Co-Opting the Eyepatch Via Individual Expression To Usurp Societal Perceptions

Mild Spoilers Involving Shizuru Nakatsu from Rewrite

Shizuru Nakatsu, depicted in Figure 1, is one of the main characters in the key visual novel Rewrite. Wearing an eyepatch, Shizuru is visibly different from the others. Shorter, even. Setting physical disparateness aside, she acts much stranger than the other characters. Shizuru is quiet, shy, and prone to using few words; despite seeming cold, she is quite warm. Many of her utterances and actions are thus weird yet simultaneously friendly. She is one of the few characters who pays Tennouji Kotarou, the main character, heed; Shizuru stands out as most fond of Kotarou. Her remarkable facial expressions add further depth to her characterization. Purity embodied is she, at least according to Kotarou.

 

Figure 1. Shizuru Nakatsu sitting on a bench wearing an eyepatch. She is wearing her school uniform.

Her most interesting apparent feature – ignoring her hair – is the eyepatch she always wears. The eyepatch conventionally represents either a clichéd pirate or someone with some eye problem or injury. The eye could have sustained damage or else be developmentally delayed, among many eye problems. The eyepatch  is therefore a signifier of injury and misfortune. It is thus blocked off from any notion of beauty or individuality at least according to society’s scheme. In my youth (age 2 or so I believe) I had to wear an eyepatch following correction of double vision in one of my eyes. This time of my life passed swiftly but during that time I was marked with an eyepatch. Looking at the pictures of me with an eyepatch drives home that shallow – skin-deep – perception that I am injured, not worthy of being beheld in the brilliance of society. An eyepatch, as it did for me under inspection, signifies a damaged body as a whole, not simply an eye injury. Shizuru therefore appears to have a devalued and pity-worthy existence to the normal person.

Shizuru’s wearing an eyepatch must stem from some childhood event. Indeed, as a child she received a vehement and excessive eye injury, prompting the need for an eyepatch following surgery. Shizuru was told not to touch her eye, but driven by curiosity she did anyway. In a sense, she violated the eyepatch’s societally-donated penchant to separate the person from their injury. However, due to Shizuru’s powers, her eye managed to recover miraculously. The eye changed to a bright golden color instead of returning to its original state.

Kotarou managed to learn about her situation after gaining her trust, as it usually goes.  I was surprised that she was willing to remove her eyepatch for him but then was overcome with admiration; for Shizuru made a courageous act by showing something that had disgusted others. Shaking slightly and anxious of the, to her, imminent rejection. The unsymmetrical eye color combination of golden and navy blue[1] before him, seemingly unnatural. Shizuru waiting. (Shizuru sans eyepatch is shown in Figure 2.) When her eye first changed as a child, boys unearthed her unnatural eye color by removing her eyepatch; they treated her as shameful and denigrated her self-worth. Thus Shizuru’s eyepatch and heterochromia represent a double bind: she can be excluded as an damaged existence or as an unnatural existence. Either way, Shizuru is forced to tolerate belittling views from others. As a side note, her situation is so complex – and saury[2]-filled -  that I cannot describe it entirely in this post without providing extensive detail.

Figure 2.  Shizuru sitting down without her eyepatch. Her heterochromia is clearly visible with one eye golden and the other one navy blue.

I consider Shizuru to be an empowering character, so I won’t end just there.The sarcastic postmodern title should give you a certain idea of how I want to extend this subject beyond themes of oppression. “Strange” attributes can and should be subverted. In this regard, Shizuru is the ultimate subversion of these normed ideas about beauty and individuality. She is not ugly because of heterochromia or her eyepatch. Kotarou, in fact, responds to Shizuru’s trust by saying that her eyes are pretty, not weird. I remember wondering how someone could consider her eyes to be unnatural and disgusting when such a combination, though asymmetric, is quite fitting for her. Her eyes should not be seen as scary but rather as an individual and beautiful trait to be celebrated.[3] At the same time, her eyepatch should be viewed in the same light - as something unique but valuable and not something to fear. To illustrate this effect, see Figure 3 which features Shizuru in a bathing suit.

Figure 3. Shizuru in a periwinkle blue bathing suit with white dots while bathing with a rubber ducky. Her heterochromia is not visible in this picture.

