Journal 003 | Madvillain, or...When You're the Antagonist of Your Own Story
Even though this is my story I feel like my voice takes up too much space.
What does this post have to do with the Madlib / MF Doom supergroup, Madvillain? Nothing.
...or does it?
Okay anyway; moving on...
Everyone thinks that they’re the “good guy.”
We all grow up believing that we're the hero of our own story, making self reflection rather difficult at times, particularly if you’re a member of a group that's historically responsible for the subjugation of another group (that includes: men, white people, straight people, *insert dominant religion of your home country*, etc.). I mean, these types of literary antagonists tend to be the most relatable/complex for a reason. We all struggle with acknowledging our mistakes and flaws.
I like to think that self-reflection is three step process (Maybe? Lets just go with that). For me, as a cis gendered male, raised in a culture of normalized toxic masculine socialization and sexism, the first step of self reflection involves realizing that in many instances of my romantic life, I was actually the antagonist — the restricter; the hinderance; the suppressor — if not an outright villain (depending on who you ask).
The second step varies, I think. Although you can’t go wrong with listening more than you speak.
I'm an artist and art-ing how I tend to reflect, so I want to create something where I write candidly about these experiences and structure them as a series of short stories. I’d then share it with the world for people to judge however they see fit. But even that kind of feels counterintuitive.
“Even though this is my story I feel like my voice takes up too much space.”
I recently read an op ed about man-spreading (which is the idea that men literally take up too much space) where the author uses the example of a man sitting on the subway with his legs spread wide, taking up more space than necessary, for how we’ve been taught (in subtle and overt ways) never to consider how entitled to public space we may act or feel — how it’s our masculine socialization that ingrains in us from the youngest of ages the idea that we are entitled to what’s around us.
Even though this is my story I feel like my voice takes up too much space. I’m not the main character here. You might be saying, “well if you’re the antagonist then of course you’re not the main character.” However, hero, main character and protagonist are not always one in the same, nor do they have to be.
— begin lesson —
The main character, aka narrator, relates the story. The protagonist takes action, and undergoes the most change. The hero saves the day. Someone intentionally or unintentially working against the protagonist achieving their goals is an antagonist. Evil makes a villain. Some stories, grimdark and antiheroes, do not have heroes. Some don't even have protagonists. A good writer knows that that you can mix and match any of these classifications to create more interesting and unexpected perspectives. You can write a story where the main character is the antagonist (see: House of Cards). You can write a story where the protagonist is the main character but not the hero (see: The Great Gatsby). If you’re clever enough, you can even write an effective story where the main character, hero and villain are one in the same (see: Nightcrawler).
— end lesson —
I want to tell a story about toxic masculine behavior and all the ways in which the culture restricts how women move through the world. My love life would fill the plot. I am the antagonist; I am the villain. They are the main characters; they are the protagonists. There are no heroes. No excuses made for the actions of anyone involved. The voices of each woman would be front and center. heir experiences with me are just as much their story as it is mine, if not more so. I wouldn't alter it in the least. I wouldn't even be the one doing the writing; I would simply be a curator of sorts — taking their words and editing them into a cohesive narrative. And yes; this means I'd actually have to track down each of these women, and awkwardly ask them if they would participate and actively revisit this period in their lives for the sake of art.
Allowing them to literally be the narrator places a nuanced and brutally honest laser focus on cause and effect, highlighting all the ways in which women consciously and subconsciously respond to and cope with toxic masculinity. If I’m wrong, well, idk; I very well could be. But then comes the third step — acknowledgement of one's mistakes and apologizing (technically that makes four I guess but whateves). Every experience is an opportunity to learn. Because of my age, sometimes I feel like there are certain toxic aspects of who I am as man, that I won’t ever be able to change entirely; but at this point in my life, I feel like that's okay. No one's perfect.
That shouldn’t stop anyone from trying their best.
Cinephilia 001 | Captain America: Civil War
Captain America: Civil War, was pretty damn good. Not the revelation that Winter Soldier was, but its up there with the best of MARVEL's ever expanding roster of films.
illustration by Ryan Meinerding
Captain America: Civil War was pretty damn good. Not the revelation that Winter Soldier was, but it’s up there with the best of MARVEL's ever expanding roster of films.
