Daria Glimmer, Princess of Snark (OR: Why We Should Air My Little Pony on MTV) · 7:35am Oct 15th, 2017
About a year ago, I published a fic called Starlight Glimmer Battles Existential Dread at Sunrise, which a lot of people liked. Since then, I haven't thought much about the fic, apart from seeing it pop up in my notifications when new readers fave it. But over the past week or so, I've been rewatching (yes) my favorite animated sitcom of all time: Daria. Which reminded me that there's something I meant to talk about a year ago, but don't think I ever got around to.
Have I ever mentioned how Starlight Glimmer Battles Existential Dread was inspired by an episode of Daria?
More specifically, a single line of dialogue, from a single episode—season two's "Gifted." In the middle of a discussion about Daria's constant cynicism, Jodie drops this line:
Sound familiar? Being the totally original author I am, I plagiarized paraphrased the line for my fic:
“I know you’re scared,” Celestia said. “But there comes a time when you have to put away the hypotheticals. It’s true: when you step out your door, you’re taking a risk. And sure, you might save yourself some pain by locking yourself away. But you’re going to miss out on so much more.”
Of course, it's not like either I nor Daria ever pretended we were making an original point. In the comments of Existential Dread, you can find at least three people quoting the famous "dangerous business" line from Lord of the Rings. That said, if there's one difference I can be sure of between my fic and Daria, it's that Starlight embraced her emotions more in a single morning than Daria did in a whole season.
Go onto any YouTube video about Daria, and you'll find dozens upon dozens of versions of the same two comments:
The only people who hate this show are exactly like the other stereotypical idiots and/or jerks that's delineated in this show. Only provincial, superficial people wouldn't understand a show about a main character who is antisocial.
or
Stupid show, bad protagonist, all praise completely undeserved. This show did little more than pat edgy teenage egotists on the back simply for being egotists.
While everyone is entitled to their own opinion, I think that both of these comments fail to understand one of the biggest things that made Daria who she was: she wasn't the hero.
That isn't to say the sharp judgments she made about her peers were unprovoked, or even wrong most of the time. But to pretend that the show treated its main character as some bastion of truth, some perfect mouthpiece to skewer all that was wrong with the world, is to ignore all the flaws and character development that made Daria into such an engaging and relatable character. If anything, Daria was in a sense the villain of her own show—constantly trying to hide within her sarcastic shell, if only to spare herself from the pain that came when the rest of the world let her down.
In fanfiction, we like to use the term "slow burn" a lot, usually referring to shipfics that take way too damn long to start with the kissing and sexy times and all that fun stuff. But if I can be allowed to repurpose the term for a moment, I'd like to make the claim that Daria is slow burning as all hell. That's why everyone remembers Daria as such a slow burning cynic—watch a single episode, and you're getting a single static snapshot of her development. Watch the whole series, however, and you start to realize that even Daria, the "brain" of Lawndale High, found something to learn from her peers.
It's no surprise that the best episodes of the series are the ones where Daria (and Jane!) take the risk of opening themselves up to the world, and actually show some legitimate emotion. Consider the season one finale, "The Misery Chick."
On the eve of Lawndale High's dedication ceremony to local asshole and football hero Tommy Sherman, said asshole/football hero dies in a tragic, senseless, and rather humorous accident—an accident that, mere seconds before it happened, Daria's friend Jane wishes for. In the wake of his death, Jane isolates herself from Daria, angry and upset with her perceived role in the accident. Meanwhile, Daria finds herself becoming Lawndale High's personal therapist. As the only one in school who isn't outwardly grieving Sherman's death—"I can't believe the way people are reacting. I mean, yeah, it's terrible what happened, but it's not as if he was nice to anyone."—and pegged as the town's "misery chick," her peers see Daria as a blank slate for them to wipe their grief off on, since she's got no emotions of her own to interfere.
Yet, even if she's not showing it as clearly as Jane, Daria is mourning in her own way. But it doesn't come out in sadness; it comes out in anger and frustration that the rest of the world can grieve for a man she found so repulsive, while she's left to console them. She distracts herself with that anger, so she doesn't have to admit to herself that he shouldn't have died, and then feel sympathy for him. She doesn't want to feel sad like them—she wants to stay in her shell of detached sarcasm. But the episode works so well because it forces Daria and Jane to step outside their shells and struggle openly with the same awful emotions that everyone else deals with every day.
