I spend quite a bit of time on social media, which has its high and low points. One positive aspect of it is that I happen to follow a lot of anime-related folks on Twitter and it helps me keep up with what’s going on in anime fandom, anime news, and anime blogging/reporting (also anime fandom drama, but I try not to worry about that too much). Someone who works for a famous anime news outlet posted some thoughts that are relevant to individuals in almost any job or industry, regarding being recognized and given credit for your work. They provided some examples of work they’re proud of to which people have given mixed reactions (and, it being on the internet, some truly rude variations on “this is something I disagree with”). It was something that really struck a chord for me and I wanted to expand on it. Certainly, I’m especially sensitive when I feel like I’m not being given credit for something I’ve done (or someone else gets credited in my place; this has happened in several situations in my past and continues to affect me as an adult despite me realizing that it’s petty), so I felt like this was worth talking about more.
I keep a pretty low profile here at S1E1, for various reasons. Part of it is due to aforementioned internet rudeness; I’ve gotten some pretty terrible, abusive comments and emails from people who didn’t like what I had to say about one anime or another, especially if it skewed a little bit further towards feminist critique. I understand the feeling of being pissed-off by a review of something that seems to miss the point of what you enjoyed about a piece of media, I really do; I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fallen in love with something (usually an anime aimed at women, telling a woman’s story, or simply featuring a lot of women… is that snarky?) that I’ve felt the fandom at large has misunderstood, mis-categorized, or simply not given a proper chance. However, in spite of my strong feelings I really haven’t gotten the urge to then fling around death threats like confetti. But that’s just me.
Another reason, though, is that I just have never felt like my writing is that good. So many of my feelings on anime are just that – feelings. Emotions are so, so difficult for me to properly put into words because I don’t often have words to describe them (despite the fact that I’m a native English speaker and our language has so many words for everything). Whatever I’m feeling in my heart and mind seems to lose all of its luster and life once it’s stuck on the page. I also feel that writing doesn’t come to me very naturally; I’ll sometimes spend all day trying to write one review, and on some level I’m a little ashamed of that (especially when I see others able to complete more work in a shorter amount of time and sound more than competent doing so). I’ve heard it said more than once that “comparison is the thief of joy,” but it’s a difficult habit to break when your self-confidence about something isn’t much to speak of in the first place.
Really, though, I think the big, underlying reason I don’t do much self-advertising is that I have a major case of impostor syndrome. I’m sure this is the case for many people who express themselves creatively, so I don’t want to beleaguer the point. Whenever I’ve been given an opportunity for more exposure, however, whether through another person/website or just an opportunity through one of my other fandom ventures (usually conventions), I doubt myself constantly and end up self-sabotaging myself. I start to question what I’m doing and then become paralyzed with anxiety. It makes me look like a flake (which I suppose is accurate to anyone observing), and then I just end up depressed and unable to produce much of anything for an extended period of time. So I suppose my line of thinking is that, if I don’t call attention to myself, no one will notice when I’m on an extended absence from writing.
And the truth is, it’s hard to keep going without constant encouragement. Maybe this is a symptom of being an older Millennial – I need praise and feedback to feel as though something is worthwhile, when really what’s worthwhile is participating in an interesting fandom, making connections, and sharing something I love with a few other people. I think the message of the original Twitter thread is that many people don’t understand the work that goes into creating something, and if they aren’t also in the same line of work (or unpaid hobby-work, as it is for people like me) they don’t know to recognize, understand, or acknowledge the effort. There will always be people who do understand, though, and it’s also good to be able to point out things to yourself that you’re proud of having accomplished. I’m going to try to do a little of that now.
One thing that I’m proud of, related to this website, is a series of posts I did some years back called “Women in Anime.” In these posts I’d choose an anime I liked with interesting women in it and talk about why those characters were important or what set the anime apart in terms of women’s representation. I can’t say that I always hit the mark with these posts and I recall sometimes having to pull some pretty weak arguments in order to justify series that could also have been easily interpreted as problematic, but I always liked writing those sorts of features and celebrating things I liked in that way. Probably my favorite series of these posts had to do with Puella Magi Madoka Magica back when that series had just finished its broadcast. Sadly, due to reasons that aren’t worth going into here, I no longer have access to or copies of those posts, so they’re just distant, positive memories. I do remember them fondly and hope maybe some others out there might have read them. Maybe I’ll revive the series someday.
I also wrote reviews for The Fandom Post for a while, which was a job I really liked but which I eventually self-sabotaged in the aforementioned manner. I did some episode recaps and some standalone reviews there for various series, but I did one DVD review there that I was really proud of. The series in question is called Intrigue in the Bakumatsu: Irohanihoheto, and was an anime series that I had been waiting on to get licensed in the US for many years. The show itself is incredibly dense and deals in a lot of historical details that would be difficult for someone with a casual interest to get through anyway, but couples that with some odd theatricality and some very anachronistic character design. In short, I really liked it and wanted to share that. The review is like five-and-a-half years old or so as of the time of this post, but I still think back on it with pride since it flowed from me so easily and I felt like it captured what I wanted to say in a way that’s not consistent across my writing.
I’m happy that I’ve been able to make this site semi-active again by my own hand rather than relying on others for help; I’ve gone through a lot of things over the last several years, and to have gotten through the weeds and figured things out by myself has been a great boost to my confidence. Maybe someday that will translate to my writing and I won’t be sad over the lack of comments or interactions with other fans (or I’ll stop self-isolating and stick my neck out again and make it happen). It is nice to know that all of this isn’t entirely just a product of my quirky brain and that others (even people who I think are great at their jobs), struggle with similar feelings and lack of recognition. It would be great to exist in a situation where we could all just enjoy our fandom feelings and not worry so much about what other people think, but there is certainly some additional satisfaction in learning to be empathetic of others and sympathetic to ourselves.
Hatsutaro and Kikuhiko continue their apprenticeship, but as Hatsutaro continually improves, Kikuhiko finds himself stymied by all manner of real-life concerns. He doesn’t have Hatsuta’s natural gift to hold an audience captive, and the fact that he spends much of the day at school means that he doesn’t get nearly the same length of time to practice his Rakugo stories. He finds himself struggling to memorize his beginner’s routines while Hatsuta has moved on to more complicated tales that feature his personality more. Kiku is torn between wanting to give up, and being motivated by watching his best friend’s successes. As to be expected, though, his path begins to open as he start to add more experiences under his belt.