No spoilers (promise)
First and foremost...Black Panther. Made. Me. MOIST. I went into this with muted expectations about him and how well he'd translate on screen — would they try way too hard to make him feel genuinely important and powerful and well, African...and turn him into a Tyler Perry-esque abomination? But as soon as I saw T'Challa, as soon as I saw one of his Dora Milaje (bodyguards) (statuesque, proudly bald and intimidating women at that...screw Gal Gadot's Wonder Woman, honestly...Amazonian, my ass), as soon as I saw a wealth of dark skinned men and women that weren't represented in a stereotypical, overstated, or overbearingly regal or insecure way, I couldn't help but grin from ear to ear and giggle like a Japanese school girl. He was my favorite thing about this movie and I can't wait to see his solo film. I feel like his presence could create a shift in Hollywood, opening the door for more dark skinned leading roles in WELL CRAFTED science fiction and fantasy films, especially for dark skinned women. If you have black geeky comic book, fantasy or sci-fi loving children...take them to see this, please!
Make no bones about it, between BvS and Civil War we were sold the same film twice, but the latter is far superior in execution than the former. However Marvel has the benefit of several years worth of development and DC clearly is just trying to play catch up in the worst way possible. Take notes Zach Snyder; THIS is how you handle an ensemble cast of comic book giants (hint hint). The film is funny when it can be and serious when it needs to be. Cap and Tony's motivations and stances were CLEARLY defined, you understood exactly why they clashed, you cared about them, and the resolution to their conflict had real weight and consequences.
Because of it's massive cast and character thread high wire juggling act, some will be quick to call this Avengers 2.5. But make no mistake, this is a Captain America's story. He is the protagonist and the main character — Cap experiences the most change and his actions have a substantial and dynamic effect on those around him.
You understand both sides of the conflict and neither was definitively right or wrong. You have a hard time figuring out who you root for. The text was mature without feeling the need to try and be unnecessarily intellectual. Both sides had their reasons, both walked away altered and flawed and it was lovely. Ultimately I was on Cap's side, but I truly felt bad for both him and Tony.
There’s a good mix of humor and drama. That battle royal style airport set piece was amazing. A villain you could sympathize with in some small way. Spider-Man stole the show in the few minutes he was on screen. The fight choreography was complex and hefty. Bucky's arm...idk...I just think his metal arm is cool and I want one. The plot resolution between Cap and Tony. Captain America's films continue to be a driving force for substantial status quo change in the MCU.
“Not the revelation that Winter Soldier was, but it’s up there with the best of MARVEL’s ever expanding roster of films.”
The pacing was a little off in the first third or so. But even here, I'm hard pressed to find ways to avoid it. The Russo Bros. had to check off a laundry list of elements mandated by the suits at Disney, so I think, like Whedon before them, they did the best they could with what they had. And maybe the next round they will get even better at it...or not...who knows.
At this point, MARVEL is a well oiled machine running at peak efficiency. The films follow a strict formula that somehow remains fun and enjoyable to me despite my waning interest with superheroes in general, and doesn't come off as completely trite, but they ride the line a lot of the time.
There's a lot going on here, and again, a symptom of the ever expanding MCU. Some of the scene transitions and the way some characters are introduced/enter and exit the film feel disjointed. This particularly affected Black Panther and Spider-Man, the latter of which had no real reason to be in this film, despite being really cool to watch. The Black Panther's driving motivation came off a tad cheesy and flat in my opinion. These two were clearly put in here because the MCU sequel set up machine demands it, so I mean, hey...those pesky corporate mandates...what can you do? Am I right Russo Bros?
The airport scene was awesome, as I said. But it felt like filler because, no one was was really trying to hurt anyone...except Black Panther...he was definitely trying to kill Bucky. The real drama, the real thrust of the story, is the between Black Panther and Buck and Tony and Cap -- that's when the meat of the tension arises, sadly, I felt it was too little too late by the time it climaxes.
