We Can’t (and Shouldn’t) Be Like Naruto

We All Can't (and Shouldn't) Be Like Naruto

by Morgan Anderson

Approximately one week ago, I finished all 500 episodes of Naruto. Yup, 15,840 minutes, 264 hours, or 11 full days (12 if you include the movies). Mini spoiler alert, the last few episodes of the series made me bawl my eyes out. I actually had to pause mid-episode of the last Sasuke-Naruto epic fight scene and run to knock on my roommate’s door, a fellow fan, to vent about the enormous flood of emotions I was feeling in those final moments. I discovered in the course of watching it that you can fit a lot of wisdom in a 30-episode-long fight between two rival characters. Despite being “just” a kids’ show, Naruto’s lessons on friendship and

life pack a punch. For example, I shamefully came to understand that I shouldn’t judge a character by his first appearance or description (sorry, Itachi). But most importantly, I learned about the power of a wish—the goals and desires that drive the characters throughout the series.

Unfortunately, I used to be that kid who wasn’t even allowed to watch SpongeBob growing up. Due to my parents’ efforts to shield me from violence and inappropriate humor, I also happened to miss out on watching Naruto as a child. My early twenties, however, offered a perfect time in my life to catch up on what 10-year-old Morgan missed out on. Shows like Naruto, Avatar: The Last Airbender, SpongeBob, Chowder, iCarly, etc., defined many of our older-Gen-Z childhoods, and they continue to influence us even now. Through my college-age lens, I feel compelled to ask, what can we learn from childhood shows with our new, profound wisdom of “adulthood”?

One of the most powerful forces in the Naruto series is the desire for friendship and the complementary acceptance and acknowledgement from the friends one respects and loves. Naruto isn’t powerful just because he masters a bunch of super cool ninja moves but rather because he gains strength from his friendships and mentors that he loves so deeply (and they, him in return). When Sasuke (Naruto’s BFF) leaves the village to hone his mighty ninja skills, he also attempts to cut all ties with his friends, as they made him weak. To Sasuke, to achieve true power and the vengeance he lived for, he has to be heartless and drown in hatred. Sasuke, upon leaving the village and accepting hatred in exchange for love, causes Naruto a lot of pain, anguish, and feelings of helplessness. To Naruto, if he can’t even save a friend from such an ordeal, how can he be the greatest ninja ever? Despite these feelings of hurt and frustration, Naruto continues to reach out to Sasuke to coax him back home, all because he truly loves him and wants the best for his best friend.

Throughout my life, I, too, have both wished for and worked towards true friendship, which I define as a friendship in which we both feel safe to be ourselves and always support, understand, and are able to grow with each other. In a similar fashion to Sasuke and Naruto, my wish hasn’t always come true, nor my efforts reciprocated. But sometimes my wish was granted even in the most unexpected of times. During my

freshman year of college, I was nervous I wouldn’t find a niche group of friends that truly accepted me for who I am, supported me, and always pushed me to do and be better (read: they would call me out on my bullshit when necessary). Throughout multiple friendships in my life, I would often push aside my own emotions and wellbeing to ensure my friends’ happiness was prioritized–even if it came at the cost of my happiness. I often did this in fear that advocating and sticking up for myself would frame me as a bad friend, as if opposing a friend’s (sometimes hurtful) actions and words was like breaking the “girl code.”

Somewhere along these contradictory journeys of being rejected and accepted in my search for genuine friendships, I became lost. How could I balance my inherent human need for friendship while simultaneously respecting another’s (and my own) boundaries, cultural factors, and expectations? (All of us eldest daughters out there feel this one, for sure.) Why do I correlate my own emotional wellbeing with the emotions of others, which I know I have no control over? Even though I can acknowledge my lack of power over others’ feelings, I still struggle with feeling responsible for how people react when I express my own thoughts. This emotion is especially exaggerated when it results in them being upset with me. And at what point is it justified for me to “give up” on a friend because they hurt me in the process of their own self-discovery journey? Naruto never gave up on Sasuke, even when Sasuke caused him pain, because Naruto knew that Sasuke was hurting, too. As his friend, he didn’t want him to be alone and continue to drown in hate. But man, as much as I aspire to be like Naruto, it’s fucking hard (and kind of unrealistic).

