As we sat down to plan out the fifth and final edition of Smear, we thought, “Well, fuck it, it’s the last zine–Let’s throw out the proverbial rule book and make something different.” And that’s just what we’ve done. Smear Issue 5 combines what we’ve always loved to cover–Austin’s underrepresented creative class, current feminist issues, creative writing and unique think pieces, alongside showcases of artists’ works. Double the length of our previous four zines, this time around we also decided to integrate artist submissions. With everything from illustration to sculpture, they join the articles written to get the word out about local artists that deserve to be recognized. Over the last three years we’ve worked on this zine, it has become apparent how difficult it can be to create something that is both independent and rooted in DIY culture, while also staying sustainable and rising above the level of its origins. We would like to thank all of the writers, illustrators, photographers, editors, general weirdos and idea-havers that helped launch and keep Smear going for so long. We couldn’t have made it this far and reached this level of… dare I say it, “professionalism,” without you. We hope we provided a welcoming platform for your ever-evolving ideas and carefully-crafted artworks. This project has taught us that when you get together with your friends and have fun creating, you can make something pretty damn cool and special, for other people to enjoy and be inspired by. We are all excited to enter the next chapter of our creative lives; whether it be freelancing, starting new jobs or being content getting lost for a little while. Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy this one. Luv, Mary Founder/ Editor-in-Chief
CONTRIBUTORS Melanie Allen photographer Cody Bjornson photo editor/cover photographer Nathan Burgess art director Mary K. Cantrell founder/editor Henry Davis photographer Madeline Dowd artist Mason Endres photographer Baylor Estes illustrator Crystal Marie Garcia illustrator Alex Guillen artist Darby Kendall managing editor Stephanie Lawrence illustrator Aremo Massa comic artist MaryBeth McAndrews writer Nathan Sakulich artist Tinu Thomas writer Jessica Vacek photographer/writer Daisy York artist Roxanne Zech writer
Photography By Cody Bjornson
Where Do We Fit In? one-on-ones
the art of nathan sakulich
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Peer Into the Portal
10
False Sunflowers
13
current events
moody musings
preview of ‘RIDE’ by aremo massa
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the art of alex guillen
20
the art of madeline dowd
22
Goodly, Wicked
27
More Than Just A Short Skirt
31
one-on-ones
opinions
the art of daisy yorke
34
visuals by stephanie lawrence
36
www.smearmagazine.com
Size Representation in Austin Vintage Written By Roxanne Zech As a size 14 woman, I’ve acquired a pavlovian response to fitting rooms—a distinct mixture of dread and anxiety covered in a thin sheen of perspiration. It’s a recall to the hundreds of times I’ve felt my body expanding under the ungodly heat of fluorescent lights. Panic soon follows—“Will I be able to get out of this piece of clothing?” It’s a feeling I always expect when shopping in department stores, but once this experience crept into my local vintage stores, my tolerance faded. I remember venting these frustrations to my partner after a particularly disappointing pop-up event I attended in Austin. They began trying to reason my anger away, in what I assume was an attempt to make me feel better: “Maybe they didn’t have sizes like that back then, you know, resources were scarce.” Let it be known that women my size have ALWAYS existed. My 33inch waist is not a new wave, 21st century phenomena. I began to pay more attention. How often did I leave Austin vintage stores feeling like garbage, unable to find a good selection in my size? Eventually, I stopped going vintage shopping altogether. I soon found that many people I knew of similar sizes had adopted the same reality. Vintage shopping is often more emotional labor for those looking for women’s clothing sizes 10 and up. All the 04/One-on-Ones
while, my thinner peers were launching vintage brands and modeling for local shops, perpetuating this accepted norm. Sarah Rodriguez, owner of Thick Gal Vintage, an online vintage store, started her shop in March 2018 out of similar frustrations. Roxanne: What experiences did you have that led you to start Thick Gal Vintage? Sarah: Pretty much it was just one day—I was with Jordan, the founder of [Women of] Venus at this market. There were a couple local vintage shops there and it kind of just came down to a personal choice of okay, I can be social and look around and shop and stuff, but do I want to knowing that I’m going to feel bad about myself? Because nothing’s gonna accommodate my size essentially. We started talking about how it’s a really great thing to shop ethically, it’s good for the environment and everything, but it’s just so geared toward [smaller] sizes. It just leaves you feeling kind of invalidated or with a shitty body image or sense of self. Then we just kind of talked about how we wish there was an option for us. It kind of just came down to that one day. So I started gathering things I had and started selling them. R: I’ve heard responses from buyers like, “I have a hard time finding clothes in that size” or “back then they didn’t make clothes in that size.” Have you found
