I’m as much of a fan of fall as anyone else. My resentment for the waning daylight hours is canceled out completely by the prospect of a hearty fall soup and rewatching Fantastic Mr. Fox for the upteenth time. There’s so much to look forward to just as the leaves start to ignite, and we’ve structured our existence so that it is that way. Quite frankly I love a PSL, and the outfits I can wear in fall are just so much cuter.

It brings these simple, small joys we can use to romanticize daily life, just when we start to need some help with it. I definitely am speaking from a uniquely feminine perspective, but white girl autumn is something that can truly be enjoyed by all, regardless of race or gender. There’s something so healing about insisting to take a picture of the leaves, and telling your friends you should go apple picking (you never do). Autumn is a season that capitalism has squeezed for all it’s worth; it has been commodified to the same extent as Christmas. Autumn is so ownable and buyable now. It gives us a little buzz of instant gratification when we buy or do something that looks like it should be on Pinterest.

As cynical as it all sounds, I’m glad fall has become so romanticized. Even if it’s just overconsumption and baggy sweaters, it gives months that would otherwise be spent mourning the loss of summer into a treasured time of year. If Halloween and Thanksgiving weren’t just around the corner, every single person singing the praises of fall would be miserable with a runny nose and a scratchy throat and three papers and two readings and a midterm to worry about all at once. We need this distraction. Pumpkin Spice Lattes save our humanity on the homestretch of a hard year.

In the grander (less bitter-sounding) scheme of things, our inclination to choose to celebrate and congregate more in the waning months is encouraging for mankind. We do what we do so that we can enjoy our brief existence as much as possible. We cram as much joy as possible into the colder months despite nature’s insistence that there is none left because we are inherently creatures of joy. We live to be happy. So much so that even organized religions can at least agree to holidays of feast and celebration in the winter.

We, as humans, carry a certain nostalgia. We’re sentimental, creative creatures; our sentience gives us our romantic nature. During the hardest months to stay happy and motivated, we set aside time for love and thankfulness. It’s a celebration of the year that has come to pass, regardless of what the upcoming year has to offer. Despite our flaws as a species, our love of tradition and commodifying anything remotely enjoyable has given us the gift of white girl fall. A beloved time of year for all.