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Wonder Woman Knows the Definition of Strong



Hollywood has been patting itself on the back recently for churning out “strong female characters.” It’s a term we hear thrown around a lot and the meaning of which has gotten flipped on its head, now mostly used in jest. Originally it came from audiences and actresses who were calling for more nuanced and complex roles for women on screen. It has now been hijacked by Hollywood as a term used to describe the same female trope over and over again. Essentially the exact opposite of the nuance or complexity that was being demanded. *Cough cough Game of Thrones.* Most of the time that has to do with the fact that these films and characters are being crafted by men who project their one track notion of what “strong” means without ever allowing women to sculpt their own representation.

Jessica Chastain even brought up this issue at Cannes this where she was a juror, explaining how disturbed she was by a lot of the films she watched regarding their portrayal of women. Women who were not remotely close to women she actually sees exist around her. When suggesting what needs to be done to improve upon this, Chastain stated “When we include more female storytellers, we will have more of the women I recognize in my day-to-day life—ones that are proactive, have their own agencies, don’t just react to the men around them. They have their own point of view.”

Patty Jenkins’ Wonder Woman has done just that. Gal Gadot’s Diana was truly a strong female character and complexly beautiful. Through Jenkins’ respectful lens, we’re allowed to go on a journey with Diana that so few mainstream female protagonists are allowed to go on.

Subverting the Action Girl Trope

The Action Girl trope is one of the main components of the Strong Female Character (SFC)™ and highlights where Hollywood has interpreted the name both too literally and not literally enough. Action Girls are “badass” characters who can fight and are expertly skilled with weapons. On the surface, that doesn’t seem too bad, and I definitely want female action stars. However, when women are given this character trait, it becomes their defining feature in more damaging ways then one.

First of all, it’s completely fetishized. It’s all for the male gaze. What felt so life changing about Wonder Woman was that these women were allowed to be physically strong in actuality. It wasn’t exploitative or voyeuristic. It celebrated strength as such. All of the women trained really hard for months leading up to shooting, with six hour sessions a day of gym work, fight choreography, and horse back riding. They looked strong because they were strong. Not to mention Jenkins filled a great deal of Themyscira’s population with actual female athletes.

Usually when you see physically strong women in film, the men behind the camera don’t want her to actually be physically strong. Toned prominent muscles are looked at as a masculine trait. Women are allowed to appear to be strong on camera if they still resemble the impossible ideal of being pretty, skinny, yet also sexy, and somehow able to also kick ass.

However, Jenkins was clearly not concerned with any of that. These women went on the super hero regimen that male actors are constantly put through and rewarded for. Instead of the usual pattern of men putting on muscle and toning up at the gym for a big role while their female co-stairs are forced to lose weight, the women of Wonder Woman were allowed to be wonderfully and truly physically strong as well as look it. It’s one of the most incredibe things that I really hope inspires little girls watching. Strong is beautiful.

No movie has ever inspired me to hit the gym more

The film also explored what strength means. Fighting isn’t romanticized and neither is general “badassery” or strength for it’s own sake. There are consequences to fighting. For a female action star, or rather an action star in general, but specifically the Action Girl trope, fighting usually translates to being Badass™. They fight and so they are cool. They kill and hurt without a second glance.

In Wonder Woman, from the very beginning, Connie Nielsen’s Hippolyta tries to instill an awareness in young Diana that war and fighting is nothing to celebrate. These women all fight and have learned how to defend themselves, but the fighting is nothing to crave. It’s a precaution, not a hobby. I had hoped for this message before the movie came out, a message I’ve been craving in superhero flick after flick where death and war are a constant to the point of being a piece of background furniture.

Chris Pine (who plays Steve Trevor) has spoken about this a lot during the film’s press tour as one of its greatest strengths and its true. Gadot’s Wonder Woman is perhaps the first and only super hero we’ve seen as of late to understand what true strength means. Her strength isn’t in her violence but rather her compassion. She can fight, just as the Amazons have been trained to, but only fights to stop the fighting. Her whole goal for the film is to end the war that she believed Ares, the God of War, has caused. Her action sequences, while “badass,” do not leave her in a heartless blast of explosions and death. In fact, for the majority of the movie she only makes use of her shield and her lasso, weapons of defense and truth – not destruction.

Just Like Other Girls

On of the other most commonly and frustratingly used traits of a SFC™ is the Not Like Other Girls trope. It’s definitely one of the ones I hate the most. This frequently unnecessarily pits women against one another. It’s also one of the most celebrated tropes in certain parts of Hollywood. However, despite Wonder Woman’s plot literally revolving around her being a woman from an island of mythical Amazons and stepping into the reality of 1917 Europe, that trope never comes into play. In fact, it’s actively subverted.

Diana comes from Themyscira, an island of Amazonian women. Women who we see working together, fighting for each other, and loving one another. Right off the bat, in a sequence that made yours truly tear up, we see our screens flooded with beautifully strong and compassionate women…and only them. We see them running this island, commanding armies, taking care of one another, and supporting each other.

