Aquaman Fumbles Mixed-Race Representation

 

Before I get into this, I want to say I really enjoyed Aquaman. I was ready to crap all over the film but I left the theater eating my words. Sure its long and bloated with enough material for three movies but it was fun-as-hell. The battles were pure eye candy, James Wan didn’t take the character too seriously which lead to some hilariously cheesy, albeit enjoyable moments. I rented it for another viewing the other day and showed a group of friends and it was just as fun the second time around.

My qualm with the film is how it handles its multiracial protagonist Arthur Curry (Aquaman). Aquaman is a film that revels in the idea that being multiracial means being emotionally and biologically stronger, more progressive, and just overall better, but fails to explain why. Traveling the well-trodden troupe of a hero caught in a tug-of-war between the diametrically opposed cultures of their biological makeup (See: Blade, Star Trek, Underworld, Vampire Hunter D). While Curry isn’t quite the brooding Blade or stoic Spock, he is a loner. He doesn’t have a place in Atlantis and on land we never see, nor is it implied that Curry spends time around any humans besides his father and those he rescues from the sea. He mostly drinks and keeps to himself. We get little insights into how he sees himself like the dialogue in the introduction. Overlapping the chance meeting of his parents in the opening scene, Curry tells us,

“My father was a lighthouse keeper. My mother was a queen. They were never meant to meet. But their love saved the world. They made me what I am: a son of the land, a king of the seas. I am the protector of the deep.”
-Arthur Curry (Aquaman)

All of this resonates deeply with me. As the child of a black man and white woman, the metaphor connected immediately. I feel sympathy towards this type of character. The ones who don’t fit in, who never feel like they are enough, those who quietly shoulder their burden alone. I feel that weight in my chest.

Where the film loses me is when it (like so many others in this tired troupe) decides to lay the collective weight of international/cultural/diplomatic relations on one person whose genetic make-up just so happens to link the two worlds. Instead of exploring some of the nuance and anxiety often experienced by multiracial/mixed folks, Curry acts as a walking, breathing MacGuffin. The film quickly establishes (with no explanation) Curry’s race is the first, last, and only solution to the seemingly inevitable race war, and we spend the subsequent two hours chasing this idea.

You might ask, what’s so wrong with that? Doesn’t love conquer all? I get the impulse. The quickest, most obvious way to dispel a belief in genetic superiority or the inherent separation of races, is to show the (sexy) product of a multiracial couple.

*Note: Black audiences will recognize this troupe for what it is, a simpler, more digestible way to humanize non-whites. Empathizing with a dark skin character is often a bridge too far. That’s why we see anthropomorphic animals (Planet of the Apes),  humanoid aliens (Avatar), artificial intelligence/androids (The Matrix Franchise, Blade Runner) serve as racial metaphors without ever having to offer any subversive or critical takes on race. Instead, they give audiences simple, digestible metaphors that are often thematically decades behind progress but provide enough catharsis to trick white folks into thinking they ‘get it.’

But multiracial people aren’t the solution to nationalism or prejudice or solving race relations. In case you were unaware, there were multiracial men and women 400 years ago. There were hundreds of thousands of multiracial babies born throughout slavery in the United States and somehow… it didn’t fix systemic oppression, nor did slow the tide of Jim Crow. Instead, we got the One Drop Rule.

“Your half-brother, King Orm, is about to declare war upon the surface world. The only way to stop his war is for you to take your rightful place as King.”
-Mera

Growing up mixed (black/white) there were many white folks along the way who assured me of the post-racial fantasy: “everyone will look like you in fifty years,” or that “eventually everyone’s gonna fuck everyone else and we’ll all be some shade of brown.” I’ve heard a million variations of this sentiment from the young and old, all liberals. I even believed it myself for a number of years. I sort of wore the possibility of a mixed up future like a badge of pride. Like I made it to a lame party I knew would be bumping in a few hours. Even up to a few years ago I would get revved up about the multiracial possibilities ahead on the horizon the potential of multiracial men and women to be the bridge of understanding and unity between two races. Now it’s just frustrating. It’s cynicism masquerading as optimism. Just as the race relations in the world of Aquaman have reached a boiling point, so too have relations in our reality. Somehow this hasn’t produced an innovation in thought or problem-solving, rather we seem to cling all the stronger to the simplest solutions, the ones that let us feel good without exerting much thought or energy.

Aquaman offers the same sort of racial catharsis that films like Green Book put forth. The antagonist is so backward and ignorant that they say egregious things like, “A half-breed mongrel dares to come and take the sacred relic of King Atlan?” providing a distinct image of ‘what a bigot looks like’ thus giving some audience members the sigh of relief, “That’s a bad person. That’s what a racist looks like?” The unspoken, yet understood sentiment is: Not Me.

National Geographic: The Changing Face of America (2013)

 

Bombed Out / Undeterred: Stromboli

Ingrid Bergman the name without a face I knew for years, and often confused with famed director Ingmar Bergman. I believe her roles in the films of Roberto Rossellini (watched recently) have been my first experiences with her work. Actually, as I type this, I’m remembering that I saw Casablanca over a decade ago, and to be honest, all I remember is that I enjoyed Humphrey Bogart’s performance. With that said, her performances in the Italian Neorealism classics ‘Journey To Italy’ and ‘Stromboli’ were immensely enjoyable. Let’s talk about the latter.

Stromboli opens with Karin (Bergman), a Lithuanian, in an interment camp. Charmed by Antonio (Mario Vitale) an Italian ex-POW fishermen who proposes to her with promises of returning to his home island of Stromboli to start a life together. Their marriage secures her release and together, they voyage to the island. Upon arrival, Karin is met with the harsh reality of life on the island. The year is 1944 and throughout the preceding decade many of the island’s inhabitants have migrated elsewhere, seemingly leaving only the most staunchly conservative residents on the island. Much of the structures, including Antonio’s previous home, are in disarray and in need of serious renovation. And to add to all this, the two have only a few dozen lire between them.

Initially distressed and dismayed at her new life, Karin turns to an island priest with experience of the world outside of Stromboli, as a source of support. In time, Karin comes to embrace her surroundings. She renovates Antonio’s childhood home, attempts to make friends of her own, and regularly confers with the priest on marriage advice. Unfortunately, the island and its inhabitants are as resistant to her as she is to them. Many of the island women, especially the clergy, view Karin with disdain for her “lack of modesty.” They view her attempts remodeling her living room by painting floral displays and her friendliness with any male not her husband as an affront to their ways.

The story is told through the eyes of Karin, though we are often asked to reflect on Antonio’s dismay. Unlike Karin who was shuffled from camp to camp across Europe during the second world war, Antonio has only ever left the island to fight in the war. He is simple and young with no worldly desires. He settles back into the humble life of a fisherman immediately after his return. While courting Karin, he tells her that he knows what kind of woman she is, that he understands her. In the moment, this feels like the sweet naivety audiences are accustomed to in romantic pictures. These two have survived the largest war of the century, surely a happy marriage is attainable. The assumption may be damning. Antonio receives Karin’s woes and financial worries as a mark on his home and heritage. It is clear that Karin’s struggle to assimilate distresses him, though he struggles to understand why.