How do I balance this aspiration to be the most loving and supporting friend like Naruto while still taking into account my own wellbeing? Last week, I attended a group therapy session. We were asked to journal our own definition of “worthy” and if it correlated to either positive or negative wellbeing. We also noted aspects of our pasts and identities that made it difficult to feel worthy. I wrote about my seemingly too-high bar when it comes to romantic relationships and how it has made me (at numerous points in my life, unfortunately) think that maybe I just wasn’t worth someone’s love. I wrote about how my past mistakes, like putting others’ perspective of me and emotional wellbeing over my own, have damaged my definition of worth by making me feel less-than and undeserving of someone’s (or even my own) effort, patience, and love. During this journaling time, however, I also relished in the fact that I feel rejuvenated when I am crafting, drawing, or rearranging my sweaters while listening to music. Most importantly, I recognized that I feel the most worthy when I am with those I love.

When the group reconvened after the journaling exercise, we came to the consensus that perhaps our definition of worthy is forever a work in progress. That being said, when we shared our work aloud, each of the definitions communicated common themes of having space to freely express our whole selves, to harness the ability to love and be loved, and to know that we are all inherently worthy just

because we exist on this earth. Essentially, worth— and the definitions and boundaries that come with it—is complex. Damn!!! Way to make it even more complicated, right? Perhaps, however, more harm and pain come when we try to ignore these nuances. As humans, we inherently try to make sense of complexities, like worthiness, and boil them down to something that is simple and easier to approach. By doing this, we allow ourselves to easily categorize what is worthy to us (and of our time, of our effort, etc.) and what is not. What I’ve come to realize, however, is that worthiness is something that is always shifting, molding, and adapting. And

maybe that’s where I was getting Naruto wrong. I thought I had to be this person who allowed others to hurt me and my self-worth because my definition of a worthy friend or person was rigid. Previously, I thought a “worthy” friend was someone who refused to give up on helping “friends”, no matter one’s own circumstances, and that letting someone or something go meant I was weak and a bad person.

Maybe instead the real truth of Naruto is perseverance and will. I originally thought Naruto’s perseverance to “save” Sasuke meant that good friends must persevere through the pain and hurt their friend may cause. Perhaps, however, Naruto exemplifies what it means to preserve in the face of complexity—for the sake of yourself and those who genuinely love you. Naruto perseveres through his friend’s hate because he wants to challenge the notion that one isn’t worthy just because someone else doesn’t deem one worthy of their time, effort, and friendship. He teaches children and adults alike to continue to work on personal acceptance and selfworth in order to help both oneself and others in the long run. As I stated previously, I recently felt lost on my self-worth journey, given my tendency to equate my emotional wellbeing with the feelings of others. While watching Naruto, I became inspired by his ability to be such a forgiving, relentless friend who refused to let Sasuke be absorbed by hatred—even if it meant going to extremes (like physically fighting him multiple times, even to the point of death). That being said, I also felt even further conflicted on how to balance my personal wellbeing with my goals of being the “golden” friend that Naruto exemplifies. I began tackling this difficult balance of prioritizing my wellbeing by being more conscious about and comfortable with saying “I feel upset” when necessary. I also began to think about and reevaluate my boundaries and how they create space to both love myself and others. My tarot card teacher recently said, “Ignorance is a tomb,” and by choosing to be ignorant of my own feelings and boundaries for the sake of others, I only continued to entomb myself in my own thoughts, doubts, and questions that undermined my definition of self-worth. Through many conversations with myself and with loved ones, I’m just now starting to find my way back to the path of finding and evolving self-worth. It takes work. A LOT of hard work. It isn’t easy for me to sit at a table and cry in front of my friends about how I feel, but hearing my loved ones question the negative manner in which I talk about and see myself was the fucking brightest sign that I needed to (re)direct me towards this other self-loving path in my life.

So, I highly suggest for y’all to rewatch those comfort childhood series, or take a chance on a classic you still haven’t watched. The unique joy of rewatching shows that we loved as children—or as adults, in my case—is not just understanding inappropriate jokes that previously went over our heads or learning where our love for bad boys originated. To me, at least, it’s uncovering the strikingly deep and important lessons embedded within each episode that we can only decode as we grow, evolve, and enter the clusterfuck journeys of adulthood. Thank you for reading my synthesis of Naruto, a quarter-life crisis, and the journey of defining self-worth in the midst of discovering true love and friendship. And so, for each and every one of you, I wish that your self-worth journey is one full of love and compassion from both yourself and others, reflection, true friends, childhood TV shows, and inevitable evolution.