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Animorphs is a children’s book series.  It’s written for children, marketed to children, adopts a childist perspective, and primarily discusses the concerns of children.  It is not a young adult series, nor is it even a marginal case like Percy Jackson or Harry Potter.

Why is my stance on this so firm?

First of all, Young Adult as a marketing category (for fiction aimed at teens) didn’t even exist in the mid-1990s when Animorphs first came out.  It wasn’t developed until the mid-2000s with works such as Twilight, Hunger Games, and Mortal Instruments.  But even if we’re willing to go back and classify pre-YA works as being precursors (e.g. Eragon, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants), then Animorphs still doesn’t fit the bill, because Animorphs too clearly is about childhood rather than adolescence.

The protagonists of Animorphs have non-alien goals that revolve around getting their homework done, living up to their families’ expectations, avoiding bullies, and figuring out their own genders and orientations.  They’re scared of being separated from their parents (#7), of losing their sense of fun (#19), and of never being able to have lives outside of the war (MM1).  These aren’t the hopes and fears of mid-adolescence; they’re the hopes and fears of late childhood.  They’re not motivated by adolescent concerns like sex, rebellion, drugs like alcohol, independence from authority, or personal privacy.  They don’t have adolescent worries about crossing the thresholds of adulthood, maintaining their ability to travel, choosing colleges or career paths, or being respected as independent adults.  They’re child characters.

The Animorphs are children, and thus also don’t have the rights and freedoms of adolescents.  They don’t drive, they don’t go on unsupervised dates, they don’t hold jobs, they have chores but don’t maintain households, they don’t plan their own futures more than a few weeks in advance, and they don’t have money beyond a few dollars here and there.  Marco is a partial exception to all of those, but he’s the first one to admit that he lacks the skills to shop for food more filling than Peanut M&Ms (#5), to drive more than a mile without crashing (#28), or to manage money long-term (#14).  Marco is cooking and shopping for his household out of necessity, and he’s doing it as an untrained child would rather than as an emerging adult would.  Because he, like all the other Animorphs, has the knowledge and abilities of a child rather than a young adult.

The Animorphs come off like kids, with kids’ level of experience.  None of them have heard of the Battle of Agincourt or the Battle of Trafalgar (MM3), all of them are more inclined to go “eew” than “ooh” on the rare occasions when talk turns to sex (#13, #43), and most of them are pretty terrible at electronics operations (#16, #20).  Most of their battle strategies come from cartoons and video games, not formal martial theory.  Nevertheless, the kids are treated as complex and valid individuals capable of both great good and great evil.  That’s my oversimplified understanding of the childist perspective: that it focuses on the ways that society restricts and dismisses children, and takes the radical stance that children can be fully human members of society while still being fundamentally children at heart, without having them be mini-adults in all but name.  Animorphs has a firmly childist perspective toward its own protagonists, and emphasizes that with the minor characters.

Because most adults treat the Animorphs like kids, refusing to respect their superior experience even when confronted with overwhelming evidence that these kids know what they’re doing.  The Animorphs, by contrast, never stop respecting adults and adult authority.  Most notably, the protagonists never ever stop referring to adults as “Mr. Tidwell,” “General Doubedday, sir,” “Aunt Naomi,” etc., even on occasions when they’re telling those adults what to do.  The kids operate outside traditional power structures sometimes, but still view themselves as being subject to those power structures.

As a quick point of contrast, think about an in-between series like Harry Potter.  The protagonists don’t just date but make out and have intense sexuality crises.  They travel long distances without adults and are trusted to provide for themselves, especially in Deathly Hallows.  They pivot away from “Professor Lupin” toward “Remus” in later books, and they tell off headmasters and Ministers for Magic alike.  They make career choices, and lead social justice movements.  They’re arguably more child than young adult when the series starts, but they’re also pretty clearly more young adult than child when the series ends.

One last point of order:

[Image description: the spine and part of both covers of Animorphs #9.  The Scholastic logo, a white book on a red background, is visible on the spine and front cover.  The name “Scholastic” is visible on the front and back covers.]

The Scholastic name or logo appears — by my count — no less than eight times on a standard Animorphs book, including twice on the spine alone.  That’s not just a marketing tactic.  It’s a signal to librarians, teachers, and other children’s book curators that these books being listed under the “ages 8 to 12″ label isn’t arbitrary or accidental.  These books have been evaluated by experts in the field, and deemed not only appropriate but engaging and also educational for children in that age bracket.  These books use simple language, except when they occasionally use and then immediately define more complex terms like “thermal” or “singularity.”  Their educational content focuses primarily on animal facts, with a moderate dash of history and good ol’ fashioned ethics, and that content is present in every book.  A young adult series would be under no obligation to explain how gravity affects whales’ organ structure in the middle of an adventure (#27).  I’m no expert, but I wholeheartedly agree: these books are appropriate, enjoyable, educational, and meaningful for kids to read.

