The Courage to Cry: Men and Boys’ Emotions in ‘Naruto’

However, when boys are told that “boys don’t cry” and that men should “man up,” their emotions are not respected, and they often internalize this stigma, sometimes with devastating consequences. Of course, simply crying won’t cure a condition as severe as PTSD, but men being shown that they are not “weak” for experiencing emotions and needing help will undoubtedly aid in the road to recovery.

Sasuke_cry


This post by Jackson Adler previously appeared at The Windowsill and appears here as part of our theme week on Masculinity. Cross-posted with permission.


CONTAINS SPOILERS for the Naruto franchise.

It’s still pretty rare to see boys and men cry in TV and film.  Male characters shedding a tear or two has become slightly more common (thank you, Scandal), but rarely anything more, even when a character is grieving over the loss of a loved one.  TV and film, with or without intention, often spread the stigma against men and boys expressing powerful emotions in healthy ways such as crying.  According to Dr. Christia Brown in her Psychology Today article “Boys Who Cry Might Have It All Figured Out,” “For boys, they are taught that sadness is not okay, and expressing sadness is definitely not okay. But emotions don’t evaporate, they have to be expressed somehow. For boys, an acceptable emotion is anger. They can fight, [and] show aggression.”  If emotions are channeled into verbal or physical violence, such as when men with PTSD become physically abusive to their partners or spouses (such as in the case of Sir Patrick Stewart’s father), the consequences can be absolutely devastating, and sometimes fatal. This is not to say that anger should be ignored or that anger cannot be expressed in a healthy and non-abusive manner. For example, righteous anger at injustice leads many into lives of activism in which they create positive changes in their communities.  However, when boys are told that “boys don’t cry” and that men should “man up,” their emotions are not respected, and they often internalize this stigma, sometimes with devastating consequences.  Of course, simply crying won’t cure a condition as severe as PTSD, but men being shown that they are not “weak” for experiencing emotions and needing help will undoubtedly aid in the road to recovery.

For these reasons, I am proud of Kishimoto Masashi, the man who created the Naruto manga series, for creating male characters who unabashedly cry, and who are emotionally supported by their peers when they express their emotions in this way.  His manga series, which will conclude on Nov. 10, has since been adapted into two anime series (Naruto and Naruto Shippuden) and several animated films.  In Naruto, a story that is set among militarized warrior states and focuses on the ninja who act as their soldiers, men and boys, whether soldiers or civilians, experience severe trauma and great loss. Most of the scenes when a male character cries take place when that character is grieving over the loss of a loved one, but a number also take place when a character is emotionally touched, when they are pleading for the protection of a loved one, when they are seeking forgiveness, when they are lonely, or when they are tortured, persecuted, bullied, or ostracized. When these characters express their emotions through crying, they are not emasculated in the slightest. Heroes, villains, gray-area characters, top-notch soldiers, political leaders, medical professionals, and average civilians all cry in Naruto.

Even the most powerful and intimidating of characters are told by their peers that it is all right for them to cry, and are shown empathy and support. In Naruto Shippuden in the episode “Disappearance,” the characters Itachi and Kisame, elite members of the terrorist organization Akatsuki, receive a false report that Itachi’s younger brother has been killed. When Itachi steps out into the rain for what seems to be a private moment, Kisame says to Itachi, “I don’t know what someone as cold as you could be thinking right now, but from here, you look as though you are crying.” Far from mocking him, Kisame goes on to say, “It’s too bad about your younger brother,” and expresses that it must be lonely for Itachi to be “the sole survivor of [his] clan.”  Though Itachi then reveals that he knows the information they received is false, it is a surprising moment of closeness and support between characters whose professions are so violent.

naruto-lonely

The storyline of the Naruto franchise is an action/fantasy one about a boy named Naruto, who trains to be a ninja and to serve his country.  Like Naruto, many of the characters in the story are children who have been affected by war and are trained to become child soldiers.  Though the story is written for children, and even contains a fair amount of slapstick and goofy humor, it certainly does not shy away from serious content.  “War is hell,” one character says.  Many of the child characters experience severe trauma, often, but not always, from war, long before they are permitted to fight in combat.  Naruto’s grows up rather alone, even being ostracized and otherwise bullied by his community, and the second main character, Sasuke, who is Naruto’s friend and rival, and Itachi’s younger brother, witnessed the murder of his parents and the genocide of his clan when he was very young.