The one aspect of the plot that would allow for this Not Like Other Girls trope to even see the light of day justifiably is thrown away. While Diana is literally not like any of the other women we see in the film, even the women she calls family, the film doesn’t reveal that to her or us until the very end. She doesn’t know she isn’t just an Amazon and grew up loving, respecting, and identifying with these women. Until the end she believes she is like them and hopes to live up to their reputation.

There is a moment that splendidly showcases how much respect she has for her fellow woman and how equal to them she feels. When she talks to Trevor about attempting to secure his freedom, she mentions she even asked if she could go with him to stop the war. Yet she then clarifies she means an Amazon—any Amazon. She recognizes and respects the power of all of them and doesn’t think she’s special. While we as an audience know of her legacy, she doesn’t. If it were up to her, she would trust sending any Amazon in her place. The film never builds her up to something special by tearing her fellow women down.

Not to mention her greatest relationships in the film are with women; her aunt Antiope and her mother, Hippolyta. (Which could be a whole article in itself.) But, as for subverting the trope, the film makes it clear they are essential to Diana’s growth. These two women are her primary caregivers and figureheads in her life growing up. They raise her.

So much of Diana’s character is built on of her relationships with each of these women, as is her emotional journey. Antiope teaches her that sometimes you have to fight to save, turning her into the compassionate warrior she becomes. Hippolyta teaches Diana the dangers of wartime and its horrors. From her mother she learns to never wish for war and from her aunt how to prepare for it should the day come. Not surprisingly, these two concepts embody Diana’s greatest strengths.

I have never been more attracted to Robin Wright

Emotional Struggle

Another of most common threads found in Hollywood’s idea of the SFC™ is making sure that she is completely unemotional. This goes with the Action Girl trope to make for a “badass” fighter that feels nothing. This comes from the fact that emotions are viewed as feminine traits and in dichotomy of the traits along the gender spectrum, feminine means weak. Women are only allowed to be one or the other. If they are “strong” (i.e., coded as traditionally masculine) then they cannot feel. If they are coded as stereotypically feminine, then they can only feel. Because apparently women work like a light switch.

But, not Diana. She’s allowed to go on the emotional journey that we’ve seen so many of our super male protagonists go on.

Diana’s greatest struggle in this film is all emotional and it’s something to cheer about. Her arc is that of a nuanced emotional struggle; her view of the world flips on its head. She learns to that the human world is complex and messy. There is no black and white answer for the battle between good and evil. Good and evil exists inside all human beings. As she learns that humanity itself embodies both the dark and the light, not because of a god’s tampering, she learns that the only thing you can do is fight with your heart.

One of the best quotes in the film is when Diana talks to Trevor after she believes she killed Ares. She sees the fighting hasn’t stopped and doesn’t understand. She looks on with horror, realizing that the bad exists within human nature and there’s no wiping it out.

Diana tells Trevor that her mother was right, that the human race doesn’t deserve her help. But he argues that it’s not about deserve, rather about what you choose. In the end, Diana chooses love. Her ultimate choice, her ultimate moment of defiance in the climax of the film, is her choice to act with her heart. She chooses the emotionality that Hollywood has denied its Action Girls. She’s allowed to cry, to break, to scream, and to feel. She’s thrown into a situation filled with injustice and horror and comes away from all that with a resolve of love.

While no emotion is usually the SFC™’s strengths, it is not Diana’s. She wears her heart on her sleeve and it’s whats needed. In wartime, in a war so brutal, so devastating, one’s greatest strength is to not forget one’s humanity. One’s heart. Diana never forgets hers.

Agency With A Side of Romance

While there is definitely a romance in the film, it is not Diana’s whole story. And within itself, it showcases a beautiful agency and maturity that is never given to SFCs™. She can still be the action hero of the film while engaging in a relationship.

Every step of her relationship with Trevor was a choice on her end in a way that was miraculous to see on screen. The choice aspect of it all in the first place was what made it such a unique and real relationship despite the brief time they had together. For one, she kickstarts their interaction by saving him from his plane crash. From then on, she directs their relationship to the path it takes. It completely subverts that horrible “first love” stereotype where women fall head over heels and orbit around their partner. She and Trevor co-exist and their romantic relationship is a part of their interaction but it’s mature. There is no hesitance within her about saying no to him or speaking her mind. There’s no timidness when it comes to feelings. It’s two adults who are clearly attracted to one another and respect each other.

In fact, one of the most groundbreaking moments is a small and subtle scene, but so important. After the No Man’s Land sequence when the little village they saved is celebrating, the two share a dance (or a sway as Diana would say). While dancing, they talk about what people usually do after the fighting is over. It is so palpable and obvious that the two feel the same way about each other and they both decide to do something about it. They take the next step and spend the night together, and it is two adults making a choice. There is no shame or exploration, just unabashed, mature desire.

