Anime Feminist Recommendations of Winter 2025

This season, let’s hear it for incredible women writers and directors, from new franchise entries to original projects!

How did we choose our recs?

Participating staff members can nominate up to three titles and can also co-sign other nominated shows. Rather than categorizing titles as “feminist-friendly” or “problematic,” they are simply listed in alphabetical order with relevant content warnings; doing otherwise ran the risk of folks seeing these staff recommendations as rubber stamps of unilateral “Feminist Approval,” which is something we try our hardest to avoid here.

The titles below are organized alphabetically. As a reminder, ongoing shows are NOT eligible for these lists. We’d rather wait until the series (or season) has finished up before recommending it to others, that way we can give you a more complete picture. This means we also leave out any unfinished split-cour shows, which we define as shows that air a second season less than a year after the first (often defined by announcing a sequel with an already-secured upcoming air date). That means Toilet-Bound Hanako-kun season 2 (continuing this summer) and The Apothecary Diaries season 2 (ongoing) are ineligible.

Here’s what the team thought—let us know your picks in the comments!

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Ave Mujica -The Die is Cast-

Recommended By: Chiaki, Cy, Dee, Tony, Vrai

What’s it about? On the day of her band Crychic’s triumphant first concert, Togawa Sakiko’s life fell apart. Desperate to hide her dire financial situation and alcoholic father, Sakiko disbands Crychic without explanation and throws herself into the creation of Ave Mujica, a supergroup that’s known only by their stage personas. But Crychic’s fallout is unresolved, and the masks they don aren’t enough to help the Ave Mujica girls outrun their personal demons.

Content Warnings: Flashing lights (opening theme and stage performances); depictions of alcoholism, parental neglect, mental breakdowns/depersonalization; possible incest (long-lost relatives)

Despite its name, this is absolutely not a stand-alone series—Ave Mujica is the direct continuation of 2023’s BanG Dream! It’s MyGO!!!!! and is utterly incomprehensible without that context. At the same time, it’s an utterly different beast. MyGO is a scrappy character study whose writing and heart succeed in spite of its inexperienced CGI and rigging artists. Ave Mujica plunges full-on into camp and the hyper real, flexing the extra year of production time with a level of visual polish that’s night and day from its predecessor. MyGO is about girls who find a safe place to by authentic by allowing themselves to admit that the personas they project are put-on. Ave Mujica’s musicians are so thoroughly alienated from a sense of agency thanks to familial and societal pressures that being able to build their own mythos is what finally gives them control over their lives.

It’s all but diametrically opposed, and dammit, it works. Ave Mujica at its best feels like Dear Brother (a comparison that starts to feel purposeful after a while, between the ominous gifted doll and one character lifting Asaka Rei’s backstory almost beat-for-beat), with a melodramatic flair that doesn’t detract from but enhances its ability to embody the larger-than-life emotions of adolescence. The casts challenges vary wildly, such that Nyamu’s everyday struggle to gain a toehold as an influencer against a ticking clock sits right beside the aforementioned mega-rich corporate machinations. The widest swing of all is undoubtedly Mutsumi, a plural girl whose alters have been in conflict since the disbanding of Crychic. I’m certainly not the one speak on that subject, but Chiaki noted that she found Mutsumi an emotionally accurate—if grandiose and dramatized—depiction of things she’s gone through as a plural system.

It’s also, just for icing, really gay. The toxic yuri eating is good here, ranging from the “is this really intense platonic love or romantic obsession” (hence the “possible incest” warning above) to outright declarations of “I fell in love with you.” The popcorn munching is balanced nicely with getting to see the cast slowly crawl their way toward more stable footing. The plotting might get a little muddled in the eleventh hour, but it manages to bring things to a satisfying emotional close. If this truly is the marvelous Ayana Yunico’s last entry in the BanG Dream franchise, it’s a breathtaking note to go out on.

—Vrai

Flower and Asura

Recommended by: Alex, Dee, Peter

What it’s about: This coming-of-age series about the art of recitation follows high schooler Hana, her senpai Mizuki, and their fellow Broadcasting Club members as they figure out their future goals, hone their performance skills, and grow closer as friends.

Content considerations: Restrained depictions of child neglect and adults pressuring and controlling kids.

While it doesn’t quite crack the top tier of high school club anime (for me, anyway), Flower and Asura is still a solid entry in the subgenre, featuring a well-rounded cast, strong character writing, some lovely visual touches during the recitation sequences, and impressively compact storytelling. Each character gets time to shine, and some of the show’s strongest moments are single-episode arcs about one of the club members pursuing their craft or discovering something new about themselves and each other.

