This is another one of those super personal posts that are really boring if you’re not following my weird meta-lore.
I’ve never read Otaku: Japan’s Database Animals, but I will continue to hold the title “database animal” in my collected aesthetic persona, if for no other reason than curiosity. I even don’t necessarily identify myself as a “database animal” as such, but I am both database-obsessed and an animal. That is to say, I’m both obsessed with tracking my behavior and providing that behavior with as little machinated bias as possible. Essentially, I’m a field biologist studying myself. The benefits of feeling disconnected from one’s body, I guess.
On that note, Fukakai na Boku no Subete wo, or FukaBoku, or Love Me For Who I Am, is a manga I love and would recommend to everyone, but wouldn’t really recommend to anyone in particular. It’s a nice, cute slice of life story before it gets hit with a train of wonderfully bathetic melodrama, the kind real life is scattered with, before wrapping up in a big ol’ heartwarming moment. If it were ever to be adapted, either to anime or live action, a movie would be the perfect format. Not that it needs one to be worth bringing up; Mogu-chan’s adorable outfits alone kept me reading, though their personality was a major turn-off.
I say was because I read FukaBoku as a cloistered closet case, burning myself up with the knowledge that I couldn’t be upfront with my family regarding my gender identity (non-binary, and wanting to present myself similarly to Mogu-chan). This, despite the fact that my family would “Love Me For Who I Am,” so I just wound up burning myself on an ouroboros of hatred and frustration. It’s often said that people hate that which they relate to, or see parts of themselves in, the most; this is probably why Neon Genesis Evangelion has such a vocal hate-dom, and it’s certainly why I had such a strong revulsion to Mogu-chan’s character at first. I wanted a cute non-binary main character in a cute slice-of-life series, and they were just… obnoxious, loud, whiny, sensitive to the point of imposing on other people, all in spite of having friends offer themselves as a listening ear. I had none of their support network, at least offline, and none of their unpleasant traits, so what’s wrong with them, that I can be better?
Of course the kicker is that now that I’m out offline, to my family and (actually, not friends, they already knew) I’m a total pain in the ass about getting accidentally misgendered or deadnamed. Not to strangers, mind, for better or worse I still don’t have the spine for that. Even before that, while I didn’t have Mogu-chan’s negative traits, I don’t really have any of their positive ones, either. I’m not as willing to take the risk of engaging in conversation, because I’m not good at talking when I can even get words out. Certainly I’m no good with important topics, anything that requires tact, at least not verbally the way they are. Being able to identify with their bad traits freed me to see the ways they’re doing better than I am, and it’s at this point I realized how well-rounded of a character they actually are.
They’re not just “occasionally whine/preachy but otherwise perfect” (Goddamn, we really need a gender neutral form of Gary/Mary Stu) like almost every other nonbinary protagonist in these kinds of slice-of-life stories. Mogu-chan is a realistic character given actual depth, if one cares to look for it. But despite the page space I’ve dedicated to praising their characterization, the most interesting thing about FukaBoku is how enjoyable it was even on the first read, without that layer of personal connection.
I don’t fetishize or even particularly value realism in my narrative art; it’s fiction after all, a venue to explore things through extreme examples or generally symbolic portrayals. That vague “thing” can be a set of specific philosophical ideas, or it can be something experiential and aesthetic like, say, working at a maid café with your buddies. Reading FukaBoku feels like hanging out with friends, friends who understand and relate to you, and not just one or two friends but a whole group. I would get into a spiel about how “I never really had that offline and it’s so nice to just, experience it,” but I’ve heard that in media analysis so often I question how common it is to have a group of friends anymore. Maybe it’s just that the kinds of people who do media analysis tend to be loners, or at least not fall into cliques. Either way, the camaraderie between these people who come together over a love of wearing cute clothes is the main appeal. While the relationships are fleshed out and charming enough to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with your HidaSketch’s or Lucky Stars, I think what really warms my cold dead heart the most is the genuinely tolerant way everyone approaches their hobby. No one has to give a reason to want to work at Café Question or wear cute outfits in general, but as the characters get closer to each other matters of identity come up naturally. They each feel comfortable confiding in each other over time, which Mogumo didn’t at first. That’s why they got flustered having to 20-questions their way through coming out to their co-workers, and it’s things like that where FukaBoku goes from a series I want to like because it’s got the spirit, to one with legitimate writing chops.
I think that’s really the key. Whether it’s your relationship to a person or a piece of media, its most useful to set aside the nonessential nonsense about presentation, how it looks to consider someone a friend or a show one of your favorites, and start from zero. Do I enjoy being around this person? Do I like interfacing with this media? It’s only from there that a deeper or more codifiable connection can be formed, but it’s also important not to put too much stock in the triangulated. We are animals, and all that makes us special is a lump of wrinkly electric meat in our heads. Not a motherboard, not a series of on-and-off switches, but an organ that sometimes, quite literally, just reacts a certain way. It’s nice to know why we think certain things or feel certain ways, but it’s better to know how you feel than why, because there may not even be a reason. Like, I don’t write about every entry on my MAL, kind of obviously, but they all have a score assigned to them. I make no claim that number speaks to some mythical objective quality, no such thing exists in art, which is the domain of interpretations. My goal is to explain my feelings, if I can, as one voice out of seven billion.
Thank you all very much for reading. Posts are gonna be slow this month, so regulars beware! Newcomers, if you liked what you read, follow me on WordPress or my various social media to be notified when I write something again. I hope to see you next time!