Epic Spheal Side Blog

This essay is long overdue. I'm a shameless proponent of Bedeism, if I'm being honest; that is, Bede from Pokémon SWSH is my blorbo to end all blorbos in the Pokémon universe. He's a prickly little brat, and he doesn't play nice with others. That's half the reason why I like him. "Like" is even too tepid a word for what Bede means to me. "Love" is too sappy by half, but whatever; I'm splitting hairs at this point, and you don't need to worry about the exact language that captures the essence of my feelings for Bede Pokémon.

I'm writing this essay because Bede is a character that inspires a veritable flood of raw emotions in me. He's an orphan, like me (I'm more of a paper/social orphan, of course, an adoptee where he isn't, but I'm not the focus of this essay, so I'll leave this parenthetical thought alone). I understand that there are fandom analyses out there that examine his neurodivergence and gender identity (I'm a big fan of trans Bede, tbqh), but I haven't seen much of an approach via the lens of critical adoption studies. That's my wheelhouse, insofar that this fledgling, ever-growing field can be one. I'm just so passionate about this framework and its cutting-edge, intersectional, decolonial research that I want to apply it to my favorite childhood franchise, Pokémon.

So what does introducing the topic of orphanhood do for our understanding of Bede's character arc? Why fixate on Bede's orphanhood separate from his class identity (which would beg the question of a Marxist lens/reading of his characterization, but I'm not here for that lmao)? Well, dear reader, Bede's identity is multivalent. His orphanhood is a result of the family policing system--as opposed to a "child welfare system," which is the uncritical language most uninitiated folks use--and he was forcibly systematized by an orphanage and ostensibly the Galarian family policing mechanism. Family policing serves a racist, capitalist power structure that privileges certain families and family structures over others. Think your typical middle-class nuclear family, complete with heterosexual parents and a white picket fence.

Bede is a white boy, and white boys are not the norm in the family policing system in the real world (and probably not in the Pokémon world, lbr). Disproportionately, black and brown children from low-income families populate the family policing system in the United States, and this is echoed in the rest of the West as well.

Nevertheless, Bede is indelibly shaped by his orphanhood and exposure to family policing. Even if Bede's parents died by tragic natural causes--something that is never confirmed--being shuffled around like an eyesore or inanimate object through an orphanage, and then being exposed to the troubling philanthropy that is Rose's endorsement (and notably not adoption) makes Bede a product and victim of a ruthless system that profits off of children.

I would be remiss to avoid the topic of Rose.

Rose is not Bede's father. He never has been. I shudder to imagine that relationship and its ragged, heartbreaking complexity. That's not to say Rose wouldn't have been a good dad--perhaps he would have been. Perhaps he would be kinder to his own child and not dump them at the first sign of failure. Who knows? But at least as an endorser, patron, and pseudo-employer of sorts, Rose is a complicated figure in Bede's journey. He abandons Bede the second he does something unaccountably "wrong." He sees no issue with cleanly breaking off his contact with an orphaned teen who looks up to him as if he hung the stars in the sky.

Rose gave Bede his first Pokémon, Hatenna. Hatenna is a tricky Pokémon to raise, especially for someone with unwieldy, unruly emotions like Bede. Rose cultivated, in the way of a patron and billionaire philanthropist instead of a father, a strategic relationship with this no-name orphan.

Whatever your thoughts are on Rose, he remains very much a hero-turned-villain in Bede's story. He is the antagonist and obstinate obstacle in Bede's way. When he abandoned Bede, Bede relived trauma that stemmed from losing his parents, which is why I'd argue he's so distraught at Stow-on-Side when he loses his endorsement. Importantly, Bede is not confusing Rose with a father figure here--rather, he's thinking of job security, which is what would guarantee Bede a home at the end of the day. Bede doesn't want a father; he wants a home. Home isn't a white picket fence or warm afternoons spent lazing in the sun, either--it's peace. Bede wants peace. What orphan doesn't want peace?

He's ambitious, to be sure. Most teenage boys who are serious Pokémon trainers would be. But Bede's ambition is a way to guarantee that he can actually stop being so ambitious. That sounds circuitous, but what I mean is that Bede really hates having to fight tooth and nail for his survival. When you've scraped by for years as a scrappy, overlooked orphan whose parents are long gone, peace is the goal. You want to stop having to survive; you want to live instead.

I'm waxing a little poetic here now (or I'm tooting my own horn), so I'll stop and return to Bede's character arc. Let's look at a screenshot of a pivotal scene in Bede's journey.

Bede's language here is insolent (and not to mention fucking hilarious, but I digress) and insubordinate. He's standing up to Oleana, who is the righthand woman of his patron-employer. He's so confident that he's going to secure what he needs in Stow-on-Side.

I want to comment on the language he uses. "Did you stand in the path of a Pokémon's Simple Beam or something?" Bede is artful with his insults, and I'd argue that this is because he's built an entire identity and survival mechanism around using words as weapons. Weaponizing language is Orphanhood 101, honestly. When you're expected to explain the absurdity of your trauma over and over, you acquire a storyteller's eloquence. You master language and become hyperarticulate to defend yourself. I tweeted about this, actually. "Bede's eloquence is a survival mechanism stemming from having to articulate his bitter plight from a young age. Orphans make the best orators. I don't make the rules."

