Although Kintaro’s respect for women toes (and occasionally crosses) the line into objectification and some of them get more respectful treatment than others, the series overall gives these female characters more agency and regard than other anime of the same genre.
Bleach means quite a lot to me. It’s the foundation for so much of my work as an artist and writer that breaking it down into its smaller parts would be very difficult. Reading it carried me through high school as a deeply insecure, deeply in-the-closet teenager, and even through early college when the series ended in 2015.
No one has ever asked whether Samurai Flamenco is good, because the question is a loud and simultaneous “no” and “yes.” But the question of whether it “counts” as queer romance has waged on for eight exhausting years now. Incidentally: yes, it does.
From 2007 to 2011 or so, Kyoto Animation’s multimedia juggernaut dominated most aspects of Western anime fandom. Whether getting stormed by a “Hare Hare Yukai” flash mob at a con or debating the “correct” viewing order online, you couldn’t escape the series’ sizable cult of personality. When watched today, it’s still easy to see why the small show left such a big impact. Yet for all of its still-endearing charms, Haruhi is plagued by foundational cracks that consistently threaten to undermine its core strengths.
The lovable characters have kept me hooked on Yu Yu Hakusho for the past 18 years, in addition to the “fight your enemies head on and defeat them through raw power and sheer force of will” storyline that will always be a guilty pleasure of mine. Although these elements make it worth the rewatch even now, my love for this anime hasn’t completely blinded me to its flaws. Yu Yu Hakusho, unfortunately, overtly and subtly fails its female characters time and again.
It soon becomes clear that within Hyakkaou Academy, it’s the women who get shit done. That was where I found what had first caught my interest in the first place: the women of Kakegurui.
One of the biggest gripes I have now with Free! is the amount of fanservice the show throws at you. While the perfectly sculpted muscles of the main male cast is what led to the show’s boom in popularity, it has also caused harm for the show.
Despite its flaws, Free! remains close to my heart as a show full of relatable and raw emotions. There’s been times where I’ve shed tears along with the characters on screen, and also deeply sympathized with their hardships.
As Jeanne, Maron steals paintings possessed by demons trying to steal the beauty of human hearts, weaken God, and strengthen the Demon Lord. By doing so, Maron seals the demons away, restores the affected humans to normal, and leaves a new painting of an angel in its place. This premise intrigued me because the magical girl was a phantom thief, rather than the standard “magical warrior” or “witch.”
As it stands, no matter how Attack on Titan ends, its legacy will be a divisive one: a lauded masterpiece to some and despised propaganda piece to others. However, there is a strong argument to be made that Attack on Titan is a far more nuanced tale than its most vehement critics accuse it of being.
You never know when a series you watch on a whim will turn out to be one of your favorites. That’s how I discovered Nobunagun: I just plopped it onto my Crunchyroll queue after seeing my favorite voice actress, Asakawa Yuu, tweeting about it.
Mad Bull 34 cranks up the absurd action of buddy-cop movies in a way only the animated medium can. But the series and buddy-cop movies in general have a serious flaw: the glorification of police officers who circumvent the rules, as well as police brutality in general.
What truly sold me on Scum’s Wish was that it was a romance that didn’t play by the rules. The series promises sex drama instead of sex comedy, a romance where people are flawed, ugly, disappointing creatures rather than glossy cartoon stereotypes.
The Future Diary comes with a laundry list of caveats, especially regarding how it depicts women, LGBTQ+ characters, and sexual violence… but there’s just something about its over-the-top camp aesthetic and murderous heroine that really appeals to me.
No video game has ever hit me quite as hard as Persona 4 did. From Chie Satonaka’s very first moment on-screen, I related to everything about her.
Back when I could barely read and was living in the skin of my anime heroes, sexist tropes in anime never really crossed my mind. It was possibly that childish thinking that convinced me Dragon Ball was made for me.
I discovered Kill la Kill when a PowerPoint showed up on my Tumblr dash arguing that it was a feminist anime and people should give it a chance. Since I was a feminist, I figured I could give my verdict on whether the anime was feminist or not—although in hindsight, that wasn’t the question I should’ve been asking.
Full of big adventure and bigger emotions, Fushigi Yugi scratched an itch I hadn’t even known I had: for fantastical, adventure-driven comics and TV shows that placed as much focus on character relationships and emotional turmoil as they did on action and intrigue, and treated those feelings not only with respect, but as powerful forces essential to the plot.
Kare Kano starts off as a light, funny, and typical “girl-meets-boy” shoujo series, but it quickly evolves into a dark, emotionally gut-wrenching tale that delves into discussions and depictions of child abuse, suicide, sexual assault, self-harm, mental illness, bullying, and other themes that I could very much—albeit uncomfortably—relate to.
When I read Ranma 1/2 during my first year of high school, I fell in love with Rumiko Takahashi’s signature expressive art. ad colorful cast. Yet the older I get, the harder it is to ignore some of the most problematic aspects of the series, especially how it deals with femininity.
The fanservice in Cross Ange begins before the opening credits on the first episode, and doesn’t stop until the main character spends most of the final episode completely nude. In between, she fights dragons on a giant robot. What’s not to love?