Photos of Sarah Rodriguez By Melanie Allen
it difficult to keep Thick Gal Vintage stocked? S: I agree with the statement that it is just harder to find those sizes because they weren’t around in the quantity that they are today. But yeah, it’s been harder to find them, especially vintage ones, but I’ve been able to find the small amount. A 34-inch waist is basically the max that I have right now on the shop but yeah, I’ve been worrying about finding sizes like XXL or XXXL. It’s just going to be more difficult because I don’t know the extent to which it actually exists. R: Where do you typically go to buy clothes? S: Some of it’s from my family, stuff that I’ve gotten from my grandma and my mom. A lot of it—I was actually really into this in high school so I have a lot of vintage pieces that I have from back then, but they are smaller sizes. It’s kind of a very personal thing to me because I was able to fit into those smaller sizes in high school because I was starving myself. So it just goes to show I am very proud of the growth that I’ve been able to achieve making Thick Gal Vintage because I know if I was still in that mindset of 14-year-old me loving vintage, then my goal now would have still been to make a size 4 so I can buy that vintage stuff instead of embracing this. R: Do you think there’s good size representation in Austin brick and mortar vintage shops? If so, who is doing it well? And if not, why do you think that is? S: I wouldn’t say that they’re not accepting [larger sizes] because I have been able to find some really great pieces, but I just think [these size’s] existence is so rare. That coupled with the fact that whenever they are in the stores they’re gonna be bought up pretty quickly. It’s a larger population of girls looking for such a smaller quantity of clothes. Especially since this is the average body size, even if it’s not represented. R: It’s funny because I can tell myself 06/One-on-Ones
that when I’m looking for a size 8 shoe. But all of a sudden when I’m looking for a 33-inch waist it becomes a thought of “nobody is like me.” S: It’s very easy to lose the fact that this is fine, this is average. It’s really fine to not be a size 2. Definitely I would say the fact that larger sizes gets snatched up and they’re rare. It basically boils down to those two factors… I feel like that’s easier for small girls to look through anything and be happy with what they find. DePop doesn’t have a range of sizes that’s big enough. I tried to list a skirt and it’s a size 14 and they don’t have that option. It only goes up to size 12. R: Whoa. S: I was like wow okay, I have to list this as “other” because the size doesn’t exist [on DePop]. I’ve kind of been questioning whether I should even use this platform to sell this stuff because I feel like the culture of it is questionable. Fourteen is not even that big of a size if you ask me. R: One of the things I’m thinking about is this idea of vintage shopping being a popular activity and the idea that bigger sizes get snatched up, paired with that awful bad day feeling. How much emotional labor are we doing to go shopping? S: Right, and that’s kind of another reason why I wanted to start [Thick Gal Vintage]. I wanted to be able to make just one central location where bigger girls can look at things without having to make that decision of if they want to put in emotional labor to shopping. I guess just the extent that you have to go through to avoid feeling shitty about yourself is a lot. R: I’ve started to notice local photographers who only shoot very pale, very skinny people. As we’re becoming more aware of representation in other ways in art like in gender and race, how often does body representation get left out of the conversation? S: I’ve seen local shops post looking for
new models and I thought, ‘Oh, how fun!’—Wait a second, do any of your clothes fit me? Do you even want me? I’ve even had an experience where I showed up to the shoot and the photographer already had a model that she was working with. The event was an open invitation for everyone to show up and be creative. But the photographer only shot her model because the people who showed up were not skinny. R: That’s not really an open call then. How often are “open calls” actually open calls? S: Right. Yeah. That was definitely the first time I felt like oh, shit. You don’t like this aesthetic. You openly chose not to include it. Austin vintage store owners, buyers and photographers need to
