Advocaat

Indeed, the second thing is, What the fuck is America?

Folks on the "pissing on the poor" website will look you dead in the eye and say, "X is a social construct," and then insist that there is such a thing as America, to which one can ascribe traits like "fundamentally good" or "fundamentally evil."

Indulge me in a tangent: There is no Jesus Christ. There once was a Jesus, for a certain value of "Jesus," but he is dead now, has ceased to exist, has been annihilated. What do you think is, on balance, a more effective strategy to get Christians to behave better: Convincing them that Jesus is dead and gone, or that God demands a higher standard of behavior from them?

America is a phantom of the mind. Thomas Jefferson loved "America," but so did Martin Luther King. William F. Buckley talked about "traitors to America," and so did Eugene Debs. You can't earnestly say that King and Debs were madmen, that there was some "real America" out there to discover and analyze beneath the lens of a national horoscope, and that they were simply empirically wrong, and Jefferson and Buckley were right. You will never find an ounce of fundamental goodness, nor evil, in America, because there is nothing there for you to weigh, not even a cadaver.

I see that Langston Hughes has come up a few times in the comments and reblogs:

I was struck by how often Aang either assumes Katara's emotions, speaks for her, or otherwise imposes his view on her.

And, in a way, this makes sense. Aang is the show's avatar - hyuck hyuck - for Bryke (Bryan & Mike, the show's creators, though tellingly not its lead writers) and their public comments reveal a view of the show where Katara is a function of Aang and not an independent character. And given that they drove many interactions between Aang and Katara - especially the 'romantic' or 'personal' ones - her lack of interiority flows naturally from their perception of her role in the story.

This is strongly contrasted with interactions between Zuko and Katara. Many of these interactions were driven by Aaron & Elizabeth Ehasz, or by other writers in the room. For them, each character was just that - a character. They had interiority, goals, dreams, reactions. They were each agents in the narrative.

Where Aang assumes and often is not corrected by the narrative (that is, Katara may disagree with him, but the show never shows him learning) Zuko does grow throughout.

Zuko also assumes things about Katara, especially early on, he sees her as an other who he doesn't warrant rich internal views to - an extension of his "royal" attitude as received from Ozai, and ultimately the first failure of Character which Iroh fights.

By the midpoint of the series - Crossroads of Destiny - we see Aang and Zuko in contrast.

Aang imagines and envisions Katara under duress in The Guru, and assumes she is in imminent danger. But we see that she is merely being held, and that even the chains he envisioned are absent. He assumes that Katara needs him, and that he must save her. But we know these visions aren't real per se, but thematic. The memories may be true, but only here is anything else treated as true. Aang sacrifices the world for his fear that Katara may need him.

Zuko in turn confronts Azula, misjudges her, and is imprisoned. And during that imprisonment he is quiet. He listens. He shares. He isn't pursuing Katara's interiority. But it is the first time in the show that Katara's inner turmoil is really presented - and Zuko interacts with it without assumption. He shares as well. Releases his own inner failings. And vitally, Katara is able to stand for herself. She needs no help here, and seems on the cusp of turning Zuko to good - when Aang busts in.

And this feels poignant. That Aang's assumption was wrong, that his pursuing it likely endangered himself, Katara, and the world and that it curtailed Zuko's ascent to good. It interrupts a scene in which Katara and Zuko are both letting go, and for it leads the world through more pain.

And then we have the end of the series - The Southern Raiders and beyond. In these episodes, Aang digs his heels in. He tells Katara that she is wrong, insults her loss, her need for closure, and her sense of justice. He assumes she reciprocates his feelings. He refuses to accept that she might be right about Ozai (never mind all the previous Avatars agreeing with her.)

Aang does not triumph. He is saved by not one but two Deus Ex Machinas.

And we see this contrasted with Zuko, who actively seeks to understand Katara, engages with her feelings and beliefs, and seeks out her support and counsel.

And this makes sense, again, when we remember that Aang was Bryke's pet. That they viewed Katara as an extension of his character. That they viewed him as always morally correct. That they relegated all the other characters to set dressing for Aang. Which contrasts with many of the other writers, who fleshed out other characters, and viewed them as just that - characters.

The water tower promised in Nibelheim is framed through the lens of insecurity. Cloud isn’t confident. He feels inferior. His desire to join SOLDIER isn’t just ambition, it’s an attempt to become someone worthy of being seen. The promise he makes to Tifa reflects that mindset, "I’ll become strong, then I’ll protect you."

It’s aspirational. It’s a boy trying to define himself through achievement.

But the story systematically dismantles that foundation.

Cloud fails to become SOLDIER. He hides his face out of shame. He constructs a false persona built from trauma and borrowed identity. The “hero” he thought he needed to be turns out to be an illusion.

What remains after that illusion collapses?.... Tifa.

The Lifestream seq forces Cloud to confront the truth, he was never the version of himself he believed he had to be. And crucially, Tifa doesn’t reject him when that truth surfaces. She accepts the flawed, insecure boy he always was.

That shifts the dynamic entirely.

By the time the Highwind scene occurs, this is no longer about a childhood promise or a need to prove himself. Cloud is no longer chasing validation. He is choosing consciously and without performance, to be emotionally vulnerable with Tifa.

The difference is profound.

The water tower represents aspiration.

The Highwind represents self-acceptance.

As children, their connection was built on distance and longing. As adults, it is built on mutual understanding and shared truth. The narrative doesn’t leave them frozen in nostalgia, it allows them to evolve beyond it.

Cloud doesn’t fulfill the promise by becoming a perfect hero.

He fulfills it by becoming honest.

And Tifa doesn’t fall for an idealized SOLDIER.

She chooses the real Cloud — the one who finally stops pretending.

That’s not a regression to childhood feelings.

That’s growth into adult love.