It’s also essentially a relationship between two colleagues and co-workers. So while it’s an incredibly sweet and tender relationship when the two are romantic, like adults they also separate that from when they are “working” on in the battlefield and when something greater takes precedence. Unlike in the Hunger Games films where many critics angrily decry the idea that Katniss would have time to constantly think about a love triangle, Wonder Woman showcases the reality of humanity.

The romantic and sexual part of human nature doesn’t just vanish when there is something greater going on, But when it comes time to deal with that something, especially when it involves people’s lives, that will take precedence. They both recognize their roles, as Trevor says when he choses self-sacrifice, noting that he’s the hero the world needs for that moment, but Diana is the hero the world will need forever.


One of the things that struck me the most about Wonder Woman’s climax was that it flipped a trope on its head that I don’t think I’ve ever seen fully flipped in actuality before. Everyone’s favorite ‘manpain’ trope. The amount of times we’ve seen many of our favorite female characters reduced to pointless deaths in order to further characterize and develop their male counterparts, or how I like to put it, allow for the men to feel “manpain” to make us connect further with them emotionally is more than I can count. How many female characters have we seen tossed on the train tracks in order for a male character to rise up from her ashes? To further develop or move the male character’s plot point forward? Too many. And for the first time, in albeit a less ham-fisted way and one that allows more agency, the opposite happened.

During the film’s climax, when Diana’s crushed under the weight of metal that Ares is holding her down with and she thinks of her last moments with Trevor. She sees his plane explode, screaming out in pain and agony. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve seen that scene with a man in her place. Yet of course, Trevor was given way more agency and development than any of the female characters are ever given in his stead.

Diana’s moment of “woman-pain” in its bare form does exactly what all those scenes with male protagonists have done. It furthers her character on her journey of realization and thematic emotional development. However, because of the strength with which their relationship and Trevor’s character were handled in the first place, for the first time it comes out of the story, It justly finishes both the protagonists arc and the arc of the romantic partner that has been killed off.

Thus, Wonder Woman definitely did what I asked of it and more. While in the current world of Hollywood, Diana could have easily been given the typical SFC™, she subverted all of it. She was allowed to be both strong and feminine. She was both powerful and weak. When she fought, she understood that fighting is no blessing. She was everything Superman should have been in Man of Steel and so much more. One can only hope that due to the financial and critical success, this film will set the standard for DC films, and female led superhero films, in the future.

Images Courtesy Of DC Comics

Currently a film major with a focus in directing and a passion for all things writing, film, television and theater, oh my!



Crazy Ex Girlfriend is Masterfully Deconstructing its Core





Here at The Fandomentals, it’s not hard to tell when we begin to fall in love with a show. You may recall the windfall of Black Sails articles surrounding its series finale, our rather overzealous coverage of Supergirl a year ago, or the way Steven Universe creeps into every podcast we record. We dig in and frenetically try to explain exactly the reasons why you should be so enthused as well.

Then there’s shows like Crazy Ex Girlfriend, where I find myself unable to say anything at all, since it’s more or less perfect.

I know what I’m setting myself up for when I say this, because I’ve felt the let-down quite keenly many times before. That’s part of why I’ve been so hesitant to write anything at all. The other part is that I truly feel my explanations won’t do anything justice; watch it yourself and you’ll see what I mean.

Is Rebecca Bunch’s character the answer to my prayers for jewish women in media? Absolutely. Do we all need Paula Proctors in our life? You bet we do. Is this finally the bridge between musical theater, sitcoms, and dramatic TV? Without a doubt. Hell, it’s a show whose entire premise involves calling attention to the tropes and storytelling conventions we bemoan, and then digging in and flipping them on their heads. All of this I could easily write dissertation-length papers on, while feeling that none of it is adequately explaining what is so great here.

So it’s only now that Crazy Ex Girlfriend is tackling one of the most important issues in our society, and doing it with a remarkably skillful hand, that I’m forcing myself to write out my thoughts. Because honestly? It’s a shondeh if I don’t at least try to spread the love at this point.

As a warning, there will be spoilers for major plot beats through the most recent episode, 3×06 “Josh is Irrelevant.” Which sure, may be a weird way to convince people into watching something, but as I’ve articulated a few times…knowing what’s coming and what a show explores actually makes me more prone to dig into it. If you disagree, let me just leave you with this before you bow out: the “crazy” in the title of the show is exactly why I didn’t watch it for a couple of years. And boy was that a mistake, because it is so intentional, and exactly what’s being explored now in one of the most nuanced and validating ways possible.