Naruto wears his heart on his sleeve, and cries often in the story, which frequently stems from his great amount of empathy and love for others. Naruto cries in the first episode when he overhears his teacher Iruka say to another teacher that he believes in Naruto, and Naruto realizes that someone cares about him after all. Sasuke cries much more rarely, often feigning indifference instead, but frequently channels his emotions into rage or violence.  Much of the story revolves around Naruto and other characters trying to help Sasuke to heal, to connect with others, and to let go of rage, violence, and an all-consuming, overwhelming, and relentless quest for revenge.  Sasuke and a number of other characters in Naruto either start the story with signs of PTSD or develop symptoms of it along the way.

The Naruto manga series ends in only a few weeks, and has culminated in a confrontation between Sasuke and Naruto. They each have the same goal – to make the world a better, more loving, and more peaceful place.  Sasuke believes that he has to take the fate of the world on his own shoulders, and that he cannot ask for help.  Naruto hopes to help Sasuke to see that he does not have to face all the pain and hatred in the world, and in himself, on his own.  Many men are afraid to ask for help or support when they need it because of the stigma that they are weak if they do.  Their emotions and healthy expressions of them are often ignored or mocked.  Naruto sets a good example for everyone – that crying, that suffering, and that asking for help do not make a person weak.  Naruto is also a good example of someone who shows empathy and support for others’ emotions and needs.  I certainly hope that more people emulate Naruto and reach out to those is pain, and that those is pain start to feel comfortable asking for help and expressing themselves in a healthy way.  Naruto is a hero who cries, who suffers, and who helps others.  If there were more heroes like that in the media, maybe the stigma against men crying or asking for help would cease.

 


Jackson Adler is a transmasculine aromantic bi/pansexual skinny white middle class dude with an Auditory Processing Disorder and a Weak Working Memory who enjoys cartoons, musical theatre, and vegan boba drinks. Jackson has a BA in Theater, and is a writer, activist, performer, director, teacher, and dramaturge.

 

‘Girl Soldier’: Trauma, Terror, and Reconciliation

Jonathan Torgovnik, South-African based award winning photographer and filmmaker, was drawn to these women’s stories and from them created the short film, ‘Girl Soldier.’ ‘Girl Soldier’ features interviews with several ex-child soldiers from the Sierra Leone civil war—women who managed to survive their traumatic history and have now been reintegrated back into their communities.

Kadiatu Koromoa sits for a portrait in Jonathon Torgovnik's 'Girl Soldier'
Kadiatu Koromoa sits for a portrait in Jonathon Torgovnik’s Girl Soldier

Written by Rachel Redfern.

Trigger Warning: Sexual Assault, Violence

After the viral video Kony 2012, there was a whole slew of renewed interest in the problems of child soldiers–the trauma, abuse and the horrors that accompanies such a twisting of childhood innocence and trust into a weapon all came to light. Eventually, Kony 2012 and its creators fell out of favor with activists, and the continuing problem of child soldiers and its life-long effects on its victims and their communities faded to the background.  Unfortunately, to date, there are still over 300,000 child soldiers worldwide with half that number fighting in African conflicts.

There is a surprising and often unspoken fact that over 40 percent of all child soldiers worldwide are girls. The images we normally see of child soldiers always feature young boys stoically gripping an AK4; they rarely feature girls and never show the women these soldiers later become.

Jonathan Torgovnik, South-African based award winning photographer and filmmaker, was drawn to these women’s stories and from them created the short film, Girl Soldier. Girl Soldier features interviews with several ex-child soldiers from the Sierra Leone civil war—women who managed to survive their traumatic history and have now been reintegrated back into their communities.

From 1991-2001 Sierra Leone was the site of a massive civil war that resulted in the death of 50,000 people. Thousands of children were abducted and forced to fight for rebel forces—the atrocity of utilizing children for an armed conflict was doubled by the horrors they were forced to commit.

In the Sierra Leone Civil War, 30 percent of all child soldiers were girls.

Torgovnik spends much of the film with the women recounting their personal experience as child soldiers; this is an unnerving experience for the viewer as well, especially in the easy way that each woman shares the horrific events of her childhood. And for many of the women, their lives as a child soldier didn’t necessarily end with the war; many were left with babies after being impregnated by their captors.

As the end of the film shows, these women were able to deal with the trauma because of their shared experience and the group-counseling sessions organized by shelters and NGOs.