Rikka Takanashi from the show Chuunibyou demo Koi ga Shitai!, depicted in Figure 4, bears strong similarities to Shizuru: Rikka wears an eyepatch and has heterochromia, though in her case she used a colored contact lens. Rikka and Shizuru both wear eyepatches beyond a medical need, but rather for personal reasons – the former as a means of grieving over her fallen father, the latter as a means to avoid ridicule for standing out. Thus, both characters cover up an eye as their own way of going through the world, though they invite ridicule by doing so. They are open to ridicule if they don’t either, hence this powerful double bind. When I say beauty, I mean an individualistic definition that values the power of self-worth and not being held back by looking “strange.” Thus Rikka and Shizuru together – whether with an eyepatch or heterochromia – usurp harmful oppression against abnormal bodies. To me at least, these two offer both subversion of normalcy and exclusion of those who are different. Then,  Rikka and Shizuru are empowering.

 

Figure 4.  Rikka Takanashi in her dark blue school uniform and wearing an eyepatch over one eye.

Afterword
Today I wrote about a subject about which I am very passionate. As I’m sure you can tell. As someone who stands out for a variety of reasons – including riding a scooter and in the past wearing an eyepatch myself – I wanted to address this topic. The very act of subversion is very powerful when dealing with systems of oppression. Instead of something harmful, a word, or object, or action can be co-opted for an empowering message. Otherwise, society remains unchallenged and holds to a decrepit scheme.

Works Cited
Rewrite. Perf. Kitaeri, Kanahana, Chiwa Saito. Key, 2011. Visual novel.
"Rikka Takanashi." MyAnimeList. Evolve Media. Web. Accessed 9 Jan 2015. 

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[1] Termed heterochromia.

[2] Shizuru’s favorite dish.

[3] I know you’ve heard this before. But bear with me. Because this is my blog.

Enter Celty, the Headless Rider

Enter the show Durarara, an imaginary retelling of Tokyo, and supernatural occurrences.

Especially famous is a headless motorcycle rider named Celty; she wears a Helmet, concealing this oddity.

 Celty is based off the dullahan[1] in Irish mythology. Celty is the person I would like to analyze today. Though she cannot speak in a canonical sense, she is voiced by the great Miyuki Sawashiro. Rather, Celty speaks by typing messages on her phone or computer. I enjoy her character for a variety of reasons but specifically her lack of a head intrigues me.

People – especially those who have seen inside her helmet – mainly view her with suspicion, except for a few characters in the show who are clearly outed as weirdoes anyways. Her housemate, the scientist Shinra, is one such character who does not fear her; indeed, he is rather fond of her. For example, police officers chased her unprovoked simply for being known as the headless rider; this example suggests that Celty is perceived as a monster. Simply being a monster is not a disability but the heedlessness falls into that category. 

A word of caution: this example is extreme, an approach that makes sense for a supernatural show that can bend notions of “physically possible” to pursue. Lacking a head in real life would simply mean death but this example is more akin to not being able to use your legs or something like that. Extreme examples often help people learn subjects they are not familiar with. Otherwise the intricacies of something as complex as ability can be harder to understand.

To the normal person, Celty is a monster.

Her challenges go beyond living with mere suspicion. As a result of her particular body, Celty is assumed to lack thought, emotions, and sight, and among other things. The headless rider is then seen as nonhuman due to these perceived difficulties with normally human senses and behaviors. Notions of disability stem from perception and institutional  barriers surrounding non-normed ability; disability is not necessarily stemming from a medical condition. In fact, Celty seems to have no problems from not having a head – she is the badass black rider, after all. Then her “disability” is clearly not from a medical condition of some kind. (I’ll set aside Celty being a dullahan in this post.)

But she is in fact insecure over her lack of head. One subplot of the show involves Celty trying to find her disembodied head, a journey that was lasted over twenty years. We learn a lot about Celty’s insecurities as a result of teasing on part of Shinra and arguably other characters in the show. The pressure placed onto Celty by others’ perceptions of her is highlighted by this insecurity. Throughout Durarara, Celty is often treated as a pawn of some kind. Izaya, another important character, constantly refers to her as a courier, for example. No wonder Celty feels so perpetually frustrated.

I have not yet finished the show but I hope that Celty gets some conclusion that allows her to be satisfied with her own life.

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[1] Headless women who search for their detached head. The dullahan ride headless horses, not bikes though. As we learn later – unsurprisingly – Celty’s ride is really her headless horse. But I don’t know much about this.