Speaking of Black Panther, while I enjoyed him, I hope that he doesn't end up becoming this romanticized uber regal mary sue, who is serious all the time and can do no wrong. I'm completely done with our culture's habit of worshiping monarchy as if it's lifestyle one should strive for, It would be great if we gave ACTUAL intellectual and vocational pursuits some time to shine and let the, "I'm rich bitch," philosophy on life, rest a little bit. But anyway, when fans fall in love with a character, particularly one that looks like them (in this case one that looks like me), those fans sometimes tend to project their own insecurities onto that character, balancing all of their hopes and dreams on the shoulders of that character. And if those impossible standards of righteous godhood, demanded of these characters, are not met, accusations of sabotage will begin to fly (despite half of these "fans" not knowing a damn thing about Black Panther before this movie was announced in the first place). That push for intellectual, psychological and physical perfection from people can and will suck the humanity out of a character with as much potential to become internationally iconic as Black Panther. I hope BP doesn't end up a victim of this. Keep him human; keep him interesting...please.
The villain, while sympathetic and fitting, I was unclear as to how he was able to execute a large chunk of his plan.
Well ultimately well shot and choreographed, the first couple of action set pieces could have been just a tiny bit clearer and edited smoother in some spots. Wider shots with less quick cuts so that I could absorb what was going on in those moments a littler better, would have made them golden.
The position some characters took on the overarching conflict seemed forced and didn't make complete sense for their circumstances.
Misc 003 | No More Labels
This is an excerpt from a TED Talk called No More Labels, by Wanuri Kahiu, a Kenyan science fiction filmmaker and storyteller. It deals with science fiction and fantasy storytelling by artists who are African or of the diaspora, and the issues of racial identity amongst artists from Africa and of the diaspora.
This is an excerpt from a TED Talk called No More Labels, by Wanuri Kahiu, a Kenyan science fiction filmmaker and storyteller. It deals with science fiction and fantasy storytelling by artists who are African or of the diaspora, and the issues of racial identity amongst artists from Africa and of the diaspora. If you want to watch the whole video, I've added the link to it below.
Part of my journey has been, first saying that science fiction is not weird in Africa. It is not special. It is not curious. It is not an original thing. We have always been telling stories and in our stores, even as oral storytellers, we have used nature in our stories. We have talked about animals. We have talked about the ability of organic sciences in all of our stories. We have had fantasies. We have had myths in our own legends about our own self creation. Those things have existed, but recently there's been a phenomenon of labeling things, "Afro" this, or "Afro" that...
And one of those things that happened is my work started being labeled afro-futurist, and I appreciate the idea of afro-futurism because it brings together or draws attention to works and pieces of art that have either some sort of fiction or they bring in ideas of myth -- science fiction, speculative fiction, fantasy, and enveloped them into one.
“Part of my journey has been, first saying that science fiction is not weird in Africa.”
But my concern is that by labeling my work as an Afro-futurist work, it means that it's very specific to people of the Diaspora, or people who are black, or people who are afro-something, and that concerns me because the story that I told was motivated by the very idea that I hate bottled water. I hate the fact that you have to buy bottled water -- the idea that you have to buy natural resources, because where does it end?
And that's the reason I really created Pumzi. When we, ourselves, start labeling ourselves, "afro" this or "afro" that -- when it doesn't matter what we do as an artist, if you are from Africa or if you're a person of the diaspora, you will immediately get that anyway. It doesn't matter if I stood here and I said, "I'm a filmmaker," there will be people who leave this audience and say, "Do you remember that black filmmaker from Kenya?"
That's what will happen whether I want it to happen or not. These are the things that will be imposed on us. So instead of us labeling ourselves and making it more specific and segregating ourselves from the whole human experience, I urge you to think wider than that and to have less labels and maybe just to Be...
Misc 002 | Intergalactic Collard Greens
My science fiction education began with a simple realization: Humans Are White.
This editorial was taken from PEOPLE OF COLO(U)R DESTROY SCIENCE FICTION! by Lightspeed Magazine.
My science fiction education began with a simple realization — humans are white.
As a chubby, country black boy from a city in the south with a larger than average population of African-American people taking up physical, cultural, and social space, every part of my life was surrounded by and suffused with blackness. Every part, that is, except the pieces of my life reserved for the consumption of science fiction. My black friends and I engaged with space, with planetary jumps and starship crews and time travel and alien fauna, through the lens of white humans, white heroes, and white culture. Is it any wonder, then, that my fledgling science fiction tales were full of these same white humans? This is not a singular experience, either. Talk to any person of color who possessed a childhood interest in creating science fiction. Many of them will report doing the same, or similar.
