~ water tribe ~

the worst part is that the shippers try to make it seem like they're more cognizant of social justice, genocide, interracial relations (especially against zk fans) and a girl's needs. but the thing is, their arguments fall flat because the main character is so clearly the white creators' self insert whose romantic portrayal undeniably gives major "Nice Guy" red flags and treads incel territory: he doesn't need to earn her love - no, he is entitled to it. this is actually anti-feminist messaging and we never saw our girl's needs met in that dynamic. instead, it was him who was one-way benefitting from her mothering (which he wasn't bothered by), and his actions kept pulling her back into that role. in TSR, we see it even more - assuming the worst, lecturing and imposing his beliefs based on his idea of how she should be, not trying to listen or be present when he very well could have due to shared experiences of colonial violence. not to mention the grace, presence and non-judgmental comfort she'd offered him when he lost his bison and lost his temper.

at this point I am reminded that this series was made by white americans, so while the other characters can push the boundaries a little, the main character must be an enlightened boy with a supposedly higher moral conscience (in contrast to the angry, irrational brown girl) palatable to an audience residing in an imperial core (in which the majority of us do not regularly encounter or fight off the horrors of an active genocide). in other words, he unfortunately plays the role of a white man's mouthpiece for lukewarm takes - telling us essentially doing nothing is the correct answer to your loved one learning that an imperial soldier who murdered her family has made no amends and is out there walking free - no haunting, no memory, no consequence.

how does all of this not make one raise an eyebrow? by season 3 I really felt like someone had just thrown a tantrum in the writer's room and that's how we ended up here.

in some ways we got to see a fuller development and journey for zuko: we find zuko confronting his father become a better parallel to her confronting her mom's killer (that he considerately does not bring up on her journey), with both of them overcoming a generational trauma that share the same root cause. maybe we are drawn to this, maybe this feels more gut-wrenching, maybe this makes for a richer character arc because he is not a wide-eyed baby-faced self-insert, journeyed alone, and therefore was not shielded from having to make tough choices (like the main character's s2/s3 final dilemma). to think - his story more closely mirrors Buddha's own origin story! the irony.

it really is mindboggling because there are so many beautiful ways to write a friends -> lovers story, and it doesn't even need to be complicated. (if anyone's read fma, just look at ed/winry - heartwarming, reciprocated, felt natural and earned.)

If their relationship is so good, then it should be able to withstand Katara being close friends with Zuko or guy friends at all for that matter.

This behavior is the same logic of a man feeling so insecure about himself and believing that he’s not good enough as a partner that he has to isolate/ban his wife from having any guy friends and sometimes girl friends as well.

Is Ka/taang such an inferior relationship that Katara’s friendships literally have to be wiped from existence in order for the ship to actually have any ground?

And the fact that they had to basically sabotage every other canon option for it to be believable that she would pick Aang. Killing off Jet, making Haru look like a grown man and then erasing her relationship with Zuko.

I’ve seen some discourse about the male and female gaze, and I think some people misunderstand what these terms actually mean. So let’s go back a bit to the origins.

The term “the male gaze” was popularized by feminist film critic Laura Mulvey. In her essay, “Visual Pleasure in Narrative Cinema,” Mulvey uses the Hitchcock film Rear Window, which is a story that is entirely framed around the voyeurism of the main male character. There’s a point in the movie where the protagonist’s girlfriend, who had previously doubted the events the protagonist claimed to view out of his apartment window, which make up most of the action of the story, finally comes around to his way of seeing things, and delivers the very effective and famous line “Tell me exactly what you saw, and what you think it means.”

Most of the time when people talk about the male gaze, they refer to female characters being displayed as objects for an assumed male viewer. Mulvey argues that the way the character Lisa is portrayed in this movie does subject her to this voyeuristic interpretation, but it goes deeper than that. When Lisa is not the object being viewed, she is asked to see things through the perspective of the main male character. She originally doubts him, but eventually she is forced to view things from his perspective. Later in the movie, she becomes subject to the protagonist’s gaze as we see her on the other side of the binoculars. Her boyfriend, the character through which the movie establishes its viewpoint, watches her be threatened by another man and eventually she is saved.

The movie both invites the assumed male viewer to view Lisa as an object AND asks her, as the movie’s female protagonist, to view things through the lens of the male protagonist.

