As I prepared for the sermon I preached at my church several weeks ago, this notion of loving the enemy stayed fresh in my mind and I joked with the youth group that I’d preach about Steven Universe (some of the kids are fans). Both this series and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic have told us redemptive stories of seemingly unlovable characters which, in my view, express the gospel’s call to radical hospitality.
A million years ago, when I was still in college, I wrote a blog post analyzing Princess Celestia and Princess Luna’s relationship in season 1’s pilot episodes, and how the reconciliation between the two sisters aligns to the classical Christian narrative of redemption and salvation. In this case “redemption and salvation” mean that Luna is healed of Nightmare Moon and is welcomed back into community with Celestia and Equestria at large (although she barely gets any character development after this).
Since season 1, there have been several other character arcs where an evil or unlovable character has not merely been defeated, but welcomed into the friendship of the Mane Six. Discord, Sunset Shimmer, Starlight Glimmer, (The Great and Powerful) Trixie–all of these former antagonists, to some degree or another, get a chance at reformation and are permanently changed after experiencing friendship when no one else would give it. Some characters, like Sunset and Starlight, undergo a more dramatic change than others, but the end result is still that there is room at the table, whether that’s the literal table of Twlight’s court or the figurative table of community.
But being in a community isn’t as simple as accepting the invitation and living happily ever after. Learning how to be a friend is a continuous process, and even the Princess of Friendship herself still has a thing or two to learn, given her severe distrust of Starlight and Trixie’s friendship. Discord struggles with unhealthy, possessive behavior over Fluttershy. Sunset, both in Equestria Girls and the main series, has to overcome her guilt and the stigma of her past. All of these problems surface because being accepted into a community itself is not perfection. It’s an agreement to grow with others, and from what we’ve seen so far in six seasons of My Little Pony, there is nothing that anyone can do among the Mane Six that would permanently oust them from friendship.
This notion of integrating the “unlovable” into a community goes hand in hand with loving the enemy, although in My Little Pony and Steven Universe, it takes a more literal meaning. As I said in my sermon, loving the enemy doesn’t mean that what the enemy does or did is okay. Even though Discord and Starlight Glimmer experience the friendship of the Mane Six, neither that friendship nor their turning points in which they realize the error of their ways sanctifies their past or future actions. Discord gets a stern talking-to when his jealousy of Tree Hugger at the Grand Galloping Gala makes him violent and possessive. Starlight Glimmer continues to make mistakes and sometimes slip back into her old ways as she learns more about friendship. Even though these characters still make mistakes, and their pasts are not entirely brushed to the side, they are still much better off having experienced friendship from those who were once their enemies. If radical friendship had not been extended to them, where would they be? Discord would still be a threat to Equestria and Starlight Glimmer would still be out messing with ancient spells that alter reality. And both characters would still be incredibly lonely.
Steven Universe is perhaps even more intentional with this recurring narrative of love and redemption for enemies. Whereas Twilight Sparkle and the Mane Six seem to attempt friendship as a last resort, Steven reaches a point of embracing and understanding those he conflicts with much sooner. Peridot and Blue Diamond are two notable examples. It takes a while with Peridot, but once Steven decides to open himself up to Peridot and extend his friendship, both the Crystal Gems and the audience begin to change their perception of Peridot. This Homeworld gem who was once the primary enemy is now invited into the family, and the result is that Peridot switches her loyalties to protect Earth rather than destroy it. Equally important is that she now has a community in which she can grow and develop gifts that she didn’t know she had (e.g. the gem equivalent of metal bending). This is because she’s welcomed into a group that lets her break out of the mold she was created for. Is the transition easy? Absolutely not. I’ve written previously about the initial tensions among Peridot and Garnet as Peridot’s Homeworld ideas are challenged at every turn. Currently, Peridot is still figuring out her place within this new dynamic.
Blue Diamond, I’m predicting, will be another such redemption tale, although the consequences will be much more dramatic given that she’s a matriarch and holds formidable power. She is one of the pillars of Homeworld’s society and hierarchical structure, so any change she undergoes that affects the way she rules will undermine what seemed so fix and may very well cause a war.
Yet we’ve also seen in recent episodes that Steven’s tendency to accept former enemies backfires. In “Room for Ruby,” Navey (Navy?) takes advantage of Steven’s kindness, exposing it as naivety to reclaim her ship. Such is the risk of radically and unquestioningly inviting enemies into the community. Situations like these may make us want to keep others at a distance. It’s a constant tension between hospitality and self protection.
Steven also seems to be learning that inviting people (or gems) into the Crystal Gen family does not necessarily mean they’ll genuinely change. Ronaldo doesn’t change. Navey/Navy doesn’t change. Who’s to say that the next gem Steven reaches out to will change or accept the invitation to join his community? Will he become more guarded or still unashamedly attempt to create a welcoming space all around him?
All of these are challenges, dreams, and realities the Church faces and will continue to face. But no matter the outcome, the call is still the same, though that doesn’t make it easy.
This is an article I wrote that was originally published on The Ontological Geek.
