Game days at Notre Dame usually mean sweaty, bright green t-shirts and the occasional green laser. Visually, it looks at lot like the viral underground bunker sets of Charli XCX — an artist who has come to embody the ethos of a cultural movement that can only be described as “brat.”
For the uninitiated, brat isn’t just a phase; it’s a way of life rooted in rebellion and self-determination. If you find yourself confused, this column probably isn’t for you. The Observer doesn’t give me enough words to explain the seismic cultural and political earthquake brat summer was. But for those who get it — like me — we must collectively mourn the end of brat summer by bringing its essence to the very institution we hold dear: Notre Dame.
Brat culture and Notre Dame could not be more diametrically opposed. On one end of the spectrum, brat is an unpredictable force, much like the lime-green album cover of Charli XCX’s music or genre-bending electronic mixes. It represents a rejection of conformity, an open disdain for pre-existing norms around what we should wear, say, and do. As XCX herself declares, “I went my own way, and I made it.”
Take for instance, the icon of brat culture, “the reference,” as Charli says, Julia Fox. With her anarchic sense of fashion — clothing (or lack thereof) chosen as a declaration of independence from societal expectations — Fox uses her platform to challenge patriarchy and even capitalism.
Brat summer, with its rebellious nature, was a cultural cry for the end of rigid societal structures, especially those that regulate women’s bodies and autonomy. XCX’s line “It’s so obvious I’m your number one” in the song “Von Dutch” was more than a cheeky lyric; it was a direct nod to the power that comes from women defying expectations.
On the opposite end of this cultural spectrum sits Notre Dame. Attending this institution often means embracing predictability (see: every boy who thinks NBA jerseys are going-out tops). Here, we’re not just students; we’re participants in a deeply ingrained system that reinforces heteronormativity and toxic masculinity, the very ills that brat culture seeks to cure.
Notre Dame forces us to uphold antiquated rules without challenging their foundations. Take parietals, for example: rules that, on the surface, aim to maintain order but, in reality, restrict adults from making adult decisions. Worse yet, these rules reflect a belief that LGBTQ+ students don’t exist and that women must preserve themselves to maintain the status quo of patriarchy. Parietals are more than just a campus rule — they’re a mechanism of sexual control that denies women full autonomy. Nothing about that is brat.
This is precisely what XCX meant when she sang, “the apple is rotten right to the core.” In this case, the apple is Notre Dame, and its core is the purity culture the university is so desperate to protect, despite the untold numbers of STIs circulating on campus. While Charli XCX might sing about driving to the airport to escape this rottenness, she confronts systemic oppression head-on in her music. In tracks like “Sympathy is a Knife,” she explores the tension between conforming to societal norms for the sake of “commercial success.” Yet, it’s her very rejection of these norms — the same brat ethos — that propelled her to success. It’s a lesson Notre Dame students could stand to learn.
Brat culture is inherently political because it is confrontational. It became a cultural phenomenon, fueled by Generation Z kids who finished their semesters in tents. It sent shockwaves not just through the music industry but through society, asserting that women can achieve success through vulnerable assertiveness, and that queer people are the ultimate tastemakers. Brat is a culture of liberation.
Yet, at Notre Dame, brat culture is loathed, both by the administration and by many students. The lack of recognized housing for trans students? Not brat. Systematically denying women’s dorms equal resources? Not brat. Over-surveilling anti-genocide activists? Definitely not brat.
And it’s not just the administrators; the student body is equally guilty of maintaining an anti-brat culture. Look no further than the recent drag show on campus — a radical display that shattered gender norms. The university may have allowed it to happen, but it was the students who showed up to protest.
This isn’t an isolated incident. Anti-brat behavior permeates our daily interactions. A friend recently told me, “I forgot people here are racist.” This, too, is a symptom of Notre Dame’s culture: a place that is explicitly anti-diversity, anti-fun, anti-liberation and anti-brat.
As we say goodbye to brat summer, we must acknowledge the University’s deep-rooted aversion to the very liberation that brat represents. The choice is ours to make: do we conform, or do we, like Charli XCX, declare, “I went my own way, and I made it”?
I’ll see u at the club this weekend <3.
Connor Marrott is a senior from Cleveland, Ohio His writing has appeared in the Cleveland Plain Dealer and the Cincinnati Enquirer. He serves on the board of SoildarityND and is always eager to discuss any and all ideas. You can contact Connor at cmarrott@nd.edu.