critically examine who their collections and models truly represent. I challenge consumers to pay attention to how much they’ve grown to accept the lack of body representation in these stores. Sarah Rodriguez’s Thick Gal Vintage has shown us the the demand for this kind of clothing is present and the supply is possible. Until body diversity is welcomed into Austin vintage, resale and consignment, this “ethical” alternative to fast fashion is just another vessel to glorify thin aesthetics. This interview has been edited for length. Find Thick Gal Vintage at depop.com/ thickgalvintage
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The Art of Nathan Sakulich “To me, the pieces I make are as somber and mundane as they are just plain funny. They’re not hilarious or depressing, but just enough to take in at a passing glance and chuckle before you turn the page. The simpler the character is, the more relatable they are, and the detail, or lack thereof, in the background only exemplifies that for me. I try not to think too hard about them!� @heyitsmenate
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Photography By Henry Davis
West Campus Free Comedy Showcases Local Acts Written By Tinu Thomas Comedy is great, free comedy is better and free comedy hosted by funny dudes who toss you free beer in West Campus’ weekly DIY stand up show, Chortle Portal, is the best. If the sun is setting on a Saturday night and you happen to be close to the corner of Guadalupe and 27th, you’re in luck. “Come for the anime, leave for the comedy.” That’s the Chortle Portal guarantee, as quoted by comedian Nick Saverino, host of the comedy show run out of Taos Co-op’s basement. For the past three years, the show has generated a devoted following, a crowd of college students and a few passerbys lured in by the colorful sign posted outside. Walking through the back gate 10/Current Events
of the co-op and down a dimly-lit stairwell littered with pre-show smokers and bar patron’s sets the stage for a night of comedy that feels more like a middle school sleepover. The booming pre-show anime video clips are accompanied by murmured conversations in the dark, as guests settle in for a night of comedy. The layout, a concoction of couches, loveseats and chairs, are slowly filled and then at 7 p.m., the show begins. The inhabitants of West Campus, broke college students, are the primary crowd at Chortle Portal. For the hosts and comedians of the show, this was not an unintentional result. Andrew Clarkston, co-creator of the show, says that the free show attracts a younger crowd that is open to a variety of comedy styles and subjects. “They’re up to
date. It’s our crowd; it’s not a bunch of old people buying chicken fingers,” says Clarkston. For students, free comedy on a Saturday night is already a deal sealer, but when Saverino starts tossing Lonestars into the crowd, you’ve got a party. “It’s probably the closest comedy show near campus,” says Clarkston’s stage partner and co-host, Danny Goodwin. “The overall theme is ‘kids rule, parents drool.’” Hosting a free comedy show every week is no simple feat. From pulling the set and couches together at the show’s start and end, to booking new comedians every weekend without the promise of a paycheck, much of the work that the contributors of the show do requires a labor of love. “We wouldn’t do it if we didn’t love it,” says Clarkston. If you’re ever at a comedy show that isn’t on Saturday night from 7-8:30 p.m., chances are you’ll run into Goodwin and Clarkston scouting for local comedians. “We go out like every night so if someone’s in town we try to get them on the show,” says Goodwin. When Clarkston, Goodwin and Saverino aren’t hosting Chortal Portal or hunting for performers to fill the Saturday night line-up, they’re pursuing their own comedy careers. “We do comedy every night, like at open mics and
stuff,” says Clarkston. “But it’s fun to do a booked show. We book all our friends and people that come out of town.” Eric Kubeczka, show manager and merch maker, described the crew as a mixture of West Campus’ finest and funniest. His childhood friend Summer Rizzo, photography director at 91.7 KVRX, also serves as Chortal Portal’s photographer. Rizzo takes photos for the groups’ Instagram account and volunteers to help with other organizational tasks that keep the weekly event running seamlessly. Although it can be difficult just to book a full lineup each week, Goodwin says they try their best to find a diverse group of performers. “We’re conscious to be inclusive on who we put on the show,” says Goodwin. “We try to be diverse in our lineup. It’s not always easy, but it’s important to do that.” Pat Dean, local comedian and part-time manager of The Velveeta Room, is one of the many familiar faces that grace the basement’s stage on Saturday nights. “I’ve known those guys since they started doing stand up, so 3-4 years probably,” says Dean. “I really appreciate how it’s different from other places and you really, honestly have no idea what Current Events/11
