Diverse Children’s Show

Strong in the Real Way: ‘Steven Universe’ and the Shape of Masculinity to Come

Steven, the title character, isn’t the troublemaking, reckless, pain-in-the-butt Boy-with-a-capital-B I feared I’d have to watch around to get to the powerful women and loving queer folk I really wanted to see. He’s unreserved, adventurous, and confident – all good traits that are fairly typical for boy leads in kids’ shows – but he is also affectionate, selfless, very prone to crying, and just plain effin’ adorable.

This guest post by Ashley Gallagher appears as part of our theme week on Masculinity.

I wasn’t very fond of boys growing up. Boys were agents of terror on my young life: my very first memory of body shame is from a summer school sprinkler day, when a 7-year-old boy chased me relentlessly around the courtyard trying to pull my bikini. (Next week, and every week thereafter that summer, I wore a one-piece to sprinkler day.) Even worse, the adults in my life – particularly men – often excused behavior like this as something natural and intrinsic to boyhood. When I’d complain of a boy at school teasing me, they’d tease me back, insisting that not only was this a boy’s way of expressing affection for me, but also that I must be crushing back, if I was so fixated on it. After that, I was far less likely to tell the adults in my life when, say, another group of boys chased me around my neighborhood on bikes, demanding that I admit to liking one of their friends, and scaring me so badly that I hid in a neighbor’s yard until they went away, instinctively feeling that I didn’t want them to know where I really lived. Boyhood as it’s commonly understood and treated is toxic: on the theater of the playground where children are trying on identities to see what fits, many boys are already skilled at assuming the sexist behaviors that will seem so harmless to them as adult men, because that’s how they were treated when they were children.

That’s a big part of the reason why I fell in love with Steven Universe almost as soon as I started watching it. Steven, the title character, isn’t the troublemaking, reckless, pain-in-the-butt Boy-with-a-capital-B I feared I’d have to watch around to get to the powerful women and loving queer folk I really wanted to see. He’s unreserved, adventurous, and confident – all good traits that are fairly typical for boy leads in kids’ shows – but he is also affectionate, selfless, very prone to crying, and just plain effin’ adorable. I mean, look at this clip from the first episode–how could I resist the charm of that plump little kid reciting the bizarrely detailed hip-hop ad jingle for his favorite novelty ice cream treat, all without an ounce of self-consciousness? I smiled and laughed like he and the Crystal Gems do in that moment, refreshed and entertained by the genuine joy that Steven seems to radiate.

Steven is truly the beating heart of the show, but it’s not because he’s a boy. In fact, many of his defining characteristics are distinctly un-boyish, as far as popular media tropes are concerned. Empathy and kindness, for example, are often depicted as especially feminine, and therefore less powerful traits than traditionally masculine ones like ambition or courage, but in the world of Steven Universe, not only are they not at all treated as weaknesses or internal conflicts, they are also frequently the source of his greatest powers.

Unlike most boy “chosen ones,” Steven’s magical abilities are distinctly defensive: the very first weapon that Steven is able to summon in the first episode, “Gem Glow,” is not an offensive weapon at all, but an impenetrable shield – bright pink and adorned with a rose emblem, no less. (Which gendered toy aisle would an action figure like that end up in, I wonder?) He can form a pink glassy bubble to protect himself and others around him. And, perhaps most subversively of all, he has healing abilities. While that is obviously a very handy power to have, folks well-acquainted with fantasy genres in a number of forms, particularly video game RPGs, will also probably be aware of the ubiquitous idea that healing is for support characters, usually women, and therefore has the reputation of being a relatively uncool, even “useless” power. Not only is Steven – the only boy Gem that exists, as far as we know – the first Gem since his mother, Rose Quartz, to have these healing powers, the show treats this frequently feminized ability as the extremely vital asset that it is. Several of the first season’s episodes center on Steven’s healing abilities, including a very important two-parter, “Mirror Gem” and “Ocean Gem,” in which Steven heals a character named Lapis Lazuli who has been deeply injured both physically and emotionally, even though the Crystal Gems initially insist that he should fear and reject her. Partially due to this kindness, Lapis is later in a position to help Steven and the Crystal Gems in some very unexpected ways. In another episode, “Monster Buddies,” Steven attempts to befriend a baby monster that the Crystal Gems would normally destroy. In fact, it’s the infant form of a monster that once attacked Steven himself and his home – but despite that history, Steven is still determined to heal it, not with his powers (which he actually doesn’t discover until an episode or two later), but with his caring, a feat that even his legendary mother could never accomplish.