Yup, showrunners Rachel Bloom and Aline Brosh McKenna are tackling mental health navigation and stigmatization. In the most recent episode, Rebecca Bunch receives a formal diagnosis (and even sings a song about getting one), and it’s made clear that all two and a half seasons were leading to this moment—not because of the diagnosis as an end in itself, but as a means to equip our character with the tools and understanding that empower her to push for a healthier state of mind. It is a show about a mentally ill woman lacking in traditional heroic qualities (dare I say antihero?). Yet instead of reveling in her moral greyness and watching her “oh my god” dissent, we are encouraged to actively empathize with her, and root for her to find balance. Because at its core, this show takes on a more positive view of humanity. We’re all just…trying to do okay with what we have, even if our weaknesses and anxieties can manifest in ways that hurt ourselves and those around us.

If that sounds interesting to you, watch the show. But for real now, explicit spoilers from here on out.

Rebecca Bunch was always meant to be a challenging character to the viewer. She makes an impulsive decision in the pilot episode to move to West Covina and pursue an old flame. Convinced this will make her instantly a happier person, she gleefully dumps her medicine down her garbage disposal (we’re unsure specifically what she took, though we do know anti-anxieties were in the mix) while whistling a merry tune. It’s clear this isn’t the healthiest thing you can do and she’s romanticizing the situation (and hilariously, the location as well).

This shot taken 2 seconds before the budget cuts claim the marching band’s instruments

At the same time, it’s also made clear that Rebecca truly was in an unhappy state in New York City, and her methods of coping through heavy medication and excessive work only fed into that. By midway through the first season, Rebecca tries to seek out a therapist to get new drugs, only to be told that she might actually need to explore her issues.

Rebecca: Those are the meds I was on in New York.

Dr. Akopian: Oh, my God. How did your body react to all this medication? You must not have been able to feel a thing.

Rebecca: Exactly. Numb as they come. So scribble scribble on your pizzle pad.

Dr. Akopian: Rebecca, your doctor in New York is a quack. He gave you a Band-Aid, not a cure. My method would be to do some digging and figure out what’s really going on inside your mind. And then we can discuss the appropriate medications.

Rebecca: So that’s great, but I need to be better by Monday.

The driving story continues to be about Rebecca’s quest for her fairy tale romance—a narrative that lives in her mind but not reality. Each romcom trope is broken down, from “unlikely suitor she actually falls for” (he turns out to be a fucking mess and leaves to be able to deal with his own issues in a healthy manner), to “the perfect prince who was always meant to be” (they both approach the relationship merely wanting to be in a relationship, without actually having a stable grasp on what they both need/want in life), to even the “screw men, we’ll just have a fun girl group and that’s enough” (Josh has a new girlfriend they need to stalk!).

However, it is always in the forefront that Rebecca is actively spinning the happenings in her life to fit whatever story she wants, all while resisting the core of what’s at her unhappiness.

Paula: Just let both of them go.

Rebecca: I don’t know who I am without them. I know that’s pathetic. I know it’s pathetic, but it’s true. Who am I supposed to be now?

Paula: Honey, be yourself.

Rebecca: What?! Who? No! Ew. Ugh! Who wants to be that?!

This becomes the most obvious when she enters into a relationship with Josh, but is not magically happier about everything. Rebecca very nearly has a breakthrough with Dr. Akopian to this point, only to be interrupted by Josh’s wedding proposal. Then from there, we get a tale as old as time: Rebecca stops feeling magical feelings about Josh, freaks out and kisses her boss in an elevator, freaks out from that and pushes their wedding date up to two weeks from that day, and then after not sleeping and going in full bridezilla mode, gets left at the altar because Josh begins to feel that he doesn’t truly know Rebecca. We also learn that Rebecca had previously wanted to marry another man in her past (Robert, a former professor of hers), but upon being broken up with by him, burned down his apartment and then was committed to a psychiatric institution for a time.

This is where Season 3 picks up, and in truth, I was very nervous about the Robert reveal. “Oh, so she really is ‘crazy’? That’s the point?” No. the point is that Rebecca is a troubled character who hasn’t received the help she’s needed. She has characteristics we all can relate to, from her self-deprecating thoughts to her struggle to feel ‘normal,’ even if we wouldn’t have necessarily made the same choices she did.

Season 3 shows her in crisis mode. Instead of confronting her insecurities, she lashes out at her friends, and even returns home to stay with her mother for a bit, despite their history with Naomi’s selfish and often inappropriate or harmful behavior. However, when her mom sneaks her anti-anxieties (out of fear of Rebecca wanting to commit suicide), Rebecca feels as though she has no one she can count on anymore, especially since she thinks she alienated everyone else. At the end of 3×05, Rebecca tries to commit suicide on a plane by taking a bottle full of anti-anxiety meds one a time, before telling the flight attendant that she needs help.

Other media has tried to depict suicide before, but it is so often done in a way that’s meant to shock, or even (distressingly) in a way that almost romanticizes the behavior. Hell, Life is Strange actually makes a student’s suicide a playable level, where if you’re just observant enough, you can stop it (for points!). Crazy Ex Girlfriend walked the impossible line of depicting the suicide attempt in a realistic manner—it was easy to track Rebecca’s feeling of hopelessness and isolation—without any sort of glamorization. She was in a rough, unhealthy state, and the audience was encouraged to root for that to change.