will happen.” Although Dean spends much of his time booking paid gigs for comedians at one of Austin’s most popular comedy clubs, he says Chortle Portal, although an unpaid gig, is a unique space for comedians to practice the more obscure side of their craft. “It is a very unique space and it gives you experience in performing,” says Dean. “What I greatly enjoy about that space-and the guys that put it on-is you can do your act if you’re working on new stuff. . . They don’t seem to mind when you’re doing different stuff.” While the painted wooden sign that says ‘FREE COMEDY INSIDE’ is now a Saturday night staple, it wasn’t always outside Taos Co-op. Kubeczka remembers his union with the Chortle Portal crew only two years ago when they hosted the show at his house. “We used to do it at other places and it was just never as good,” says Goodwin. “Shout out to Taos house. You can smoke indoors here; people love that.” “It’s really a blanket-fort show,” says Goodwin. He’s not far off, from the dude on the sax playing sweet tunes to the
melody of punchlines entering Chortle Portal —Saturday night feels like going back to your childhood treehouse and realizing all your friends are still there. Dean says he can see the group moving on to much bigger things in the future. “In ten years, I can see those dudes doing some very cool things in comedy. It might not be that specific show, uh because… You know what? It’d be kinda suspicious. They’re gonna be like 30-year-old men and they’re still like, ‘Let’s do this show for like 19-year-olds.’ No man, you gotta go, get out.” As for their comedic future, the trio says they hope the show will continue past their retirement, “We’re looking for three new goofballs to take over,” says Goodwin. Clarkston says he hopes to follow in the footsteps of the show’s co-creator, Andrew Dismukes, who moved on from his Chortle Portal roots to write for Saturday Night Live. “I started the show with another guy named Andrew and he writes for SNL now, so if this is like a springboard, sign us up.”
Photography By Jessica Vacek
Written By Jessica Vacek I used to live in a small country town where everybody knew each other, had each others number and the houses were spaced out just so you could get away with anything you did in your own home. The neighbors were all jealous of us, the poor family with the lavish garden who lived just across the tracks. Some of my
earliest memories are of that garden. The sunflowers always grew over my parents heads and so did everything else. We built our own barn and my mom painted those sunflowers on the side of it. I wasn’t born yet when my parents cleared the land together, tore down the old barn and built the fence that ran along our property. I missed what happened before they had that land to clear. I missed the part where Moody Musings/13
gin with me waking up inside my dream. I’d walk through the crooked house amid a wave of long white spiders suffocating me, pouring out of the walls. I read books to run away sometimes. A lot of books. Books about ghosts and books about girls who published their journals and books about living in the country and books
The house and the land were beautiful but broken. Inside always felt haunted to me. I had nightmares that would begin with me waking up inside my dream. my mom left her wealthy husband in the North to marry my dad and live in poverty on this land in the South. My dad wasn’t supposed to be able to have children, and my mom already had three daughters of her own.
about talking to pigs. I was a fantastic student. I didn’t talk to my classmates very much, nor did I talk in class. Many of my peers mistook my silence and solitary nature for stupidity. I just felt no commonality between my peers and I.
After my parents divorced my mom and I took up the house, but she wasn’t around very often. I was outside more than I was inside. There was pile of mulch at the house set aside for planting trees that was twice as tall as me. I’d run up and down and place buckets in various places as obstacles for me to avoid. A crepe myrtle tree stood next to the pile and I made it a project to peel the bark off its soft trunks. To escape the warmth of the southern sun I’d swim in the pond and lay under the porch with the dogs. One day one of those dogs was drowned by raccoons and we had to swim in and drag his body out. At night I’d go into the chickens’ pen and sing them to sleep. If I found a snake coiled around some of their eggs, I’d sing to the snake too.
