We’re right in the middle of pride month now (internationally, still four months to go until Pride in South Africa) and I’ve been thinking about the topic of LGBT+ representation in popular media – particularly anime – once again. At this point most people understand the value in having representation at all. It helps reduce the stigma around marginalised groups, can amplify the voices of those whose perspectives have been overlooked and shed a new light on a range of issues affecting their communities. Representation matters for a lot of reasons, and for a lot of people, and with how much more common its become to have stories that explicitly address generally “queer” issues and identities, I figured it might be worthwhile to talk briefly about my own relationship with and perspective on representation in that particular context.
When it comes to characters like One Punch Man’s Puri Puri Prisoner or Fairy Tail’s Ichiya, it’s obvious to most people how turning a character into a walking collection of stereotypes makes for stale comedy at best, and actively harmful caricatures at worst. Yet they’re a dime a dozen, and for some reason some of them – like William from Invincible – never seem to get questioned much. The aggregate effect of this is to create very particular sets of stereotypes and expectations around queerness that people internalise and then project onto others. For a while in my life it felt almost impossible to accept or understand myself because my own feelings and experiences around gender and sexuality couldn’t be reconciled with the trope of the airheaded, effeminate and often hyper-sexual gay man depicted so often in popular media, so I couldn’t be me, but anything else felt too performative and insincere, and I often found myself putting in an inordinate amount of effort to match external expectations. As my conception of my gender and sexuality continued to evolve, I started resonating more and more strongly with characters that reflected experiences more parallel to my own, and through this process unpacked some of my own issues and gained the confidence to just be myself.
At no point does Madoka Magica give you a wink and a nod about Sayaka’s sexuality, she’s allowed to exist as a complex, developed character with distinct motivations and a distinct personality, and she just happens to be bisexual. There’s no over the top pining for all the other magical girls, no jokes at her expense over it, and no awkward dialogue trying to justify it. The same went for Momoe’s introduction in Wonder Egg Priority, sure it was made overtly clear later on that she’s transgender, but the show didn’t treat her any differently from the other girls in the story, she didn’t have to put on a dance and a song to validate herself and her presence in that story’s context. When you have more and more positive (and human) examples to work with, it has the effect of breaking down those stifling expectations and sending the message that no matter what you do or how you choose to present yourself, there’s never any wrong way to express your own identity. Human life is complex, so it only makes sense that expressions of any facets of human life, including sexuality, aren’t possible to distill into one or two traits, and it’s great to see that reality being represented in more media these days.
The absolute best thing that good representation can do, is provide you with a sense of empowerment, a sense that it’s okay to be yourself, and everything that entails. Now, that can mean more minimal approaches like what I just outlined, but it can also mean telling more uncomfortable stories that delve directly into topics you haven’t fully resolved within yourself yet. The name that first came to mind here was Mutsuki from Tokyo Ghoul:re. I understand there’s people who have trouble with aspects of his character, and I’m not going to get into that here, but rarely have I resonated with a character so strongly. He has a strong paranoia around the idea of abandonment, he gets deeply obsessive over the first person to really be kind to him, and he compartmentalises his trauma until it’s no longer possible to run away from it. Even though his arc didn’t have the space to reach its full resolution in the fairly messy end that the manga got, I was still able to sort through and confront a lot of things about myself as his response to trauma was explored throughout the pages of what will always be one of my favourite manga. Having characters that are so deeply flawed and troubled and even problematic by some assessments is part of what I consider to be good representation, because once again, that’s just what human life looks like.
I’ve never found much value in the Wholesome 100 kind of content, or the hopelessly romantic stuff because that’s just never been me, and while I’m not advocating for that to entirely disappear (I loved Seaside Stranger as much as everyone else) I would definitely like to see more representation that accounts for the diversity that exists within the LGBT+ community and even individual identities within that umbrella. It’d be helpful if today’s kids didn’t have to grapple too much with stereotypes that just don’t fit them, and that might feel invalidating when framed against their actual experiences.
Leave a Reply