Daria never wanted to admit that she might be like her peers, the ones she judged and snarked at so harshly. Yet as her mother, Helen, quipped so well:
Helen: It's just that sometimes you judge people's behavior by a pretty rigid set of standards. Not everyone can live up to them.
Daria: That's what's wrong with the world.
Helen: Not even you live up to them all the time.
Daria could be just as petty, just as naive, and just as obsessed with her own appearance as any of her classmates (just look at any scene where she interacts with Trent, Jane's older brother). As the series went on, although she didn't abandon any of her core principles, she eventually learned to make nice with her peers. The world around her changed as well—Daria might have been the main character, but she wasn't the only one who earned herself some character development along the way. That's how she managed to find common ground with the vapid cheerleader Brittany and the knucklehead quarterback Kevin, and even managed to gain a confidante in her shallow-as-a-kiddie-pool sister Quinn, once her sworn enemy. She even admitted that high school, as crappy as it was, could be bearable, provided you had a friend or two to help you through it.
Yet, Daria's true standards were never as high as she made them seem. She never really liked being the cynic, or the outcast. All she ever wanted was a world that she could be happy and accepted in. Consider the season two finale, "Write Where It Hurts." Tasked with an assignment to write a fictional story using the people in her life as characters, Daria finds herself totally stuck, unable to imagine her friends and family as anything more than the flaws she sees in them. It's only after a talk with her mother, who gives her the advice to write not what the world is, but what she wants the world to be, that she gets past her writer's block.
We get a glimpse at Daria's desired fantasy world, and—well, it's not that different from the one she's living in. Set twenty years in the future, her parents are still overzealous and eccentric. Her sister's matured a bit, sure, but is still the stereotypical woman. Hell, even Daria is still fighting the good fight, writing a weekly political column to champion her social justice ideals. The biggest change she makes to the world isn't to force everyone to agree with her, or to match up to her "rigid set of standards."
The biggest change is that everyone in her family is happy. Everyone in her family accepts each other. There's no bickering, or judging. Daria might be a chronic armchair critic, but when it comes down to it, all she wants is a world she can be herself in.
Today, we remember Daria for her cutting wit and endless cynicism. Yet, it's Jodie's line about the consequence of cutting people off that serves as the series' thesis statement. Life can be shitty and painful, yeah. But if we close ourselves off from others, too afraid to bear any of that pain, we'll never grow.
So, sure, Daria's probably got quite a ways to go before she learns the magic of friendship and earns her alicorn wings—but both her and Starlight are getting there.
(And besides: a booksmart girl with severe socialization issues? Sounds like a perfect new student for Twilight. Or maybe Sunset, what with the whole 'being a human' thing.)
P.S.: Remember that new Rainbow/Sunset fic I mentioned a few blogs ago, Don't Leave Me With Myself? The first two chapters drop on Monday. Be there, or be polygonal.
P.P.S.: Rao wanted me to mention that he's just ascended to the throne of "Most Attractive Site User." Congrats to Rao!
I never watched Daria growing up but from the sounds of it, it seems like a show about Sugarcoat. Not sure how valid that character comparison is. I'm extrapolating from what little i know about both characters.
This was really interesting to read, and really makes me want to marathon Daria more than anything else.
I should give Daria a spin some time.
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You should! It's not very long—five seasons with thirteen episodes each, and two short movies (one set after season four, the other as the series finale). And honestly, if you make it past the first season and it hasn't clicked with you at all, you have permission to give it up.
I never made that connection between Daria and Sugarcoat, but it's actually pretty spot on. If you look on Derpibooru, most people compare her to Maud, which isn't right at all—the only thing they share is the monotone voice.
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I'll give you a spin.
You're the second encounter I've had with Daria in the last three days. I guess I'll need to watch it now. I really do feel like I missed out on something when I was younger; I'm pretty sure I was pretty close to the core demographic for this show when it was on TV.
Gimme a couple weeks...
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https://m.I went to look up this song’s info on Wikipedia and ended up on a five hour Wikipedia Hop. I’m blaming you.
I kind of feel like Daria and MLP (the shows, not the fandoms) are antiparticles — the cynicism vs. the utopian idealism.
Of course, it's the collision of particles and antiparticles in particle accelerators that leads to some of the most interesting detritus. Thanks for some food for thought.