The second and third act feature extended scenes of animal struggle meant to mirror the hopelessness and disconnect in Karin and Antonio’s marriage. First, we see Antonio bring home a pet ferret in the hopes of using it to catch game like rabbits. Joyfully, he displays the ferret’s hunting prowess with a live rabbit. Karin looks on in horror at the helplessness of the rabbit, seeing something of herself in the creature’s plight, while Antonio cackles in delight. This scene, along with the big fishing haul near the film’s climax, serve to highlight the chasm between the lovers. Antonio celebrates the haul as it will not only feed the village, they can sell the excess fish on the mainland to support the village. Karin, again, sees herself in the fish’s plight.

Events escalate when Karin confirms she’s three months pregnant just hours before the island’s volcano erupts. The island inhabitants quickly rush to the boats and take to the sea for protection. Eventually, Karin and Antonio return to the island, though Karin has made up her mind. She tells Antonio that she can no longer bare life on the island, she is returning to the mainland. The film climaxes with Karin attempting to cross the island. Choosing to go up and over, she reaches the peak, stares down into the magma pit, and passes out in a fit of despair. She awakens with new resolve, vowing to God not to be defeated as she puts a hand to her belly. But by who? The island? Life?

Bergman’s performance was by far the most enjoyable part of this film. The fishing scene is extraordinary in that it is shot documentary style– those are real citizens of Stromboli and real fisherman. In fact, as per Neorealist style, most of the island’s inhabitants are not professional actors. The shot of the volcano’s eruption are dazzling and terrifying. Unfortunately, much of this movie dragged. While we understand the distance and aversion of the islands inhabitants have to Karin, we never get to know them. Rossellini writes them off quicker than Karin can. Also, Karin’s direction at the end of the film is vague.

3/5

Bombed Out / Undeterred: Paisan

Paisan (Paisà) is Italian slang for a fellow countryman, a compatriot.

It was the image of Joe (Dots Johnson), an African-American MP, and Pasquale (Alfonsino Pasca), an Italian child and ‘orphaned street urchin,’ that really put the hook in me. With just a few Italian Neorealist films under my belt, I saw a clip of the odd duo planting themselves atop a heap of rubble on the battered streets of Naples and knew this was one for me.

Any time any film before 1970  humanizes black actors, I want to know more. It lights up the hopelessly naive part of my brain eternally seeking some sort of racial reconciliation. This is probably why audience keep turning up for films like ‘Green Book’ despite their surface level and often antiquated reading of race relations– not to mention the controversy. Paisan is not one of these films. It’s actually six vignettes (roughly 20 mins each) about six sets of characters, Joe’s story being episode two. So let’s talk about it.

Episode two takes us into the aftermath of the Allies capture of Naples (circa late 1944). A group of children roam the streets in search of materials to barter or sell. Pasquale, a young orphan, is presented with the opportunity of obtaining a ‘negro.’ *cringes* Tagging along with the other children, he soon meets Joe, a heavily inebriated American solider. Pulling Joe along, the two stroll through the garbage strewn streets of Naples before scaling a mound of rubble and discarded aluminum cans. Pasquale shows Joe his harmonica and Joe tries in vain to play, choosing instead to sing a verse from ‘Nobody Knows The Trouble I’ve Seen.’ In a drunken role-play, Joe takes Pasquale (who he refers to as Paisan) through an idealized version of Allied victory over the Axis powers. Not only does Joe assist in ultimately defeating the Axis powers, he’s personally congratulated by a general and flown back to New York City for a ticker tape parade. Joe’s not selfish, he tells Pasquale he can tag along as they visit Wall Street and Manhattan. In this scenario, he even offers to introduce Pasquale to New York City’s mayor.

As the minutes pass in episode two, it would be easy to look past Joe’s dark skin and see simply another G.I. physically and emotionally shaken by the second World War. Past the first mention of race when the children tell Pasquale he can sell a negro, race is not explicitly stated nor discussed, and yet it is this unique inclusion of an African-America from which the story derives its superior depth. The second world war was a brutal conflict that reshaped the entire world. Millions died fighting and millions more were crushed between the gears of its machinations. Despite unequivocal victory, tens of thousands of men returned home with what we now acknowledge to be PTSD. It was hard on everyone. But there is a particular bitter irony for African-Americans fighting in the war, just as there had been in the first World War, the Civil War, and nearly all wars stretching back to the American Revolution. History shows us that black veterans returning home from the second World War faced harassment, physical harm (including lynching), and were still barred from entering white restaurants, clubs, and schools.  The G.I. Bill which famously uplifted a whole generation, failed miserably at assisting blacks.

All of this to say, things aren’t looking good for Joe– and it shows. Starting out with great gusto, things peter out when reality sets in and Joe bemoans his return home with all the anguish one might expect from someone who sees war as something of a reprieve. “I don’t wanna go home. I don’t wanna go home. My home is nothing but an old shack. I don’t wanna play no more, Paisan,” he says, leaning back with all the fatigue in the world. In brutally honest moment of levity, Pasquale warns Joe not to pass out or he’ll steal his shows, and of course this happens.

“Looky here, America, what you done done? Let things drift until the riots come. Now your policemen let your mobs run free. I reckon you don’t care. Nothing about me. You tell me that HitIer is a mighty bad man. I guess he took lessons from the Ku Klux Klan. You tell me Mussolini’s got an evil heart. Well, it must have been in Beaumont that he had his start. Cause everything that HitIer and Mussolini do, Negroes get the same treatment from you. You Jim Crowed me before Hitler rose to power, and you’re still Jim Crowing me right now, this very hour. Yet you say we’re fighting for democracy. Then why don’t democracy include me? I ask you this question, cause I want to know. How long I got to fight both HitIer and Jim Crow?”
-Langston Hughes

The following day, we see Joe clean shaven in a taut, starched uniform of the Military Police. Joe once again has a chance encounter with Pasquale, eventually discovering that the orphan stole his shoes. Demanding to know where he lives and how to recover his stolen shoes, Joe makes Pasquale take him to his home. So the two take the Jeep and shortly after, arrive at a cave. Inside, Joe is stunned to see dozens of poor men and women hobbling together what little a life they can in the aftermath of the war. The slum strikes a cord with Joe, it pierces something deep inside him, and upon laying eye on the cave slum, Joe ceases the charge to retrieve his shoes and in the next scene he’s seen driving away.

I must admit, pairing the downtrodden struggles of the post-war Italian poor and a black man returning to African-American ghettos of 1940s is a take I considered too nuanced for any non-black filmmaker of the era. Yet, here we are. The climax of episode two brought me to tears. The arc of understanding between an adult and child, black and Italian, with no common tongue between them is both subtle and bold. As soon as the episode finished, I knew I had a new favorite.

