As an adult who has often desired a different childhood, shows such She Ra and the Princesses of Power feels both, like tackling a messy landscape with no answers as well as dipping a toe into a kinder, better past. It does not shy away from complex characters, violence and its implications, and really does so without the moralism or innocence of commonplace children’s shows (better known as family TV). While at the same time, the art and the storytelling impart a sense of ease, assuring us of the possibility of a resolution.
Tiktok may be a space for subversive, non-normative and queer content as well as dissent, but the idea that Tiktok’s popularity can be accorded to a pop-culture from below, simply accessed and not mediated, does not stand scrutiny.
Back in school, a classmate of mine left for three months, and her closest friend would write little notes every single day of her absence and slip it into the desk. When the absentee friend returned, her desk was full of little coloured scraps of paper—full of anecdotes and jokes, notes about missed homework, and admissions of love.
As montage, everything appears as a series of windows, all of them just frames, one after the other. The form is predetermined. I only meet my friends when we say goodbye or when I have to pay my dues. Then it falls apart.
Time and place are significant—not too old to be called primitive and ‘revisionism’ and not too new to be assimilated into a global wave—queerness is explored at a point where the ground shifts, and the ruling Raj settles into a political takeover by the Empire and the crown.