Last weekend I saw a man trip over a backpack, turn around and apologize to it. I saw women wearing paint instead of shirts. I saw people pee on the ground unabashedly and dance with total abandon. I laughed as kids stood on the side of the road holding a sign that said “Smile if you masturbate.” I felt the pressure of a thousand fellow Roovians pushing to get closer to Frank Ocean on stage, literally sacrificing any form of personal space to have that coveted front row concert experience.
Shame doesn’t exist at Bonnaroo. Call it hedonism, call it debauchery. I call it authenticity. When you enter the confines of that Manchester Farm, you are suddenly and shockingly a member of a new community. A new world, even. Perhaps a better world.
There, art is a virtue, not vandalism. The long, continuous wall of Centeroo is, in fact, designated the Grafitti Wall to invite people to write, paint, and draw. Music and crafts are abundant.
Rules are employed to keep people safe, not punish them for their choices. The first aid tents offer total medical amnesty to those who might otherwise be too fearful to seek help, or bring a friend in need.
Environmentalism is made convenient, easy– even fun. “Trash talkers” stand by every receptacle to help people sort waste into the compost, landfill, or recycle bins. The Clean Vibes Trading Post offers rewards in exchange for bags of litter that might otherwise lay strewn across the farm. The Learning Garden offers free classes on how to grow a sustainable home garden. All biodegradable waste is diverted, vehicles run on green gas, and tickets are paperless. Solar power, alternative building materials, and compostable cups are the norm.
Greed is largely absent. Strangers in Tent City offer each other leftover hotdogs and spare pairs of socks and extra sunscreen, just to be neighborly. Superjam concerts allow bands to collaborate and play together after their solo concerts during the day. And every year, Bonnaroo allows hundreds of volunteers to attend for free in exchange for help running the festival.
What’s special about Bonnaroo is that the festival cares about the Roovians, and the Roovians care about their festival. There is a mutual love and respect between the fans, the producers, the artists, and the community involved that softens my inner cynic. We all want to be healthy and happy and loved. We want peace and freedom and principled leaders. We want to live well, and live well with others beside us. We all want to sway to great music and partake in the Splasheroo water slide without fear of judgment.
So hold onto that haggard, dirty Bonnaroo wristband if you have one. This festival is more than a concert series or an opportunity to get wasted four nights in a row. It’s a little taste of utopia. A little glimpse of the society we could be, all year long.
Hanna Lustig is a rising junior in College Scholars. She can be reached at [email protected].