Bombed Out / Undeterred: Italian Neorealist Film

Switching gears, I want to talk about a subject outside of the traditional nerd realm: film, the stuff of olden day geeks. Italian Neorealism popped onto my radar some years back simply as the name of a style mimicked in Charles Burnett’s ‘Killer of Sheep.’ I knew nothing about the genre but it appealed to my pretentious curiosity in that it was both foreign and intellectual. A few later, when I got into French New Wave for basically the same reasons. I scooped as many films as I could get my hands on; most were by Jean-Luc Godard. A spectacle for the eyes, his films often flew over my head, but they were also a  gateway into a style and vision wholly new to me as a film lover. So, even more years later, I took it upon myself to really get to know the works of Italian Neorealism.

What is Italian Neorealism?

“The proponents of this politically committed reaction to the glossy, studio-bound, Hollywood-influenced productions approved by Mussolini’s regime were determined to take their cameras to the streets, to neglected communities and their surroundings, to show the ‘real Italy’ in all its diversity. Here was a new kind of cinema, one that returned to its roots, a people’s cinema that chronicled the struggle against Nazism but also highlighted the hardship and upheaval of the post-war period.”
-Pasquale Iannone, Film Lecturer, writer and broadcaster, British Film Institute

This meant a focus on the desolation of the Italian people and Italy itself in the years following the second World War. Scenes shot among the rubble and debris are a defining feature of genre. You would be hard pressed to find a Neorealist film where the characters are not strolling along war-torn avenues or climbing over lumps of shattered concrete. These films focused on issues of poverty and the every day life of the working class and poor. They were a meditation on the process of shifting away from fascism and the literal devastation left in its wake. Neorealist films did not shy away from subjects like infidelity, crime, and prostitution. Directors held a lens up to the seedier elements of society, previously concealed in Italian film during Mussolini’s reign (1922-1945).

I’m attracted to these melancholic films because of their grainy texture and the undercurrents of rebirth. Seventy years after the fact, I know that by the end of the 1950s Italy’s economy will have bounced back and that nation will heal, physically and artistically, in the years to come. But Roberto Rossellini could not see into the future, neither could Alain Resnais or Vittorio De Sica. Standing the literal rubble of a world war, coming down from a twenty year fascist overdose, they saw through the destruction to another Italy, one still in its conception. Our modern era has seen a resurgence of violent hate crimes, racial and antisemitic, along with an ever increasing trend of authoritarian strong men taking power. As the modern era flirts dangerously with the follies of the mid-twentieth century, I look back to the anti-fascist artistic and political movements of the past for assurance, hope, and strategy.

The next few post will be reviews for a few of my favorite Italian Neorealist films.

*PS~ Here’s a great (and quick) video essay by No Film School (video).

Anti-Colonialist Sentiments in Thor: Ragnarok

On December 27, 1845, in his newspaper the New York Morning News, Journalist and influential Jacksonian advocate, John L. O’Sullivan wrote in response to the ongoing Oregon border dispute with the British,

“And that claim is by the right of our manifest destiny to overspread and to possess the whole of the continent which Providence has given us for the development of the great experiment of liberty and federated self-government entrusted to us.”

Heavy stuff but the phrasing was contagious and the sentiment would go on to dominate American policy in the 19th century. Fast forward to little ol’ me in Social Studies/History class. I loved learning about American history and ‘World History’ (as European history was dubiously referred). I remember learning about Manifest Destiny as a kid and thinking, “That’s awesome!” From my uncomfortable plastic desk at the tail end of the 20th century it made perfect sense. Of course! It was our collective destiny to settle the frontier! It was our destiny to reach California and the Pacific ocean. Ocean to Ocean, what a stupendous idea! The America I knew was vast and sprawling and that was all thanks to the brave explorers who set out to tame the west!

Unfortunately, the version of history handed down to me was heavily sanitized. Scrubbed of the countless indigenous massacres, treaty betrayals, the effects of the Mexican-American War, and the eventual establishment of ‘White Utopias‘ throughout Oregon and the northwest, it simplified the acquisition of the west to the triumph of civilization over savage populations and an unforgiving terrain.

During Thor: Ragnarok we see this reflected in Asgard’s history as they became the seat of power throughout the Nine Realms. After returning from exile, Hela, the former king’s executioner, is astonished to discover what has become of her former home. In the throne room she scoffs,

“Does no one remember me? Has no one been taught our history? Look at these lies. Goblets and garden parties? Peace treaties? Odin… Proud to have it, ashamed of how he got it. We were unstoppable. I was his weapon in the conquest that built Asgard’s empire. One by one, the realms became ours. But then, simply because my ambition outgrew his, he banished me, caged me, locked me away like an animal.”

Ragnarok is easily the best Thor installment and arguably in the top Marvel films. Taika Waititi brings his distinct and awkwardly charming humor, the action scenes stand up to any Avengers film, and the casting of Kate Blanchett, Tessa Thompson, Karl Urban, and Jeff Goldbloom was pure gold. Still, the element that grabbed me the most was the dialogue, specifically that of the film’s antagonist Hela. It can’t be understated that time in which this film was released, nor that its director comes from a Maori background. Yes, it’s a Disney film, and yes it’s a popcorn flick, but that doesn’t change the fact that anti-colonialism is baked into this film. Let’s get into it!

A quick recap for those unfamiliar with the Thor film series. The story begins with the snotty, ascendant prince Thor. Impatient and brutish, he longs for Odia to hand for the throne to cement his cosmic reign. And it is because of these traits that he is cast out and stripped of his powers. Left in Midgard (Earth) to learn some damn compassion, Thor grows his heart. He learns there’s so much more to ruling than simply smashing and conquering. The throne requires valor, humility, and a cool head. We see Thor continue to cultivate these traits in the subsequent sequels and Avengers installments, so by the time his long estranged sister shows up ready for more pillaging, his idea of reigning is far removed.

Asgard, like Europe and the United States, was once dominated by its thirst for conquest. Like our Andrew Jackson, Odin road through the Nine Realms pillaging and murdering various races like the Ice Giants. We are asked to consider how Asgard with its golden towers and galactic prestige came to attain such qualities. Through Hela’s disdain we learn it is precisely because of these atrocities that Asgard became, well Asgard.

It’s significant that Hela was banished, that she was sent into exile but not killed. Her views are toxically regressive but they persist. It’s no mistake that this is juxtaposed with the most racially diverse Asgard we’ve seen to date. Much like America’s resurgence of open White Supremacy and an uptick of racial violence in the past decade, Hela seeks to resort Asgard with the same bloodthirsty ambition which made Asgard… great.