Steven’s kind personality is just as powerful in regular human contexts as it is in magical ones. Indeed, Steven reminds me of no other fictional character more than Usagi Tsukino, aka Sailor Moon, whose ultra-famous superpower is her ability to befriend literally anyone, and heal the world with the power of that love. (Even some of Steven’s poses are strongly reminiscent of magical girl moves.)

Case in point: no one seems to notice the quiet, solitary Connie, but after Steven becomes best friends with her, she reveals herself to be a whip-smart, multi-talented, delightfully nerdy, wonderful kid. They clearly have more-than-friendship feelings for each other, but those feelings are allowed to comfortably coexist with their close friendship, and the show gracefully resists treating their crush as a source of conflict.

Honestly, Steven and Connie’s relationship is one of the best things about the show, because it is such a breath of fresh air. The twisted narratives of young love, whether in fiction or real-life, are so gut-wrenchingly familiar: they hate each other, but they’re secretly drawn to one another; or, he’s cruel to her because he doesn’t know how to express how he really feels. Not so in Steven Universe. From the very start, Steven treats Connie as a person who is interesting and dear to him as an individual, and whose well-being is vitally important to him, rather than as some sort of ideal love interest that he needs to maintain distance from to attain. There’s mystery and miscommunication, sure, but no fear, no hatred of oneself or the other, and lots of joy and discovery. In one of my favorite episodes, “Alone Together,” Connie tells Steven that she can’t dance around other people because she’s afraid of them staring at her. Steven invites Connie to dance with him, doing his best to help her feel comfortable: he holds out his hand to her, but steps back to give her space to make the decision, and even covers his eyes so that she doesn’t feel him staring. When they start dancing, they coordinate naturally and easily, resulting in some very special magic that makes them fuse into one beautiful, confident, genderqueer and very dance-y being: Stevonnie, the physical manifestation of Steven and Connie’s mutual affection and, most importantly, trust.

“Connie catches Steven in a dip right before they fuse.”

Lest you think that maybe all of Steven’s goodness, all of his sweetness and caring, is made possible solely by the naiveté of his youth, consider his family. Aside from the three ancient feminine aliens who raise him full time, Steven also has a great dad, Greg Universe, who is just as responsible for Steven’s strength of character. At first blush, Greg – kind of a Homer Simpson lookalike, in my opinion – seems to fit solidly into the “bad dad” type: not only does he not live with Steven as a primary caregiver, he’s also a pretty unambitious, aging, small-time ex-musician who lives in his van. However, Greg is very present in Steven’s life, offering unconditional support and love even when Steven is going through experiences that Greg both fears and doesn’t fully understand. In “Catfingers,” Greg watches over Steven through a scary incident of shape-shifting magic gone horribly wrong, and manages to help him get his son’s powers under control, despite his aversion to magic in general and shape-shifting magic particularly. On a couple of other occasions, Greg gives Steven the space (albeit reluctantly), to take on magical missions that only Steven can accomplish, but always makes sure to stay as close by as possible to offer help, or even just to welcome him home when he returns.

“Steven and Greg sing about their relationship.”

Greg isn’t perfect; even his possibly-soon-to-be-tattooed-on-my-body catchphrase says so. (“If every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hot dogs.”) But he loves himself, and he loves Steven, and he’s absolutely uninterested in making Steven or anyone else feel bad for his own flaws, for the absence of Steven’s mom, or for any of the personality traits and abilities that make Steven uniquely him. As a gentle, nurturing father who does his best despite often pretty crummy circumstances – including being homeless, a widower (for all intents and purposes), and having a hoarding problem – Greg Universe not only provides an excellent role model for his son, but also an interesting complement to the equally trope-bucking Crystal Gems.

Rebecca Sugar has said that her inspiration for the character of Steven is her own brother, which sheds a little light on the loving care that is put into creating him. (Steven Sugar is, notably, a background artist on the show, and boy, are those intimately detailed, fantastically colored backgrounds a delight to behold.) It’s easier to witness how bad people can be to each other in real life than ever before, and to be personally on the receiving end of much of it; sometimes it can feel like I’m barely surviving in a world full of suffering and ugliness. I admit that, at those times, I frequently expect to find fault in everything around me. I was concerned, before watching Steven Universe, that it would disappoint me – that a show about a little boy at the center of his own universe would end up following the familiar frightening paths and byways toward a narrow and troubling version of masculinity. Instead, I’ve found that Steven Universe is a show dedicated to showing that our lives don’t have to be ruled by rigid hetero- and cis-normative gender roles. Steven reminds me that not only can people in general, and men specifically, be good and kind and powerfully loving, and not only should expect I that from them, but that goodness is also right in front of me and all around me. I’m extremely fortunate to have many people in my life, including men, who are as caring and supportive and gentle as any of the literal light beings from space in this cartoon.