Steven Universe follows Steven and his caretakers Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl as they chill in Beach City, saving the world from monsters and aliens who want to destroy Earth. Steven’s guardians are “gems,” an all-female alien race from a planet called Homeworld, who not only wield their own magical weapons, but can also combine themselves through a process called fusion. Each new presentation of fusion in Steven Universe reveals yet another layer of this complex, intimate phenomenon that not even the gems who experience it seem to fully understand. Whatever language audiences or characters in the show use to explain fusion, a complete definition never quite materializes. We become much like Meno–giving examples of fusion (calling it love, intimacy, or power), but not fully grasping what fusion is in its entirety. Fusion can be consensual or forced, stable or unstable, beautiful or terrifying. Some fusions, like Stevonnie (a fusion between Steven and his friend Connie) and Garnet, break the perceived barriers of fusion. The former shows that fusion with organic material (humans) is possible and the latter introduced the notion of fusion between two different kinds of gems. Once it seems like fusion is completely understood, some new form of it appears as a reminder that it exists just beyond the bounds of logic.
On the surface, it’s easy to explain what happens when gems fuse. They dance to get in sync with each other and that energy lets them combine to form a new gem. Garnet and Pearl create Sardonyx. Pearl and Amethyst create Opal. Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl create Alexandrite (which they can’t keep stable for very long). There are five different fusion possibilities just within the main characters.
Fusions are more powerful than the individual gems themselves. This makes fusing ideal for battles or accomplishing great feats of strength. In this sense, fusing is practical and tactical. It’s done to achieve specific goals and nothing more. At least, that’s what some gems believe fusion should be.
The Homeworld gems — referring to the antagonists hailing from the planet where gems come from — have strict, well-defined classes among them and equally rigid ideas about fusion.
It can only occur between two or more of the same gem (e.g., Rubies can only fuse with other Rubies).
It should be done for the sake of excelling in battle.
These rules are so fundamental to Homeworld’s social structure that any deviance from them is considered offensive or even disgusting. In fact, until Ruby and Sapphire accidentally fused, most gems didn’t consider fusion between two different kinds of gems to be possible. This, among many other reasons, caused Ruby and Sapphire to defect from Homeworld. In the present, however, any judgement that Garnet experiences isn’t from the fact that she is two different gems that fused, but that she stays fused all the time. That first rule, however permanent it seemed in the past, has become obsolete. It’s the same with that memetic fourth rule. Jasper spouts it off as a solid fact and then coerces Lapis Lazuli into fusing just a few minutes later. Homeworld gems thought they knew everything there was to know about fusion, but it remains partially in this unknowable realm and that mystery about it occasionally breaks these notions that seem so strong.
Ruby and Sapphire’s decision to stay permanently fused is a metaphor for a committed and intimate relationship. They’re queer in both the literal and academic sense (the latter of which I have mixed feelings about given the tendency of some to claim any sort of minor “differentness” as “queering”). Gems are a female alien race, so there probably isn’t any concept of heterosexuality or homosexuality, but from a reader-response perspective, Ruby and Sapphire are one of many examples in Steven Universe of transgressing boundaries we find in the real world. Fusion overtly speaks to the audience as examples of healthy relationships (Garnet) and abusive ones (coerced fusions such as Jasper and Lapis Lazuli), allowing the series as a whole to safely explore multi-faceted, difficult, and taboo topics.
Analyzing Ruby and Sapphire just within their own universe, we see their relationship breaks a seemingly immutable law of fusion; however, they further disturb the status quo by remaining fused even when they’re not doing anything of perceived value. Peridot, who begins as an enemy and becomes an ally, makes this objection, as Garnet’s existence challenges her Homeworld-based understanding of fusion:
Garnet’s deliberate refusal to fit herself back into comfortable notions of fusion is a stark reminder that fusion stretches beyond any imposed limitations or understandings of what it’s supposed to be. For Peridot specifically, fusion is uncharted territory, and beneath her disgust for Garnet is a fear of the incomprehensible. What really happens when two gems fuse? Are Ruby and Sapphire still conscious, still present as Garnet, or do they cease to exist in some way? Will Peridot still be Peridot if she fuses with another gem?
Even Garnet, for as long as she’s been permanently fused, can only describe her state using figurative language that would make sense to Peridot or Steven or whoever she’s explaining herself to. Peridot only begins to understand Garnet when Garnet says that she’s “like Percy and Pierre,” Peridot’s #1 ship from a TV show she watches obsessively. But to get a little Socratic for a moment, Garnet is still only saying what she — what fusion — is like, not what it actually is. No metaphor can perfectly or completely capture the nature of fusion relationships.
Similarly, metaphors cannot perfectly or completely capture mysteries of faith. So far, Steven Universe has not been particularly religious or spiritual. Perhaps the closest it comes to this is in Rose’s “death” and transformation into Steven. Fusion is not quite representative of any Western understandings of the Trinity. Fusion itself, or the mixing of two natures, actually goes against typical interpretations of the hypostatic union (the understanding of Christ’s nature as both fully God and fully human). However, what fusion and the Trinity do have in common is that they’re both mysterious unities.
Many Christian denominations believe in one God in three persons who are typically labeled “Father,” “Son,” and “Holy Spirit.” Of course, they can just as easily be labeled “Creator,” “Christ,” and “Spirit” or any similar titles because the goal is to express a relationship. The Bible itself doesn’t actually spell out any doctrine of the Trinity, but rather this doctrine was formulated through the work of early theologians in the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th centuries. Lesser known Christian denominations are nontrinitarian and this along with other doctrinal differences causes some to say that they aren’t really Christians. I’m not interested in delving into those arguments, but I will say that grasping the Trinity and articulating it well without describing a heresy (if you’re an orthodox Christian) is exceedingly difficult.