Everyday on the bus ride home I’d worry about coming home and my mom not being there. Everyone knew she was a painful person to love. When I’d visit my sister in the North, her father refused to have a conversation with me or look me in the eye because I reminded him of my
The house and the land were beautiful but broken. Inside always felt haunted to me. I had nightmares that would be14/Moody Musings
mom. I’ve only met my oldest sister once because I remind her of our mother, too. In my oldest sisters head, my mom died a long time ago. She would rather have let our mother go early than feel the pain of somebody close to you dying a drug addicts death. On a recent trip to a rehab facility, my mom told me we were in the same facility I was conceived in. I’d missed the part where my parents were in rehab together 22 years ago, under threat to have all my sisters taken away. After getting her admitted this time, my mom slowly began to remark how messed up the other patients seemed to be. The doctor told her, “You think those people are messed up? That
was you when you came in here. Those people used to be your friends. If you can see them now, you’re ready to leave.” My mom hasn’t stopped seeing those people since. I used to feel guilty for being born, like a physical rendition and reminder of all the bad things that had happened to everybody. But now I can go for a walk, weeds and false sunflowers lining the street, and be reminded of my first home. I can feel the warmth on my skin from a idling car nearby, and embrace what I was born into. @operation_jessica
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The Art of Alex Guillen “Alex Guillen is a recent studio art grad currently based in Austin. She loves illustration, printmaking and new media. Alex’s art explores girlhood, humor and vulnerability– but she also just loves making cute things! She enjoys pretending to know how to bake, watching ‘Full House’ and oversharing on all social media platforms.” @alexguilllen
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Courtesy of Madeline Dowd
The Art of Madeline Dowd “Madeline Dowd is a visual artist residing in Denton, Texas, currently working towards getting her B.F.A in Drawing & Painting at the University of North Texas. Dowd’s work relies heavily on experimenting with materiality and process, in hopes of creating specific objects that correlate to a distinct time and place. These specific objects include materials such as wire and wooden blocks that create playful structures resembling children’s toys.” @crismannnn
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Photography By Mason Endres
Local Artist Katy Horan on Folklore and the Role of the Witch Written By Darby Kendall Ask 10 people to describe a witch, and chances are, you’ll get 10 different answers. There is, of course, the classic image of a woman riding her broomstick in the night sky, cackling with a black cat seated next to her. But the age and appearance of this witch can vary; sometimes she is beautiful and young, sometimes she is aged and warty.
Some may describe an enchantress, the magical Mrs. Robinson, who seduces and leads men to their ultimate doom. In another area of the imagination lies the crone, a wrinkled old woman who lives in nature and thrives in folklore. And between all of these women is the gray area in which the witch, this shapeshifting woman who is impossible to pin down, exists—This is the area that local illustrator and fine artist Katy Horan ex27/One-on-Ones
plores within her work. Horan, who began her professional art career in 2005, moved to Austin in 2009 out of appreciation for its welcoming gallery scene. Her works primarily focus on magic, folklore, feminine power and female archetypes, shown through a variety of paintings, drawings and paper cutouts. The witch, one of the world’s oldest archetypes, is a particularly strong favorite of Horan’s. “Oh, the witch! I love the witch so much,” she says. “The witch is one of the only female archetypes that is not defined by a man, or another person. A mother is defined by her child; a wife is defined by her husband; a queen is defined by her subjects—but the witch
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stands alone.” Horan’s fascination with the witch is apparent in several bodies of her work, including her recent illustrations for a novel about female authors, the aptly titled “Literary Witches,” published in 2017 by Seal Press. This book, a collaboration between Horan and poet Taisia Kitaiskaia, celebrates the featured authors by likening them to witches. “Both are figures of formidable creativity, empowerment and general badassery,” the book’s description reads. Horan’s hauntingly beautiful portraits feature writers from all walks of life, including Virginia Woolf, Octavia E. Butler and Mary Shelley. By comparing authors to magical beings, Horan’s images work to flatter both
factions; just like the witch, the woman writer has many different appearances, but countless strengths. “The witch is a complete shape shifter,” says Horan, describing her inspiration for the illustrations. “Then you realize, it’s because you can’t pin her down that she’s amazing. You can make work about her for the rest of your life, because the variations are endless.” Several of the witch’s endless variations are also featured in Horan’s most recent exhibition “Residual,” which was shown with the works of local artist Teruko Nimura at the ICOSA Gallery in March, 2018. Horan’s collection focuses on the folklore and magic surrounding the eastern half of the U.S. and the women who lived there before modern conveniences. “In the last five years, my focus on the witch has zoomed in on the folk magic of Appalachia, Ozarks and the American South,” she says. “And that overlaps with