Better yet, Rachel Bloom and Aline Brosh McKenna made themselves available on Twitter immediately afterwards. That, in addition to a suicide helpline message which appeared on the screen following the episode, demonstrated that they were being as thoughtful as possible when approaching such a potentially triggering subject. It was difficult to watch, no question. But shying away from these topics doesn’t give equip us with the tools to handle them. We’ve praised Jessica Jones for starkly examining rape and rape apology; Crazy Ex Girlfriend is a show that should receive similar acclaim, particularly given how usual portrayals of suicide and mental health tend towards victim blaming.

Even that aspect was highlighted in the newest episode; Rebecca continually apologizes for the “hassle” she’s caused, and how bad she feels that everyone’s normal routine has been interrupted since like…her friends want to make sure she’s okay. It’s just so true-to-life. Too often our media has something *happen* to a character, and then it disappears an episode later. Rebecca’s deeply-felt self-loathing and general unworthiness isn’t gone just because her stomach was pumped, however. And that kind of consistency is important. Life doesn’t make narrative sense, so even though there’s a clear story that’s being told, it’s told in way that feels refreshingly familiar. Because it mirrors life.

Add to this the diagnosis. Rachel Bloom has talked openly about her own mental health numerous times. She also said this last week:

It’s clear this was written from a place of understanding, and with an attempt to be as validating and healing as possible. Rebecca sings a boisterous song about getting a diagnosis that will be her golden ticket to happiness (she’ll finally fit in somewhere), which amazingly captures the awareness of stigmatization alongside the often unreasonable weight people attached to their diagnoses. I just say this as a woman with OCD and general anxiety disorder, and I don’t want to speak for everyone ‘neurodivergent’, for lack of a better umbrella term. But in my opinion, the episode’s greatest strength was the way in which both of Rebecca’s doctors talked about her diagnosis. It’s not an identity, nor is it a fix; it’s a tool of understanding behavior, and one that can help guide treatment in a way that makes the most sense for her.

At the same time, Rebecca possesses the traits which define Borderline Personality Disorder. This was something I’ve said (mostly to Julia) for a long time, and something I’ve been scared for the show to tackle. I have intimate experience with this disorder, and without sugarcoating anything, some hurt as well. I have never seen proper depiction of it before this show, and I never in a million years thought it would actually be labeled, then fully described in a way that’s so accessible to an uninformed audience.

“A person with BPD is essentially a person that has difficulty regulating their emotions. Someone that lacks the protective emotional skin to feel comfortable in the world.”

It’s clear that Rebecca’s world is one that’s scary to be in. She never feels she fits, she has a terror of abandonment, and her impulsive actions that she does in order to control situations or feel accepted (be it breaking into Josh’s house to delete an embarrassing text, rushing to a wedding because she had a moment of doubt, or even sleeping with her ex’s dad because he was the only person being nice to her) have outcomes that usually result in more unhappiness. To be able to know that she’s not alone in this struggle is validating.

Also her friends work overtime to be there for her, even if in slightly flawed ways

Though of course, and again realistically, the show doesn’t make the BPD simple or straightforward. Rebecca immediately Googles BPD and hates what she reads: that treatment can be lifelong, that there’s no “cure”, and even that 10% of people with BPD do kill themselves. She pushes against this diagnosis, even telling Dr. Akopian that she was bullied by the other doctor into agreeing with him on it, until Akopian whips out the DSM and goes through the checklist to see if Rebecca matches the criteria. Every point applies, and the show brilliantly provides flashbacks as these are read off. Rebecca sinks into despair, calling herself “certifiably crazy,”

Like…yeah. This is it. This is what happens. I was watching, half wanting to cry because of how easy it is to feel for Rebecca in that moment, and half wanting to laugh because finally what I’ve seen and experienced (second-handedly)—what I’ve even questioned and doubted—is on my screen for the first time, ever. We talk a lot about why fiction and representation matters, yet it’s almost unthinkable that the diagnostic process has been rarely been shown on our screens. Certainly not in this much detail.

The episode does end on a hopeful note, with Rebecca saying that she doesn’t want to ever feel like she did on the plane again. She goes to a group therapy, and gets a book to read afterwards. It’s not the end, nor was it ever meant to be. But it’s the means of getting her to a healthy place, and in that process, we see a lot of our own realities, from the hilarious to the uncomfortable.

That’s the story that matters, and that’s the story that was always being told. We’re just finally at the place where the characters see it too.

