Complicated Age: Passion, hobbies, and aging through the lens of Complex Age
In their unexpected 33rd year of life, Cy reflects on passion and what it means to like, love, and fully engage with hobbies.
In their unexpected 33rd year of life, Cy reflects on passion and what it means to like, love, and fully engage with hobbies.
Bang Dream: It’s My Go!!!!! and Ave Mujica challenge overly simple distinctions between fake and real that imagine Asian girls as doll-like constructs of femininity and marginalize trans women.
We might have only one life but the chances we have are limitless. Thankfully, Recovery of an MMO Junkie demonstrates that there’s infinite ways to meander the path of adulthood, no matter what life throws at you.
Oshimi’s work has not lost its raw power and interest in toxic relationships. However, 2012’s Inside Mari marked a turning point: many of his later works explore the experiences of queer adolescents trying to escape from heteronormative, transphobic, and often misogynist ideas of how one should live.
Anime Feminist also had the remarkable opportunity to interview Yukimura about Vinland Saga, writing female characters, portraying slavery and the role of Buddhist Philosophy in his work. Our interview with him, which was one of the great honors of my time in anime journalism, is below.
Nagata Kabi’s sixth autobiographical entry is a story about what happens when your life falls apart and you can no longer escape. That last bit is what this article is about: falling apart.
Oshi no Ko spends a few episodes examining the harsh way that people who participate on reality TV can be treated, especially online. In this way, it shines a light on an issue that people who don’t watch much (if any) reality TV have probably ever considered. But what does the way it goes about this mean for its overall message?
In a time wracked by despair, paranoia, and economic devastation, Evangelion captured the nihilistic zeitgeist of a nation and its citizenry
This story about immortality, grief, and the importance of emotional connections is interrupted by the presence of blunt, strawman villains who exist not as characters but as plot devices to show the “humanity” of the protagonists.
Momose’s trauma is a constant throughline in the series, but we can rest assured that he’s going to be okay—while there are dark moments, the light-hearted nature of the show and its clear placement as a fluffy, bit-based comedy reassure the audience that ultimately this will be a kind story that lets this wounded person have a good time.
What does it take to raise a girl? According to one genre of games … it takes day-to-day event scheduling to get all the right stats in all the right places.
Rena and Shion originally appeared in direct counterpoint to the then-oversaturated moe tropes of the time; however, what began as subversion would become an archetype all of its own, for better or worse.
Yuri’s assault on Ringo is emblematic of how the tensions and arguable flaws in Penguindrum point to larger tensions and unresolved questions in our movements for transformative justice, abolition, and queer liberation.
Otherside Picnic makes a wonderful addition to the canon by centering queer love and examining how survivors of abusive relationships can heal from their pain and trauma in order to move onto healthier relationships.
Thoughts on name changes, transition, and how Shirono Honami’s I Want To Be a Wall is a reminder that we can shape our own barriers and boundaries.
At its very core, MP100 is a show that despises violence as the main means of resolving interpersonal issues, and instead invites its audience to understand each other. In fact, it rejects the mere idea that being more powerful than your enemy is a net positive, or that having special powers makes anyone better altogether. Violence, the series posits, should only be used as a last resort.
By their very nature, these series’ protagonists are driven and motivated young women—motivated by something other than romance and men—who experience visible development across the narrative. As a bonus, the relaxed vibe and personal stakes of this genre means that realistic dangers are removed and these characters are left in idyllic spaces where they have autonomy over their time and their surroundings.
The series’ use of transformation and body horror resonate with the physical experiences of dysphoria and transitioning; its depictions of mental health struggles, particularly self-harm and suicide, may find special meaning with trans audiences; it thematically explores names as potential sources of both trauma and self-actualization; and the characters of Haibane Renmei strive to build a safe community that promotes healing and growth. Yet I have never seen this two-decade-old series discussed through a trans lens, despite the wealth of potential it has to offer. That ends today.
When I first watched Love, Chuunibyou and Other Delusions I had no idea what “chuunibyou” was, but the anime quickly made me think: I was definitely a chuunibyou as a kid! While not a form of mental divergence in and of itself, I contend that for neurodiverse kids, chuunibyou can be a coping mechanism.
Tsukushi faces more than just bullying from her peers and the controlling grasp of Domyouji. She also must carry the additional burden of financial instability and the pressure from her parents to marry a rich man in order to resolve their money problems. This situation forces her through the psychological process of parentification, molding her into a spirited and resolute character that I came to love.