“Heresy” is a strong word with negative connotations of witch hunting and paranoia, but the term at its root basically refers to beliefs about the nature of Jesus, God, and Christian practice that have been rejected as falsehoods. For example, around 318 A.D., two dudes named Alexander and Arius had a huge disagreement about the role of Christ in relation to God. They both believed that God is perfect and therefore cannot change. Arius’s issue was that in order to truly say that God can’t change, then you can’t also say that Christ is divine the same way God is divine because incarnating and experiencing human life through Christ would change God’s nature. Since Arius held that God cannot change, he concluded that Christ isn’t fully divine, but instead is an exalted human. This means that Christ isn’t equal with God and is in fact subordinate to God.
Alexander disagreed with Arius and maintained that God and Christ were equal and of the same substance, even though this idea is hard to wrap our heads around and neatly fit within our human logic. This argument ultimately led to the Council of Nicea where all the church leaders gathered to figure out what they believed. Alexander’s view gained the most support. He ensured that the Nicene Creed –– which became the basis of Christian doctrine –– included language that disproved Arius’s views and stated that such views were heretical. In other words, Arianism was rejected as incorrect. The church leaders held that God and Christ don’t exist as a hierarchy and are made of the same “stuff,” so to speak, even though this declaration raises more questions than it answers. “The bishops gathered at Nicea recognized that they were willing to affirm mystery rather than allow heresy” (Olson & English, Pocket History of Theology, 32).
That’s exactly what the Trinity is: a mystery. Any explanation of it will fall short of fully capturing God as one-in-three-persons, just as any explanation of fusion will fall short of capturing everything it can mean and be.
To keep things simple, I’m going to present two broad interpretations of the Trinity: one from the Latin Orthodox Church (which became Catholicism, Protestantism, and most of the other forms of Christianity seen in the West) and one from the Eastern Orthodox Church. I’m drawing from a book called Christian Doctrine by Shirley Guthrie.
When Western Christianity talks about the Trinity, what we mean in spirit is a relationship of equals in which the standard descriptors — Father, Son, and Holy Spirit — are metaphorical rather than strict indicators of gender and authority. So we intend, in our heart of hearts, to depict the Trinity like so:
What’s important here is that the persons of the Trinity are labeled on the lines of the triangle rather than the points. This depicts an equality between them where neither one appears to be above the other two. This is the reality of how many Christians experience the Trinity, but when we attempt to explain it, we end up presenting something like this:
Guthrie states, “When we Western monotheists say ‘God,’ we do not in practice think of three equal persons; we tend to think of one ‘top’ God, the Father, and two subordinate and somehow lesser divine beings, the Son and the Spirit.” In other words, we’re used to thinking about God as a hierarchy — like a boss of a huge corporation overseeing and directing two employees. Father, Son, and Spirit become strict identities (that are often gendered) with specific tasks. For example, we may say that the Father creates, the Son redeems, and the Spirit guides as if they are all completely separate from each other. However, all the persons of the Trinity are on the same level, acting as one expressed as three.
Depicting this with a triangle, as Western Christians tend to do, can make it difficult to see that egalitarian unity, and certainly some traditions may posit an all powerful male Father, a graceful and subordinate Son, and a guiding Holy Spirit (who perhaps is female).
Eastern Orthodoxy gives us another way to look at the Trinity with a term that immediately made me picture fusion when I learned it: perichoresis. Guthrie writes, “Peri (as in perimeter) means ‘around.’ Choresis means literally ‘dancing’ (as in choreography of a ballet). Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are like three dancers holding hands, dancing around together in harmonious, joyful freedom.”
Other than “Peri” also being Amethyst’s cute nickname for Peridot, this description is basically what gems do to fuse. The main difference is that the persons of the Trinity aren’t creating a brand new entity with their unity. Also, fusion tends to have romantic/sexual/intimate undertones whereas understandings of the Trinity don’t.
But at the end of the day, what’s most compelling about both fusion and the Trinity is not figuring out how, exactly, they work, but rather experiencing them in all their mystery. Upon meeting Stevonnie for the first time, Garnet says, “You are not two people. You are not one person. You are an experience.”
And near the end of the episode “Log Date 7152,” Peridot reflects on her experience of attempting to fuse with Garnet. “I have attempted a fusion with the fusion Garnet. I had hoped to gain a better understanding of fusion. Instead, I gained a better understanding of Garnet.”
The phenomena will always be a mystery, but the persons involved in the phenomena are knowable and it’s possible to experience them. Guthrie says, “The Trinity is a mystery to be confessed, not a mathematical problem to be solved.”
For some, that may not be good enough. Why believe in something you can’t fully explain? But for others, faith and experience aren’t always about explaining every facet of a mystery. Even when trying to explain the mystery is our starting point, we may find ourselves like Peridot who demands a complete explanation of a mystery and instead comes away with a better understanding of her fellow gem.
When My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic first aired, I noted how cutie marks represent both growing up and spiritual calling. Since then, the show has explored cutie marks in much greater depth. Wrapped up in cutie marks is all the bliss and anxiety about identity–when will I know what I’m supposed to do with my life? What if I don’t like or understand my cutie mark? What happens when I’m forbidden from living out the purpose for which my cutie mark stands?
Now, there’s a new cutie mark question to ask: Can anyone have a cutie mark, or is it just for ponies?
