I use a word like "agender" to help others understand who I am, but if you were to ask me on a deeper level, I would say no words really fit me. Agender doesn't convey the truth, but if I were to say that I am gender-less, I am nothing, I am just a creature who exists, the world wouldn't understand.
It's not as if I believe myself to be above labels; labels are good, they are useful, they help us make sense of the world and in turn, the world can make sense of us. But I know, deep down, that I am only a being created of stardust. I am here by happenstance. I was borne out of choices made by ancient humans long before I was ever even a thought in the mind of the universe, and to me that goes beyond any words the world can use to pin me down. I just am. I am everything and I am nothing all in one.
Society will call me a woman because of the body parts I possess. Politicians will make laws because of those parts, because those not born to them seem to believe they have the qualifications to dictate what happens inside them. I live my life wondering if I would feel differently had I been born with different parts, but understanding deep in my soul that, no, I would not. This is who I am. This is who I always have been. This is who I will always be.
The world may not understand who I am, not really, not ever, but I understand who I am. They try to tell me I am confused, that I don't know my mind, but I have been living with my mind for decades now.
If i would not know myself now, when would I know myself ever?
None of the bras truly fits her. They are all either too big or too small. The men’s jeans don’t fit either. The butt is too flat and the crotch too much. No room for what her mother calls her “birthing hips.” Trust her, she knows how ridiculous the phrase sounds. It’s even worse when her mother begins on what the men must think of them.
When James’ mother begins one of these conversations, she wishes she were a boy. Or something Other. Not boy or girl but something new. She would remove her uterus. No need for one of those when she doesn’t want a baby. She might keep her breasts. Maybe get a breast reduction to keep them out of her way.
Pink isn’t the devil like it once was. Nor are dresses, though she rarely wears them. They don’t feel like an extension of her body as they did when she was a child. Now, she feels vulnerable in them. It’s unfortunate that jeans under dresses went out of fashion a decade ago, for jeans give her a sense of protection.
No one told her that if they didn’t want to be a girl he didn’t have to be. They never said he could be something else. They only ever told them to accept these secondary sex characteristics and the leering that accompanies them. Eventually, she’ll love them. Or learn to suffer silently.
They never did say that anyone could be free. Only pretend to be.
Well, new year, new gender. Aren’t resolutions just broken promises in the making? Another set up for failure?
With both the English sub
and dub
of the series being uploaded to YouTube, I think it’s time to discuss queerness
as it relates to the Gundam Aerial from the anime Mobile Suit Gundam: The
Witch from Mercury. This anime is one of the highest earning Gundam
properties ever released. It is also the first Gundam anime to have a
protagonist who is either queer, disabled, or a woman. So let me introduce you
to this world by describing what Gundams are, how they tie to queerness, and how
they discuss themes of queerness and disability in The Witch from Mercury.
Before we can talk about The Witch from
Mercury, we first need to know what a Gundam is. To those who don’t know,
Gundam is a multimedia franchise following pilots of giant mech suits. You may
recognize this concept from media such as Pacific Rim, Power Rangers,
Voltron, or Metal Gear Solid. Gundam media typically uses these mechs to
explore themes of anti-war and anti-capitalism. Now, the way a mech is
portrayed in media is much more important than some would expect. Metal Gear
Solid makes its mechs, also known as Metal Gears, very animalistic with tails,
roars, and all. This is a discussion of war being an animalistic fight for
survival in which the strong survive. Blunt objects give way to swords, swords
give way to guns, guns give way to tanks, and tanks give way to Metal Gears. In
contrast, Gundam likes to design its mechs, also known as Mobile Suits, and
Gundams, more like people in armor. Similar to Metal Gears, Gundams are the
next step in corporate and war technology. Why spend millions on human soldiers
who are easy to kill when you can send in an 18-meter robot that takes a
smaller team and can do the same things on a larger scale. Gundam’s mechs
function more on how impersonal they are compared to the pilot.