Summer Sun

In 2003, Yo La Tengo released Summer Sun, an album begun fittingly enough with the piece "Beach Party Tonight." The whole piece exudes a soft, textured atmosphere that at the same time calls to mind revelry. Though nothing is concrete, this feeling permeates the piece, especially as the instrumental ensemble grows throughout the song. "Beach Party Tonight" adds vocals as a separate instrument that furthers the warmness called to mind - the lyrics themselves are hardly distinguishable, but the effect is enhanced, not lessened. Summer Sun, the album title, thus fits perfectly with the title and atmosphere of this song. Percussion is used sparingly to ground the track while rounding out the sonic frequencies at play. At the same time, though the piece is comparatively short at 3 minutes, it maintains an evolving song structure and fades out gradually; the full audio space is utilized to great benefit here. This piece is a mellow song on an album of mellow songs but deftly evades tedium.

An Ode to H2O (the anime show)

Who wouldn't love a story
with a blind protagonist
out amongst the world?

Such characterization,
and such attention to detail.

Around his ability a competent story
can surely be created:
from here a character for all to know and cherish.

Surely the animation and beautiful landscapes
supplement this story.

Who wouldn't love a story
with a girl getting violently attacked
just because of her dead parents' actions?

Such a story
should clearly be passed down.

Who wouldn't love a story
where the protagonist's blindness is a convenient plot device
meant to draw sympathy?

His condition is made exotic,
making him more entertaining.

Who wouldn't love a story
where the blind protagonist
is merely a foil to the outcast girl anyways?

Truly its pinnacle
is elevating the "cockroach" to the highest position,
surpassing the main character.

The story's enigmas and abysses
clearly showcase its brilliance.

The greatest epics involve
jumping across gaps.

H2O: Footprints in the Sand must therefore
be forever hailed as the greatest.

Anime Pedagogy, and Why I'll Never Seriously Attempt A Travel Blog

I wanted to give a shout out to my friend's blog post for today about Mushoku Tensei and the love of education. I've been increasingly getting interested in using anime to look at education, so I liked this post. I think this aspect of anime and related mediums - the abundance of messages that can be analyzed - points to their growing maturity as art. If I wanted to disprove notions that anime is just for children, I would probably point to this fact.

I ate at this high class restaurant a few days ago. Though the food was mainly Asian, the clientele was mainly white (again, "high class"). My favorite dish was Yakitori chicken. Now, this dish tends to be served with teriyaki sauce, or at least it did when I ate it in Japan. I had the option of ordering the chicken with terikyaki sauce or this sauce with yuzu, chili, and cilantro. (Yuzu is a Japanese fruit that's in the citrus family.)

By this point I was a little sick of teriyaki sauce so I decided to order the chicken served in the other sauce. Such a mixture seems odd at first. But when I ate the chicken, I greatly enjoyed the blend of spiciness with a slight citrus-y taste. Somehow that variation made the dish more appetizing by complementing and reducing the hotness of the dish. I ended up ordering the dish again during the same meal because it was absolutely delectable.

I hope the reason I haven't done a food blog is now obvious. Me and detail don't work together. I'm in despair! The world has left me in despair!

More Updates, And The American Gothic

 Another day, another update. Some posts may be semi-formal where I try to defend what I'm saying but don't focus too much on it. I plan to have 1-2 long posts a month, just like my friend. That means the rest will necessarily be short. 

I would also like to mention that the short posts from here onwards may be satirical. I won't say which ones are, but I'll try to make it obvious because I'm more planning to go for sheer parody or biting satire. (As opposed to subtle satire, of course.) I'll be nice today and say that the below is not satire. Don't expect a particular pattern either. It will just be whenever I feel like it.

The American Gothic – with a varied tradition ranging from Tombs of Atuan by Ursula Le. Guin, various stories by Edgar Allan Poe, and arguably even some of William Faulkner’s writings – tends to weave in Gothic beings as humans, rather than relying simply on the unknown. Instead of vampires or werewolves or the like, the horror rests within humans. The familiar then becomes unacceptable, creating a destabilizing effect. That, or simply the dark. Tombs of Atuan is quite Gothic with its deference for darkness. 

At the same time, Le Guin fuses American gothic with feminist undertones by focusing on many female characters. Taken together, these images constitute painting the feminine form as something evil and dark and belonging in the shadows. This fusion is not overtly monstrous but it is demonic in a subtle manner – akin to say the protagonist in Poe’s story “The Black Cat” who murdered his cat. 