In “The Fault in Our Cutie Marks,” a Griffon named Gabby comes to Ponyville seeking the Cutie Mark Crusaders, who have been living out their newly discovered purpose of helping other ponies discover their identities (and thus receiving their cutie marks). She wants so much to participate in the kind of transformative love that she witnessed when Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie visited Griffonstone that she is determined to get a cutie mark of her own. Who better to ask than the Cutie Mark Crusaders?
However, no creature except ponies has ever had cutie marks. Receiving one, and thus having a visible mark of one’s purpose, is an experience unique to ponies. Can a Griffon partake in something that is so deeply rooted in pony culture?
This episode’s answer is yes, but not in the same way and that’s okay. Griffons can’t receive cutie marks. No mysterious branding appears on their flanks that tells the world what they’re meant to do in life. The exact ways in which ponies discover their purpose and then live in community with one another according to that purpose are not possible for Griffons.
Once the CMC realize that it’s truly impossible to help Gabby receive a cutie mark, they become distraught and think they’ve failed in their purpose. In truth, they just need to rethink how one can have a cutie mark. They manage to find a way to “extend the table” of this unique pony experience to other creatures by accommodating a different way of presenting a cutie mark. They give Gabby her own cutie mark pins that she wears on her mail bag. Not only does this extend the cutie mark experience to another race (which historically has a rocky relationship with ponies), but the fact that Gabby’s cutie mark pins match the CMC’s cutie marks welcomes her into community with them.
Early Christianity faced a similar question of just how far the transformative experience of Jesus truly stretched. Was it also for Gentiles, and if so, did they need to be circumcised? Throughout Christian history, the sacrament of communion has also had specific barriers placed around it determining who can partake and who can’t.
One phrase many Christians use to talk about communion is “extending the table.” In progressive churches like mine, this means we practice open communion where anyone who wants to partake may do so. They don’t have to be members. They don’t have to be confirmed or baptized. There is no spiritual milestone or requirement that they must meet to be part of our church community. We may adapt how we provide access (such as having gluten-free wafers for those with allergies), but all are still able to participate no matter who they are or where they are on life’s journey.
In the same way, it’s okay that Gabby can’t have a cutie mark that physically appears on her body. She can still be part of the Cutie Mark Crusaders and spread everything she’s learned from them to her own community, which will hopefully help other Griffons experience the love she’s so readily seen among ponies.
Queer erasure and censorship in media isn’t a new problem. Although things have certainly changed in recent years, overt representation of queer women in cartoons (and anime to a lesser extent) is still pretty sparse. Where it does occur, it’s sometimes embedded in some type of spiritual or transcendent narrative in which the transcendence of one or both partners acts as an ambiguous confirmation of their relationship. At the same time, transcendent narratives present profound themes that tie to larger ideas in the show. Korrasami and Utena x Anthy are two examples of queer lady ships in which transcendence or connection with the spiritual exists in tension with the ambiguity of their relationships.
Korrasami: Nonphysicality and the Spirit World
Over a year ago, I joined with the rest of the Internet gushing over the Legend of Korra series finale. Subsequent Tumblr posts from Mike and Bryan confirmed Korrasami, which fueled ongoing debates about Korrasami’s value as queer representation. Did Bryke do their best in the face of network censorship, or should the queer community reject Korrasami for being barely more than breadcrumbs (as portrayed just in the series itself)? Does good queer representation mean that there cannot be any ambiguity about the relationship by the time a series ends, especially in light of people who stress that they’re just “gal pals”?
There may not be a straight answer.
Puns aside, I do think we can glean some good meaning from what we see of Korrasami’s relationship in those last moments as they hold hands and enter the portal to the Spirit World. To start, we need to compare Korra and Asami’s relationship with the relationships they have with Mako.
Because overt heterosexuality is permissible (and assumed) in children’s animation, Korra and Asami’s respective relationships with Mako contain that physical element. Both Masami and Makorra happened fast. One minute, Asami runs into Mako with her moped and does a hair flip. The next minute, they’re dating. Though Makorra happens a little slower than that, it’s still canon by the end of season one. Compare that to the three seasons it took for Katara and Aang to get together. Physical attraction or infatuation likely cause these quick hookups. Neither Korra nor Asami has much time at all to get to know Mako before dating him (and being physical with kisses and such). Mako and Korra do know each other a little bit better before they officially start dating, but Korra spends most of Book 1 with “Mako blinders” on, so to speak. He’s cool and charming and great, but Korra doesn’t actually know if they’re compatible. Both of them rush into their relationship and it’s clear by Book 2 that that they have no clue how to be with or support each other. It’s the same with Mako and Asami. In Book 3, Korra and Asami place the issue squarely on Mako’s inability to understand his own feelings or what he wants.
But during this Makorra and Masami dance, Korra and Asami begin their friendship. Korra is the reluctant one. In her brash judgments, she decides that Asami is her competition for Mako and is nothing more than a prissy heiress. Asami, however, shows nothing but respect and kindness for Korra. So as their friendship really starts to grow in Book 3, both could very well be attracted to each other in the same way that they were attracted to Mako. However, their history with him may compel them to actively and intentionally deny physicality. They both remember what happened the last time they rushed their feelings for someone they liked and they don’t want another burnout. So, they choose nonphysicality and spirituality becomes entwined with it. Asami is the one who requests the vacation to the Spirit World, of all places, so whatever is starting between her and Korra is intimately connected with the spiritual.