“We were once the seat of absolute power in the cosmos. Our supremacy was unchallenged. Yet Odin stopped at Nine Realms. Our destiny is to rule over all others. And I am here to restore that power. Kneel before me and rise into the ranks of my great conquest.”
-Hela

“In recent years, and even decades, too many people have forgotten that truth. They’ve forgotten that our ancestors trounced an empire, tamed a continent, and triumphed over the worst evils in history… We have become a lot stronger lately. We are not going to apologize for America. We are going to stand up for America”
-Donald Trump, May 2017

It cannot be argued that American domestic and foreign policy has shifted dramatically since becoming a ‘super power’ and despite firm Neoliberal policies we have collectively sought to be a guiding moral force– though this perception has largely shattered by the Trump administration. There are those of us who fight for a more just future, one that truly lives up the proclamations of our current nation. But to make a significant change, a dynamic shift forward, we as a people must first acknowledge where we came from. We are a nation built on stolen indigenous land taken in blood, and tilled on the backs of African slaves. Our character was cultivated by greedy, white slave owners and sustained through Jim Crow and exclusionary laws, as well as violent raids. America would be nothing without exploitation and theft, just as Asgard wouldn’t be shit without conquest. But it isn’t Hela or Trump who shy away from carnage, it is those who wish to rule these respective nations without actually acknowledging our dark side.

“It would seem our father’s solution to every problem was to cover it up. You see, you never knew him, not at his best. Odin and I drowned entire civilizations in blood and tears. Where do you think all this gold came from? And then one day he decided to become a benevolent king. To foster peace, to protect life.”
-Hela

This produces a conflict among our heroes as Thor, against overwhelming odds, strives to return to Asgard to unseat Hela, while Loki and Valkyrie resign themselves to a life exile and apathetic brooding. Thor, grown wiser and more compassionate throughout his short reign, comes to grips with his father’s bloody past. He knows he cannot go back and alter time but he can rule with a much softer hand.

“I understand why you’re angry. And you are my sister, and technically have a claim to the throne. And believe me, I would love for someone else to rule. But it can’t be you. You’re just the worst.”
-Thor

Conclusion:
I don’t think it’s any mistake that Ragnarok concludes with the destruction of Asgard and Odin’s parting wisdom, “Asgard is not a place, it’s a people.” This film is ultimately a reckoning with the past and an argument for the complete dismantling of an empire. What is Asgard without magnificent structures, its gold and it’s treasure room, it’s supremacy? A lot, apparently. The who survive its destruction do so because of their selflessness and courage.

Oh and along the way, they pick up Korg and Miek!

Daredevil Season 3: Rigid Morality and the Lives It Costs

There’s a moment in the middle of Frank Miller’s classic Batman run ‘The Dark Knight Returns’ (1986) that I’m struggling to find a panel to evidence. I’ll do my best to paint a picture. Batman, now in his 50s, returns to Gotham a cranky, grizzled middle-aged man. His return serves to reignite the Joker (comatose for a decade or so) and his will wreak havoc.  Being the criminal genius that he is, Joker quickly and effortlessly secures his own release through the misguided efforts of a prominent psychologist. Wasting no time, he murders hundreds, many of the deaths being televised. In the hunt for the sadistic clown, Batman is forced to wrestle with his CODE of never taking a life. He wonders how many innocent people had died, and would continue to die, because of Joker’s existence, and how much of the blood was on his hands because he could not bring himself to end Joker for good– to kill him.

It was this segment that sat with me throughout season three of Marvel Netflix’s Daredevil as we see the reemergence of Wilson Fisk, now haled as The Kingpin. Pushed to his emotional limit, an already broken Matt Murdock is forced to grapple with not only the inability of the legal system to stop Fisk, but also it’s easy corruptibility. He must debate how many more will die in Fisk’s conquest for power? And how responsible is Daredevil if Fisk persists?

**Before we go any further, I want to warn you there will be MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD. If you have not finished Daredevil season three and you don’t want to know the ending, stop reading. Okay, you’ve been warned. Let’s get into it.**

In the first act of the season, audiences are pushed to consider whether a madman like Fisk can be reformed or at least blunted by romantic love. This is juxtaposed with an unhinged Matt Murdock coping with severe physical and emotional trauma. Matt has distanced himself from his friends both super and not, and he refuses to even wear the Daredevil armor, which I get you want symbolism in your aesthetic but what he subjects his body to is difficult to watch. What remains of Matt is an unceasing determination to prevent Fisk’s rise, even at a cost of own life. For a couple episodes it even looks as though Matt/Daredevil is the actual antagonist, hell bent on ruining the life and reputation of a man who has paid (a portion of) his debt to society through time served.

Marvel’s Daredevil

Once Fisk, or the Kingpin, is revealed in the second act to be the murderous crime-lord we know and love, Matt is forced to decide what stopping him really means. He must choose between his personal moral code drawn from his deep Catholic faith, and the lives of innocents in Hell’s Kitchen.

So, let’s talk about violence. I am no expert, I have no academic background. I am history nerd and I enjoy reading political theory, but again, not an expert in any of these fields. These are just my views, opinions. Add some salt, if you will.

I believe there’s a difference between the violence of assault, say attacking an individual physically because they angered you, or got in your way, or because you wanted to lash out, and the violence of striking back against an oppressive force/organization like a government or corporation. And even in that, I’m very selective on the political violence I endorse. I get that the line is very blurry. In my short lifetime, my peers and I have seen America overtaken by acts of political violence.

There was a moment in the 1930s when heroes slayed their foes, even Batman. The ‘No Kill’ trope gained prominence in comic books in the 40s. Morality shifted during the second World War, leading to more empathetic heroes. In this, they drew the biggest distinction yet in a subculture of costumed individuals. It ceded the moral high ground to the heroes and altered the fashion in which they thwarted their prey. You couldn’t simply shoot or explode your villain anymore, and as far as I’m concerned that wasn’t a bad thing. This makes sense in that you can have reoccurring villains and the limits of force pushed writers to be more creative.

Both Daredevil and Batman live-action adaptations are perfect vehicles for this style of creativity to flourish. Neither can summon lightning, or fly, or lift a car with their bare hands. They rely on constant martial arts training, non-lethal weaponry, and an intimacy with the streets they are sworn to protect. This leads to some amazing brawls in alleys, basements, hallways, and sewers. Despite the prevalence of the extraordinary Avengers and X-Men, audiences still clamor for tales of every-men pushed their physical limits in the street-level pursuit of justice.

But what happens when the hero finally collides with a force so powerful it can’t be contained in a jail, so influential it can’t be punished, and so determined it will murder again and again? What do you do when that villain is The Kingpin and he has a major chunk of the FBI in his pocket, as well as most of the prison staff and several government officials? What do you do when no one you know is safe from Fisk’s wrath? These are the questions Matt, as well as, Karen and Foggy must grapple with in season 3.

 

I’ll start with Karen who we get to know much better this time around. Half an episode is dedicated to a traumatic event from her past in which she kills her brother while driving under the influence. Karen must also own up to killing James Wesley during the events of season 1. She really takes a hard look at herself and what kind of person she has been and because of this she floats morally. We see Karen lay down false threats mid-interrogation, lies which could jeopardize her career. She also goes on a solo mission to enrage the Kingpin to the point where he’ll strike her on camera. Inevitably she cools off and her faith in ‘the system’ returns which puts her at odds with Matt who sees killing as the only way to stop Kingpin. In dealing with her own past, Karen is less insistent on pushing Matt one way or another, rather she just misses his friendship and resents him for his distance.

