Why Not Liking Mornings is “Brown": A Look Through Autonomy and Social Norms
Michael Kelman Portney
For many people, mornings represent the “acceptable” time to start the day, the hours when routines launch and productivity is expected. But for some of us, waking up at the crack of dawn to “seize the day” feels like trying to walk uphill in a rainstorm—entirely unnatural and misaligned with our sense of autonomy. I, for one, have never been good at anything at 8:00 in the morning. Growing up, my mom would come into my room and ask what I wanted for breakfast. And without missing a beat, I’d say whatever took the longest to make—anything to stretch out those last moments before confronting the day.
Recently, I stayed in a big house with eight friends, and everyone’s rhythm reminded me of college. Some of us, myself included, slept all day and stayed up all night, while others went to bed early, woke up early, and made breakfast for everyone. A few friends needed specific things in the morning, some didn’t eat breakfast at all, and others switched off their phones to dive into their own spaces, free from the usual pressures. In that environment, early morning and late night had no inherent meaning. Each person embraced the time that suited them, without a need to adhere to any specific ideal. This kind of freedom, the ability to tune out the world’s expectations and even turn off the phone, became a powerful reminder of how personal rhythms shape authenticity.
There’s something undeniably “brown” about not liking mornings. Here, “brown” represents more than a color; it’s a vibe, a stance that pushes against society’s polished, streamlined standards. Not being a morning person feels like a quiet rebellion—a way of saying, “I’m choosing my own pace and rhythm, regardless of what society expects.” In this sense, resisting mornings is a declaration of autonomy, a refusal to be molded by the dominant cultural script that glorifies early starts and polished routines.
When we choose not to conform to the “morning person” ideal, we’re making a subtle yet powerful statement about self-direction. There’s a long-standing social norm that equates early rising with success and virtue, as though productivity can only thrive under the early sun. But by carving out our own rhythms, we reject these standardized notions and embrace an alternative. We choose late nights, quiet hours, and a creative messiness that doesn’t fit the mold of nine-to-five boxes. This resistance isn’t mere preference; it’s an assertion of our right to define what works for us, including the simple act of turning off our phones when we need to preserve our space.
In the world of the band Ween, “brown” symbolizes raw, unfiltered authenticity, where rough edges and unpolished moments aren’t glossed over but embraced as part of the experience. And that’s the essence of challenging norms: taking ownership of our lives in ways that may seem unconventional or uncomfortable to the mainstream. By refusing the rigidity of early mornings, we reclaim a form of autonomy, defining our time and energy according to what’s real and unfiltered rather than what’s expected.
So, when someone says they aren’t a “morning person,” it’s not just about preferring sleep. It’s a conscious lifestyle choice that questions the ideals we’re handed, showing there’s inherent value in the quieter, less organized, more “brown” hours. In resisting mornings, we’re not just challenging the clock but honoring the beauty of creating our own path. And in a world that worships bright efficiency and early starts, there’s a particular kind of freedom—and a deeply personal dignity—in choosing a different beat.
