Fun with Interpretation

[This post is for the 5th Carnival of Aces.]

I’m starting to realize, more and more, that people are infinitely capable of different interpretations of the same thing. Two people could look at the same sentence, the same action, the same facial expression, and get something completely different out of it. It all depends on where you’re coming from. Our experiences, our opinions, and our ideas shape the way we view the world – and the way we view media.

Take anime, for instance. The first full-length anime series I ever saw was Fruits Basket. I watched the show around the time I was twelve years old. It promptly became an obsession. I’ve seen all twenty-six more times than I can count, and I showed them to as many of my friends as I could (and got them obsessed too). After a couple years, though, our obsession waned and we all moved on. I hadn’t watched an episode of Furuba probably since I was fourteen.

This past June, however, I got together with several friends and we decided to watch it again.

[Keep in mind that I am only discussing the anime here, and ignoring any aspects of the manga that aren’t present in said anime.]

Aside from the awesome nostalgia this viewing inspired, I was amazed at how much a different perspective can change the way you look at media. When I was twelve, I was an avid Tohru/Yuki shipper. I thought they were the perfect couple, and I was convinced that the entire anime was subtly backing me up. When I was twelve, I also knew nothing about relationships other than the monogamous, romantic, and heterosexual. “Straight” people were the only ones with which I had any personal experience. Had I watched the anime for the first time at age sixteen instead, I probably would have shipped Yuki/Kyo (I went through a bit of a yaoi phase in high school).

I’ve learned a lot since I was twelve – and since I was sixteen, for that matter. I got involved with LGBT communities and received quite an education from books, movies, and friends. I discovered asexuality, and started to read all kinds of fascinating things about sexuality, orientations, and relationship models. With this new knowledge in hand, I guess it’s not surprising that I looked at Fruits Basket in a completely different light this time around. As I studied the relationship between Tohru, Yuki, and Kyo, it occurred to me how much they all grow together throughout the anime. I realized how much they (sometimes subconsciously) admire each other and depend on each other. It became steadily more obvious to me that the relationship between the three of them was the most influential, the most meaningful, in the show. Then, at some point during the penultimate episode, I thought to myself, “Wouldn’t it be interesting if Tohru, Yuki, and Kyo were in some kind of queerplatonic non-sexual triad?”

It might sound a little farfetched to some people, but really, why not? If they matter that much to each other, and if it would make them happy, then what could be wrong with it? Of course, Yuki and Kyo would have to suck it up and admit that they both secretly respect each other, which probably wouldn’t ever happen. But the way I see it, the stronger-than-average friendship between Tohru, Yuki, and Kyo is much more powerful than any other “pairing” in the show. I might even go so far as to suggest it’s the driving force behind the anime. So, even if the writers and animators didn’t intend to portray such a relationship, what’s wrong with me interpreting it that way?

Furthermore, I also reexamined the relationship between Shigure, Hatori, and Ayame. Their friendship is clearly vital to them. Hatori had his doomed romance with Kana, and it’s possible to construe Aya and Mine’s relationship as romantic as well. But it’s obvious that those three men will always depend on each other, and will always come back to each other for companionship and support. I’d enjoyed their friendship (and antics) ever since I started watching the anime, but it was new and intriguing to consider just how powerful that friendship could be for them – and likely is.

Since I myself am particularly desirous of deep, meaningful friendship, it was really special to look at this anime and find it in the kind of relationships I might be interested in having. It gave an old favorite a fresh and stronger significance for me.

One last note before I end this: I am in no way trying to say that everyone on the asexual continuum should content themselves with trying to see “non-traditional” relationships wherever there is ambiguity in existing media. I believe that media representation is extremely important. We need media to show us people we can relate to, without ambiguity and without interpretation. We should be able to read books, watch movies, and listen to music that accurately represents the variety – and value – of us. Also, people who aren’t a part of the ace continuum need to know that we exist, and a very good way to accomplish that would be through media.

Experimenting with Self-Love

On Sunday I went with a couple friends to a Mary Kay party. I wasn’t particularly interested or excited to go, but I wanted to make sure one of my friends didn’t have to go alone. There ended up being three of us, so I needn’t have worried. We met with a consultant and were taken through the process of washing our faces and applying simple makeup. And we bought stuff, of course.

Despite my low expectations, it turned out to be rather enjoyable. I’d had a rotten morning, which had included getting splashed to the point of dripping while I waited for the bus. I got splashed because it had rained the night before, and when it rains, my bus stop floods and turns the road into a mini-lake. Usually drivers are friendly and will swerve into the turn lane to avoid splashing you; on Sunday, I think they were feeling especially spiteful. Anyway, after spending the morning feeling muddy and furious, it was nice to be able to clean off and make myself feel “pretty.”

At one point during the session, the Mary Kay consultant asked us what kinds of make-up and face-care products we use. For simplicity, let’s call our consultant Mary. My friends all told Mary what kind of make-up they wear (truthfully, they don’t wear a whole lot). I told Mary that I’ve recently stopped wearing make-up. When she asked me why, I said that I want to be able to love myself as I am. I explained that I don’t want to depend on make-up to make me feel attractive; I want to embrace myself and feel comfortable being me.

Mary didn’t say much to me at the time, and we simply moved on with our make-overs. I figured she didn’t really approve of my explanation; after all, her job is to sell beauty products. But I met Mary again today to pick up some face-wash I ordered. She had another consultant with her (let’s call this one Kay). When I arrived, Mary promptly said, “Emily, you have to tell Kay what you told me Sunday about why you don’t wear make-up!” Somewhat bemused, I explained again. Mary smiled the whole time, and once I had finished, she said to Kay, “Isn’t that amazing? She’s only nineteen, and she’s focusing on loving herself! Usually girls tell me they don’t wear make-up because they’re too busy or lazy, but she’s doing it out of self-love!”

It was actually kind of sweet to see how impressed Mary was by my choice, and it definitely made me feel better about what I’m doing. I’ve always had problems with self-esteem – enough, in fact, that they probably warrant their own separate post. When I was in high school, I dyed my hair constantly and wore a ton of make-up because it made me feel prettier. But I started growing out my hair about eighteen months ago (I’ve got a lot of natural color back now), and I stopped wearing make-up this past May. After a lot of thought, I had realized that I wanted to stop trying to change myself. I wanted to learn to feel beautiful without eye-shadow, mascara, or hair-dye.

Anyway. Upon hearing my explanation, Kay remarked that “by the time I was twenty-five, they’d probably get me back.” For a couple seconds, I began to feel tense and uncomfortable. What made her say that? Who was she to judge my decisions? Then I took another look at her. She was in her late forties or early fifties, dressed in a neat beige pants-suit, with her hair done up and her make-up caked on. I wondered what she had experienced in her life, and what kind of choices she had made. And I realized then that Kay could think whatever she wanted, because her thoughts and opinions had no bearing on me or my life. Right then, and right now, I feel good the way I am. That feeling, not the snide comment of a middle-aged Mary Kay saleswoman, is what’s really important.

I left the café where I met them feeling happy and content.

So far, I think this self-love experiment is working for me.