Oh Foggy, you vanilla scoop in a sugar cone. Lacking any trauma in his past while also being a middle class, straight white guy, Foggy has 100% total confidence in ‘the system.’ Even after it’s reveal that Kingpin has a detail of FBI agents (and a few higher-ups) under his thumb, a feat he accomplished through blackmail over the span of two or three weeks, Foggy insists on caging Fisk through legal means. Even when a grand jury is convened with overwhelming testimony against Fisk, and he bends the jury to his will through threats and intimidation, Foggy STILL insists in his faith in the system. This is the same city that recently served up the death of Eric Garner for selling cigarettes on the street, the same city that instituted racist police reforms in the 90s that led to thousands of unlawful arrests of black and brown individuals. Good grief! It doesn’t make sense and yet, we are encouraged to agree with Foggy’s morality since killing Fisk would “break Matt.”

Would killing the Kingpin “break Matt” as Foggy (and Matt ultimately) believes? I’m not so convinced. Near his defeat, Fisk gets up in Matt’s ear like, “You know there’s no prison that can hold me!” He’s right. He knows it, Matt knows it, and we should all know it by now. Sitting in the audience, I count on Kingpin breaking out– more shenanigans for us. For Foggy and Matt, this has real consequences. They know with certainty that as long as Fisk lives he will continue to take lives, and freed from prison he tends to be exceptional at that. They have seen him twist his finger around the judicial system more than once. And finally, they know that as long as Kingpin lives it will endanger their loved ones– no one is safe and  no one is off limits. What is one man’s code when weighed against the lives of several innocents? Is it not stubbornness to not eliminate Fisk? I can’t argue that it would not break or taint Matt in some way, but what is that pain when paired against the mourning of innocents slain in war that had no part in? How many people have to die before lethal force is not only logical, it is necessary?

We know in the end, Matt/Daredevil opts not to kill Fisk and instead hand him over to the NYPD… and organization known for its fairness and incorruptibility. Yikes. Matt decides that being Matt (and not a full-time Daredevil) ain’t so bad and in the end we see the reformation of Nelson, Murdock & Page.

Conclusion:

I really enjoyed this season. Daredevil never ceases to impress me with meticulous and creative choreography, great acting, and well flesh out characters. I’m so tired of the ‘no kill’ trope though. I’m tired of being told that if a hero kills a mass murderer like Wilson Fisk, they are morally broken. This is repressive bourgeois morality and it’s impressed upon audiences. It serves to prevent any serious harm from coming to the powerful. There are those like Kingpin whose existence is predicated on continued death of innocents. The idea that the system can cage or even reform them is ludicrous.

The Purge Franchise

On July 14, 1969, Richard Nixon delivered a passionate address to the American people on the threat of illegal drugs. He began with,

“Within the last decade, the abuse of drugs has grown from essentially a local police problem into a serious national threat to the personal health and safety of millions of Americans. A national awareness of the gravity of the situation is needed; a new urgency and concerted national policy are needed at the Federal level to begin to cope with this growing menace to the general welfare of the United States.”

The War on Drugs was officially inaugurated in June 1971. For the next four decades the war was accelerated by each American president (see: Michelle Alexander). What followed can only described as devastation. Black and brown communities were torn apart by mandatory minimum sentencing, stop-and-frisk laws, three strike sentencing, racial profiling, and broken window policing. Local police departments have come to resemble an armored insurgency equipped with vehicles of war. Incarceration rates, which plateaued through the first half of the 20th century, skyrocketed from tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands for non-violent offences such as marijuana possession. Those who managed to avoid jail time or simply served their sentence are barred from voting.

In a 1994 interview with Harper’s Weekly, former Nixon domestic policy chief John Ehrlichman confessed that the War on Drugs was essentially a sham.  He said,

“The Nixon campaign in 1968, and the Nixon White House after that, had two enemies: the antiwar left and black people. You understand what I’m saying? We knew we couldn’t make it illegal to be either against the war or black, but by getting the public to associate the hippies with marijuana and blacks with heroin, and then criminalizing both heavily, we could disrupt those communities. We could arrest their leaders, raid their homes, break up their meetings, and vilify them night after night on the evening news. Did we know we were lying about the drugs? Of course we did.”

All of this and more comes to mind when watching America’s latest horror franchise, The Purge. The brainchild of James DeMonaco, the series centers on an alternate reality of America where for 12 hours, once a year, citizens are permitted to do whatever they want with zero legal repercussions. The four films focus on the most visceral aspects such as violence and murder, and asks the question: Are we as a species in need of an extreme outlet? At least that’s how it’s packaged and sold to the public. In reality, the annual purge functions as a way for the upper echelons of (white) society to rid the economy of the poor and low income, especially the black and brown population who are most targeted.

I want to take a look at the bookends of the franchise and talk about why the most recent prequel, The First Purge, is the most significant to date. Let go!

**There will be spoilers (but mostly for The First Purge)**

The Purge (2013)

Set in an affluent Los Angeles suburb in the year 2022, the first installment follows the Sardin family over the course of the annual purge event. James Sardin (Ehtan Hawke), head of a firm who manufactures home security systems specifically for the annual purge, has done very well for himself. Enough to build an addition to their already massive home, stoking resentment in several of their neighbors. His wife, Mary, is played by the awesome Lena Headey. Their humanity is put to the test when their little boy allows an injured stranger into their barricaded home. The stranger is being pursued by a young, sexy group of purge fanatics so intent on killing the stranger, they vow to kill the entire Sardin family to get to him.

This film was a lot of fun. It’s a tight 89 minutes and there is no fat. The story opens with a card telling us the audience that in the eight years since the first purge, violent crime has plummeted to single digits, unemployment is 1%… and all it took was a little purging. We should be skeptical of these figures, but I’ll get into that in a minute.

There was almost nothing I didn’t like about this film. It was less violent than I expected, choosing to focus more on the psychological toll and the stripping of humanity the event takes on those who participate. The villains were genuinely unsettling and there is an unspoken yet overt message that those taking the most delight in the killing are young, affluent, and white. The night has become on a American high holiday. Throughout the evening the Sardin’s are subjected to horrifying cruelties the purge. Exhausted and blood spattered, the film fades out on the shook family as a new report declares it to be the most successful purge to date, stating the stock market is booming and weapon sales are through the roof.

The one glaring flaw of the film is the use of The Stranger (Edwin Hodge). So, the film isn’t afraid to craft a situation wherein the litmus test of an affluent, white suburban family’s humanity is whether or not they will sacrifice the life of an unknown homeless black stranger to save themselves. It is however, afraid to give said black character more than two lines of dialogue which aren’t simply the word “Help!” For a brief moment in the first act, the film plays with the idea that the semi-intruder is a violent, bloodthirsty purger intent on murdering a scared family. That the Stranger is a large black man is meant to amplify our suspicion that he is prone to violence. Outside of that, the Stranger is one dimensional, possessing no history and an uncertain future. He is a literal walking catalyst.