Science fiction’s great self-declared distinction from fantasy is the presence of steadfast rules, usually governed by applications of hard science. Mainstream science fiction also seemed to possess a set of very scientific rules regarding what happened when one encountered blacks:
There were never more than three black people in any respective galaxy, except for random planets somehow chock-full of blacks who were unable to progress their culture past iron spears and loincloths.
Blacks were not allowed to interact with each other. Instead they were required to float alone and lonely through their respective spaces like lumbering chocolatey gas giants.
If someone absolutely had to die in order to move the plot forward or gird the loins of the hero, it would be someone who looked like the black consumer, or the black consumer’s sister, or the black consumer’s best friend, or the black consumer’s black next-door neighbor.
“My science fiction education began with a simple realization — humans are white.”
To paraphrase Richard Pryor, white folks didn’t seem to want no niggers in the future.
Perhaps this is why the future is so important to black people, and why it is so painful for us when we are excluded from most mainstream futures. Hundreds of years of subjugation, of overt and covert messages of disdain and unworthiness weigh on a soul. Black people have long been working toward stepping into a promised land where they could be treated fairly and equally—not as people without color, but as people who are considered human despite their skin.
We’ve long since learned that, in order to exist in myriad streams of time and space, we have to create our own lanes in order to show and prove that the stories of nonwhite humans matter. We’ve birthed works of science fiction that have imagined us in worlds where we would not be murdered simply for existing. We’ve considered the effects of spacetime on our bodies, and interwoven Africa into the cosmos. We’ve written, painted, and harmonically tattooed our bodies, our myriad identities amongst the stars. As always, we black creators have taken the dregs of what we’ve been given and created something of wonder from it.
Intergalactic collard greens, if you will.
When we’re talking about destroying science fiction, black people and other groups of people of color have been neck deep in the work. For centuries, we have dared to imagine, depict, and explore the reaches of space, time, and power on our own, with no approval or interaction from the powers that are. We’ve already lifted our voices, and our voices have been a mighty wave, powerful enough to show the universe that we are here, in the midst of science fiction—that we’ve been here, and that we aren’t going anywhere.
We’re just waiting on the rest of you to catch up.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Troy L. Wiggins is from Memphis, Tennessee. He was raised on a steady diet of comic books, fantasy fiction, and role-playing games. His short fiction and essays have appeared or are forthcoming in Griots: Sisters of the Spear, Long Hidden: Speculative Fiction from the Margins of History, The Mash-Up Americans, Literary Orphans, and Memphis Noir. He is a contributor at Book Riot and Panels, and he blogs about the intersection of speculative fiction, race, and nerd culture at Afrofantasy. Troy lives in Memphis with his wife and their expatriate.
You can find him on Twitter @TroyLWiggins.
Journal 001 | Too Many Kings, Not Enough Cobblers
I'm also fascinated (and possibly even perplexed) by the obsessive focus on royalty, and all of it's associated traits, in these stories and what they say about the way in which humanity contextualizes identity and or defines what it means to be a success and or valued.
T'Challa as portrayed by Chadwick Boseman for MARVEL’s Black Panther
In my attempt at becoming a legit writer these past few years, two of the genres I've been most interested in studying are epic and heroic fantasy, which are typically filled with tales of gods and goddesses, the divinely destined, great kings and queens and princes and princesses and the like. I'm also fascinated (and possibly even perplexed) by the obsessive focus on royalty, and all of it's associated traits, in these stories and what they say about the way in which humanity contextualizes identity and or defines what it means to be a success and or valued.
Examples:
Growing up, my great aunt Bernice would constantly tell me that I'm a king, or that I'm descendent from them, in order to instill a sense of self worth and confidence in me.
Most of the stories I read as a small child started of with, "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful / mighty *insert nobility*..."
A common term of endearment for one's child is "my little prince" or "princess."
The idea of making it in life is often marked by the desire to "live like a king."
Christian doctrine refers to Jesus Christ as the "King of Kings" and "The Lord of Lords."
