Already bringing up Utena? At least one person has now
dropped this post. How could I knowing full well that Anitwitter adores
comparing everything to this series? And Revue Starlight is, of course, the
crowned Utena stand in. I would like to discuss both series but perhaps not in
the typical manner that would be expected.
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The first episode of Revue follows Karen discover the machinations literally and figuratively underlying her school, highlighted by the Revue itself. In a similar way, the first episode Utena follows Utena learning that her school, like Karen’s, is centered around a contest, this time that of the Rose Bride. Both contests, though perhaps initially demonstrated as petty squabbles, revolve around social power. It is valuable to consider how the Revue and the Rose Bride competitions both serve as societal lenses.
Being separated by twenty years, these explorations are understandably quite different. Revue Starlight presents Karen as a massive entity, demonstrated by immensely creative storyboards in episode 1, who stands atop the Tokyo Tower. By contrast, Utena the titular character is overshadowed by the birdcage structure dominating her campus and her quest to maintain control over the Rose Bride (a role held by Anthy). To me, these reflect two fundamentally different approaches of social justice: Revue is dominated by symbols of hope and rising above a vicious system; Utena is dominated by symbols of societal power that must be destroyed and beaten back, not reckoned with. I would argue you need both approaches of social justice to effect true change. But…Utena’s approach, as demonstrated by the trajectory implied by episode 1, appears to come from a place of cynicism, which is not as meaningful in this current era. Yet Utena lays a fundamentally important foundation that a series like Revue can build off of. In spite of giving that foundation, there is much about Utena that is discomforting and requires more attention.
Apologies for the misleading title, but this is about Utena (and again the implied trajectory).
While we can say the Rose Bride metaphor refers to far more than Anthy, and this will likely be shown later in the series, it’s difficult to not see her predicament in a discomfortingly concrete manner. Anthy is slapped several times, forced into rendezvous inside a massive birdcage (which is typically used as a metaphor for societal oppression), and verbally abused repeatedly. All while being the only character coded as racially other (on account of her Indian appearance and apparent heritage). As the Rose Bride to be dominated, Anthy becomes a colonial image as demonstrated visually. When Anthy is demonstrated as the maid, the cleaner, this image is reinforced. Even with the promise of total racial subversion, I feel no choice but to feel deeply worried about Anthy’s state. The Rose Bride….becomes an object to be protected.
Unfortunately, this is in line with other racially coded characters like Lalah and Nadia – both are positioned centrally to the plot of their shows while existing as deeply exoticized characters. In this light, which could be seen as quite cruel, Utena seems like a series that is focused on “racially neutral” feminism rather than offering racial subversion. I very much hope to be proven wrong. But this is a case where it’s simply not satisfactory to say that a racially neutral feminist subversion makes up for racial harms.
The first episode of Revue follows Karen discover the machinations literally and figuratively underlying her school, highlighted by the Revue itself. In a similar way, the first episode Utena follows Utena learning that her school, like Karen’s, is centered around a contest, this time that of the Rose Bride. Both contests, though perhaps initially demonstrated as petty squabbles, revolve around social power. It is valuable to consider how the Revue and the Rose Bride competitions both serve as societal lenses.
Being separated by twenty years, these explorations are understandably quite different. Revue Starlight presents Karen as a massive entity, demonstrated by immensely creative storyboards in episode 1, who stands atop the Tokyo Tower. By contrast, Utena the titular character is overshadowed by the birdcage structure dominating her campus and her quest to maintain control over the Rose Bride (a role held by Anthy). To me, these reflect two fundamentally different approaches of social justice: Revue is dominated by symbols of hope and rising above a vicious system; Utena is dominated by symbols of societal power that must be destroyed and beaten back, not reckoned with. I would argue you need both approaches of social justice to effect true change. But…Utena’s approach, as demonstrated by the trajectory implied by episode 1, appears to come from a place of cynicism, which is not as meaningful in this current era. Yet Utena lays a fundamentally important foundation that a series like Revue can build off of. In spite of giving that foundation, there is much about Utena that is discomforting and requires more attention.
Apologies for the misleading title, but this is about Utena (and again the implied trajectory).
While we can say the Rose Bride metaphor refers to far more than Anthy, and this will likely be shown later in the series, it’s difficult to not see her predicament in a discomfortingly concrete manner. Anthy is slapped several times, forced into rendezvous inside a massive birdcage (which is typically used as a metaphor for societal oppression), and verbally abused repeatedly. All while being the only character coded as racially other (on account of her Indian appearance and apparent heritage). As the Rose Bride to be dominated, Anthy becomes a colonial image as demonstrated visually. When Anthy is demonstrated as the maid, the cleaner, this image is reinforced. Even with the promise of total racial subversion, I feel no choice but to feel deeply worried about Anthy’s state. The Rose Bride….becomes an object to be protected.
Unfortunately, this is in line with other racially coded characters like Lalah and Nadia – both are positioned centrally to the plot of their shows while existing as deeply exoticized characters. In this light, which could be seen as quite cruel, Utena seems like a series that is focused on “racially neutral” feminism rather than offering racial subversion. I very much hope to be proven wrong. But this is a case where it’s simply not satisfactory to say that a racially neutral feminist subversion makes up for racial harms.