While the beginning of Girl Soldier is a stark reminder of the sickening crimes committed in the name of war, the end of the film covers the sad, but uplifting aftermath. It is inspiring to watch the human ability for forgiveness that these women demonstrate: despite the horrific acts committed against them by their captors, these men now walk free after Sierra Leone’s reconciliation hearings. In order for their country to survive and to have peace, these women had to learn to live with the men who had brutalized them in the first place.

The 2006 film Blood Diamond featured a gritty Leonardo DiCaprio and impassioned Jennifer Connolly against the backdrop of the Sierra Leone civil war; despite its Hollywood origins, Blood Diamond did expose the horrors of child soldiers through the story of Dia. Large-scale Hollywood epics such as these are important, as they bring awareness on a massive level; however, while many of the women in Girl Soldier had similar experiences during the war, the faces, the photos of children and friends, the context of women in their home villages, makes their stories even more horrifying, and ultimately more personal.

To watch Girl Soldier and read an interview with Torgovnik click here.

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Rachel is a traveler and teacher who spent the last few years living in Asia. Now back in her native California, she focuses on writing about media, culture, and feminism. While a big fan of campy 80s movies and eccentric sci-fi, she’s become a cable acolyte, spending most of her time watching HBO, AMC, and Showtime. For good stories about lions and bungee jumping, as well as rants about sexism and slow drivers, follow her on Twitter at @RachelRedfern2.

2013 Oscar Week: A Thorn Like a Rose: War Witch (Rebelle)

Guest post written by Emily Campbell.

If you reel off its vital stats, War Witch sounds like a shoo-in for an Oscar.