This fusion characterization may seem extreme but this tactic’s extremity calls attention to “normal” perceptions of the feminine form. Women and girls, at least in American society, are often referred to as a weak evil. For example, hysteria is associated almost exclusively with being female – a controlling and likely cold personality is often fit onto them. Though the gothic feminine form can seem exaggerated, it represents misogynistic views well due to this focus. Thus, analyzing this characterization allows for gender views to be uncovered. 

Works Cited

Major Tales and Poems. Poe, Edgar A. Ann Arbor, Michigan: Edwards Brothers, Inc, 2009. Print.

An Update, A Blog Post About Ability, and A Task Set Forth by He Who Has Blazing Hair

A lot of my blog posts about ability have been rather formal (as I’m sure you may realize.) I want to broaden the spread of characters and topics on which I write. In time I may revisit what I say in these shorter posts with more formal posts (as in, actual works cited to the surprise of everyone). Writing short posts helps me explore ideas without feeling pressured to formally defend them. I can then focus on creativity more than strictly the strength of the argument and the content. Besides, following the same structure can be boring. If I feel I have something more detailed to say, then I’ll write an additional piece. I have decided to mix an update with a short blog post. I’m expressing solidarity with a friend who is trying to write a post every day this year. (See: Let’s Talk about KyoAni’s Next Project).

Today I wanted to talk about subtler aspects of physical disability. In particular, I wanted to talk about the seemingly gray case of whether physical frailty is disability. You can see my Learning Guide on disability for a better breakdown of these nuances. I want to focus on Latifa-sama from Amagi Brilliant Park and Nagisa from Clannad. 

 Figure 1. Latifa (left) as presented in Episode 1 of Amagi Brilliant Park.

Figure 2. Nagisa from the Clannad series.

Why? Put simply, both characters are quite frail. Though they seem to fall out of the norm for physical ability for different reasons, both characters fit into similar circumstances. Both are frequently shown as bedridden or suddenly collapsing; both occasionally require physical support from other characters. Being “frail” is not itself a disability, at least not by any medical definition. Frailty becomes a disability when it fundamentally changes an individual’s life. My post on disability details what I consider to be a disability, if you’re interested in more details. The point is, Latifa and Nagisa are both depicted as struggling as a result of their respective conditions. Many terminally ill characters – the category in which I am placing these two characters – reinforce the barriers faced by people with disabilities while not offering a human characterization; these representations then are usually disempowering and usually not interesting characters either. These characters are then usually reduced to victimhood, whether they are implicitly or explicitly portrayed as such. Fiona, Dio’s little sister in the Sunrise mecha show Buddy Complex, uses a wheelchair, for example. Her wheelchair defines her character. She plays little role in the plot (if Buddy Complex actually had one) and is only shown in scenes that focus mainly on other characters. She’s a minor character but her role as the “disabled person” confines her mainly to stereotypes projected onto people with disabilities. Fiona is generically happy but helpless, which is a common trope involving people with disabilities. Of course, they cannot resent their condition or view it in a more complex manner; nor can they help themselves because being different means you’re incapable of anything. At least, that’s what these characterizations tend to suggest. Bedridden characters are usually shown in a similar manner.  

Nagisa and Latifa, as I’m sure the reader has decided I believe, deviate from this ability-centric trope. In their respective roles – Nagisa aspiring to her dreams of becoming a mother among other things and Latifa being princess of the Amagi Brilliant Park amusement park – both characters, despite very real chances of failure, are steadfast. In the end, both characters are able to achieve their goals on their own terms. Most importantly, though Nagisa and Latifa do rely on other characters – physically and emotionally – they are very clearly agents of their own destiny (outcome, fate, whatever you want to call it). This fact comes clearly from their emotional investment in their individual journeys; for example, Nagisa and Latifa are both shown on the verge of tears or with a strikingly lachrymose expression when beset with struggles. The characters take steps to overcome their own pain and troubles to follow their individual paths. That is why I think that both Nagisa and Latifa are empowering characters, especially because of how their differently abled bodies interacts with the worlds in which they live. I don’t want to make this a PSA but portraying disability in this manner is much more empowering than showing characters ensnared by the ability- related barriers. I much prefer Nagisa and Latifa to Fiona for this reason (not to mention Fiona is given practically no characterization). This task goes beyond mere social justice and towards creating interesting and compelling characters from which the viewer can learn. Understanding these nuances helps create better characters and better art.

With apologies to a particular friend who will be offended by both the brevity and the lack of works cited or formal research done.