A lot of my friends, in seeking a mate say they are looking for their "king" or their "queen."
My favorite (and THE greatest) movie of all time is The Lion KING...the supreme illustriousness of which is NOT up for debate!
I mean, it makes sense. In our culture, these words signify power, importance, status, prosperity, purity, blah, blah, etc, etc. And at some point in our lives, we all want to feel like we're special in some small way. We want to feel like the most important person in the room, or to know that our existence means something -- that we have a purpose and a destiny, or that we are secretly otherworldly, godlike or divine...or whatever.
For me, the older I get, the less my great aunt's words resonate or even mean anything. Technically, just about everyone alive today is descended from a king, somewhere -- I mean, these people fucked A LOT and often left behind a assload of illegitimate children. Genghis Khan allegedly bedded so many women that 0.5% of the world's population can trace their lineage to him.
Most importantly, I don't particularly find pleasure in rose tinted feudalist power fantasies. I am no god. I am no king and it means nothing to me to be descended from one. Even better, I am a human being -- big brained fragile flesh and bone remnant of star stuff! Even better, I'm an artist...a designer to be specific -- a visual storyteller! That is my identity. That is my craft. My craft is useful to people; it pays the bills. I source my sense of purpose and confidence from this. You could say it's my religion. It gives me supreme confidence and covers me in a peace-of-mind I've never known anywhere else (hence the little guy with the umbrella...fyi).
Even though we almost all assuredly distrust the 1% -- even though we dream of and romanticize the idea of supreme revolution and the downfall of "the establishment," the vocabulary we use to instill a sense of pride within ourselves and our kin is often the same vocabulary of "the establishment." Some of us don't really want to tear down this establishment, we want to BE the establishment -- to know what it feels like to be that powerful -- to be seen as slightly better than or above another person or group of people.
In college, I attended and or organized dozens of talks related to black American societal issues, where, like clockwork, someone would proudly shout the perplexingly vague and abstract phrase, "we are all kings and queens." It's difficult to unpack the origins and psychological nuances of such a declaration in black American history, or how little sense it makes anymore for that matter. Nevertheless, a lot of black people draw Basquiat's crude crown above their heads. Everyone wants to build an empire. Disturbingly, everyone wants to be a classist monarch...like, everyone...at the same time...in the same space.
The latest interpretation of this mindset comes in the form of the word "Negus," which is a royal title in the Ethiopian Semitic languages and used in a recent Kendrick Lamar record to subvert the use of the word "nigga" and encourage black men to call themselves kings instead. As much as I want to appreciate the sentiment, it's an unproductive and outdated metaphor that, outside of the context of monarchy, makes absolutely no fucking sense if you think about it for more than three seconds, but I digress. It's almost weird to try and imagine people at these kinds of talks saying anything along the lines of, "Let's all be experts in our chosen fields of study!" or "I'm a strong black marine biologist!" or "I want to be a motherfuckin' botanist!"
You know...useful stuff.
“...the vocabulary we use to instill a sense of pride within ourselves and our kin is often the same vocabulary of the establishment.”
If you have small children, do you tell them they're princes or princesses, kings and queens? Have you ever asked yourself why you call them that? How often do you ask them what THEY wish to be? or what they want to do with there lives when they grow up? How do they respond? If they say something crazy like, "Spaghetti Space Witch," it's cool...so did I at that age! Let their minds wonder; encourage their shenanigans!
Sooooooo...what does all that have to do with writing...
Stories are how us homo-sapiens relate to and connect with the world around us, how we most effectively communicate messages: warnings, history, morals, etc. The ardent focus of these stories on individuals who rule from an immaculately constructed throne of precious jewels as opposed to those who built said thrown or those who day in and day out work their hands to the bone to give something substantial back to society, says something about the way we view ourselves and or what we wish to be.
