The world looks different when peered at over a red nose. No longer burdened by the pressures of normalcy, the clown is most comfortable out of place, upside down.  

Putting on the clown nose was like removing leaden shackles from my dancing ankles and loud mouth. It was a sudden clarity, allowing me to fully see all the bits and pieces of myself that have accumulated. Pieces that were not mine at all, but given to me by the world. Politeness and passivity, presented as gifts, favors, but were ultimately bricks building a wall that caged the wild little girl I was. The Clown is the clarity of the child untamed, unconditioned. I no longer feel the impulse to hold my tongue, to make myself presentable by any standard but my own. 

 It's strange how authenticity feels like rebellion. How a simple act of existence can be so radical. When I go into the world in white grease paint, it's a way to remember what free will feels like. The social illusions melt away. 

Social contracts are only valuable if they serve us, if they build community, or uphold morality. But when they only function to define hierarchy, to further isolate and control us; who are you trying to please? 

Clowning feels like coming home. It feels like an apology to a past version of myself who already knew all of this in her bones, who already loved the absurd. In the absurd there is the truth. When I am able to remember, I get to walk through the world with the eyes of an infant. I get to live in the wisdom of the fool.  

I believe that, now more than ever, our collective ability to harness absurdity is vital for building resilience and purpose. Shame does not build new worlds, taboo does not confront hard truths. But the Clown, as a psychospiritual entity, guides us towards a world that serves our authenticity as well as our autonomy. I do not have the road map to a perfect society, but I do know that breaking these cycles of repression and conformity will bring us one step closer.