Perhaps it won’t surprise readers that a series by the Sound! Euphonium author is also deeply sapphic. Hana and Mizuki’s relationship forms the backbone of the series as the two slowly open up to one another and inspire each other to improve as reciters. Their bond toes the line between “admiration” and “romance” for much of the series, until it culminates in a confession scene I could maybe interpret as an intimate friendship if it didn’t happen on a beach at sunrise to a swell of emotional music. Not sure it gets more romance-coded than that, folks!

Flower and Asura is adapted from an ongoing manga, so it ends somewhat abruptly, just as the club enters their first competition. The conflicts also tend to wrap a bit too tidily, striking a sometimes-uneasy tonal balance between “teen drama” and “chill-out series.” Still, at its best, this was a graceful character-driven series, with the added bonus of teaching its audience about a niche art form. If understated YA club stories with a dash of yuri are your thing, you’ll likely have a lovely time here.

—Dee

Honey Lemon Soda

Recommended by: Chiaki, Dee, Peter

What it’s about: Ishimori is painfully shy and struggles to even speak to others, much less make friends. After being bullied throughout middle school, she hopes to begin with a fresh start in high school, where she has a fateful encounter with the unshakably confident Miura, who becomes her new life coach. As he guides her on the path to self improvement, romance begins to blossom between them.

Content considerations: Depictions of bullying and child abuse as a major theme.

Coming off the back of a recent renaissance of new romance anime comes a true-blue shoujo romance adapted from a manga in Ribon magazine itself. Even better? It’s really good!

Many AniFem staffers agreed in the early going that, while Honey Lemon Soda had many upsides, it was off to a somewhat rocky start. Paramount among its problems was Miura’s strange treatment of Ishimori, vacillating between supportive and aggressive as he helped her grow into a young adult capable of making friends and navigating both formal and casual socializing.

I’m happy to report that this problem was not only largely solved by the mid-season, but also revealed itself to be part of the greater story. If Honey Lemon Soda could be said to have a weakness, it’s the strangely formalized relationship between Ishimori and Miura, where he feels the need to call out her achievements as if speaking to the audience.

As Ishimori grows, we learn more about Miura’s past in some well-managed reveals. This contextualizes his behavior and reveals his own personal hang-ups. Not only was this a particularly rewarding conclusion to what first appeared as a shortcoming, but Honey Lemon Soda also managed to offer some fresh takes on archetypal roles, like Ishimori’s middle school bullies and Miura’s ex-girlfriend.

It all builds into a rewarding watch that also manages to gently touch on some serious topics, such as the unconsciously abusive behavior from Ishimori’s overprotective father. Some of the conflict’s conclusions feel a bit rushed (Ishimori’s dad performs a 180 in a single episode), but the main story sails by at a perfect pace.

In particular, it’s worth shouting out episodes 6 and 11, both directed and storyboarded by Kiyotaka Ohata. These episodes have dynamic perspective, fanciful visuals, and energetic animation for both the primary and background characters, who seem to respond like back-up dancers in a musical. While the energy of the majority of the series was reminiscent of Kimi ni Todoke, those two episodes were shouting Kare Kano! I’m grateful for both tones, and hope to see more shoujo adaptations given at least this much attention.

—Peter

Medalist

Recommended by: Tony, Dee

What’s it about? Fifth grader Yuitsuka Inori dreams of becoming a world-class figure skater but her age stands in the way. She’s “too old” to start training seriously, and her mother refuses to support her out of trauma from seeing Inori’s elder sister’s skating career end in failure. But when she meets former ice dancer Akeuraji Tsukasa, it finally feels like the path to Inori’s dreams is finally opening up.

Content warnings: Classism, terminal illness, depictions of anxiety (panic attacks)

Medalist is, for me, the platonic ideal of a good sports anime. It captures the joys of participating in skating, the different rivalries and relationships that can blossom through it, and leaves you on the edge of your seat about the outcome of each competition. As in staff favorite Yuri on Ice, the animation of the skating routines pops, with the 3D seamlessly integrated with the 2D to create beautiful representations of the deepest emotions and technical prowess of the characters. This show is lovely to look at, thoughtful in its character writing, and just joyful all around.

What really distinguishes Medalist from other sports anime for me, however, is two things: its character writing and its awareness of the ecosystems that skating is dependent on. Inori and Tsukasa are wonderful protagonists, with Inori coming to Tsukasa struggling with anxiety, low self-esteem, and feeling isolated–and skating under Tsukasa’s guidance provides her a space to build her self-esteem, her coping mechanisms, and a meaningful support system from her peers. Tsukasa on the other hand finds ways to connect with her, given their shared history being denied access to instruction at an early age, without over-identification. He doesn’t lean on their shared experience as a crutch, but shows his care through practical support and unconditional positive regard. Tsukasa is a model of truly positive teaching in a way that I’ve almost never seen depicted properly in anime.