In “Lion 3 Straight to Video,” Steven finds an old VHS tape that his mom leaves for him to find, knowing that she will have to give up her physical form once he’s born. In it, she tells him that he is loved, that he is extraordinary, and that his planet and his people are special to her because of how full of possibilities they are. To me, Steven Universe is a boy who embodies the possibilities for masculinities that are rooted in love and pride rather than domination, and for a way of life where all gender expressions can be freed, little by little, from the oppressive baggage that so often tie them down.

Recommended reading: “Steven Universe and the Importance of All-Ages Queer Representation” by Mey Rude

Ashley Gallagher is an aspiring adult magical girl who lives and writes in Austin, Texas. She co-hosts Moon Podcast Power MAKE UP!!, a feminist Sailor Moon Crystal podcast, and tweets @womyn_ebooks.

‘Steven Universe’: Many Dimensions of Fat Positivity

He is soft. He is round. He is squishy and loving and completely without pretense. There is no guarding wall around his heart, no desire to compete with other boys, no need to be seen as “cool” or “tough” or “edgy,” and no compulsion to become anything other than what he already is because he knows that “what he already is” has value.

This guest post by Anthony DellaRosa appears as part of our theme week on Fatphobia and Fat Positivity.

Steven Universe is a kids’ cartoon show that’s made a lot of noise lately, especially in circles having to do with feminism or social justice, and looking at even the most basic summary of the premise, it’s not hard to see why. For one thing, the show stars a radically non-nuclear family. For another, it’s a family made up partly of a son who totally disregards the conventional standards of modern American masculinity and three adoptive moms, all of whom are non-binary people who choose to use feminine pronouns, two of whom are strongly coded as People of Color, and one of whom is literally the physical manifestation of the unconditional love between two same-sex lovers who actually share a kiss on-screen.

Now, that’s a lot to take in, and if you’re not previously familiar with the series, it might already sound a bit overwhelming, but the important thing to remember is that any show that can help teach our kids about the diversity that exists in our world instead of flagrantly ignoring it — and, specifically, anything that can do that teaching in a colorful, exciting, adventurous way that can also spark their creativity — is something worth looking at. And that’s Steven Universe in a nutshell. Of course, we can dissect the show’s approach to diversity in any number of ways with any number of focuses, but the one that’s perhaps the most immediately evident, requiring nearly no specific in-depth knowledge of the lore and mythology, is the very visible presence of many, many fat characters in the show’s core cast. So, how does Steven Universe tackle weight?

Well, the main character is Steven himself (voiced by Zach Callison). Steven is a boy who sits right on the line that divides childhood from adolescence, and in the show, he’s specifically defined by his incredible empathy and his unparalleled protective instincts. Those are the elements of his character that make him a hero, the elements that allow him to see any situation through to the end with the best possible results, and those are the elements that his weight serves to underline. He is soft. He is round. He is squishy and loving and completely without pretense. There is no guarding wall around his heart, no desire to compete with other boys, no need to be seen as “cool” or “tough” or “edgy,” and no compulsion to become anything other than what he already is because he knows that “what he already is” has value. That’s not to say that he’s necessarily complacent – because he’s incredibly energetic and always eager to learn new things about life, about himself, and about the world around him. It simply goes to say that he is consciously aware that, whatever else happens, he has an intrinsic worth that can never be diminished as long as he keeps his mind open and his heart warm. He is effortlessly endearing and unabashedly vulnerable, and that is what makes him strong.

Steven’s mother, Rose Quartz (voiced by Susan Egan), is also fat. As a matter of fact, she’s canonically over eight feet tall, and she wears a 2XL T-shirt, which fits snugly, with pride. She is unapologetically huge in every possible regard — in height, in weight, in love, in mercy, in joy, in optimism — and she is completely and unflinchingly comfortable within her own skin. She is beautiful, inside and out, and that’s just not my own personal judgment. That is a fundamental fact of the series, an opinion shared by every character who ever knew her and every character that matters, including her most bitter and longstanding enemies. That belief is a condition of entry for any aspiring viewer. It is necessary. It is real.

Now, Rose is a lot of things in this show. She’s a mother, first and foremost. That’s how we’re initially introduced to her, more or less — as the saintly woman who, in the series’ backstory, traded her own life force to bring Steven’s into existence, and her weight does emphasize the cuddly, maternal aspects of her character. She’s pillowy and soft. She’s warm and round and comforting, without any sharp edges, devoid of all straight lines.