Images courtesy of the CW

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A Bride’s Story is the Women’s Story You Were Waiting For





A Bride’s Story is a manga by Kaoru Mori (also responsible for Emma). Started in 2008, the series is still running and counts 9 volumes. It takes place in 19th century central Asia and follows several characters in their daily lives. The story is mainly focused on women of the region, but there is also the point of view Henry Smith, an English researcher. Anything else notable? Oh, I just remembered: it is really good.

Talking about a really good manga series could be enough on its own. But you know what’s even better? It is focused on women and their lives. Different women, with different lives, their work, their achievements, their pains. And it is written in a total love of all women. A good manga series, written by a woman about women? What else could we be asking for?

The Story of A Bride’s Story:

I am starting to not like this choice of title very much. But anyway, the manga opens on Amir and Karluk’s wedding. Amir is twenty whereas her husband is twelve (don’t worry there is no weird sexual content between the two). It is not the only thing that separates them. Karluk comes from a mainly sedentary village. Amir’s tribe still has a pretty nomadic way of life. Both spouses are pretty different so the first chapters of the manga follow their adaptation to each other (and to her in-laws in the case of Amir). The presence of Smith also allows the point of view of an outsider into the family.

The story then expands to other members of the family, friends, and neighbors, as well as people Smith will meet during his travels. Yet the story isn’t all over the place. We follow their lives and emotional development. And when Kaoru Mori focuses on one character she takes the time to tell their story. Even if she has to leave aside other characters for some time. But this is not a problem, as it is crystal clear she loves all her characters and will do them justice in time.

Good guy Kaoru Mori by herself.

A Bride’s Story is going to focus on every aspect of the characters’ lives. There is high drama(military attack of one family on another) but also daily life (learning how to sew, finding your vocation).

In short A Bride’s Story is a really good read. But it is not the only thing that draws you in the narrative.

Art so gorgeous it sucks you in the story:

Another strings to Kaoru Mori’s bow which help you being completely absorbed in her world is that…

…her art…



Which, considering the time we spend speaking about craftsmanship, is important. Having a visual representation worthy of the script is only doing it justice. If you don’t want to travel to central Asia to discover their handicraft after reading A Bride’s Story you are a liar, and that’s all there is to it. The characters and the details are insanely comprehensive. But we are also given amazing and dynamic action scenes.

This incredible art and interesting story combine to give us a narrative uplifting women at every turn.

An Hymn to women’s lives:

A Bride’s Story focuses, as its name clearly spells out, on brides. Sometimes young brides, sometimes bride-to-be, sometimes widows, but always women facing married life. And no it is not reductive. During the 19th century, marriage was (and still is in some cultures) one of the main events of a woman’s life. It was a literal change of family, of environment, and the real beginning of her adult life. So focusing around this event is not reductive. Quite the contrary. It reminds us that, as long as she is a good person, every woman’s life is worth telling.

Kaoru Mori spends a lot of time on women’s daily activity. Sewing of course (if the manga doesn’t give you a mighty need to start sewing you are a liar), but also cooking, taking care of the herd etc. Everything is worth the author’s attention, and ours. Do you know why? Because it is important work done with care. And this ask for our interest and respect.

Another thing which is incredibly well done in A Bride’s Story is the relationship between this women. They are supportive of each other. There is a mother-in-law ready to sacrifice herself to save her daughter-in-law. When Amir learns that she should go back to her family to marry another man because all the brides they have sent are dead (killed by their husband) she is not only crying because she is terrified. She is crying because she knew both of this girls and is devastated by their death. And the person reassuring her and saying that she is « not going anywhere » is her husband’s grandmother.

There are as many positive women relationship in there as there is stars in the sky. And not always just filial relationship. But also mentorship, friendship and emh…

I am sorry but there is no heterosexual explanation to this and yes Kaoru Mori acknowledges it in the author’s notes.

And the icing on the cake is that every single one of these women is different from the others.

No wrong way of being a woman:

Truly it is refreshing to read about women helping each other. It is even better when they are allowed to be different. Because let’s be real, often in fiction women are created to oppose each other. The “good” kind of woman opposing the “wrong” kind of women. Just look at The White Queen and The White Princess, in which motherhood is glorified and “good” women are rewarded with it whereas “bad” women, women having a “man’s” ambition, became sterile and loveless.

Well, in A Bride’s Story we have traditionally feminine women who are soft gentle and love sewing. We have unconventional women who like to hunt and ride but are still good at feminine tasks (but let’s be real Amir is an amazement in universe too) and others which are not. We also have what other media often depicts as “failing” women, but are just unsure of who they are.

Let’s be real we all want to be Amir but we are Pariya who, conveniently, wants to be Amir.

In short, Kaoru Mori is standing on her mountain screaming “They are all my daughters and I love them all!”. And trust me ,it feels good to be, as a reader, welcomed into this story.


To the surprise of no one, I heartily recommend reading A Bride’s Story. As a first manga, if it is your first, it might be putting the bar a bit high for future dives into the medium. But there are worse problems to have. Just to add to all I’ve said above, we also have good and interesting siblings relationships (my passion), making this manga almost without fault. It is worth a try. It really is.

