#2195

Living in the Fright Zone – She-Ra (2018) and Monstrous Motherhood

[This post contains general spoilers for She-ra (2018) season 1.]

I already wrote about how Steven Universe has been rocking my emotional world recently in regards to its portrayal of abusive parents, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t also explore the new She-ra reboot’s exploration of this theme as well because damn does it have a lot of real world parallels. Though She-ra only has one short season of character and world building so far, it still managed to pack a ton of complex themes into those thirteen episodes. One of my favorites that the show explores is how relationships between parents and their children can vary. We see an example of a very healthy relationship with Queen Angella and her daughter Glimmer, which is awesome because we can always use more positive parental representation, but we also glimpse the darker possibilities of such relationships with Shadow Weaver and her wards Adora and Catra. There’s too much to unpack in the Shadow Weaver/Adora/Catra dynamic (like the fact that Shadow Weaver probably kidnapped Adora as a baby to brainwash her) without writing a whole thesis, so what I want to focus on is how Shadow Weaver uses scapegoating to create a hierarchy within their triad.

 

It’s clear from the very first interaction we see between Shadow Weaver, Adora, and Catra that Shadow Weaver favors Adora over Catra to an extreme degree. Adora is obviously the golden child on whom Shadow Weaver rests all of her expectations and lavishes all of her praise. Catra, on the other hand, has forever borne the brunt of Shadow Weaver’s cruelty and anger. It’s the quintessential “good child, bad child” scenario so many abusers utilize to turn their children against each other or otherwise make the playing field that much more uneven. Siblings raised in this dynamic may not even realize the role they play in it and subconsciously alternate between rebelling against and reinforcing the status quo.

Adora, the “good child”, can do nothing wrong. Every success is a sign of her superiority over the other cadets and a confirmation of Shadow Weaver’s “excellent” mentorship. Any failure, on the other hand, is blamed solely on Catra’s bad influence. Even when Adora takes equal part in some childish game or bad idea, it’s Catra who is yelled at, even threatened, and Adora who is merely lovingly admonished. Catra is even threatened with punishment for Adora’s defection, despite having nothing to do with it at all. Though Adora seems somewhat aware of this dynamic, she can’t quite break free of it enough to truly defend Catra. After all, Shadow Weaver has shaped Adora since she was a baby to be the perfect Horde soldier and Adora, like most children, has internalized those teachings. She wants to be Force Captain more than anything and it’s very likely she has avoided making waves to protect that dream. She knows Shadow Weaver is hard on Catra, yet this has been the norm all her life; whether she realizes it or not, Adora clearly benefits from the situation and doesn’t want things to change too much. That’s entirely understandable, though, considering how often she’s witnessed Shadow Weaver’s bad side aimed at everyone else. Because that’s what abuse does – it forces you to prioritize your own safety at the expense of those you love.

Catra, the “bad child”, can do nothing right. From the very first scene in episode one we’re shown that Catra, while equally talented as Adora, sabotages herself by disrespecting her superiors, being late to training, and in general acting like a rebellious teenager. She’s acting out like any teen who chafes at unfair rules, but Shadow Weaver is no normal parent who might ground their child or take away their phone. Shadow Weaver’s punishments are severe and never fit the crime; she seeks always to humiliate, frighten, and beat Catra down into an obedience akin to a cowering pet. Catra’s stubborn streak is too strong for Shadow Weaver to break, however, and this forces Catra to become a self-fulfilling prophecy – Shadow Weaver’s cruelty causes her to retaliate, which only confirms Shadow Weaver’s biases and encourages her to continue tormenting Catra. Catra sometimes seems to perversely enjoy provoking Shadow Weaver, but this fits with her status as lowest in their hierarchy. Shadow Weaver hates her no matter what, so why try to change things? If she acts like nothing Shadow Weaver does can truly hurt her, then she wins. Unlike Adora, Catra is painfully aware of the reality of the situation, as evidenced by their conversation when they first meet again after Adora’s disappearance:

Catra: Let’s get back to the Fright Zone. Shadow Weaver is freaking out. [laughing] It’d be funny if she weren’t such a terrible person.

Adora: Catra, no. I can’t go back. Not until the Horde leaves this town alone. Help me.

Catra: What are you saying?

Adora: This is wrong. They’ve been lying to us, manipulating us. Hordak, Shadow Weaver, all of them.

Catra: Duh! You just figured that out? Manipulation is Shadow Weaver’s whole thing. She’s been messing with our heads since we were kids.

What’s so insidious about Shadow Weaver’s particular form of manipulation is that it drives a wedge between Adora and Catra that is more subconscious than conscious. This lifelong competition is the reason Catra seems to turn on Adora so quickly when Adora defects to the rebellion. This takes Adora completely by surprise – aren’t we friends? don’t we always support each other? – but makes perfect sense to Catra. All these years she’s grown in Adora’s shadow, stunted by the lack of light and envying Adora for her place in the sun. Adora has never been able to truly protect Catra from Shadow Weaver’s abuse, but with her gone there’s really nothing standing between Catra and those who want to hurt her. It’s easy to see how this betrayal would wound Catra, even though we as the audience know that Adora still cares deeply for her and desperately hopes to cross this sudden gulf between them.

