Through its raw, emotional, sometimes-frustrating narrative, Fushigi Yugi uses isekai trappings and the relationship between Miaka and Yui to explore common sources of desire and anxiety for teenage girls along with their potential consequences, both positive and negative. By tapping into the mentality of its audience and providing reassurance in its conclusion, Fushigi Yugi serves the function of a modern fable or fairy tale.
There is a double standard at play: media targeted at or starring women is “for girls,” while media targeted at or starring men is “for everyone” (unless, of course, someone who isn’t a man is critical of it; then it wasn’t “for them”).
While there’s certainly a male audience for handsome dudes and fluffy mascots (like the guy writing this article), Sanrio Boys also wants to reach out to those conditioned to dislike cute things, directly addressing its male viewers through its musings on—and challenges of—traditional ideas about masculinity.
Since the rival trope goes back to fairy tales, it’s no surprise that Princess Tutu involves a pair of dueling princesses. But as the rules of the story break down, the designated rival becomes so much more: a strong and loving young woman, a good friend, and the heroine of her own story.
“Idols as hope” is an inspiring setup. That is, until it’s undercut by the notion of “idols as product.”
As someone who works in a mental health-adjacent field, the Flying Colors Foundation’s approach to mental health in the anime fandom seemed not only misguided, but also irresponsible and potentially dangerous.
As self-aware as Pop Team Epic is, the characterisation of its leading ladies serves as a sort of metatextual raised middle finger to the concept that girls should be cute rather than funny.
Because of the choices made by the 2003 Kino’s Journey adaptation, Kino becomes something incredibly rare: a nonbinary, AFAB anime character who isn’t a robot, alien, or sentient rock, but a human being.
Darling in the FRANXX purports to have something to say about sex, gender, and adolescence, but as illustrated in the “battle of the sexes” plotline in the episode “Boys x Girls,” thus far it only rehashes outdated stereotypes and an antiquated “boys will be boys” attitude.
Fumi Yoshinaga’s ongoing manga Ōoku: The Inner Chambers traces the events of medieval Japanese history with one big twist: the Redface Pox has killed most of the men in Edo, leaving women with the power of the shogunate.
Hyouka’s “normalcy” helped it present a very grounded take on high school life, carefully depicting the flaws and struggles of its main characters without reducing them to archetypes.
The inherent transphobia written into Erica’s character is reflective of Japanese society, as conformity is part of the social constructs within the country itself. Erica is the product of misinformation about lifestyles that were not visible, and still remain somewhat invisible, in a conservative society.
My Hero Academia is one of my favorite series in recent years. Regrettably, though, it’s not entirely free of some of the most frustrating (and typical) shounen stereotypes that frequently undermine its strong female cast.
In November 2017, Nobuhiro Watsuki was arrested for the possession of child pornography. Shueisha responded by suspending publication of his Rurouni Kenshin sequel. But this isn’t the first time a Shonen JUMP author has been arrested for crimes involving underage girls.
What do you do with a series that features sympathetic representation while also roundly killing its queer characters off, and does it make a difference that everybody is dying?
Conversations like #MeToo are emphasizing an important point: we need to believe survivors. As part of this social shift, it’s worthwhile to take stock of whether the fiction we consume promotes trust and respect for survivors.
Unlike previous adaptations of The Count of Monte Cristo, which overwhelmingly cast white actors, Gankutsuou makes a point of depicting the main characters as people of color. This is more accurate to the original, and allows the anime to explore the racial elements of Dumas’s story that are often overlooked.
Looking at this romantic comedy by name and genre alone, we might expect it be about its geeky protagonist “recovering” from online games and becoming a “normal” adult. Instead, MMO Junkie gives us a story about finding happiness and fulfillment through online games, using their safe zone of community and anonymity as a foothold to regain emotional confidence.
Land of the Lustrous made minor waves by deciding to refer to almost the entire cast with neutral “they/them” pronouns. In an industry that has historically chosen binary pronouns for characters who aren’t gendered or are gendered ambiguously in the original text, this marks a small but important—and most crucially, conscious—shift.
In REAL, Takehiko Inoue uses three similarly aged young men to portray different aspects of physical disability. By looking at these characters and their interplay, we can delve further into some of the ways REAL succeeds and fails at portraying disability.