All images courtesy of Yen Press.

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Wolfenstein: The New Colossus Excels Because It Knows Its History





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Wolfenstein: The New Colossus is a phenomenal game. It has an inordinate amount to say about racism, anti semitism, the cycle of abuse, ableism, eugenics, homophobia, fat shaming, PTSD, war, violence, and just about everything else under the sun. And developer MachineGames does all of that with this wonderfully strange combination of hyper-meticulous tact, high production values, and auteur confidence. Of course, none of that would have been possible if the setting surrounding the narrative didn’t work, and holy shit does it ever.

The newest iterations of the Wolfenstein franchise take place in an alternate 1960—leading into ‘61 for the second game—where the Nazis won the war. 2014’s Wolfenstein: The New Order was a game framed around the “how” of the world. How did the Nazis win? How do they keep their conquered states in check? How have things changed in this reality? How do we stop them from gaining more power? How do we fight back against a near global, yet also interplanetary, regime?

Throughout the game, you come across newspaper clippings and records (The Beatles sort of still exist) that fill the gaps between 1946 and 1960. The result is a fully realized world that isn’t just a horrifying coat of paint over reality; it’s how things would have happened…with a few super-science-y liberties thrown in because why wouldn’t the Nazis a moon base or fire breathing robot dogs? And, of course, the greatest twist of all: the Nazis’ inexplicable sci-fi advancement, the whole reason they won the war, was built on the backs of stolen technology from a secret society of Jewish science wizards. There’s even a sequence where the protagonist, William Joseph “B.J.” Blazkowicz, breaks into a high security compound and finds ancient schematics written in Hebrew, which he knows how to read.

We also knew, in broad strokes, what had happened to the other parts of the world. America had surrendered completely after Manhattan was obliterated by an atomic bomb, mirroring the destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The Nazis had yet to conquer the vast majority of Africa, as organized resistance was proving far more effective than they were willing to recognize. London was kept in line by a skyscraper-sized robot called the London Monitor, which you get to blow up.

Wolfenstein: The New Order took place almost entirely in western Europe (with a brief sojourn to the moon, of course) and exploring how the one region of the world that was, at one time, actually conquered by the Nazis, ended up being just familiar enough to what it was back then to what it became in their alternate history. It’s this foundation, this deep uprooting and deconstruction of history, that allows its sequel, The New Colossus, to head straight into the United States. We were shown what was comfortably familiar to us, so it was time to show what was uncomfortably familiar.

An America subjugated and ruled by the Nazis.

Enemy Of The State Of Affairs

Wolfenstein: The New Colossus is a game about “why”. Why do we fight against oppression when society around us punishes those who do? Why do we push back against systemic hatred, even when it has no bearing on us? Why does a man like William Joseph “B.J.” Blazkowicz, the perfect aesthetic poster boy for Aryan supremacy, reject those who would treat him like a king?

Why has America submitted to Nazi rule? The short answer is: giant airship. The long answer? Well, that one’s not so complicated.

Relatively early in the game, you meet up with a New York City resistance cell lead by a black woman named Grace, a survivor of the Manhattan bombing. In fact, all but one of her members are black with the exception of her partner Super Spesh. Their character designs explicitly invoke imagery of the Black Panthers and the overall Black Power movement.

The first game had you run around helping the Kreisau Circle, the Berlin-based Nazi resistance group that eventually cut the head off the Nazi war machine and stopping them from developing new weapons. This cell was lead by Caroline Decker, a paraplegic veteran. But, in the opening of this game, Caroline is executed by the main antagonist, Frau Engel, leaving a gaping hole in leadership that Grace fits perfectly. Who better to represent a 1960s violent uprising of the oppressed than a black woman in America?

She even goes so far as to move into Caroline’s old cabin in their captured Super U-Boat. From the start of the narrative, Wolfenstein is showing us that America is very different from a conquered Europe. For one, the English language is being banned, hearkening back to that old adage of “If the Nazis won, we’d all be speaking German”.

The largest among the differences though is that, just as Grace says above, America never stopped fighting the Nazis. The military did, yes, and the vast majority of the white population, including a South-governed KKK, but the fact that there is a dedicated anti-gravity airship, the Ausmerzer, whose sole role is to travel the country and crush resistance factions for the past decade tells us in no uncertain terms that the hold the Nazis have over America isn’t as ironclad as they believe it to be.

Even if they are able to put on one hell of a show.

We find newspaper clippings within the game describing resistance cells crushed by the Ausmerzer, and there’s even a moment during a trip to Roswell where you’re recognized (you’re the Reich’s most wanted, after all) by a local resident who, in a terrified act of defiance, whispers that he believes in what you’re doing when just seconds prior he was selling newspaper propaganda with glee.