Tsukasa’s story also provides a thoughtful window into the economics and conditions of skaters, given he grew up working class and had to largely fund his own skating career, leaving him far behind his peers. The show is honest in its depictions of his internalized classism regarding this, not shying away from his shame about never quite getting to the level he wanted to in his window of opportunity, but also shows him finding his dignity through teaching and the beauty of what he is able to accomplish as a skater. Notable too is that what distinguishes his skating in particular is an almost feminine beauty through ice-dance, which complements nicely his highly masculine (and honestly jacked) physique.

The cast is rounded out with many side characters who get their own, just as compelling, arcs. Rioh in particular is a compelling exploration of how a boy can overcome toxic masculinity through positive relationships with male adult role models. While Medalist ends in a place that would have been a perfectly fine stopping point, we have been blessed with an announcement that another season is on its way. Medalist is a fantastic show, and if you’re hungering for a fun sports anime with a female protagonist that will also make you cry, this is the show for you.

–Tony

My Happy Marriage – Season 2

Recommended by: Dee

What it’s about: Saimori Miyo is the eldest daughter in her noble family, but she wasn’t born with supernatural talent. As a result, she’s passed over for her younger sister and abused by her family. In the hopes of getting rid of Miyo, her family offers her in an arranged marriage to the allegedly cold-hearted commander, Kudo Kiyoka. Assuming she’d be thrown out by her fiancé, she prepares for the worst, but is surprised that Kiyoka offers her a place where she can learn to love herself.

Content warnings: Violence; depictions of abuse (mostly in season 1), sexism/misogyny.

The first season of My Happy Marriage was a pleasant surprise: a Cinderella-style historical fantasy about an abuse survivor-turned-bride featuring a supportive romance and a satisfying arc about healing, self-love, and a little divine retribution for good measure. Also, it was beautifully and lavishly adapted, a rarity for joseimuke titles these days.

Season 2 continues Miyo’s journey towards self-actualization, as she learns to wield her new powers, stand up for herself and others (in her relentlessly polite, kindhearted way), and take on a more proactive role in the story. I confess I prefer my female protagonists more rough-and-tumble, but I still enjoyed watching Miyo learn her strengths and wield them to protect others (including Kiyo, which provided a nice parallel to the rescue in Season 1).

My main critique with the first season was that it sometimes felt like it was idealizing traditional gender norms, with Miyo as the happy housewife and Kiyo the breadwinner husband. While I don’t think Season 2 challenges that idyllic foundation, exactly, it does expand women’s options by giving Miyo a part-time job of sorts and introducing Kaoruko, a competent female soldier battling workplace sexism. Miyo and Kaoruko become fast friends, which also helps expand Miyo’s world so it’s not solely centered on Kiyo and his family.

My Happy Marriage may not be shattering any molds, but this second season demonstrates that it has a solid awareness of its own character arcs and big-picture themes. Oh, and it still looks gorgeous, too, with beautiful backgrounds and nicely animated action scenes. It won’t be for everyone, but romantasy fans will find a lot to like here.

—Dee

Sorairo Utility

Recommended by: Alex

What’s it about? After the gacha game she’s devoted her life to ends service, Aoba Minami sets out to find a club that will give her that special protagonist feeling. Every single one turns out to be a dud, until Minami happens upon an arrestingly cool girl at a local golf club.

Content considerations: mild but persistent fan service (bath/shower scenes, occasional emphasis of the characters’ short skirts).

In all technicalities this is a sports anime, but its gentle and funny tone puts Sorairo Utility more at home among chill-out, feel-good hobby shows. While it never reaches the chaotic and absurd heights of Birdie Wing (and let’s be real, only Birdie Wing can be Birdie Wing), this very much does achieve the formidable task of making golf entertaining. There’s a lot to be said for the energetic execution—expressive animation, voice performances, comedic timing—but the characters are the real draw here. 

It’s rewarding watching Minami hone her skills while also learning to just have some fun and explore a new thing without needing to be The Best at it, under the tutelage of her color-coded supporting cast. There are some earnest mini-character-arcs from golf gals Ayaka and Haruka about the importance of finding and pursuing a passion without burning yourself out or rushing yourself to go pro; making for a nice but tonally different parallel to this season’s Flower and Asura. While those yuri undertones that Vrai noted in the premiere don’t formally go anywhere, the relationship dynamics between the main cast are sweet and fun, archetypal and dialled up for comedy and cuteness while also capturing the vibe of real goofy young adults. 

Because Utility leans more towards the relaxing and silly side, this isn’t the show to get into gendered assumptions about golf being a gentleman’s game, and how that might be a barrier to entry for anyone outside of that older male demographic. That said, there are some lighthearted but satisfying scenes of the teen girl protagonists beating a bunch of middle-aged dudes at their own game (and winning discounts!). Overall, the show is sincere but rarely serious, meant to be escapism rather than any reflection of reality… which is perhaps why I can sit back and enjoy it so much despite being very anti-golf (or at least, anti-golf course—they can be such a detriment to a local ecosystem!!) in my own life. 

