Prompt Images
The year 2017 has come and gone, and with it our Year In Review pieces, which you should 100 percent read this weekend, if you haven’t already. We took away a lot of things from this roller coaster of a year, but most of us are still processing what it all means. So we took the time to sit down and think:
What Will 2017 Be Remembered For?
Now, ignoring the placement of the preposition, we didn’t have one clear answer. Instead, our writers took this miniprompt in a lot of different directions.
Josh Bard remembers the tweets.
2017 is the year that Twitter became catnip for us. It was a distraction that made us go crazy no matter how good or how bad things got. Whenever anything happened, a single Trump tweet pulled our attention away from it, which might have been good when the thing was stupid, like LaVar Ball’s son getting arrested in China. But it was also very very bad when it distracted us away from important things like trying to ban immigrants or investigating whether the President was complicit in Russian interference with our election.
Scott Snowman remembers the action.
2017 was a year of pure action. Socially, we saw an uprising in American society—led largely by women—fight back against cruel excesses of power. Americans began striking back aggressively against sexual assault. They rose up in unprecedented numbers to resist what they saw as egregious abuses of political power, corruption, and indifference. And personally, it was a year that I got out of one toxic relationship with my now ex-job and focused on better relationships with my closest friends and family. In that spirit, I’m aiming to make 2018 a year of momentum. Let’s hope society agrees.
Jillian Conochan remembers the total eclipse.
In the wild, wicked, battering hurricane-earthquake-wildfire-
That woman who let me take home her eclipse glasses? She might’ve had a Trump sticker on her car. I’ll never know. It was a moment bigger than politics. It was a moment bigger than us.
N. Alysha Lewis remembers the reckoning.
This tweet sums up 2017 perfectly:
2016: All your favorite celebrities die.
2017: All your favorite celebrities are dead to you. https://t.co/1N9Vx0htvv
— Denizcan James (@MrFilmkritik) November 1, 2017
2017 was the year of exposure; the hopeful beginning of the reckoning. Abusers, users, and all-around shitty people: Your time is up.
Erin Vail remembers Star Wars. And the Bills. Obviously.
2017 will be remembered for the Buffalo Bills’ miraculous playoff berth. (You had to see this one coming, right?)
But for real, the year 2017 will also be remembered for the alarming amount of Star Wars discourse around a truly lovely film, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, which was definitely not fan fiction created from my own brain (ahem, #ReyloForever). 2015’s The Force Awakens remains one of the biggest box office hits of all time, was universally liked, and then broken down frame-by-frame and cast off as a remake of A New Hope. Enter The Last Jedi. The film totally recontextualizes what it means to be a hero, subverts audience expectations at every turn, and lays an intriguing but satisfying path for the future of Star Wars. Fans complained it was “too different,” that Luke Skywalker’s arc was out of character, and that two of the film’s subplots were unnecessary. Some even claimed the film “ruined” Star Wars. Holy shit, what an exaggeration. The artistry, the flourish, the vision, and the Star Wars of it all made the film one of the highlights of the year. Well, one of the highlights of MY year. #ReyloIsCanon
Zach Straus remembers the future of Gay Conversion Therapy.
I dunno about 2017, but 2018 will be remembered as the year I proved, once and for all, that you can turn a straight man gay if you say enough creepy shit to him on the internet.
Billy Hafferty remembers a pit stop on the open road.
If I were driving a car down all of my years so far, reaching 2017 would be the road where I turn down the radio, take off my sunglasses, and realize that I am lost.
Jacqueline Frasca remembers what she won’t remember.
2017 was like 100 percent fever dream. You know the kind, where you’re not sure if you’re conscious or even if it matters. There is no single thing I’ll remember about 2017 because all the political hemorrhaging blurs together, all the good times have amalgamated into a general feeling of friendly contentment, and time is a construct that helps us better and more productively categorize nostalgia. It’s OK though; my Facebook On This Day app will help remind me of what the hell actually happened.
Monica McNutt remembers Grandpa.
2017 will be remembered for growth in all the ways that actually matter. Three months into the year I got laid off; month 5 moved back to my parents; between months 5 and 7, I went on a dope diplomacy trip, became the family nurse, and watched my grandfather transition out of here, and an aunt just barely dodge her own bus out of here.
There was steady freelance work months 9 through 11. Month 12, Christmas and a trip to the Bahamas with my nuclear friends. Then, a welcomed end to 2017. By many standards—even my own 2016 basement standard—2017 was a disaster. But I submit to you that it was everything that I needed. I am so much more than the career I’ve chosen. I’ve held my family close and been there when they needed me most, as they have been for me. I’ve laughed, cried, explored, worked out alongside all of my favorite people. I am stronger than I’ve ever been, and as my grandfather used to say, “It is well with my soul,” and that’s what actually matters.
Dennis William will remember the contradictions.
2017 will be remembered as the year that America somehow got better and worse all at the same time. More and less welcoming. The beginning of the end.
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