And that’s what most of the critiques I see of Katara and Aang’s relationship are about. Take “The Fortune Teller,” for example.

Many people have already talked about how “The Fortuneteller” treats Aang’s crush on Katara vs Meng’s crush on Aang, but I would like to point out what I think is a particularly egregious example of the male gaze in this episode.

This is Aang looking at Katara. We get the pan over her body with emphasis on how attractive Aang finds her to be. The lighting makes her look practically angelic.

Then, later in the episode, when we see Meng crush on Aang, we get a similar pan.

The joke is meant to contrast Katara’s desirability with Aang’s, yet we are supposed to root for Aang as he worries that Katara does not return his feelings.

The show is also making fun of Aang’s crush on Katara by showing Aang’s exaggerated perspective, but she still remains desirable in his view and to the camera. There is no undercutting of Aang’s view of Katara the way the camera subverts Meng’s view of Aang. We are not asked to see Aang as desirable from a female perspective, which begs the question of what Katara should see in him if female desire is so, well…undesirable.

This is one of several places where the show is self aware enough to poke fun at the way Aang sees Katara, but still in the end totally validates him and the male gaze by only subverting it when the genders are flipped. Which isn’t actually a subversion at all.

This is an example of the camera framing a female character as object of the male gaze, but it goes deeper than that. The male gaze isn’t just framing women as objects to be looked at, but inviting women to view themselves through the filter of the male gaze as well.

And therein, I would argue, is the appeal of zutara.

You could make a case that one of the reasons zutara is so popular is because the show does occasionally present Zuko as an object for the gaze of a female audience. The creators were aware at a certain point that there was a not insignificant portion of the fandom that was into Zuko.

But Zuko is never framed as an object of desirability for Katara.

What the show does do, though, is switch up the lens through which we are supposed to view the narrative. And the way this happens is directly tied to Katara’s relationship with Zuko.

Katara is, in a lot of ways, our narrator from the beginning. Her words are the first ones heard from episode one, telling us about the world and the war and the Avatar. Her narration is focused on Aang and his story. “I believe that Aang can save the world.”

Katara also has her own story, though, one she talks about throughout the series but mostly in relation to others. And it’s this story that she confronts Zuko with in the crystal caves, when she tells him that he has “no idea” what she has suffered, and she tells him about the death of her mother.

Zuko does something she doesn’t expect by apologizing and relating it to the loss of his own mother, but he still can’t fully commit to her side and ends up betraying their tentative truce. It’s when she confronts him with it again in “The Southern Raiders” that things start to shift.

Before that, Katara had used the death of her mother to empathize with other’s loss, and many times this is a male character. We’ve heard the story told many times. Sokka tells it to Toph to explain Katara to her.

When Zuko seeks out Sokka in “The Southern Raiders,” though, it is the first time that another character has asked to hear the story.

Zuko: I want you to tell me what happened to your mother.

Sokka tells Zuko the story and tells Zuko that it’s not something he likes to think about. This relates to how Katara and Sokka differently view what happened to their mother, and partially contributes to why Katara told Sokka that maybe he didn’t love her enough. For Sokka, the day of his mother’s murder is not something he wants to relive, but Katara is constantly forced to relive it.

“The Southern Raiders” contains three full flashbacks to Kya’s murder. First from Sokka’s viewpoint, then Katara herself as she is telling the story to Zuko. The last time we see the story play out, it is as Katara is standing in front of Yon Rha and confronting him with it, while Zuko looks on passively.

Here, the dynamic has shifted so that Katara is not only the one telling the story, but in the end she is also the one who gets to rewrite it, to define how it ends, and Zuko is the observer, much like Lisa in “Rear Window.” Tell me what you saw and what you think it means.

Zuko knows the importance of letting Katara give shape and meaning to this story because he himself tried to do the same with Ozai, who is the only one left to speak about what happened to Ursa.

Ozai: Don’t you want to know what happened to your mother?

My inner child is screaming, I feel good. 🫡🌞

Ding dong, your package has arrived

Hope you like it and thanks for the first request (୨୧ ❛ᴗ❛)✧

I just noticed something about this.

Zuko is the first one to reach out.

He knows that Katara hates his fucking guts. He knows that she doesn’t trust him. 

But he trusts her, enough to hope that when he reaches out to her, she will reach back.

And she does.

Sokka or Suki, two people who aren’t hostile towards Zuko, could have easily helped him into the saddle.