But this isn’t the last we will see of Edwin Hodge as The Stranger…

The Purge: Anarchy (2014) and The Purge: Election Year (2016)

There’s a lot going on in the follow-up sequels. Anarchy gives us a street level take on what the annual event is like for working class folks in a predominately Latinx portion of Los Angeles. We learn what the night of terror is like for most folks, those of us without a mansion and a vault. We see how the purge event has spurred tiny market for human trafficking, and how you can sell your body (to be purged) to a rich family. So, that’s a plus! Oh, and we also get to see what Netflix’s The Punisher would have been like had Frank Grillo been cast as Frank Castle. And most importantly, we meet a group of Anti-Purge resistance fighters led by Carmelo Johns (Michael K. Williams). Hell-yes!

‘Election Year’ takes place in the year 2040, though nothing visually indicates that we have technologically advanced or regressed. In fact, everything looks the same as today. The story follows presidential candidate, Senator Charlie Roan (Elizabeth Mitchell) who is running an Anti-Purge campaign. We finally get a glimpse of New Founding Fathers– surprise, surprise, they’re all white as milk and old as dirt.

The Stranger, finally named Dwayne Bishop, resurfaces first as part of the Anti-Purge resistance and later, succeeding Johns as the leader of the resistance. This brings me to the most frustrating part of the story, the moral policing of the anti-purge resistance. As Senator Roan flees through the streets of LA from hit squads (of KKK and Neo Nazi bikers) literally ordered to kill her by her presidential opponent, she insists on running a bloodless campaign… even if it means a lot of black and brown folks have to die around her. The resistance has a meticulous plan to bomb the New Founding Fathers on purge night (legal) but Senator Roan won’t have a victory if it means someone has to die… even if her life is continually saved by the resistance.

I can’t think of a better analogy for the 2016 election (an event the film used to stoke media interest) than Senator Roan, a white woman, insisting on ‘playing the rules’ and tone policing blacks while her opponent is literally attempting to destroy her by any means necessary.

The First Purge (2018)

“Citizens, this will be a tradition we celebrate every year. Join in the first Purge.”
-The President

Someone said there would be no ‘The First Purge’ without ‘Get Out,’ and I can see that. The latter proved that black helmed horror projects are viable, which… c’mon y’all, do better. But as to the cause and effect, I disagree. The First Purge, directed by Gerard McMurray and written by creator James DeMonaco, has been in the works ever since 2013 when the Alt-Right yuppies pulled up to Ethan Hawke’s house demanding the Stranger. This is the story of the first purge and those who opposed it.

The film opens with candidates interviewing to take part in a new experiment soon to be dubbed the purge. We learn the experiment will be confined to Staten Island and participants will receive $5000 simply for staying home– the financial rewards increase with active participation in the purge. We see that many of the city’s residents are low income and struggling to get by and thus very susceptible to money incentives.

What follows is a montage of news clips (and Van Jones!) that could have been pulled from a day’s worth of CNN and Fox News. War, Recession, unemployment, crime, and poverty– there has to be a solution to these ills! Can’t someone take drastic action?!

“Van Jones: We are here with Dr. May Updale. She came up with this experiment. Is The Purge a political device?
Dr. May Updale: It is a psychological one. If we want to save our country, we must release all our anger in one night.”

Normally, I don’t get too hyped for prequels. There’s an inherent defeatism to a story like this. We know that somehow the experiment will succeed and we know that the purge will be an annual event for the next 18 years. So, why be concerned with the struggles of Dmitri (Y’lan Noel), a noble drug kingpin and Nya (Lex Scott Davis) a fearless activist? We should care about them because these are people most vulnerable during the purge. Each represents a faction of lower class society which has already been abandoned by society. Remember the news broadcasts, remember that all except for the experiment, their world mirrors ours? The Staten Island projects in the First Purge have been decimated from 40 years of over-policing and daily police brutality. They survived the crack boom and the Giuliani administration. The purge is just another attempt to society of black and brown folks, especially low income citizens. What follows is some of the best black revenge imagery I’ve ever seen. I’m talking Y’lan Noel strangling a white assassin in black face. Also, can we please put him in another action movie like right quick?

“Our neighborhood is under siege from a government who doesn’t give a shit about any of us.”
-Dmitri

This installment presents a definitive backstory. We learn that the NFFA (New Founding Fathers of America), a stand in for the Tea Party, formed around 2013-14 and were voted into power. This was surprising as the series continually refers to a revolution which resulted in a power shift. What we is a more conservative, somehow more corporate Republican party with the NRA as a major donor… So, basically a half step off our reality.

“Arlo Sabian: Parties? You predicted a much higher level of participation.
Dr. May Updale: Human nature does not obey the laws of politics.”

In order to cement their authority, the NFFA needs the first purge to be a success. After a few hours and only one death it becomes clear that people aren’t as violent as predicted. Many choose to party instead of killing and looting. At that point, those pulling the levers call in insurance in the form of a KKK/Neo-Nazi biker and Russian mercenaries to roll through the island and murder as many as possible. Chaos ensues.

Conclusion:

To tie this all together, I want to talk about the confrontation between the architect of the purge experiment Dr. Updale (Marissa Tomei) and representative of the NFFA, Arlo Sabian, when the former discovers the true purpose of the purge is to literally purge the American economy of the lower and vulnerable classes. That simple. Sabian states that all other solutions have been exhausted. After multiple recessions and ever rising unemployment the government is left with no choice but to take drastic measures. This is right after Dr. Updale catches him in a lie and questions whether the crime and poverty statistics themselves are as fabricated as the experiment.

It’s no coincidence that the War on Drugs was birthed at the end of the 1960’s, an era famous for social unrest. From the Civil Rights Movement, to Women’s liberation, to the massive anti-war protest, to many the times felt like spiraling into chaos. For others the injustices were so severe that a social obligation called them to resist. All of this was exploited by the Nixon administration who played on white southern and suburban fears and anxieties. Each of the progressive movements threatened to upset the hierarchy of power in America (See: white supremacist capitalist patriarchy).

The first purge is inaugurated after back-to-back recessions, rising movements like Black Lives Matter and Occupy, rapid wealth distribution to the 1%, and the country’s first black president. This is no mistake. Like the Indian massacres, Jim Crow laws, lynching, interment camps, Tuskegee experiments, J. Marion Sims and gynecology, redlining, and gentrification, the purge is as American as apple pie.