Now, technically speaking, holding hands is a physical act, but when we think of “physical” in terms of romantic relationships, we typically mean more than hand-holding. The absence of kissing or the types of touch one would usually have only in the context of a romantic relationship is what makes Korrasami “nonphysical.” However, their relationship is still deeply affectionate and there are plenty of examples, especially throughout Books 3 and 4, of the care they extend to each other.
Abstaining from physicality has some precedence in the Avatarverse. During Aang’s training with Guru Pathik, he’s encouraged to let all earthly attachments go when opening his chakras, which include the physical needs of his body and emotional ties, particularly his love for Katara. There’s this notion that being free of all tethers to the world will lead to a greater connection with the divine. Aang is ultimately unable to renounce his attachment to Katara and that’s the end of that.
Korra and Asami do have an attachment to each other, yet they are easily able to enter a spiritual realm. Part of this is because the plot of Legend of Korra allows for this, but I think another way to look at it is as an affirmation that earthly relationships can be windows into spirituality if they’re built on foundations other than physical gratification. This doesn’t mean physicality is bad. It just means that it isn’t a lasting foundation and Korra and Asami have learned that through their relationships with Mako.
Yet doesn’t Korrasami’s ambiguity as shown in the series make it too easy to dismiss them as “just gal pals”? That’s the constant tension of transcendent queer relationships. Because their affections are not or cannot be explicitly shown, these relationships take on many metaphorical elements. When relationships are up for interpretation, fans tend to categorize them on one end of a binary or another. They’re either just friends or they’re dating.
I don’t think this binary is particularly helpful in talking about Korrasami because I see both strong friendship and romantic love between them, which I’ve expounded on in other pieces on this blog. Moreover, their relationship suggests more of a spectrum than a binary. This quote sums it up nicely:
“Friendships include love and power, embodiment and spirituality. . . .Women experience these dynamics to various degrees in everyday friendship. . .sexuality, as most women see it, is an integrated part of everyday human interaction–whether touch, embrace, caress, or more intimacy. The prioritization of friendship based on women’s experiences offers a different starting point for sexual choices. Friendship becomes the bedrock of all love relationships. It is a good foundation” (Hunt, “Love Your Friends: Learning from the Ethics of Relationships,” Queer Christianities, 140).
Being friends doesn’t exclude the possibility of romantic relationship. Friendship is the substance on which relationships thrive. Korra and Asami spend Books 3 and 4 making that foundation solid. Their friendship shouldn’t be used to discount or eliminate romantic attraction because doing so results in lesbian and bisexual erasure. Instead, their friendship ought to be seen as the grounding of their relationship–whatever it may be when they disappear through the spirit portal. Who knows what the comics will bring to their relationship? If we get lots of scenes of their vacation in the spirit world, there could be more to say about how their relationship connects to the divine.
Utena x Anthy: Someday, Together
Everything about Revolutionary Girl Utena is a metaphor and that includes Utena and Anthy’s relationship. So, it makes sense that their relationship has this ambiguous, transcendent element. Utena and Anthy’s ambiguity fits with what the rest of the show presents. In a way, defining the relationship as anything would almost take away from its compelling mystery.
In the past, I’ve framed Utena as a Christ figure and the events of the last couple of episodes in the series as a salvation narrative. Utena’s death/transcendence and Anthy’s possible immortality makes their relationship go beyond the physical world, which therefore places them in a space where logic and clear definitions can’t fully grasp what’s going on. And as someone who talks about “divine illogic,” that’s totally cool with me–profound, even. Utena now exists in some intangible world outside of Ohtori Academy and Anthy, having been given a way out of the same cycle through Utena’s “death,” follows her on that journey, hoping to reunite with her someday. It’s subtly romantic in the context of other moments they have throughout the series, but it’s also quite spiritual because of this sense of passing and breaking through a seemingly unbreakable cycle. It’s not as blissful and Korra and Asami walking into the spirit portal together, both clearly alive, but it still has that element of a relationship carrying over into another world.
For me, if queer relationships must be subtle or undefined, they should be so in connection to the divine because at least it serves some greater narrative purpose and contributes to interesting themes. Many may disagree, especially those who are not particularly religious. But should ambiguous and transcendent queer relationships be the new norm? Are they merely a convenient way to avoid explicit representation so that heteronormativity can remain comfortably unchallenged?
Steven Universe, among many things, is showing both overt queerness and a connection at least to the illogical. I’d expect this given its several homages to Revolutionary Girl Utena. There isn’t yet any sort of divine realm in Steven Universe (the diamond matriarchs could be the closest the show will get to divine figures), but there’s certainly a narrative of queer love and transcendence.
Rose Quartz and Pearl encompass several Revolutionary Girl Utena references. The most obvious is the connection between Rose and “the Rose Bride.” In this sense, Rose is more of an Anthy figure. She’s always depicted in a white gown and she’s the one Pearl is always fighting for. Pearl, then, is Utena because she fights with a sword and some of her fight scenes parallel those in Utena. On the other hand, Rose is most like Utena because she’s the one who dies/takes on another form in Steven. This makes Pearl Anthy, as she’s trying to live on in Rose’s legacy.
Either way, the show makes it very clear that Rose and Pearl had feelings for each other. Plus, Rose at least has this transcendent/illogical element to her nature. There’s still a lot we don’t know, but Rose and Pearl show that telling a transcendent story doesn’t necessarily mean that queerness must be so vague that it’s easy to dismiss.