However, as a storyteller, I'm more interested in the lives of the proletariat than I am with those of the aristocracy. There are thousands of stories about gods and goddesses and kings and queens and princes and princesses -- the politicians of their day -- or often times humble knights or simple folk who are destined to become these things. But what about the sculptors? the painters? the bakers? the stonemasons? the architects? the shepherds? the poets? the fisherman? the mathematicians? the astrologers? the authors? Why do their lives and stories often take a back seat to those of their perceived betters? Why so often do epic tales produce protagonists who are told "hey; you're special...just because." Why not, at the very least, explore the ramifications of such a claim in depth? Why end with such an extreme absolute -- the character becoming some sort of ambiguously divine leader, who's successors will most certainly...not be insane power hungry fuck ups?
Why not just a really good swordsmith or a master potter? Not as interesting perhaps at first, but, o' the fun of being creative!!
I'm fascinated by the world before agricultural monopolies and organized religion, before feudalism and monarchs, where tribes of people named themselves based on the natural resources around them and the useful skills they mastered. I'm more interested in griots and shamans and hunters and gatherers, than I am of pharaohs and sultans and lords and ladies -- the arbitrary goings on of the upper caste nobility, deemed special and above everyone else, because they were born into the right family or because of the wealth said family accumulated, as opposed to actually possessing any useful skills...other than manipulation.
For many, one's sense of identity, comes from the command of one's trade -- the knowledge that their particular set of skills, honed over a period of time, have value within their nation/tribe and or to nature. For some cultures, this is the source of the surname -- John Mason (John the mason); Alana Archer (Alana the archer) it was essentially their title -- something they took immense pride and honor in, and in turn, these people would pass that skill and identity down to their sons and daughters, or to an apprentice.
Stories of gods and nobility are epic and riveting romantic dramas, and full of individuals destined to bring peace to a ravaged land -- selfless brave individuals fighting valiantly for a just and noble cause -- wise beyond their years and beloved by all. However in reality, more so often than not, kings and queens were selfish, savage, narcissistic, petty, greedy, inbred megalomaniacs. Gout use to be known as a rich man's disease...a king's affliction.
Regular folk do epic shit too! Regular folk do awesome shit even! It's debated whether or not, Shakespeare -- one of the most important playwrights in human history -- was of noble birth, because "SURELY a lowly commoner couldn't have written anything as tragic and beautiful as Macbeth!"
Right (sarcasm).
I enjoy stories that play with the these tropes -- deconstruct them and build the narrative back up into something a little more honest. Recently I read an article on George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire (thanks Eric!), a section of which discussed the ways in which Martin plays with are idealistic notions of nobility.
“In the context of romantic high fantasy, the show’s sado-masochistic narrative engine had a moderately subversive purpose. The Starks were nobility who were actually noble, and they embodied the daydream that powers High Fantasy: the romantic belief that Kings and Queens and Princes and Princesses are Good People, that being good and being high not only go together, but do so naturally.
The first book is built around the lead-up to Ned Stark’s death; the next two books lead up to the Red Wedding, which kills or scatters all the good guys. It’s tragedy because the end is predetermined: as long as the Starks are who they are—honorable, noble, and just—they are doomed to lose at the game of thrones.
To play the game of thrones, you have to play to win; you have to kill your darlings. If you don’t, you’ll die. The Starks don’t; they die.”
- George R. R. Martin
As I mentioned earlier, the high born aristocracy of various ancient kingdoms -- from Mali, to Egypt to Rome, to Japan -- were all essentially high born politicians completely disconnected from the lives of lower class society and shaped history in their image in spite of the ramifications those choices had on their subjects. So when I'm reading less nuanced tales of noble lords and ladies, it's hard not to roll my eyes at the relative absurdity of their moral purity, and remind myself that history is almost always written by the victors. To be fair, what idiot, wanting to inspire a millennia of strength and loyalty, would have the archives speak ill of their deeds -- underlining their weaknesses and faults? Kings and queens can be aggressively strategic and sensible liars, at best, I'll give them that.
but I digress...(am I using that right?)
A jeli or griot of West Africa
I'm more interested in social realism -- the stories of simple blacksmiths, or the stories of storytellers themselves -- which use to be an important-ass-job in antiquity. Griots, for example, were West African historians, storytellers, musicians and or poets. They were the keepers of oral tradition and history and often seen as a societal leaders and respected for their craft and their wisdom. They don't get enough admiration in modern culture, in my opinion.