A Little Black is Still Black

There are plenty of black characters throughout manga and anime, and I’m certainly not the first person to write about that. Probably many of you know the more popular, embraced characters like Killer Bee (Naruto), Canary (Hunter x Hunter), Afro (Afro Samurai), Casca (Berserk), Atsuko Jackson (Michiko & Hatchin). I mention them specifically because I don’t think there’s any disputing their race, and more importantly, they are all excellent examples of representation. Each of them are complex individuals with fleshed out motivations and desires, and the crux of their character does not rest on antiquated stereotypes.

Canary

Killer Bee

Casca

Atsuko Jackson

Afro

You may also know some of the not-so-great representations in anime like Mr. Popo (Dragon Ball), Chocolove McDonell (Shaman King), or Jynx (Pokemon). Their character design harkens back to the Sambo imagery of America’s Jim Crow Era.

Mr. Popo

Jynx

Chocolove McDonell

Yikes. I want to talk about something different, though. I want to explore a few ambiguous characters and their African features. I know I’m not alone in attaching race to anthropomorphic characters like Max from ‘A Goofy Movie’ or humanoids like Piccolo (Dragon Ball). Vice did a great write up on this (See: All Your Favorite Cartoon Characters Are Black). But what about the human characters who are seemingly Japanese in all but for their features? Do they merely look black-ish for aesthetic reasons? Is the creator trying to convey some commentary or is it merely a case of appropriation? Let’s look at a few of my favorites.

Aokiji Kuzan (One Piece)

Former Marine Admiral Kuzan is presented as an occasional thorn in the side of our heroes, the Straw Hat Pirates. He’s about 8.5 feet tall with a deep voice, tan skin, thick curls, and the ability to turn himself and everything around him into ice. His appearance is based off the late Japanese actor Yusaku Matsuda. There are very few dark-skinned characters in One Piece and the Fishermen race already serves as an analogy for race and an oppressed class. Kuzan, an admiral, sits on one of the highest seats of authority in their world. Initially, I assumed him and Ussop were supposed to be Puerto Rican or Cuban– perhaps they are. At this point, I claim both as black because I claim myself as black. I match both characters in shade and more importantly, I’ve learned the African diaspora is vast and varied. Black people come in all shades and sizes. Also, I want to compliment Eiichiro Oda for drawing an afro that isn’t intended for comedic effect.

Ken Matsushiro (Yakitate!! Japan)

Ken is the Manager of Pantasia’s Southern Tokyo Branch in ‘Yakitate!! Japan’ (2004). It’s anime about baking and it’s so damn good. Seriously, pull up any clip on YouTube and tell me you’re not interested. Ken is tall with tan skin, he always wears his shades, and has an afro which distinguishes him from every other character in the manga/anime. Ken is also considered the best French-bread artisan in Japan.

Ken is difficult. While he is kind and sweet, and has a fleshed out past that adds dimensions to his character, the writers also lean on his hair for comedic relief. Ken has a Japanese name and in flashbacks we see him and his little sister with straight, dark hair. His afro and tan skin allude to the possibility of him being black but we’re not given anything more. And at one point, Ken gives another character an afro wig to wear to help them bake… It’s difficult to tell if his hair has any purpose besides as comedic relief. Black hair has a long history of ridicule in pop culture (See: Natural Hair Vs. The Media: The Battle For Black Women) The show does features a disco inspired track for it’s second outro with Ken looking like Saturday Night Fever on the dance floor. It’s possible that his character is supposed to be an amalgamation of disco tropes, too.

Joker (Akira)

Joker was first featured in the Akira manga in 1982. He starts off as a baddie and leader of the Clown Gang, a violent group of street youth involved in production and sale of drugs. Him and his gang square off with Tetsuo, Kaneda, and company a few times before Neo-Tokyo is leveled by Akira. In the aftermath, he’s displaced as leader of the Clowns and eventually comes to the aid of Testuo. Sadly, the classic 1985 movie features very little of Joker. His portrayal is pretty one dimensional– he fills a sort of scary, dark goon role and exits as quickly as he enters.

Joker is heavy set and muscular. He has dark skin and has an upside down clown face painted across his scalp. He is one of the many youth in the story abandoned by the system. He along with the others who slipped through the cracks, eek out what tiny existence they can in the massive, capitalist rebirth of Tokyo. I love that he isn’t just a throw away character in the manga. He is present throughout, forming bonds with several of the characters. Without this, it seems so easy for movie audiences to write off his character as another physically imposing thug, thus reinforcing stereotypes about the physical threat black men pose. And again, I don’t know if Joker is supposed to be black. Outside of his skin, there isn’t much else to place him as black, yet I still have a difficult time looking at his dark skin and shaved head, and thinking of him as anything but black.

Conclusion:

Black people exist in every corner of the globe. We claim space on every continent, in every major religion, and yes, even in anime and manga, too! We consume this media in large numbers, we devote hours to building costumes, and we show up– if you’ve ever been to an anime convention you’ll know black folks turn up! And that’s one of the reasons representation matters. Whether you indulge in tales of magical feudalism or intergalactic struggles, if you’re not seeing yourself it’s easy to assume we have no place in that world. I’m looking at you Game of Thrones!

It should go without saying that black folks can humanize non-black characters. Unlike white audiences, we do it all the time. Having someone black present in the story is not a prerequisite for our enjoyment but it certainly enhances the experience. Ultimately, manga and anime indulges in fantasy. It is an escape and it can be a very cathartic one. Speaking personally, I can say being black in America means an almost constant reminder that your existence isn’t valued. In American media, the black experience is often portrayed as bleak, and is defined by oppression and pain. Psychologically, this takes a heavy toll over time. This is just one more justification for representation. We need more black witches, black mech pilots, black martial artists, black knights, and even black mad scientists. We need to see ourselves in media with the same infinite possibilities as everyone else.

The Radical Subtext of One Piece

Back in 2007, near the end of a sprawling 73 episode arc of One Piece when the main protagonist Monkey D. Luffy commands an underling to take aim at the World Government flag and “set it ablaze” or “burn it down,” depending on your translation, I nearly leaped out my seat. Suddenly this vibrant anime about pirates and adventure became heart-wrenching and political. It dove into a world that made sense to me on an emotional and intellectual level. I was 21 at the time and had my nose deep into the ‘The Autobiography of Malcolm X,’ ‘Soul On Ice,’ ‘Angela Davis: An Autobiography,’ ‘Steal This Book,’ and lots more Black Panthers literature. I was enthralled by the music of the Last Poets and the life of Che Guevara. As Luffy and Co. go head-to-head with a government willing utilize a secret police and the lethal suppression of historical record to maintain the status quo, I shook with excitement. At this point, One Piece took on a radical subtext that it would maintain for the next 11 years.

Before I go any further, a quick summary of One Piece. The manga started in 1997, the anime in 1999. On the surface, it’s a show about pirates set on an Earth-like planet that’s mostly water. All sorts of mythical things exist like giants, dragons, giant prehistoric sea creatures, and dwarfs alongside humans. My favorite thing about this world are the Devil Fruit, a type of magical fruit that grows all over the planet in different sizes and colors. Each grants the eater a special ability– think of the X-Men as an anime and you’ll have a basic idea. As of this entry, the anime is on Episode 852 and the manga on Chapter 919.