Garnet is especially illogical. She’s a fusion of two different gems, which was unheard of before Ruby and Sapphire accidentally fused. Garnet is the result of a relationship filled with such a deep love that she’s not only stable and very powerful, but she also confounds other characters just by existing (especially Peridot). Additionally, there’s nothing hidden or censored about Ruby and Sapphire’s relationship.
Steven Universe is breaking many molds while maintaining its popularity. It just may set a precedent for future stories that explore themes of transcendence and queerness. They do not have to be so subtle that they leave room for dismissal, but we can still find things worth analyzing in those subtle stories.
I fully realized/accepted during BronyCon 2016 that Rarity is my favorite pony.
Technically, I more or less knew this last year and it should be obvious given that I spent a good five minutes talking about her in my 2015 panel. However, I still maintained that I didn’t really have a favorite pony.
At first, this choice seems a bit strange. After all, I’m not particularly feminine in my daily life nor do I aspire to be. I’m not a seamstress. I don’t care about the latest fashion trends. I don’t have a posh accent.
No, I’m nothing like Rarity unless perhaps we’re talking about generosity and loyalty to friends.
So how the hecky is she my favorite pony? Those who know me best would expect Applejack or Rainbow Dash or Twilight Sparkle to be my pick because I’m more like them than any of the others.
But for me, this turned out not to be about who I most identify with, but rather who is the hardest to love and who helps me unlearn internalized misogyny. The answer is Rarity.
I mean, I think she’s adorable and charming, but I digress.
Growing up, I dissociated myself from anything extremely feminine whenever I had the choice and whenever I wasn’t trying to be semi-attractive in a vain attempt to have my life follow the promises of compulsory heterosexuality. I thought Barbies were cool for a second, but most of the time I hated them and instead chose to play with Legos, Pokemon, dinosaurs, race cars, and stuffed animals. I created epics where any female characters who were like Rarity were villains, homewreckers, or stupid because that’s the message I internalized early on.
As I got older, I started adopting some aspects of traditional femininity because I chilled out a bit and because I really, truly believed that my life would become the youth group dream: meeting a nice, Christian man and having 2.5 kids raised in a strong, Christian home.
That dream unraveled in many ways, but stayed the same in some others. I’m not gonna get into that now. The point is that feminine expression became something that I just grew used to and accepted as something I just had to do eventually. A lot of it wasn’t so bad when I tried it.
But I don’t think I ever dealt with that internalized hatred against all things feminine.
Then along came My Little Pony, which my childhood self would never have touched with a ten foot pole. All it took was my roommate showing me the first episode of the pilot and I was hooked. This show had a story! It reminded me of Sailor Moon!
And it had a squad member who was extremely girly.
However, I realized that Rarity carries herself differently than most characters like her. In fact, everything about Rarity is nuanced and it’s easy to miss those nuances if we dismiss her too quickly.
In the season 1 pilot, Rarity is confirmed as the element of generosity when she gives Steven Magnet her tail to replace the side of his mustache that had been torn off. At first glance, this seems like a pretty weak way to show generosity since it’s so grounded in fretting over outward appearance. However, I don’t think Rarity or Steven Magnet’s particularities about their appearance comes from being insecure or having self-esteem issues. Instead, I see their particularities as specific expressions of identities that they are quite comfortable with. Rarity knows who she is as an artist and an individual. Her fabulousness on the outside is an outpouring of the fabulousness on the inside. She gets upset when her mane isn’t coiffed because the outer self is not accurately representing the inner self.
How do we know that Rarity has such a strong sense of self and that the dresses and makeup are not impermanent ways of creating self-confidence where none exists?
Well, I think the answer is that Rarity is posh despite her family.
Neither her parents nor Sweetie Belle are as flamboyant in their dress or mannerisms as Rarity is. The family isn’t at the top of Equestrian society nor do any of them show signs of wanting that life, so where did Rarity get it from? Perhaps she’s rebelling against an uncouth and mediocre upbringing. This could be why she and Applejack clash so much at first. Yet to distinguish oneself so much from one’s family suggests a powerful and secure sense of identity.
So I think Rarity very much knows who she is and she has very specific ways of declaring that to the world. This doesn’t mean that she never struggles with confidence issues–look at that whole Trenderhoof thing.
What’s refreshing about that episode, at least, is that the “desirable” version of femininity is the practical, worker type that Applejack exhibits. Many other times, when a girl in the TV show or movie is changing how she looks to impress a boy, she does so by becoming more traditionally feminine. Rarity tries (terribly) to become the opposite of herself for someone besides herself. That is among many reasons why her attempts are so laughably bad. Another is that her self as a fashionista is too strong to be contained. That inner fabulousness will always exert itself.
That inner fabulousness may also be why Rarity does things like choose the perfect hat for a stranger without being asked. On one level, it could be an intrusion (no one asked you, Rarity!). On another, it could be that Rarity perceives and inner fabulousness in everyone and constantly looks for ways to bring that out. Sometimes this works and sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes she gets too caught up in playing by the rules of Equestrian high society (or helping others to play by those rules) that she forgets to focus on inner fabulousness.
Maybe all of this only makes sense to me, but that’s okay. I’m still not that feminine in my gender expression and probably won’t be for a lot of reasons (unless it’s 100 degrees outside or I’m in a wedding party), but I love this idea of not being particularly feminine myself and yet loving a very feminine character. It compels me to reject the tendency to roll my eyes and dismiss those girly girls.
