Perhaps the wilderness in Yellowjackets is not just a symbol of death. Perhaps it is alsoâin its own wayâfreedom.
In the wilderness, Lottie didnât have to hide her visions for fear of being called crazy. She was exalted as a leader and a prophet. But when she returned, they called her crazy and locked her up.
In the wilderness, Misty didnât have to be ashamed of her intensity and eccentricity. She was helpful, she was needed, she was important. But when she returned, they called her a freak and exiled her once again.
In the wilderness, Tai didnât have to pretend to be something sheâs not. Her other self was not a weakness but a strength, it gave her power, and kept her alive. But when she returned she had to suppress her urges and hide her other self, or lose everything.
In the wilderness, Shauna didnât have to be small, and hide the fire inside her. She was angry, and violent, and powerful. But when she returned, she was forced back into a supporting role, forced to contain her darkness and her drive in order to fit a role she never wanted to play.
In the wilderness, Travis didnât have to put on an act to fit the societal expectations of masculinity. He was feminine, and emotional, and softânot the man of the group, but just another Yellowjacket in the hive. But when he returned, he was forced back into the cageâback into the closetâisolated, hardened, closed off and separated from the girls once more.
In the wilderness, Natalie didnât have to feel guilty for surviving. She was the hunter, the provider, and the gun in her hands made her a savior, and a leader, not a killer. But when she returned, she was a killer once again, haunted by guilt, and outcast by society for the things she did to stay alive.
The wilderness gave them the freedom to be their truest and most authentic selves, but the cost was the blood spilled. The cost was their old selves. The cost was a place in the world upon their return.
Maybe the wilderness did not destroy them; it simply changed them into something new, something irrevocably different, something that would neverâcould neverâfit back inside the narrow box of their old lives, and because they could no longer fit, society called them broken.
The wilderness freed them, but it never let them go. Because once youâve tasted flesh and blood, once youâve stared death in the face and overcame, once youâve been to the very brink and seen the true depth of your own capacity for violence, once all the former markers of morality and success have become meaningless, in a world where survival at all costs is the only law, how can you ever go back to a world ruled by pointless, hollow, conventions? Once youâve shed every remnant of your humanity, once youâve run with the wolves, and howled at the moon, and become one with the ancient wild gods, how can you ever be a human again? Once youâve had a taste of complete freedom, how can you ever be satisfied with a fake, insignificant, half-life, made up entirely of half-truths and haunting?