ghost stories too. They each have their own very unique flavor and their own atmosphere that I am completely in love with.” Ghost stories and tales of the afterlife are another theme regularly weaved into in Horan’s art, via shadowy figures, haint lights, bones and hauntingly white eyes. Since she can remember, Horan has been attracted to the macabre. The frightening-yet-beautifully illustrated series “Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark,” whose art is still thought of as completely terrifying by many now-adults, quickly drew her in as a child. “Those stories shaped my brain as a kid,” she says. “They have that folklore flavor on top of being spooky, and they’ve stayed with me my whole life. I’ve even done work around several of the stories in those books.” Horan came across the books while growing up in Houston, where she originally planned to go to college to work in theater and design. After a brief
stint at University of Southern California, Horan realized she wanted to work in illustration instead. She transferred to the Rhode Island School of Design where she graduated with a degree in the subject in 2003. Though she joined the school with a plan to illustrate children’s books, she was often turned down from those jobs because her style was described as “too dark and too weird.” “It’s actually pretty hilarious, because compared to what I do now, that stuff was fluff,” Horan says. This self-described, now humorous “constant rejection” prompted her to move onto the California gallery scene and focus on making works to be displayed on an open wall, rather than in a book. Starting out, Horan’s pieces were more character-based, which gradually expanded into large scenes featuring magical imagery. “I came out of the illustration department doing cutesy characters,” she says. “Then in 2008 I had my first introduction into paganism and goddess worship, which has been a big interest of mine… That culminated in the work I did from that time, where I painted a bunch of rituals and figures in cloaks and naked women engaging in magic in the woods. It would be an 18-by-24 piece of wood with 20 characters on it all doing something different.” After Horan was introduced to the idea of the divine feminine, her artwork was intensely shifted away from her former ‘fluff ’ characters. “Once I started getting into paganism and learning more about Wicca and witches and looking at femininity through that lense, my work was changed 100 percent,” she says. “Things got crazy after that.” For the past five years or so, one of her favorite branches to explore off of the divine feminine is the archetype of the crone. Merriam-Webster defines the One-on-Ones/29
crone as “a cruel or ugly old woman,” an unflattering, appearance-focused description. Horan, however, prefers to show the crone as powerful and wise; a woman to be feared by those who know less than her. Horan’s “Goodly/Wicked” collections spends a lot of time with the crone and her view of life, an irregular glimpse into the world of a woman who isn’t young or beautiful. In one scene, an old woman spits out her ghost at a maiden who flees from her; in another, a sobbing young woman runs up to the crone’s house, looking for help. “The young women are not highly respected in this world that I’ve created,” she explains. “I became interested in the crone because she’s never shown, and because I think she’s so much more visually interesting. I love painting her face more than a young, pretty lady,
which I’ve done a lot of. It was a conscious choice to focus on the crone.” More recently, Horan has made the decision to focus on illustration rather than work for galleries, but she’s still undeniably drawn to the crone. “I don’t know when I’m going to be doing anymore fine art work,” she says. “But I don’t think I’m done with that thread.” When I asked about the subjects of her future works, Horan immediately jumped to her strongest muse. “I’m always grabbing inspiration from horror movies and… Is there anything else? No, horror movies are definitely my main thing,” she chuckles. Even through this transitional period in her art, that’s one thought Horan can rely on: Her fountain of inspiration won’t run dry anytime soon.
Female Objectification in Anime Written By MaryBeth McAndrews Strength and power in anime is thought to come in the form of a cartoonishly-large male character, like Goku from “Dragon Ball,” Kenshiro from “Fist of the North Star” or Guts from “Berserk;” it’s all about masculinity, while femininity is weak and sexualized. But short skirts, tight tops and school girl uniforms aren’t just about hypersexualization anymore. Instead, they’re being used to empower young female heroes saving the world just like Goku. Characters like the magical girls from “Puella Magi Madoka Magica,” Noriko from “Gunbuster” and Ryuko
from “Kill La Kill” subvert the idea that femininity equates to sex and weakness. They show that girls can kick ass just as much as any male character. The fetishization of hyper-feminine girls is common in Japan. It is often called “moe,” which can also be used to describe any strong love felt towards anime and manga characters. Obsessed fans, or “otaku,” desire these characters as an escape from reality. According to Hashimoto Miyuki, a professor at University of Vienna, “Japanese otaku have a special bond with characters from Japanese popular culture. This bond is often of a sexual nature and also exhibits a distinctive fetishistic tendency.” While sexuality in anime is prevalent, Japanese sexuality in reality is much more complicated. So, anime becomes a place of sexual freedom, where sexual desire can be freely expressed. Young girls in anime typically wear short skirts and tight tops and are constantly subjected to upskirt shots that show off their underwear, commonly known as fan service. They exist as objects for male desire, as things to be thrown onto body pillows or on porn sites. If you google “girls in anime,” the top results are some variation of “hottest anime girls of all time.” These young girls are meant to be looked at and ogled, while the male characters are the heroes. Male characters fight the villains while the female characters watch from the sidelines or male characters rescue the damsel in distress. Female characters, particularly young Opinion/31