This past weekend, I attended my second Bronycon as a panelist. I reunited with my teammates from last year and we presented a panel called “Cutie Marks and Branding: The Importance of Social and Mythological Identity Formation Among Friends.” The turnout was great and we got overwhelmingly positive feedback on our presentation! One person even said ours was the best panel they’d been to at the con up to that point.
The panel covered the very, very broad topic of identity. Brian Newby began with providing basic definitions of identity and of “normal” vs. “deviant.” Bill Ellis then explored identity in a mythological sense, particularly with the heroes and villains of MLP. I grounded these ideas in cutie marks as an exploration of identity within the show itself (in other words, basically using a New Criticism approach) and then looked at what happens when we fans bring our own understandings of identity to the show as we watch it (i.e., Reader Response Criticism), specifically in the case of “Brotherhooves Social” and the discussions around it being helpful/harmful trans representation. I’ll add a link to the video recording once it’s available.
During the panel, Purple Tinker, who founded Bronycon, got word of the discussion and she started giving away pride flags at her booth in the vendor’s hall. Stay tuned for a guest post from her about this topic!
I did a couple last-minute things as I finalized my portion of the panel and the result is that I lowkey took y’all to church. First, I included this slide:
I felt that this message was in line with all of the affirmations I heard throughout the weekend. “You are important. You matter. You have a community here. You are not alone.” All of these were spoken in the face of struggling with suicidal tendencies, recovering from addictions, healing from bullying, and so many other hurts.
The second way I lowkey took y’all to church was by leading the audience in singing a modified version of “This Little Light of Mine.” We sang “This Cutie Mark of Mine,” which makes perfect sense for the panel topic and the MLP fandom as a whole.
If only we had a Hammond! The closest we got was the neat Gothic choir music they played before the panel began (if it were up to me, I’d have gone with Kyrie Eleison).
However, I saw so many other examples of the gospel at work over the weekend and it honestly seems like another instance of God working with and through the least likely and least “qualified” communities.
We all know that My Little Pony has a bad reputation specifically because of bronies. Sometimes, there’s this sense that no upstanding feminist would bother with the series or the fandom because there’s always a brony who’s misogynistic and/or creepy and the most feminists ought to do is point out the fact that he’s a brony to explain that he’s a misogynist.
I’m not dismissing criticisms of misogyny within the fandom or ignoring the problems folks have with giving more attention to the shock value/transgression of men liking ponies than to all the awesome female empowerment the show has to offer. In fact, this is why I talk about this series through my experience as a woman and focus more on what it does for girls/women. Plenty of folks talk about bronies redefining masculinity and while I have no problem with that discussion, I do feel like people often stop the conversation at what the show does for bronies and what bronies do for the show. And I get it. It’s not as weird for me to like My Little Pony because I’m a girl, hence why the whole girl empowerment aspect isn’t as sensational.
As with any fandom, there’s a lot of crap that makes people say, “why would you associate yourself with these people?” That’s a big reason why I typically don’t get deep into fandom drama. Yet as a Christian, I’m quite used to loving and being involved in something with a terrible reputation. Yes, there are unsavory aspects of the MLP fandom. Maybe some unsavory things happened to some people at Bronycon. I can’t dismiss that possibility, but this is what I saw:
I saw a young man crying while standing in line for the microphone at the bullying Q&A panel. Another young man standing in front of him held him for the longest time. A middle-aged woman rubbed his back. A Princess Celestia cosplayer rose from her seat to give him a hug.
I saw a panelist pause and try to gather himself while sharing his experiences with alcohol addiction and how My Little Pony approaches the topic of recovery.
I saw over $27,000 raised for charity.
I saw a teary-eyed vice con chair describe attendees who had gathered in the main lobby to prepare care packages for the homeless around the convention center. I’ve seen this happen at church conferences, but never fandom conventions.
I saw the last few minutes of an accessibility panel where people shared creative ideas on how to make even loud events like the rave party more accessible to attendees with noise sensitivities. I’m sure there were many other great ideas as well.
I saw a Princess Celestia and a Princess Luna cosplayer read letters written to their characters over the course of the weekend. Some letters rehashed hilarious memes. Others told the saddest stories.
“Dear Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, my best friend died five years ago. I was at a pony convention when I found out. I still struggle with feeling alone.”
“Dear Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, this world is full of scary things. Cops killing people. People killing cops. I wish you could come to our world to teach us more about friendship. Signed, nobody important.”
To which the Princess Luna cosplayer emphatically replied, “You are very important. Every. single. one of you.”
For all of these reasons, I understand why so many people feel like the MLP community is their home and conventions like Bronycon their sanctuary. I know how freeing and healing it is to find that second family. I’ve found mine at my church, which makes me a rare case among people my age.
Even so, I strongly believe that all works like what I described above are God’s works. God is present through all things and meets us where we are. That includes people of little or no faith who also face constant misunderstandings about their views and yet have found a community in the MLP fandom.
What can the church learn from these happenings at Bronycon and vice versa? What would it look like for these two very different communities to work together? Joint service projects built into the con schedule that attendees could choose to sign up for?