The cap to this, however, is the final scene of the final mission of the game where you ambush Frau Engel’s live appearance on a talk show. You sneak through the bleachers and into the rafters, noting that every single person in the audience is a cardboard cutout. The show may be being broadcasted to every living room in the world, but it stands to reason that if people aren’t going to the live show…they’re not buying into the lies.

America is being crushed under the heel of the Nazis, yes, but it has yet to be crushed. Good people are still out there in the world, but they’ve forgotten how to resist. Those who were already filled with hate jumped on board, the minority, while everyone else is either putting their head in the sand or just trying to survive.

On the other side of the table, though, is how white America perceives the Nazis. I’ve already mentioned that the KKK controls the south, but it goes a whole lot deeper than that. Slavery has been legalized once more, and auctions are the talk of the town. We find out that, in true Nazi form, they rounded up the country’s degenerates—Jews, queer folk and people of color—and either purged them or sent them off to die in New Orleans…which is now a massive ghetto, Escape from New York style.

And if you “named names”, you were rewarded with what those same people left behind. Land rights, mansions, savings; everything they owned was either seized by the state or given as a gift to those who betrayed their friends and neighbors. This is not something we discover on a broad scale; it’s personal to B.J.

He visits his childhood home after nuking Area 52 (it wasn’t aliens, just ancient Jewish Techno Wizard secrets) and finds his abusive father, Rip, waiting for him, having heard he was in the area and assumed he’d come around. Rip, as we learned from flashbacks, was physically and emotionally abusive to both his son and his wife Zofia, a Jewish Polish immigrant. That, and he was a hardcore White Supremacist, having only married Zofia because he believed her father would be a business asset. He bemoans that no one knows what it is like to suffer as he does, thinking that everyone is trying to steal everything from the White Man.

In short, he represents everything that B.J. has spent his entire adult life fighting against.

When asked what happened to his mother, Rip admits that he sold her out to the Nazis and they took her away. The confrontation ends with B.J. killing his father after he presses a shotgun to his son’s forehead, but through their entire conversation he’d been on the phone with the Nazis. He’d sold out his son, too.

That’s the state of the world in Wolfenstein, and in The New Colossus you blow it the fuck up.

Terror-Billy Goes America All Over Everybody’s Ass

While the game’s marketing may have been pointing towards a parallel with the American Revolution as for how the country ousts the Nazis, I posit that the historical context is far more evocative of our 1960s.

Grace’s existence and design are already evidence of this, but it’s the rest of the resistance that makes this all the more clear. The second big group you recruit, aptly enough from the New Orleans ghetto itself, is lead by a man named Horton. He organizes a group of communists, socialists and anarchists who you’d think wouldn’t fit in with Grace and her people. These are the people that dodged the draft, even if they did push the concept of equal rights earlier than most. Horton even flat out cites their attempted push for a civil rights movement in an argument with B.J.

Of course, there’s a key difference between refusing to fight on foreign soil in a war that benefits the military industrial complex and what’s happening to them now. Horton’s group draws upon sentiment from both the end of the Great War and the counterculture movements of the 1960s.

Again, many of them were draft dodging pacifists, but that goes right out the window when it comes to Nazis. It’s one thing to refuse to fight a foreign enemy on foreign lands when victory would have only spread what you’re rebelling against. It’s quite another to sit by and accept fascism in the very country that allowed, though not always encouraged, you to believe what you saw in your heart as just.

It’s at the end of the game, however, in the ending cinematic, that this entire idea solidifies. That this historical context isn’t an accident, and the frankly unbelievable amount of homework MachineGames must have done paid off in spades. Mere moments after B.J. kills Frau Engel on live television, Grace and Horton speak directly into the cameras and ignite a violent revolution. The Kreisau Circle may be organized like a guerilla military operation, but the American people aren’t. They don’t need to be.

It’s an angry, raw, improvised and imperfect call to arms, but that’s what makes it perfect. Violent uprisings don’t start with eloquence or deep debating over the justification to fight against those who oppress you. They start with whatever you’ve got on hand. The Civil Rights movement, the Stonewall Riots and the general counterculture protests that dominated the 60s are clear influences on Wolfenstein’s depiction of “retaking America”. Seriously, if it didn’t sink in already, they blast a heavy metal cover of Twisted Sister’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It” over the end credits coupled with imagery of violent rioting and uprisings across the nation.

Wolfenstein does not attempt to hold a mirror to our world today, even if it does so inadvertently. It tries to make us look back, so that we remember how to keep moving forward. It’s message is clear because it knows what it’s talking about, no matter how over-the-top the presentation:

Equality is not a debate; it’s a right. Those without it won’t stop until they have it, because for them it’s literally “Fight, or Die”.  So the best thing you can do, if you’ve already got it, is to pick them up with you. And if you don’t? If you keep trying to push others down? It’s gonna get bloody, just like it always does, and chances are it won’t be them who’s dying.

Images courtesy of MachineGames

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