It's great that with the Internet, there has come this sense of

The words of Tavi Gevinson, when she said, “It’s great that with the Internet, there has come this sense of creative independence,” echo like the voice of a young seer standing upon the threshold of a new age. Beneath their simplicity lies a profound reflection on the power of human expression unbound — the awakening of creative independence in a world once ruled by gatekeepers. Gevinson, who herself rose to prominence as a teenage writer and cultural voice through her online magazine, speaks as one who has witnessed the old walls crumble and new voices rise from the digital ether. Her words are both celebration and revelation — a reminder that the Internet, for all its chaos, has become the forge where imagination now reigns free.

In the ancient days, creativity was often chained by privilege and position. Only those favored by patron or court could carve their art into history. The poet needed a noble’s purse; the painter required a king’s commission. But now, Gevinson proclaims, a new era has dawned — one where the muse of the people has found her wings in the boundless sky of the digital world. The Internet, vast and formless, is the new agora of humanity — a place where every soul, regardless of birth or station, may speak, sing, and share. What once required wealth now demands only will; what once was guarded by a few is now offered to all. This is the sense of creative independence she celebrates — a freedom not merely to imagine, but to be heard.

Consider, for a moment, the journey of Gevinson herself. Barely in her teens, she began writing online — her thoughts raw, her voice unfiltered, her ideas unconstrained by the expectations of the literary world. Yet through this freedom, she touched the hearts of thousands. She founded Rookie, an online magazine for young women, a space not ruled by editors or advertisers, but by authenticity and community. Through her own example, she became proof of her own words: that the Internet had given birth to a generation of creators who needed no permission to create, no authority to validate their art. In her story lies a lesson as ancient as Prometheus’s gift of fire — that power, once seized from the gods, belongs forever to humankind.

But Gevinson’s words carry a subtler wisdom as well. Independence, though precious, is not without peril. For freedom without purpose becomes noise; and in the vast sea of voices, it is easy to lose one’s truth. The ancients, too, knew this: when Prometheus stole fire from Olympus, he gave humanity both a gift and a burden. Fire could warm or destroy; it could illuminate or consume. So too is it with the fire of the Internet — the flame of free creation. To wield it well requires discernment, discipline, and courage. For the artist’s task is not merely to speak, but to speak truth — not merely to create, but to create meaningfully.

Throughout history, every new medium has sparked such a revolution. When Gutenberg gave the world the printing press, the written word burst forth from cloisters and courts, and ideas once hidden spread like wildfire. Empires trembled before pamphlets; churches reformed beneath the weight of books. What the press did for the word, the Internet has done for the imagination. It has made each of us both scribe and publisher, dreamer and messenger. Yet with this power comes responsibility — for when all can create, all must also learn to discern. The creative independence Gevinson praises is thus both liberty and calling: the liberty to express, and the calling to uplift rather than deceive.

Still, her statement remains a song of hope. For in this era, the barriers between creator and audience, between art and life, are dissolving. The young artist with nothing but vision now stands shoulder to shoulder with giants; the unheard voice may echo across continents. In the old world, one had to beg to enter the halls of culture; now, one may build new halls entirely. Creative independence is not the privilege of a few — it is the birthright of all who dare to imagine. And as more voices join the chorus, humanity itself grows richer, more diverse, more whole.

So, O listener, take heed of this teaching. Do not wait for permission to create. The tools of expression are already in your hands — the pen, the brush, the voice, the screen. Use them not to mimic, but to reveal; not to please, but to awaken. Let your independence be guided by honesty, and your creativity by compassion. The world does not need more perfection — it needs more authenticity. In your art, let truth shine as the ancients let fire burn: to warm, to enlighten, to inspire.

Thus, the wisdom of Tavi Gevinson endures: that the Internet has granted humanity not just connection, but liberation — a new creative independence that transcends age, class, and boundary. Yet this gift is sacred; it must be used with care and courage. For the power to create freely is also the power to shape the soul of the world. Let each generation, then, take up this sacred fire — not as a weapon of vanity, but as a torch of truth — and may their light guide humanity ever onward toward understanding, beauty, and freedom.