At the very end [of #16]… Jake is sitting outside, brooding, because it’s Jake, and he’s very good at the whole brooding thing.  And his mom comes out and talks to him… she says: 

“You know, when I was your age and feeling upset, my mother, your gram, would always just say, ‘You don’t know what unhappy is, you’re just a kid.’ Like anything a kid would feel would be less difficult or painful than what an adult would feel.”

“That’s probably true,” I said, not really listening.

“No, it isn’t,” my mother said firmly. “In a lot of ways being a kid is worse than being an adult. You have the same things to deal with: friends, temptations, love and hate, and all that. Only you don’t have the two great weapons that adults have to help them… the first is experience. Experience maybe doesn’t make you smarter, but it means you can think, 'Hey, I had something like this happen once before, and I survived.’”

“Okay, I’ll ask: What’s the second great weapon?”

She looked right at me. "You are, Jake. Because as your mom, I can look at you and think, 'Oh, man, as bad as I feel right now, as bad as things may be, at least it isn’t as bad as being a teenager.’”

I love this passage, because it really pokes holes in the idea that children are somehow innocent, and that children are somehow pure, and that children don’t experience the same range of emotions that adults do.  And that’s sort of at the heart of the study of children’s literature.  I wanted to give a brief-ish overview of the development of the field of children’s literature…

As the field is established, one of the key ideas it starts to wrestle with is what Maria Nikolajaeva calls “aetonormativity.” Aetonormativity, according to Nikolajaeva, is valuing the adult over the child.  If you think about the way society operates, we can see some examples of this, even just in everyday life.  Children are subject to the rules of a society, while having no say in how those rules are made or enforced… Children are also observed, and tested, and judged, in a way that adults simply aren’t [i.e. standardized tests].  Children can’t escape… being measured by a standard outside their own control.  Children can’t vote anywhere.  That is aetonormativity…

The other thing that kind of develops out of aetonormativity is what’s known as “the childist perspective.”  So that’s basically trying to consider the world from the point of view of children, and not in a “wow, look at all this brand new stuff” kind of way, but thinking about living in a world where you are subject to rules that you have no control over, and where you’re constantly being observed by all the adults in your life, and considering all the ways that we, as a society, frankly oppress children.  I’m obviously not saying that children should have all of the same rights as adults.  It’s more that children automatically get dismissed.  And like Jake’s mom says, it’s ridiculous to assume that children don’t feel the same things that adults feel…

The main way I see this come across – and Animorphs just flies in the face of everything about this – but there’s this myth of innocence.  This idea that children are innocent, and that children need to be shielded from things like war, like death, even like sadness.  We cling to this myth, because it seems to be proof that there’s good in the world.  That, “well, everyone was a child at some point, and children are innocent, and children get along, and children love each other, and children don’t see race, and children don’t see gender” even though those ideas have largely been debunked…

This really is just a myth, and it’s not fair to children – or adults even – to cling to this idea that children are somehow innocent.  Because it can be not only patronizing to say to children “oh you don’t know; you think you have it so bad, but when you’re an adult you’ll really understand”, but almost worse than that, it can be alienating for children who have experienced some kind of trauma.  Statistically, by the time they’re like ten, children will have experienced the loss of someone close to them.  And lots of them will have unfortunately experienced abuse of some sort.  And depending on where they’re living, lots of them will have experienced war.  So suggesting that to be a child is to be innocent is essentially telling those children: “well, you’re not really a child.” 

…and I think you just have to look at this book.  Look at all the things Jake is dealing with.  Yes: most children, to the best of my knowledge, are not trying to fight off a secret invading alien force.  But we see he has a lot of pressure to look a certain way in front of his friends.  He has pressure to fill a certain role that has been marked out for him.  In some ways he chooses to embrace it, but in some ways he feels forced into it.  And then he has Cassie, who he has this complicated relationship with.  He has a crush on her, and at different points in the book he’s worried that she’s pitying him, or he’s worried that she thinks he’s making the wrong decision, and at times he has to step in and argue with her, which is something he does not want to do.

And I’d say those are things that most kids have to deal with, maybe all kids have to deal with.  And then you add in the alien fighting on top of all that, the fear of dying in a specific way from having your body traumatized – so when Jake is smushed as a fly – and also mental health issues.  I would argue this book makes a strong case for Jake having some combination of anxiety, depression, PTSD.  None of those terms are ever actually used in the books, so I wouldn’t put a stamp on it.  [SOL’S NOTE: #54 does describe Jake as “clinically depressed” (p. 75), but it’s also true that #16 does not mention those terms by name.]  But I’m especially struck by the scene near the end where he’s just sitting in his room, in the dark, staring at the wall…

I think this book is a perfect example of the problem with that myth of innocence.  But there are dozens and dozens of children’s books that take apart that myth.  And a common reaction I get when I say I’m studying children’s literature, people say “oh yeah, children’s books; they’re so cute!” and I’m like “I mean, some of them are…”  But you know the most popular books with the kids I nanny?  There’s one called Naked… and one called Everybody Poops… and Drum Dream Girl, the true story of a girl living in Cuba in the 1930s who had to overcome this gendered notion that only men could be musicians…  So whether it’s poop or civil rights, kids are interested in all sorts of things that don’t fall under the guise of “innocence.”

