In recent months, inflatable costumes have become a vibrant and playful fixture at protests across the United States, particularly during the No Kings marches. These playful costumes are fun and festive, but they have an important role to play in the demonstrations. They vocally denounce the Trump administration’s efforts to paint its political enemies as violent, leftist terrorists. Inflatable costumes are quickly becoming the favorite secret weapon of climate activists. They inject joy and mischief into actions, allowing protesters to participate in what others have dubbed “tactical frivolity” or “rebel clowning.”
The movement gained momentum when Todd, the individual behind the iconic inflatable frog costume, expressed his intention to create a space for people to show up looking ridiculous. His statement encapsulates the essence of this protest strategy: “I obviously started a movement of people showing up looking ridiculous, which is the exact point.” By bringing silliness into the fold, these protesters hope to pierce through the serious stories usually woven around political dissent.
There is something much deeper that is important about tactical frivolity — its connection to historical resistance movements. This method employs humor and absurdity as creative weapons to shatter the air of invulnerability that authoritarian rulers are always trying to build. As novelist and New Yorker essayist Gary Shteyngart explains, frivolity and absurdity are often what bring down the authoritarians. These leaders tend to play the hard father figure to their disciples. By contrasting joy with tyranny, demonstrators help delegitimize the mandates of their oppressors.
The inflatable frog became a symbol of defiance during a protest in Portland, Oregon, against the Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). It shot to fame after the federal agents pepper-sprayed the wearer of that costume. That mishap helped make the inflatable frog a folk hero of the lefty resistance. This case is a perfect example of how aesthetic decisions in protest can be used to vividly show the violence of brutal regimes.
Charged with this momentum, we kicked off Operation Inflation. We sent Portland protesters into the streets wearing our set of inflatable animal suits, turning their otherwise serious demonstrations into a safe and colorful menagerie. Their use of such costumes quickly jumped to other protest hotspots, like an ICE detention center in a Chicago suburb. Those gigantic inflatable costumes made some radical visuals. This imagery helped tell a story able to resonate beyond the months and years of the events themselves.
The legacy of clowning in leftist and antifascist movements is deep and beautiful. Clowning has been a potent tool of protest since the Vietnam War. Yet it has left an imprint on anti-occupation mobilizations within the West Bank itself. Creative confrontations between the nasty clowns and the riot police create “irresistible images” with the potential to turn heads, minds, and even smash oppressive authority. Or, as LM Bogad has so aptly put it, “The clown throws their ridiculous self in front of the evil of others. It is politically much more costly to club a clown!
In this case, protesters recognize that inflatable costumes are a smart tactic for fighting back against narratives that seek to portray them as violent. With their state of play and absurdity, they introduce joy into the conversation. This approach stands in stark opposition to the way political leaders routinely darkly depict those who dissent. The inflatable costumes serve as protection, absorbing aggression while even more dramatically projecting their message.