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The good news is that Catra will most certainly receive a redemption arc in the upcoming seasons; the show makes it too clear that her villainous trajectory is the result of a lifetime of abuse to leave her a villain forever. Still, that possibility doesn’t make it any easier to watch her continuously fall prey to her own abandonment issues and lash out at innocent people in retaliation. Catra isn’t a bad person, necessarily; she’s just stuck in a cycle of abuse and now that she finds herself perpetuating it, her pride and hurt feelings won’t let her break away. She has years of brainwashing to sort through before she finds the right path. It’ll be a long and painful journey, of course, but one that I think is incredibly valuable representation for people who have been in similar situations.

Likewise, I hope in future seasons we also get to see Adora explore her own time in the Horde and especially how her experiences shaped her relationship with Catra. Will she come to understand the part she played, albeit unwillingly, in that damaging environment? Will she find a way to work through those emotions beyond throwing herself into her savior role as She-ra? Adora has already broken out of the good child mold by defecting, but it will be important for her character growth that she not replace her need to constantly appease Shadow Weaver with Queen Angella instead. Adora needs time to be a child, to make mistakes, and to figure out who she is beneath the fear-driven compulsion to be whoever others want her to be.

I’m so excited for season two and can’t wait to see how Adora and Catra’s relationship progresses. I imagine we’re in store for a lot more angst before they work things out, but I’m positive we’ll be rewarded in the long run. Either way, I’m grateful to the She-ra creators for skillfully portraying such a dark storyline that will speak to so many of their viewers – both children and adults.

#2018

Characters, Alter Egos, Or Unknowable Nameless Gods?

When someone asks me what I write about, I usually say something like, I have a couple characters I write about and then nothing more. At least, that’s how I answer if I want to sound like a not-crazy person. But if I want to be truthful, I have to say something more like:

I thought I had three characters I wrote about, but it turns out two of them are probably incredibly ancient gods (or ghosts? or angels? or something even older than the very concept of either?) and the other one is an alter ego who has somehow taken on way more agency than I thought possible and may sometimes be used as a mask by dark somethings I am too afraid to face.

Let’s take a closer look at that second one. See, when I was a wee eighth grader I simultaneously discovered Lord of the Rings and DeviantArt. Being obsessed with elves, I made my DA screenname “Darkelvenmage” and quickly developed the moniker into a character who was everything I wanted to be. The Darkelvenmage was tall and willowy, pale as snow with long hair as dark as ravens’ wings, eyes as green as emeralds, and sharp features that highlighted her royalty and mystery. She wore all black and rarely spoke, but heaven help you if you pissed her off; she was heir to ancient magic, a skilled warrior, and had nothing to lose. She had been stripped of her home and her name (hence the brilliant title “dark elven mage”) and therefore wandered the world alone, neither a force of good nor evil. For my chubby, geeky thirteen year old self, Mage became a mask I could put on when I needed to feel like a badass, an alter ego who was always calm and logical, who never let her emotions get the better of her or made a fool of herself. I carried her with me through high school like a sword held between myself and all the bad things I encountered, standing just a little taller and smiling just a little more coldly. She made me feel fierce and untouchable.

In college I had a falling out with a group of online friends I’d made in high school, friends who knew me best through Mage and the story I’d given her to fit into their fantasy world. Feeling hurt and vengeful, I decided to rebel and Mage became the ally turned enemy intent on destroying the world the “good guys” had built. I loved the shock it caused, the drama, and the sudden understanding that nothing bound me to act in a particular way. Why not be the villain? Wasn’t that more fun anyway? Certainly playing Mage as the Big Bad brought me a selfish kind of joy, a way to enact a little revenge for my slighted self. Eventually, of course, some of those friends and I parted ways for good, and others of us reconciled and grew closer. But Mage stayed the villain, one with flair, dark humor, and just a dash of madness. This version of her is different from the silent, haughty one of my high school years, yet they are both true to her form. She is still my alter ego, my champion, the mask I wear on days when I wake up feeling too small and scared.

Sometimes, though, it’s like I look at Mage in my mind’s eye and… it’s not her. Something else watches out her eyes. Something that is not me, nor anything I placed there. Sometimes she feels like I’m not the one in control, like she’s not an alter anything anymore. I feel Lovecraftian presences squirming beneath her skin and taste sour names like Charybdis, Morrigan, Kali at the back of my mouth. I wonder sometimes if I have crafted Mage too well, if I am not the only one who can wear her mask. She is still a character in the strictest sense – I write her story, she does not tell me what to write (as Tanim and Daren do) – but there are times when I meet her eyes and it’s not the better, cooler version of myself staring back. I don’t know what it is, but it feels timeless and very powerful.

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This sketch of Mage is by my bestest frienemy – check out her patreon for more!

#1673

They say dreams of pursuit are all about stress. You’re running from subconscious fears or worries or duties, things you can’t accept, things you won’t face, things you don’t even know are plaguing you. Here they are in hyperreal dream form as zombies, wolves, velociraptors; serial killers, vengeful ghosts, a shadowy pursuer you never quite glimpse. It’s your mind trying to tell you something about facing your fears, making your stand, something like that.

But what about when you enjoy the pursuit? What is your mind trying to tell you when you feel exhilaration as you jump across roofs, crash through doors, climb the sides of buildings, run so swift the wind of your passing snatches the laughter from your lips? What does it mean when you tear through the fabric of the dream universe, drop through the floor, the ground, the core of the earth and jump out in another world? Or when you lead a merry chase through the skies, across the seas, past the atmosphere and into the vacuum of space?

What does it mean when you dream of pursuit because you’re the monster, the traitor, the gleeful villain? I’m not afraid when I’m running. I’m in control. I’m in the lead. I’m a fox skipping before clumsy hounds. What are you telling me, subconscious?