girls, are seen as weak, sexual beings. But “Puella Magi Madoka Magica,” “Gunbuster” and “Kill La Kill” take this hypersexualization and turn it on its head. These shows turn the sexualized school girl uniform into a source of power instead a source of objectification. The five magical girls in “Puella Magi Madoka Magica” are all young middle school students, who wear pastel colors and ribbons in their hair, the typical school girl aesthetic. But, this all changes when they choose to become magical girls who will protect humanity from evil witches. As they fight these evil witches, they undergo a magical transformation where their uniforms change and become the source of their weaponry. When Madoka, the titular character, transforms, her pink ribbons and pink uniform become her rose-covered bow and arrow. These girls’ femininity is literally weaponized and their uniforms, which are normally perceived as a weakness, become something new. While the girls of “Madoka
Magica” wear the stereotypical school uniform, Noriko of “Gunbuster” wears something a little different. It is a piloting school uniform, complete with short shorts and a crop top. This is an older anime, released in 1988, so cultural attitudes were less progressive. But what makes this show stand out is how the uniforms are used. They are not used to degrade the show’s female characters. Instead, the most powerful and able characters are the female pilots. At first, Noriko’s uniform does seem unnecessary. Why does she need to wear what is basically a bathing suit to pilot a giant robot? While it is fan servicey, the uniform doesn’t dictate her power. Instead of being seen as a sex object, she becomes the most powerful pilot in the show. The culmination of her power comes when Noriko actually removes her uniform. She rips open her top to unleash a powerful weapon, which consequently exposes her breasts. While this at first seems like unnecessary nudity, used only to show the fans something sexy, this is actually nudity with purpose. Noriko is choosing to tear open her shirt because it will save the Earth. She is not being undressed without consent or without
These girls’ femininity is literally weaponized and their uniforms, which are normally perceived as a weakness, become something new. reason. The removal of her uniform is enhancing her power and ability as a pilot. “Kill La Kill,” a show about fashion as power, is also an example of removing uniforms to enhance strength. This show also explicitly addresses the problem of objectifying young girls. Super suits, called “goku uniforms,” are
sentient school uniforms that become more powerful as they become smaller and smaller. Essentially, their most powerful form isn’t much more than a thong and pasties. They are ridiculously sexual and are poking fun at how school girl uniforms are typically used in anime. As Ryuko, the main protagonist, is covered less and less by her uniform, her power
Instead of an object of otaku desire, it is being manipulated into something empowering. They are taking control of their uniforms and using them to draw strength for themselves and over the audience. increases. While in most anime, the removal of clothes is seen as taking away power, in “Kill La Kill,” it is giving power. And this undressing is consensual, happening at Ryuko’s will. She isn’t forcibly stripped down by a male character; she takes the objectification into her own hands and turns it into strength. These uniforms are also used as status symbols, with only the most privileged students able to access them. The goku uniforms embody physical power and holding power over others; those without a suit are seen as peasants. When Ryuko gets access to one, she is now challenging the status quo. Her uniform isn’t just about superhuman strength and how sexy it is. Ryuko’s uniform is all about exerting power over the powerful and overthrowing tyrannical high school students. The magical girls, Noriko and Ryuko are changing how we look at the school girl uniform. Instead of an object of otaku desire, it is being manipulated into something empowering. They are taking control of their uniforms and us-
ing them to draw strength for themselves and over the audience. These characters take control of their uniforms, from the magical girls’ voluntary transformations to Ryoko powering up her goku uniform. As they manipulate their clothing, they are gaining power. They’re also choosing how they look and that makes them dominant over their situation. Even if they are removing clothes, there is a purpose; they’re still controlling how you see them. These shows illustrate a growing shift in cultural attitudes in an era where there is a demand for female heroes and less female objectification. Strength is no longer being portrayed as strictly masculine. No longer do mainstream characters have to be a man with huge muscles to save the day. So tell Goku to watch out, because a new type of hero is ready to steal the scene.
Illustration By Nathan Burgess Opinion/33
The Art of Daisy Yorke “Daisy Yorke (Dooz) is an L.A. based artist and aspiring illustrator. She likes to draw cute people in cute clothes and doodle comics that make you think.� @doozical
34/Visuals
Visuals By Stephanie Lawrence
Illustration By @ba3lor