One Piece is the story of a 19 year old boy named Monkey D. Luffy who dreams of becoming the future Pirate King, which doesn’t mean exactly what you would think. Yes, he’s after treasure, gold, and fame, but ultimately he just wants to be free. His crew are called the Straw Hat Pirates, which includes a reindeer doctor, a merman helmsman, a dapper cook, a cyborg shipwright, a beautiful archaeologist, a skeleton musician, a shrewd navigator, a brave sniper, and a swordsman wielding three katana. They sail the sea in search of an island called Raftel, where the former Pirate King kept all his treasure (the one piece). It is widely understood within their world that whoever finds the one piece will be the next Pirate King.

*Reads Right-to-Left.

Along the way they collide with several pirate crews and often with the strong-arm of the World Government, the Navy. The navy in this world largely resembles the fighting forces of Europe in the late 19th/early 20th centuries. The average recruit is equipped with a musket or a saber. But things like cyborgs exist as well. Bizarre, I know. Things get messy with so many super powered individuals running around on both sides of the law. The navy isn’t worth talking about at length in this entry though, as they are mostly the muscle and the enforcers of the political will of the government who oversees all their activity. Same goes for the other pirate crews, many of which play significant roles within this world, but serve more as obstacles to Luffy’s individual quest.

THE WORLD GOVERNMENT

Here’s some of what we know about the World Government thus far. We know that it is the union of over 170 countries, and that the entire organization is overseen by a group of five men called ‘the Elder Stars,’ who are very Illuminati in nature. We know that it was formed 800 years ago at the end of a period later dubbed, ‘the Void Century,’ and that there is no public record of what happened during that time. If the World Government is made aware of someone or a group of someones researching the events of the void century, the punishment is death. We know that many, if not most, of the nations incorporated are monarchies– many with dubious status.

We can’t talk about the World Government without talking about the Celestial Dragons. You see, we still don’t know much of what happened during the Void Century but looking at the Celestial Dragons we get a good sense that some real fuck shit took place. The world nobles are above everyone. There is no law which they are obliged to obey, and they live off a vast wealth culled from the ‘tribute’ each nation must pay in order to come under the banner of the World Government. The handful of nobles we have seen, have been incredibly depraved individuals. They murder on a whim, they incorporate literal slave labor in whatever fashion suits them, and they are entitled to take nearly any individual they want as a personal slave. Protest is prohibited and will most likely result in death. Being a Celestial Dragon is something you are born into, no one can ascend to the status, not even the kings and queens of the various nations. No, to be a Celestial Dragon you must have a bloodline which traces back to the 20 founding kings of the World Government. Not much is known about these kings, but it is implied that their business was more than shady. And finally, their fashion is very early science-fiction. They wear bubbles over their heads to avoid breathing the air of commoners. Starting to get the picture?

“World Nobles… Slaves… Human shops… Against the ‘purity’ of these ‘upper classes,’ the villains of the world look positively humane in comparison. It’s because the world’s in the hands of scum like them that it’s all screwed to hell… I mean, we’re not the nicest of guys, but at least we’re honest about it.”

-Eustass Kid, Captain of the Kid Pirates

So, knowing that the World Government professes ‘absolute justice’ yet condones public slave auctioning blocks, knowing that they suppress historical record with extreme violence, and knowing the regularly manipulate the media to serve their own purposes, you might ask who will stand to oppose them. Will it be the pirates? The short answer is no. They operate more like outlaws in the wild west. There is, however, a Revolutionary Army, who we have seen very little of to date. We know that throughout the events of the story, and for years prior to Luffy’s quest, their organization has been out there ‘liberating’ nations from the grip of the World Government. And we are promised an eventual war between the two forces.

BACK IN REALITY

A little bit about me for clarity. I’m not an anarchist. I’m anti-capitalist and I fall somewhere on the spectrum between a Marxist and a Social-Democrat. For the record, I find Illuminati theories boring when compared to documented history. Most importantly, I’m Black. The ongoing struggle against the World Government in One Piece, resonates strongly with the fight in our world against the ‘white supremacist capitalist patriarchy’ (see bell hooks). Let’s take a look at a couple quick examples.

• The intentional mixing of African tribes during the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade to avoid their communication and to prevent any potential mutiny. Later on, African captives were stripped of their traditional names in favor of European first names and the surname of whichever slave owner. Stripped as well of their native tongue.
• The continued erasure of African, Asian, and Latin American history from American textbooks. As well as, the erasure of European Colonialism from American history.
• The long history of the United States’ involvement in the governments of African, Asian, and Latin American countries. Our manipulation of elections, our extortionist taxation, and the use of our military might to extract precious resources.
• The formation of an economy and stock market built directly off the captive bodies of slaves and the extractions of highly desired spices from distant non-European nations.
• A wealth gap in America that continues to shoot most earning straight to the top 1%.

It’s not difficult to view see distinct elements of the tyranny faced by the Straw Hats in our world (or vice versa). Yes, it is often conveyed in heavy handed metaphors like a small group of aristocrats in a back room making decisions that will directly effect the lives of millions, but it’s all symbolic. After we learn about Nico Robin’s past, and how the scholars of Ohara were executed by the for merely trying to learn about the history of the world, it’s understandable why you might cheer as the Straw Hats burn the flag of the World Government.

While they have yet to see the Straw Hat Pirates willingly challenge the Navy (and by extension the World Government) in open combat, we have seen them repeatedly thwart their plans.

• Luffy breaks into and eventually out of Impel Down, the world’s largest prison, and in the process frees over two hundred prisoners, a few of which like Jimbe are political prisoners.
• The Straw Hats break into Enies Lobby, a government fortress, to rescue Nico Robin. In the process, the crew defeats CP9, a division of secret police dispatched by the World Government.
• The Straw Hats have freed the kingdoms of Alabasta and Dressrosa from the grip of government sponsored pirates like Crocodile and Doflamingo. Both of whom were running illegal operations which greatly oppressed the respective citizens of each nation. The government turned a blind eye until it was forced to acknowledge events who the Straw Hats turn things upside down.
• The Straw Hats have pledged their support and protection to nations like Fisherman Island. It should be mentioned that Fish and Merfolk, occupy a second class status. Despite their culture and society stretching back centuries, they are regarded by the World Government as violent and subhuman, and propaganda is regularly distributed to reinforce this perception.
• The Straw Hats are actively collecting historical records of the Void Century. It is strongly implied that by the end of the story, the crew will have accumulated all known records of the missing century.

I could go on talking endlessly on this subject, but it really requires the reader to have an in depth knowledge of loads of supplemental information. The point of this entry was merely to tie to subject matter of the animated world to the struggles of our own. Also, I so often see this show written off as childlike and silly fun, but lacking in the depth of something like Naruto or even Cowboy Bebop. I hope this was enjoyable to read. I know I throw a ton of stuff at y’all, so thanks for following along.