It’s funny because while I was happy to be going to Bronycon this weekend, I was also bummed that I’d be missing church. Instead, God reiterated the theme of UCC General Synod 2015:
Both My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic and Steven Universe present matriarchal societies in which women fulfill the most powerful roles in their worlds. In My Little Pony, it’s the alicorn princesses. In Steven Universe, it’s the Great Diamond Authority. Yet both of these matriarchies show vastly different applications of power. Equestria’s matriarchy is more caring and collaborative while the Great Diamond Authority is strictly focused on colonialism and conquest.
Reasons why these two systems are so different vary. Some of it certainly has to do with the show creators’ intentions and the target audience for both series (Steven Universe, to me, seems aimed at slightly older children than My Little Pony). But a lot of it also has to do with the core ideals each society is built on.
In My Little Pony, we’re largely made to view Princess Celestia’s rule as peaceful and just, especially as her court expands to Luna, Cadence, and Twilight Sparkle (who then forms a court of her own). The Elements of Harmony and the magic of friendship are the foundations on which everything else is built. In recent seasons, Twilight Sparkle especially has used her status as Princess of Friendship to reveal not just the power of friendship in general, but the power of redemptive friendship. In the Equestria that Twilight Sparkle now continues to shape through her position in this matriarchal hierarchy of alicorns, nothing that causes separation or despair is allowed to exist. If it does, it’s posited as antagonistic, or at least non-affiliated with Equestrian royalty.
This means that justice occurs through this system. Is it challenged at times? Absolutely. Are mistakes made? Of course. Is Princess Celestia a giant troll? Duh. But we don’t see oppression stemming from declarations made in Canterlot or from subtle notions that one race of pony is superior to the other two. Once Luna is free from Nightmare Moon, we don’t see an alicorn who wants to conquer. More recently, Twilight Sparkle’s actions both in the regular universe and in Equestria Girls extends an invitation to those who formerly tried to disrupt the foundation of harmony and friendship. Equestria’s royal matriarchy seems to adequately provide for the safety and well-being of its subjects. Ponies are allowed to live free, independent lives pursuing whatever occupations their cutie marks call them to. There aren’t many prominent examples of super strict class or gender expectations either.
In these ways, My Little Pony presents the opposite of real-life patriarchal structures that we’re more familiar with. It provides a hopeful answer to the question: what does a sociopolitical system not run by men look like? It’s peaceful, harmonious, and just.
But Steven Universe gives us the opposite answer, or at least a criticism of the idea that simply placing women in authoritative roles typically held by men will necessarily create a more just society. Gems are an all-female alien race, so women naturally appear in every single role from ruler to techy to lackie. We’ve learned from the recent Steven Bomb (and other episodes too) that Homeworld has very strict and specific ideas about which gems are the most important and which are disposable or common. It’s not just that each gem has their own specific role. It’s that these roles seem hardwired in their very physical structures. Rubies are stout and headstrong because they’re made to protect. Peridots are tiny and have large heads partly because they’re adorable goobers, but also because they’re made to be technicians.
So it seems that gems are crafted to fit a particular role in the colonial and industrial Homeworld structure. It’s not 100% clear at this point if the Great Diamond Matriarchs are actually the creators of all gems, but it’s very clear that they run this well-oiled machine of a structure. This matriarchy is built on a foundation of supremacy and conquest. In our own world, we’ve seen these systems play out in the hands of men who had exclusive access to these powerful roles. Steven Universe is showing the same type of system, only with women filling those roles instead. It flips the script, but it also shows that it’s not enough to just change the gender of those in these roles. The meaning of those roles and the structure itself must also change.
Steven Universe gives us plenty of examples of this. Everything the Crystal Gems have done flies in the face of Homeworld’s values. They have left the structure and now defy it. Garnet is an anomaly not just because she’s a fusion, but because she’s a fusion of two different gems, which was unheard of until Ruby and Sapphire accidentally fused. Together, they redefine the purpose and implications of fusing.
Whereas My Little Pony posits that a system with clear hierarchies and traditional structures can be just if the ruling parties build their systems on foundations of redemption and harmony, Steven Universe suggests that justice can only be found outside of such systems. Homeworld structure cannot be redeemed or changed from the inside. Instead, gems must break away from it and dismantle it from the outside. Redemption and harmony are only possible outside of this system, as we’ve seen most recently with Peridot. In Steven Universe, a matriarchy that functions with the same roles we’ve seen in real-world patriarchies is just as harmful for its subjects, showing that keeping the system but swapping the genders isn’t enough of a step to enact actual change or justice.
This is why many feminist theories don’t suggest that replacing patriarchies with matriarchies is the ultimate goal. Those that do may be presenting a utopia of sorts, and while systems run by women certainly could be different than those run by men, there’s no guarantee that they would be the solution to oppression, especially if the power dynamics remain the same.
If there were to be a totally just matriarchy, it might be more like what we see in My Little Pony where all have access to the fundamental power on which the system runs (friendship in this case). Lack of friendship, no space for diversity, and no room for redemption or harmony are the things that threaten this system. When they creep in, we start seeing familiar things like classism (e.g., conflicts between unicorns, earth ponies, and pegasi). Equestria and its systems were more or less established to dismantle those threats rather than embrace them for the purpose of expanding territory or conquering other nations.
So, these two matriarchies give us different implications of women being system-builders, system-runners, and even system-breakers. As both series continue, we might see some more nuances–for example, other gems with high status might start questioning the system or ruling powers in Equestria might continue to become decentralized. Either way, both shows convey interesting explorations of feminine power and agency.