Now, Gundam is not new to queerness. Older
shows were no strangers to queer-coded characters; newer ones such as Gundam:
Iron Blooded Orphans even had queer characters and potential lovers in Yamagi
and Shino. Sadley, they killed off Shino before the relationship would ever
come to fruition. However, it wasn’t until 2022 that Suletta Mercury, and
Miorine Rembran would break this cycle. Now, you may be thinking “well, it’s
cool that Gundam has a queer protagonist, but what does that have to do with
the mech?” Mechs have an odd connection to queerness. Despite typically being
used to discuss topics such as imperialism, the war economy, and other displays
of fascism, they have also resonated with many queer people. This is eloquently
stated in the article “Big Queer War
Machine” by Cynan-Juniper Orton.
We wouldn’t question why a tank is
used for war but when the machine looks like a person suddenly we begin to have
doubts. Mechs are not practical tools of war. It seems silly to point this out
but there is a reason they look so much like people. They are extensions of our
humanity. A humanity that longs to sing, dance, explore, know, love, and break
beyond its own limits. The tragedy of mechs is that these colossal people
are made to live as a site of conflict; that they are born to die rather than
experience every glorious moment in-between.
It's not hard then to understand why
queer folk might delve deep into the genre. A queer body is also a constant
site of conflict, pulled apart by a thousand forces so large that no one
individual could ever fully confront them. A mech is big enough though. It's
like a pair of six inch platform boots made of solid iron, and when you pilot
one you pour all your alienation into its frame and for one glorious fictional
moment are big enough to fight back. You take what comfort you can from
bloodying their noses even if needing to fight is exactly the horror you want
to escape.
The moment a pilot launches their mech
into battle is a deeply sad one. It is the point at which all the agency that
body affords is taken away. If a narrative doesn’t treat that agency with
weight then those pilots become just as hollow as their mechs. (Orton 2021)
These concepts can be seen in the
Gundam Aerial. Spoiler warning ahead.
Throughout the show, Aerial’s very
existence is a source of conflict. First and foremost, she is a physical body
given to the consciousness of a young girl named Eri who died before the main
series takes place. Areial is the prosthetic, not the person. She is constantly
threatened and defended in conversations she can’t have any say in between
people she doesn’t know. Her existence in the school is so contested that
multiple characters are trying to claim her, and others such as Suletta and
Miorine are so reliant on her that their very livelihoods are left up to her
succeeding in fights against opponents who will lie and cheat just to get rid
of her.
Queer people often have a similar
experience. Their rights to exist are treated as topics of debate from people
too separated from them to truly have a say. Their existence in schools is
treated as walking advertisements for the schools “openness,” while a good
chunk of the school makes their lives a living hell. Their queer friends and
classmates rely on them for companionship, all while groups larger than
themselves will use whatever scummy tactics are necessary to ruin them. Aerial
can be interpreted as a representation of queerness.
While Aerial is relatable in
discussions of queerness, Eri is relatable in discussions of disability. On
July second, Twitter user NilLaney (here’s an alternative link) posted a thread discussing many themes handled
in The Witch from Mercury, here is an excerpt:
Eri is relatable to many folks with
disabilities. She had no choice in being uploaded into Aerial. Many children
with disabilities get procedures and treatment they may not have wanted because
of their parents fears. Deaf kids with cochlear implants. Autistic kids getting
ABA. Eri ends up feeling emotionally responsible for her whole family, while
being unable to move or speak independently. She doesn’t see her own existence
as much other than to prevent her mother’s sadness. Many disabled kids end up
feeling this way about their anxious parents. So many folks with motor &
speech disabilities get treated like objects. Talked about, talked over. Moved
without consent. Subject to the projections of abled folks. All of this happens
to Eri as Aerial.Most authors can’t
imagine a better ending than death for these characters. It is SO beautiful
that Eri not only lives, but is surrounded by loving family who *accommodate
her disability by wearing communication devices.*” (NilLaney 2023)
Similar to Aerial, Eri lacks agency in discussions of
herself. In many of these conversations, both queer and disabled people are
often treated like children who can’t have a say on their existence,rather than people with voices to be heard.
They are treated like they exist so the conversation can exist, not to
participate in it.
Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from
Mercury, in addition to its queer characters, utilizes mechs
to discuss themes relating to queer theory, and crip theory. Gundam Aerial, in particular,
serves as a discussion of queerness, agency, and disability that you simply
don’t see all too often in such a succinct form, especially not with a happy
ending.