Stories of great kings overshadow the hundreds of beautifully simple, sometimes dark, pagan (which means: of the country, associated with individuals who don't adhere to Christian, Muslim or Jewish doctrine) folk tales of mythical creatures interacting with the common folk in colorful ways. Some people will go on and on about king or pharaoh whoever-whats-his-face, sitting on his throne, pointing his crooked inbred finger as the lower classes break their backs to build crap for him. They often completely neglect or ignore the intimate and much more relatable (human) pros of vulnerability and nature and love and loss and life and death, to be found in the tales told by people doing all of the damn work...if they are aware of them at all! These are the vestiges of a rich oral culture that flourished before the advent of Empires.
For example, aziza are fairies based in Dahomey mythology (present day Benin...which is in West Africa). Living in the forest, they provide good magic for hunters. They gave useful and practical knowledge to people, including knowledge of the use of fire. The Aziza are described as little hairy people and are said to live in anthills and silk-cotton trees.
Another example of good ass folk shit are Selkies. These are Irish/Scottish creatures who are said to live as seals in the sea but shed their skin to become human on land. Stories about them are generally romantic tragedies. They typically seek those who are dissatisfied with their life, such as married women waiting for their fishermen husbands. If a woman wishes to make contact with a selkie male, she must shed seven tears into the sea. If a man steals a female selkie's skin she is in his power and is forced to become his wife. Female selkies are said to make great wives, but because their true home is the sea, they will often be seen gazing longingly at the ocean. If she finds her skin she will immediately return to her true home, and sometimes to her selkie husband, in the sea. Sometimes, a selkie maiden is taken as a wife by a human man and she has several children by him.
Song of the Sea US Trailer
In these stories, it is one of her children who discovers her sealskin (often unwitting of its significance) and she soon returns to the sea. The selkie woman usually avoids seeing her human husband again but is sometimes shown visiting her children and playing with them in the waves.
If you're interested, watch Song of The Sea...good stuff.
“History books tell us about the wars and politics of a nation, but a region’s folklore tells us about popular culture and popular beliefs of its times.”
Misc 001 | Morality in Storytelling
Unlike traditional fantasy, Miyazaki doesn't present morality as a simple binary. The dichotomy of good vs evil isn't present in these films. Everything and everyone displays elements of tenderness as well as elements of savagery. Nothing in the world is either one or the other, is an amalgamation of all emotions within a spectrum.
This is a excerpt from a short documentary, called The Essence of Humanity, which analyzes the storytelling philosophy and craft of legendary filmmaker, Hayao Miyazaki. The entire film is posted below if you'd like to view it.
Unlike traditional fantasy, Miyazaki doesn't present morality as a simple binary. The dichotomy of good vs evil isn't present in these films. Everything and everyone displays elements of tenderness as well as elements of savagery. Nothing in the world is either one or the other, is an amalgamation of all emotions within a spectrum. The same way Lady Eboshi wants to destroy the forest yet at the same time houses the sick and gives the inhabitants of iron town a good lifestyle, Miyazaki purposes a theme of morality that’s complex. It's not shown to repress the negative aspects of humanity because they exist all around us; it's part of nature. Brutality and tenderness co-exist without any contradictions in these worlds, as they do in our own.
This realism avoids pandering to an audience to give an unflinching view of our own existence, but the message we see is that the story is never about the protagonist winning, it's about the protagonist adapting and growing within a world that isn't built around their needs. We're confronted with harsh realities, however they're addressed so that something better may arise.
“The story is never about the protagonist winning, it’s about the protagonist adapting and growing within a world that isn’t built around their needs.”
Many [American] animations end with everything tied in a neat bow, saved by a deus ex-machina that solved everything. But there hasn't really been any development of the character. They achieve their goal without overcoming any long lasting personal obstacles. On the other hand, Miyazaki characters never end as the audience expected. They begin flawed and remain flawed, but their experiences have helped blossom their outlook. Ashitaka's scar may still remain, and no one may ever understand or believe Chihiro, but the solidarity and connection they've made with their world is an example of a spiritual liberation of the character instead of a material one.
About
Creative Director. Designer. Storyteller. Nilla wafer enthusiast. Under no circumstances should you ever allow my talented and amiable disposition to fool you into thinking that I am anything more than young, dumb and full of ideas.