[Nonny refers to the tags where I said I liked 97% of Turning Red.]

My peeve, in a word: aetonormativity.

In a bunch of words:

Aetonormativity (literally, "adult = normal") is the idea that a lot of our stories carry the hidden assumption that adults' perspective both is and should be the default way of understanding life. It dismisses children's perspective as selfish and limited, or simply fails to consider that a child could be right where adults are wrong.

Cates has written extensively about the fact that in magical coming-of-age stories, especially those starring girls, there is a tendency not to let girls have too much power. Enough that girls have power over boys, maybe, but not so much that they start to disrespect women. For example, Korra spends much of Legend of Korra not listening to her adult mentors, which always proves to be a mistake and leads to her learning to listen better. (Contrast: Aang.) Buffy will let Willow be more powerful than the gods, but never has a moment where she is right and Giles wrong when they disagree about her magic. A Little Princess features Sara often going behind adults' backs, but her ultimate act of defiance is to Get an Adult who saves the day. So on.

Anyway, Turning Red is 97% a story about a teen girl defying the adults in her life — and being right to do so. And I really like that movie. It's the feminist remake of Teen Wolf (1985) I never knew I'd wanted all these years. (Also: your mileage may vary, my perspective is biased, and my major peeve is someone else's easily-ignored blip.)

However. Meilin's mom might mean well... but she also follows her daughter around, sex-shames her, shows up at her school, deliberately ruins her social life, and eventually resorts to physically attacking her. Sure, we can argue that Ming's dealing with her own anxiety and she's scared of losing her future if Meilin becomes Canadian-acculturated... but. BUT the security guard at Meilin's school is apparently on high alert and has had to escort Ming off the premises to keep her from spying on students, by the time Ming shows up during the merch montage. BUT Ming doesn't want Meilin to have other friendships and tries to end those friendships where possible. BUT Meilin feels unsafe at home and can only be mentally safe when with friends.

I watched Turning Red with Spouse; the moment Panda-Ming attacked the concert crowd, we gasped and grabbed hands, babbling "they're doing it" "oh my god they're doing it" "they're going there". Because we thought we were finally, finally witnessing the moment where Rapunzel rejects Mother Gothel... with a biological parent. Where Meilin realizes that her mother loving her is not enough, if she can't be safe at home.

Only, see, Ming and Meilin do share genes. So it doesn't ultimately matter that Ming beats Meilin up and tries to kill her; Ming "can't help it" on account of being premenstrual caught up in panda emotions. It doesn't ultimately matter that other adults in Meilin's life feel moved to shelter her from her mom; Ming means well and intentions are more important than actions. Because adults are right, and when kids disagree with them then the kids should be corrected.

Which isn't to say that these terms and this work has been around forever. Many tumblr users are older than popular usage of the term heteronormativity, for example. But this important work is being done, and has been being done for decades. Black and African-American discourses on the effects of a white supremacist culture have been working for over a century now. Obviously there are limits to the success of these efforts. There's still so much work to be done.

Everyone SHOULD read it, and it is often a distressing experience to do so. Back in 1929 it was internationally recognized that children in particular needed to have a codified set of rights, it has been improved on since - in many ways it is still not perfect but it needs to be understood that the rights contained within are the BARE MINIMUM.

If any of these are breached - whether on the home scale or on the cultural one, particularly for signatory countries - that is a fundamental issue.

I promise that learning what the established bare minimums are in universal human rights frameworks will enable you to cut through so much propaganda immediately.

1. no other international agreement in history has been signed by more countries.

2. most signatory countries violate a large number of its provisions on a daily basis.

"race is a social construct": a bit harder to swallow for some but still reasonable

age and growth as biological facts exist, but the meaning we layer onto them, and especially the idea that there are age categories with hard boundaries you can sort people into, categories that reflect binary states like "dependent" vs "independent" or "developing" vs "developed" - none of that is objective material fact. it's stuff that only forms part of our shared reality because we let it. this is obvious if you think about it for a few minutes and it obviously has real and often negative impacts on people's lives.

"Oh sweet - they're being patient, caring, and understanding of your limited life experience of whatever the current issue is?"

"No?? They're being condescending, controlling, and denying me autonomy!!"

man blinking in shock, surprise,

and disbelief meme]

"Oh sweet - they're being patient, caring, and understanding of your limited life experience of whatever the current issue is?"

"No?? They're being condescending, controlling, and denying me autonomy!!"

man blinking in shock, surprise,

and disbelief meme]