A Beautiful Little Fool (A Series of Quotes)

“I hope she’ll be a fool—that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.” (F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby)

In The Great Gatsby, Daisy describes to Nick and Jordan her hopes for her infant daughter. “I hope she’ll be a fool,” she said, “that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.” Fitzgerald’s beautiful prose captures and illuminates the brutal reality of what it means to be a woman existing within a patriarchal society: a fool’s life is a simple one.

By definition, a fool is someone who acts imprudently. They lack care for consequences of their actions. The fool blissfully glides through life without second guessing themselves, and their behaviours, or how their actions or statements may impact others. But the thing about foolishness, imprudence, or fictitious-optimism—whatever you wish to call it, is that this fictitious reality lives only within the fool’s mind.

I almost hate to admit that I envy the fool's mind sometimes. As a highly sensitive person, my conscience operates on a higher frequency than most. Highly sensitive people experience their external environment differently than those who are not highly sensitive. The highly sensitive person’s lived experience is incredibly intense—sounds are louder, lights are brighter, certain clothes are unbearably uncomfortable, and smells are stronger. And, most importantly, highly sensitive people feel more than their non-highly sensitive counterparts.

But, as one might expect, feeling more doesn't necessarily feel better.

For years, I tried to conceal my sensitivity. I feared that my heightened awareness made others uncomfortable. I feared that my sensitivity took up too much space, in my own life and the lives of others. I feared that others would soon discover that I was somehow too sensitive.

So, I made myself small.

I concealed my sensitivity behind a curtain of shyness that only drew back in places in which I felt safe and comfortable. Ironically, once I began to lean into my sensitivity, the pain of being too sensitive disappeared; as I became more sensitive, I cared less about how my sensitivity impacted those around me. Today, I embrace my sensitivity. I notice how it helps foster deeper connections with friends and loved ones. I take pleasure in the deep emotions that it brings. I am okay with being sensitive, for I no longer fear this layer of my character.

But that doesn't mean that I don't envy this trait.

Recently I've been thinking about sensitivity in relation to the notion of femininity. As I've mentioned, I am a highly sensitive person. This becomes useful to those apparently 'less sensitive' folks as they seek to exploit my emotional depth to pursue their own objectives. The other day, someone asked if I had given a family friend a call since returning to London. I replied that I had not. This was met with great disappointment.

I hear a voice mutter.

"What was that?" I asked.

It was just as suspected—disappointment and frustration.

This is the difficulty with being known as the "sensitive person." There is a tendency for others to exploit your sensitivity for their own benefit.

But this isn't a problem limited to highly sensitive people (or women). In fact, this situation can be applied to women in general. Women are perceived (and expected) to behave in ways that satisfies society (and male) understanding of what femininity should look and sound like. For most men, the best women are those who perform their femininities and in doing so, they uphold the male conception of the feminine ideal. When women misbehave, or act in ways which conflict with this feminine ideal, they are perceived as a threat to both the men in their lives and the social male conception of femininity. In this case, my less-than favourable response upset a male individual.

But this is unsurprising. Men assume that women are innately emotionally intelligent, caring, and thoughtful individuals. Men assume that women naturally possess these qualities at all hours of the day and night. Indeed, men expect this from highly sensitive women. And yet, it is only when we speak up that we are met with disdain.

But perhaps that is the problem. This is what separates the "fool" from others. The female fool that Daisy speaks about in The Great Gatsby represents a woman who is easily controlled by men. The fool is someone who does not talk back; she does what she is told and does not burden others with her thoughts or emotions. For Daisy, this female fool is the best kind of woman because she is so easily controlled by men. Her lack of agency ensures that she glides smoothly through life as she does not disturb or threaten or trouble the masculine energies that surround her. Thus the fool's life will be easy because she fits cleanly inside the boundaries of this male-devised notion of femininity.

As you might have guessed, I am not, and will never be, a "beautiful little fool." I am, and will always be, on the opposite side of the spectrum.

Whether it be my feminist goggles or my sensitivity, I am prone to a lifetime of challenge as my perspective frustrates the male voices and masculine energies that surround me. However, I've come to realise that it is not my fault. I am the way that I am. This (male) frustration is the product of a larger social organism that teaches men from a young age that they have the right to control, contain, and degrade women. In this regard, it is no surprise that the fool has it easier than most—she enables this behaviour. I, on the other hand, will not.

I get it—it's not so fun when your pet misbehaves.