I worry that Utena is a white-adjacent form of feminism focused on the powerful. That when one talks of a perfect feminist anime, one must be white or aligned with that attitude to think of Utena. The anime is deeply powerful, from what I’ve seen, for its time but is entangled with many of the social structures it is set up to vociferously dismantle. This prompts great promise but almost as strong caution.
These are not the only misbegotten examples in anime. The deeply suspect safari imagery of Gundam Wing’s ED1 and Kemono Friends (doubly more suspect now that it’s being corporately reclaimed by Kadokawa and fully wrested away from fans) are two glaring examples. Victory Gundam and Gundam G no Reconguista, both from the same director who brought us Lalah, offer their own take on Magical Indian Royalty. There are many different ways to show this, but the basic premise is that we primarily understand them as of Indian descent and of them as magical creatures – this is both in terms of exoticized appearance, and an often literal ability to perform magic, or be able to do something like telepathy. It seems as if Indian-coded characters are subject to this treatment in anime.
But I don’t want no racialized imagery in anime – on top of not being possible theoretically (race is a concept, not simply a narrow set of tropes), that would only cement status quos rather than allowing for real change. But I do ask for much more nuanced racial portraits, less ones that are physically and emotionally objectifying. Cases like Anthy, or less indirectly in Asuka who faces sexualized and racial violence in End of Evangelion. This includes instances of subversion where characters start at this state of objectification (like Anthy is) with the promise of them becoming fleshed out over the series.
There is a case of absolute failure that I would like to discuss – naturally, this is Chocolate Panic Picture. A maddeningly awful OVA portraying condescendingly simple images of African islanders as deeply primitive in a pseudo-surreal style that further strips them of humanity. The OVA, in pursuing surrealism, unfortunately manages to exacerbate its most racist textual elements. We learn nothing about the islanders or where they live for the 25 minute length, instead seeing symbols empty of human empowerment. There is no value in engaging the OVA on a racial level short of identifying the worst that is available.
Fortunately, only a tiny amount of works are at that level, especially now. My belief is that these cases, as abysmal as they are, are rare. In general, works exploring race will handle it better, assuaging a fear that more works on race will be accompanied by an increase in racist works. I feel nuanced racialization is now especially possible having struggled with the concepts underlying Utena. We can hold far deeper conversations on it in 2018 now for having known Utena.
But race is a complex concept, far beyond simply the gene pool to which one belongs. Race is termed an imaginary term by some scientists (like Neil deGrasse Tyson) – the term is not unscientific, simply difficult to understand in conventional terms. Some see race as deeply biological, leading to a host of horrors. But race is not just a biological experience. To me, race is a sense of co-created and shared culture, that people create by aligning their own experiences both intentionally and subconsciously. But there are many voices that create race, which naturally means that there is a natural variation that occurs. Of course, basic genetics suggests that there will be variance within a race. What does this mean? In plain terms, race is a broad concept, not a narrow one, and we must look at it as something that emerges in and is guided by a variety of cultural contexts. There is not a single precise way to participate in a race.
One illuminating example in my mind comes from Anne
Happy, where one character chooses to control a rabbit-shaped robot named
Timothy as a social proxy rather than confront her social anxiety. To her, she feels
rejected from the Japanese race, despite being born and raised in the society,
because of her European appearance (especially her blonde hair and blue eye
color). Through finding supportive friends, only then is the character able to
see herself as Japanese. I hope to get across that even “being Japanese” is not
necessarily a straightforward idea.
Even more complicated when, like me, you come from seemingly incompatible cultural backgrounds and have to decide your own position. As an American of South Asian descent, I myself constantly undergo this feeling of ‘codeswitching’ between the American identity and the South Asian identity depending on who I am surrounded by. Often, the American identity exists in cases of discomfort, especially as a form of mental protection around white Americans. However, the South Asian identity tends to feel more intimate, even as that may cause me to standout more. But it should be noted, fundamentally, I belong to a merged identity that I pivot around. To me, race cannot be seen as such a simple thing.
Even in works that seem totally disconnected from race, it is likely present, whether it is actively explored, lurking, or pushed to the side. Much of the time, at least acknowledging its presence is intellectually and emotionally enriching just like reading from other social identities. You can engage the assumptions underlying how people perform race and understand how creators view race. This actively includes examples like Utena that try very hard to contend with race and social structures of power, even while not being cleanly successful. From this discussion, we can construct an inclusive social justice that includes race, one major form of co-created and shared experience. A social justice for all, not just for the white and powerful.
Even more complicated when, like me, you come from seemingly incompatible cultural backgrounds and have to decide your own position. As an American of South Asian descent, I myself constantly undergo this feeling of ‘codeswitching’ between the American identity and the South Asian identity depending on who I am surrounded by. Often, the American identity exists in cases of discomfort, especially as a form of mental protection around white Americans. However, the South Asian identity tends to feel more intimate, even as that may cause me to standout more. But it should be noted, fundamentally, I belong to a merged identity that I pivot around. To me, race cannot be seen as such a simple thing.
Even in works that seem totally disconnected from race, it is likely present, whether it is actively explored, lurking, or pushed to the side. Much of the time, at least acknowledging its presence is intellectually and emotionally enriching just like reading from other social identities. You can engage the assumptions underlying how people perform race and understand how creators view race. This actively includes examples like Utena that try very hard to contend with race and social structures of power, even while not being cleanly successful. From this discussion, we can construct an inclusive social justice that includes race, one major form of co-created and shared experience. A social justice for all, not just for the white and powerful.
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