It tackles the delicate topic of African child soldiers and was filmed entirely in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
Its main character is a girl who bravely forges forward even though her life has more obstacles than The Hunger Games.
It stars a leading actress who grew up on the streets of Kinshasa and was cast at the age of 15.
It’s in French.
So why has it slipped under the radar?
After hosting an impromptu watch party, I posed the question to a few friends. “It’s because it’s Canadian. That and there are no white people,” one said.
“There are if you count the albino guy,” another countered, unwittingly opening a whole new can of worms.
Eventually the discussion culminated in a long, detailed dissection of the official Oscar nominees and it was concluded that, since there were already Best Picture nominations for a French language film (Amour) and two films about a young people of color overcoming adversity (Beasts of the Southern Wild and Life of Pi), there just weren’t any bases left for War Witch to cover. Despite being comprised of components that typically make the Academy salivate left and right, War Witch is nominated in only one category: Best Foreign Film, otherwise known as that part of the Oscars dedicated to movies only a handful of people have actually seen and several handfuls of people will inevitably decide to see but still probably never get around to it.
War Witch (2012) poster
Canada’s seventh nominee in this category, War Witch begins with a seemingly innocent narrative hook: the voiceover of a woman speaking to her unborn child. The camera pans through a Congolese village, where the residents live in houses constructed of everything from towels to tarpaulins and wear sandals made of plastic water bottles. Inside one of these ramshackle houses, a girl sits patiently while her mother braids her hair.
Within two minutes, everything takes a turn for the decidedly less innocent and never looks back.
It turns out the girl and the narrator are one and the same: Komona, age 12, is abducted from her village by rebel soldiers along with a handful of other children. In order to ensure the loyalty of their new recruits, the rebels eliminate any other contenders and waste no time in doing so, putting an AK-47 in Komona’s hands and instructing her to kill her parents.
“This is your mother,” her kidnappers say, passing around sticks for the children to practice gun-handling. “This is your father. Respect your guns. They’re your new mother and father.”
As a member of the Great Tiger’s rebel army, Komona is trained to do battle against the government alongside other kidnapped children. What sets her apart from them is her ability to see visions after drinking the “magic milk” from a certain tree—a gift that leads to her foreseeing and surviving a government attack. Ultimately, Komona’s visions catch the attention of the Great Tiger himself and, at age 13, she is anointed his personal war witch.
Throughout the course of the film, Komona’s voiceover continues narrating her story to her child. “Listen good when I talk to you because it’s very important that you know what I did before you come out of my belly,” she tells it. “Because when you come out, I don’t know if God will give me the strength to love you.”
War Witch delivers its share of chilling lines, such as Komona calmly explaining that she sees fallen soldiers not as dead bodies but as walking ghosts, or how a local butcher always keeps a pail at hand since every slice of his machete reminds him of what happened to his family and makes him want to vomit. But interspersed with the grimness are moments of levity. At one point, the child soldiers are watching a movie on a bus, yelling and clapping like kids on a school trip. At another, after Komona’s friend Magicien informs her it’s only a matter of time before her visions are faulty and the Great Tiger has her executed like the three witches before her, they flee the army together and Komona accepts his proposal of marriage. However, this is only after she requests that Magicien first bring her a white rooster (which her father once told her is the hardest thing to find in the country), a challenge he takes very seriously.
The brainchild of Montreal director Kim Nguyen, War Witch (billed as Rebelle in French) was filmed entirely in Kinshasa, after Nguyen had spent the past decade researching the plight of child soldiers in central Africa. “I learned that there are actually more women child soldiers than men,” he said, “which was surprising. What’s tragic, of course, is that they’re used as sexual slaves.”
Rachel Mwanza, who stars as Komona, has already racked up Best Actress awards from the Berlin Film Festival, the Tribeca Film Festival, and the Vancouver Film Critics Circle. She and Serge Kanyinda, who plays Magicien, have earned respective nominations for Best Actress and Best Supporting Actor at the 2013 Canadian Screen Awards. “This character is ten-dimensional,” Nguyen has said of Mwanza’s portrayal of Komona. “She’s a child but she’s an adult, she’s a killer and a victim, she’s a mother but she’s a child. You cannot imagine a more paradoxical figure.” But, as he relayed during a TIFF interview, War Witch’s accolades are far more an exception than a rule: “I had brutal answers that would tell me a Black main actor doesn’t sell.”
In only ninety minutes, War Witch packs a thousand punches. Komona is abducted at 12, a renowned war witch by 13, and pregnant by 14. Her loved ones are snatched away with ruthless precision and her time as a soldier leaves its marks in the form of Stockholm syndrome, post-traumatic stress, and an unborn child. Her superiors beat her, and even Magicien and his protective talismans can only prevent so much harm. The ghosts of her parents give her nightmares, urging her to return to her village and bury them. Inevitably, she becomes a product of her environment, learning to kill or be killed. This comes to a head during one especially harrowing scene wherein she becomes a “poisoned rose” in an effort to kill her commanding officer.
But War Witch is more than just atrocity layered on top of atrocity. There are allies: for a time, Magicien and Komona take shelter with Macigien’s uncle, who abhors the war and provides a safe haven. There’s ingenuity: in one of the film’s lighter moments, Macigien throws himself against the side of a passing van and kicks up a fuss about being injured until the bewildered driver quickly leaves him some money and speeds away. And there’s hope: Komona’s resilience leads to her turning on her commanders multiple times, with eventual success, and stubbornly seeking closure that seems forever just out of reach. 
And yet, it’s a Canadian film. No Canadian film has ever won Best Picture and only one (2003’s The Barbarian Invasions) has won Best Foreign Film. Only three Canadian actresses and one African actress have nabbed the Oscar for Best Actress in a Leading Role. The Academy has also been known to neglect giving credit where it’s due, a fact that has even more unfortunate ramifications regarding actors of color. Black actresses have been nominated for Best Actress in a Leading Role a mere ten times, with Halle Berry’s 2001 turn in Monster’s Ball resulting in the solitary win. As noted in a study titled “Not Quite a Breakthrough: The Oscars and Actors of Color, 2002-2012,” no winner in any Oscar category has ever been Latino, Asian American, or Native American. More recently, Life of Pi’s Suraj Sharma, who carried the entire film by acting opposite a bluescreen and lost 20% of his body weight for the role and is only 17 years old, was passed over for a nomination although the film itself garnered eleven of them.
Actor Rachel Mwanza
As noted by Jorge Rivas in his 2012 article, an overwhelming majority of the Academy consists of white men. Rachel Mwanza, pictured above with the Silver Bear she won at the 2012 Berlin Film Festival, was the first African woman to do so. Mwanza is currently slated to star in the upcoming Marc-Henri Wajnberg-directed drama Kinshasa Kids.
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Emily Campbell has taught English on three continents, been involved with dubious theatrical productions on four, and recently acquired an M. Ed. on one. She has previously written a review of Cracks for Bitch Flicks and still not-so-secretly wants to be an Animorph when she grows up.