The Promised Neverland begins as a sharply crafted horror story, but it soon reveals itself to be a sophisticated critique on restrictive social practices—including the hellishly limited roles expected of girls.
All art, from cookie-cutter crime dramas to Nobel prize-winning novels, reflects the views and mores of its creators and the culture they grew up in. Whether intentional or not, DARLING in the FRANXX touches on one of Japan’s current political hot topics: the role of family and childbirth.
A few years ago, I had the opportunity to work on the first full U.S. release of one of my favorite franchises ever: Mazinger Z. But while I was all-in for the cheesiness and monster-of-the-week action, I was caught on the back foot when it came to certain elements of the show.
The long-running live action series Kamen Rider has one core concept: the Kamen Rider, a masked superhero riding a motorcycle, fights a shady organization or evil force. However, in its 45-plus years of history, its treatment of women has been lacking, especially in the Heisei era.
Despite a variety of stories about food in anime and manga, there’s been a lack of female and intersectional viewpoints, especially in portraying the intimate moments one has with food and encouraging the solitary exploration of food and drink. One series is helping challenge this status quo: Wakakozake.
While the original Aggretsuko shorts were limited in their scope and characterization, the longer episodes of the new series offer a multi-dimensional look into the life of the twenty-something office lady/red panda as she struggles with a daily clerical mountain at work, obnoxious co-workers, a troublesome love life, and her literal chauvinist pig of a boss, Ton. The whimsical setting of a corporate animal farm accentuates the dramatic nature of navigating life as a young working woman.
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.
There’s a lot to love about Code: Realize, but a major part of its appeal is its heroine. While many otome games have meek, passive heroines, Cardia grows into an active protagonist who takes control of her own narrative. A significant part of this transformation comes when she trades in her gown for pants, a rare and welcome move for female characters all across anime.
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.
The Dominion Tank Police OVA was released in 1989 and tells the near-future tale of tank-equipped law enforcement. This isn’t exactly an outlier for a bubble-era OVA production—but it is precisely those standard trappings which help make its female protagonist and central message so potent.
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.
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.
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.
While as a westerner it’s difficult to have a truly nuanced understanding of the cultural norms surrounding the term “otaku,” we can get an idea of how stereotypes and expectations have changed by looking at how otaku are portrayed in anime and manga, and how those portrayals have evolved over the years.
In Gundam 0080, our protagonist watches paramedics pull a female pilot out of a wrecked Gundam surrounded by debris. He is shocked, pupils as dilated as can be. To him, this female pilot occupies a very different sphere: a domestic one. In fact, she’s his old babysitter.
In Princess Mononoke, the heroine reflects a duality of potential for which women are feared and demonised: compassion balanced with a fierce courage and a raw instinct that can be honed, recklessness curbed, but never erased.
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.
