The Quiet Radicalism of Joy: Reclaiming Playfulness as Women

Somewhere in the past six months, I realised I had lost something important. Not my work ethic. Not my responsibilities. But my playfulness.

Hello again…

I have been wanting to start blogging again for a while, but my writing energy has been taken up with some serious academic word counts… and also some serious life challenges.

Alongside finishing my PhD (did I tell you I finished my PhD? Do you even know if I haven’t mentioned this a million times?), I have written an article, two book chapters, and my first solo book A Clinical Guide to Interpersonal Constructs and Attachment Theory (to be published in September).

I realised that to complete this level of work, I have to get obsessed. As someone who went to music college, getting obsessed is a natural skill. We used to egg each other on with phrases like, “Stop crying, get obsessed!” or my personal favourite, “Just get good!” Having that mentality in my back pocket has really helped me finish my book in the few short months I had to write it.

Alongside all of the writing, of course, I have my wonderful children who each day bring me joy and frustration, wonder and rage.But there were other challenges too.

At the end of September we lost our Uncle, and the impact was huge and immediate. The fallout after someone passes is always heartbreaking. With the administration and organisation of funerals, probate, businesses, and supporting a lonely and frail Grandma, everything quickly became overwhelming.

And, without laying it on too thickly here, in the same week or so I was also told I was at risk of redundancy and that the MA in Music Therapy that I lead was likely to close unless I did something about it.

When I write this down, it is enormous.

How on earth my little family and I are still functioning and doing well feels like a miracle. I keep thinking about the past six months in disbelief… like, how? Actually, how? Perhaps my music school experiences kicked in again, because somehow I just did.

We are still managing lots of Uncle-related challenges, including supervising the running of a pub (follow along at @thepeverilofthepeak). I managed to keep my job, although someone in my team sadly lost theirs, and I wrote a killer business plan for the MA course which is now running, alive, and moving forward with excellent students.

In the midst of all of this, I went into survival mode.

I realised I was wearing the same jumper and leggings, the same makeup, the same work clothes on rotation. I was listening to the same pop music instead of Strauss, Chet Baker, and banging techno. I was reading academic papers instead of witchy folk tales about magic and nature.

Somewhere along the way, I lost my joy.

My playfulness.

My kitten-like energy that usually keeps me going.

When Survival Takes Over

Sometimes life demands seriousness. There are moments when responsibility and grief and pressure take centre stage, and playfulness quietly slips out of view.

For many women, caring roles intensify this dynamic. We hold families together, we organise, we lead, we soothe, we fix problems before they even fully emerge. These are beautiful strengths—but they can slowly crowd out something equally important.

Joy.

Spontaneity.

Play.

The Myth That We Must Choose

But seriousness and playfulness are not opposites. A woman can hold deep responsibilities and still laugh easily. She can lead, care, think critically, and still sing in the kitchen, dance with her children, or play with musical sounds just for the joy of it.

In music therapy we see this all the time. Playful musical exploration—improvising rhythms, experimenting with sounds, laughing when something unexpected happens—often opens the door to deeper emotional expression. When we feel safe enough to play, creativity and connection flourish.

Play is not the opposite of meaningful life. Often, it is the thing that sustains it.

Finding Joy Again

For me, reclaiming playfulness has meant noticing the small signals that something is missing.

When all the music sounds the same. When curiosity disappears. When life becomes efficient but colourless.

Sometimes the return to joy starts with very small permissions:

• Singing something silly.

• Listening to music that moves your body.

• Being playful with a child instead of efficient.

• Letting curiosity lead for a moment instead of productivity.

These moments are not trivial. They are restorative. The world benefits from women who are thoughtful, capable, and caring. But it also benefits from women who are joyful, playful, creative, and alive.  We do not have to choose between seriousness and playfulness.

Sometimes the most powerful thing we can do—for ourselves and those around us—is make space for both.

Reclaiming Joy

Seen through a feminist lens, reclaiming playfulness becomes something more than self-care—it becomes a form of resistance. So many women are taught, subtly and overtly, that our value lies in how well we cope, how much we sacrifice, and how reliably we meet the needs of others. Joy can begin to feel like something we must earn after everything else is done. But playfulness interrupts this story. It reminds us that we are not only organisers, carers, professionals, and problem-solvers. We are also curious, creative, mischievous, joyful human beings. Allowing space for play is not abandoning responsibility. It is reclaiming the fullness of who we are.

A Question for you - As I slowly find my way back to playfulness, I find myself wondering:

Where in your life do you feel most playful and alive?

And when life becomes heavy or serious, what small things help you find your way back to joy?

Share a comment or send me a message. Tell me just how mischievous you can be :-)