–Alex

Thunderbolt Fantasy – Season 4

Recommended by: Dee

What’s it about? The Gang Goes to the Demon Realm in this penultimate installment of Urobuchi Gen’s puppet masterpiece, following a perpetually tired swordsman and his vaping trickster frenemy.

Content Warning: Graphic puppet violence, just buckets o’ puppet blood.

Thunderbolt Fantasy fills me with a childlike glee that’s difficult to translate into a review. How do I explain the giddy feeling of seeing a mecha puppet transform into an amp so that a zither-playing puppet can blast her enemies with sound waves? What descriptors could cover the joy of watching Buff Lady Puppet beat up monster puppets or Vape Wizard Puppet trade witty barbs with his puppet rivals?

And that’s not even touching on the wild laughter of shocking! puppet reveals, since I don’t want to spoil the fun for newcomers. Each season seeks to outdo the one before it, escalating the weaving plot threads and character backstories into a climax of nonstop twists and turns. If Season 3 felt like a lot of table-setting, Season 4 serves up a mouth-watering feast and then flips the table for good measure.

It’s so fun, y’all. And it’s fun in a way that doesn’t require a bunch of caveats for a feminist-minded audience. That isn’t to say it’s a progressive manifesto, because that would require it to have a thematic goal beyond “make puppets go whoosh-whoosh,” and I’m not sure it does. But it hates autocrats; features some good ‘ships and compelling (albeit unrealistic) disabled heroes; and the female cast gets stronger with each season, even if they do tend to play second fiddle zither to the dudes. So, it’s still got a leg up on most of the flashy action series out there.

Because Thunderbolt Fantasy is such a uniquely campy experience, it’s either gonna hit for you or it isn’t. But if it does, oh friend, you have such a ride ahead of you. Grab the popcorn, kick up your feet, and join me in eagerly awaiting a US release of the film finale. I have no idea how Booch is gonna wrap up The Great Vape War, but I’m beyond hype to see it play out.

—Dee

ZENSHU

Recommended By: Alex, Caitlin, Chiaki, Dee, Peter, Tony, Vrai

What’s it about? Hirose Natsuko became an animator right out of high school, and her TV directorial debut was a massive success. Now she’s working on her hugely anticipated follow-up, but she can’t even seem to finish the storyboards. Struck by a horrible case of food poisoning, Natsuko wakes to find herself in her favorite film: the strange, depressing flop called A Tale of Perishing. Why is she here, and can she change the grim events to come?

Content Warnings: Violence and mass death (including kids), brief fan service, nudity (bathing), alcoholism and suicidality, background character design drawing from anti-Black imagery.

The AniFem team has a special love for the ‘90s flavor of isekai: stories that involved young women being thrown into another world to process the seemingly insurmountable issues in their lives so that they can (often, if not always) return to reality a stronger person. Zenshu is a title precisely in that vein, and also a story about an artist’s relationship with her art, transformative fandom, and how art changes lives. It wouldn’t be a complete recommendation list without it.

Zenshu is very tightly written, spending its first half in goofy vignettes about Natsuko solving her favorite film’s conflicts and inadvertently bringing more depth to its cast in the process—especially the women, who in their source material decades prior didn’t have much time to shine outside of tightly prescribed roles. The second half sets its sights on Natsuko’s own failings, her relationship with the film she’s found herself in, and how her art has created connections over the years, even if she failed to recognize them. It all culminates in a finale that proudly runs on emotional logic and the powerful image of creativity as a light in the dark.

It’s an expertly calibrated character piece (with a lot of great background queerness and gender stuff!), calculated for the reality of a 12-episode run. That reality makes it hard to call its lack of scope a “flaw,” but I still couldn’t help feeling disappointed at how little the show digs into Tsuruyama, the auteur director behind Natsuko’s favorite film. While I don’t think the show ever intended to be about studio culture in a collective sense, there’s enough table-setting of the two as foils that cried out for more exploration, especially as a snapshot of working as a woman leading an original project in two different eras, with two very different endings. Sadly, time constraints reduce Tsuruyama’s appearances to more of a personification of doubt in Natsuko’s mind.

There are other small criticisms—Memmeln’s arc hits but could’ve used more time to breathe, and the fact that Black-coded dryad Chingosman would’ve been drawn so stereotypically in the ‘90s doesn’t really excuse replicating it here. But none of that even begins to eclipse how refreshing it is to see a show so successfully revive a genre I love, with a prickly and often unlikable heroine, as written and directed by two amazing women whose work deserves more attention. Anyone who misses Escaflowne and its like need this on their watchlist.

—Vrai