Maybe I'm just talking in a biased, handwavy way now. Regardless, I think Bede's eloquent insults aren't a marker of his supposed "posh" or snooty tendencies (although yes, he is a snooty bastard), but rather they represent how obstinate he is about carefully articulating why others have failed him. His censure is artful because he's fought so hard to make it an art form. You make enough shitty pots and over time you master them, right?

This brings me to his hard-won peace at the final arena: Wyndon Stadium. The Bede we see here is still his obstinate self, but he's come to terms with something important: loss. He lost again, and again, and again. He lost battles, he lost his endorsement, and yes, he lost his family. He's lost so much at such a young age.

Loss shapes orphanhood. As an adoptee, loss--and the grief that comes with it--powerfully shapes the way I move through the world. Because adoption is loss. Family separation is loss.

The Bede we see in Wyndon Stadium has accepted that loss is a part of life. He fought so hard, for so long, just to learn that aching lesson--a lesson that some adults scarcely ever learn.

Bede is an obstinate orphan, and when I say obstinate, I don't just mean it in the cute alliterative way. I mean he's fiercely stubborn and terrified of change. To lose is to change. What could be more frightening to an orphaned kid than change?

I have no fucking clue if I managed to say anything significant with this essay. I just know that Bede inspires the garrulous granny in me (Opal would be proud). This scrawny, peaky tit of a boy is my favorite character, and his ferocious determination to achieve peace and security and a sense of belonging and home means the world to me. I see myself in his story. I see myself in his arc.

Oh, and yes, I did draw Champion Bede one time, just for shits and giggles. He'd never actually become Champion, lol. But just imagine how cool it would be.

yes, much of the criticism lodged at the damsel in distress trope is well-placed, but it would be remiss to deny that There Is Also a sizable portion that do it out of misogyny, internalized or otherwise (as well as ableism typically but that's a whole other animal), because the criticism is aimed at the character as a Person and who they reflect in the real world, rather than the story beat itself and usually you can pick out which way the criticism is coming from

[...] Since I’ve gotten too disabled to fight anymore, I… find myself coming back to that maiden in a tower. It’s that funny thing, where subverting femininity is powerful for the people who have always been forced into it… but for the people who have always been excluded, the powerful thing can be embracing it.

As I’m disabled, as I say to groups of friends, “I can’t walk that far,” as I’m in too much pain to keep partying, I find myself worrying: I’m boring, too quiet, too stationary, irrelevant. The message sent to the disabled is: You’re out of the narrative, you’re secondary, you’re a burden.

The remarkable thing about the maiden in her tower is not her immobility; it’s common for disabled people to be abandoned, set adrift, waiting at bus stops or watching out the windows, forgotten in institutions or stranded in our houses. The remarkable thing is that she’s like a beacon, turning her tower into a lighthouse; people want to come to her, she’s important, she inspires through her appearance and words and craftwork.

and an addition from @liminally-human:

As a trans woman, this stands out to me a lot as well. I engage with a lot of traditionally feminine things, partly as to code me as a woman for others, but also in large part because it makes me feel happy, makes me feel feminine in the face of the onslaught of messages telling me that I do not count. And in that way, engaging with the role of maiden in the tower is extremely empowering for me, as well.

and finally, [transcribed] tags from @hungrylikethewolfie:

a kaladin and adolin drawing i put through the color gradient :)

DNIs do not work. accept this. internalize that people you don't like will see your posts and engage with them. this is unavoidable and the sooner you make peace with it the freer your mind will be. block the freaks and don't sweat the small stuff

building a tight knit circle of fellow weirdos who vibe with your particular quirks and taste is infinitely more rewarding and sustainable than chasing the biggest numbers

don't respond to bad-faith arguments or bad takes; just block people, blacklist tags, filter post content, and move on. don't feed the trolls (or the bigots)

don't hate-follow

don't tag your hate (ex. if you're posting about how much you hate a ship, don't tag it as that ship, etc.)

don't feel obligated to keep following someone who posts stuff that upsets/depresses/angers/bores you just because you know them really well, or because you're mutuals, or because you used to like what they post. following is nothing personal and neither is unfollowing

op doesn't know you; avoid parasocial relationships

don't pick fights or reblog posts just to disagree/argue

spread joy and positivity in your circles

5 simple exercises to awaken dormant muscles

read about moral ocd or ask a professional about it. i promise that is not normal or "just being chronically online". there are treatments and experts who can help navigate your obsessive tendencies

1) unfollow people who answer and engage with discourse that triggers you. My OCD said to me that I should never do that because that would mean I'm in an echo chamber and I should listen to every opinion in the entire world. Bullshit. Unfollow them, be free.

2) Therapy and meds do likely help if you have it, and in my case a lot of the worst symptoms went away by taking antidepressants. So if it's really bad, do consider medication! OCD can be a neurological disorder more than a mental illness, so in my case it actually worked better to use serotonin stimulating medicine rather than talk therapy.