But she’s also a warrior. She’s fat, beautiful, feminine, maternal, and the cunning leader of a ragtag alien strike team who came to Earth over six thousand years ago to conquer and colonize it for an outer-space empire, but when she found the planet and its people too rich and too precious to harm, she turned traitor. She stood on the front lines of a war against her own kind as Defender of the Earth, and because she loved the members of her team, and because they loved her back, they stood with her, protected in battle by her legendary shield, and they won. She is fat, and she is beautiful, and she is cuddly and soft with a big, goofy smile and huge, expressive eyes, and she is also the glorious rebel queen who saved a planet from an imperialist regime, and the wonderful thing about this show is that none of this — absolutely none of it — is ever presented as a contradiction. It’s not “oh, she’s fat, but she’s beautiful” or “she’s fat, but she’s strong.” There is no doubt, no dismay, no disbelief, and no fanfare for the fact that she can be all these things at once. It’s a given. She’s fat, she’s elegant, she’s drop-dead gorgeous and wickedly silly, she’s a mother, she’s a commando, and she’s so much more all at once because, simply, why not? Why couldn’t a person be all those things?

Rose exists to show the kids at home that a person can be endlessly generous, magnificently compassionate, feminine, flowery, funny, principled, decisive, and completely kickass while also refusing to be ashamed of her curves, rolls, folds, and bulges.

Of course, if Steven’s mother is the kind of person we can all aspire to be like, Steven’s father, Greg (voiced by Tom Scharpling), is more like the kind of person we might see every day. Greg is fat. He’s also technically homeless, living in the same old broken-down, rusted-out hippie van he had when he was a teenager, and, frankly, homeless people and fat people do end up on the receiving end of a lot of the same stereotypes. They’re lazy. They’re dumb. They have no ambition. They have no drive, perseverance, or passion. They have no self-control. They’re pathetic, contemptible, a burden, or an eyesore. They’re an unsightly, unseemly, disgusting waste. But that’s a list of everything Greg Universe isn’t. It’s not that he has no drive, and it’s not that he has no passion. It’s that, in a world controlled by the wealthy for the wealthy, even the hottest passion and the hardest work in the world make for no guarantee of comfort or success. Unlike Rose Quartz, Greg Universe is a product of the planet Earth, and the planet Earth is not a meritocracy. People don’t just get what they deserve here, so Greg was chewed up, spit out, and left to pick up the pieces on his own, with no support and no safety net, by a series of institutions that were never designed to work in his favor, and his weight, like his living conditions, can easily be read as a function of modern American economics. Greg keeps his head above water — barely — by working every day at a car wash at the edge of town, and for people like that, for the working poor, meals, by necessity, have to be cheap, easy, and quick, and it’s not a coincidence that the cheapest, easiest, and quickest-to-make meals in the country tend overwhelmingly to be the greasiest and the most fattening. Healthy eating is not a privilege we can assume Greg has, especially when the only prominent purveyors of food in the show are a donut shop and a French fry stand, and that reflects a truth that affects millions of people every day, generation after generation.

Still, while Greg’s weight is a constantly present piece of his character, very little — if any — specific attention is actually ever drawn to it in dialogue. Instead, the show’s focus consistently rests upon his grief for his wife, his bombastic love for his son, and his tremendous (if not profitable) expertise in the fields of music and sound design. He’s a hardworking, vulnerable, sincere, and well-meaning man who tries his best to be there for the people who need him, and in a show full of sweet people, he’s one of the sweetest of all. He is fat, and he is kind, and his son wouldn’t have him any other way.

The only main character who ever gave me a bit of pause on a personal level is Amethyst (voiced by Michaela Dietz), one of the members of Rose’s old rebel team and one of Steven’s current guardians. Amethyst is short, stout, and pudgy, and at first glance, her character actually does seem deliberately designed to invoke a lot of the most degrading fat stereotypes. She’s wasteful, rude, crude, generally unmotivated, unorganized, full of obviously bad ideas, and low on impulse control. Now contrast that with her foil, Pearl (voiced by Deedee Magno Hall), who is a fastidious, relentlessly goal-oriented perfectionist with the rail-thin body of a ballerina, and it becomes more than clear why the creators of this show designed these characters the way they did: They were channeling one-dimensional stereotypes and the shallowest expectations of the audience to shape these characters and inform their traits. Of course the perfectionist is thin and the loud, immature, goofy slacker is fat. Of course they are — because fat is imperfect, right? Fat is wrong. Fat is bad. So, the perfectionist wouldn’t be fat, would she? The lazy one is fat. The gross one is fat. That’s what the audience expects because that’s what the old stereotype is, so that’s what the creators of this show did when they made these characters: They tailored them to specifically fit the stereotypes for maximum convenience in lieu of more creative, subversive, or interesting concepts.

That bothered me for a long, long time. It didn’t invalidate the good the show was doing, but it certainly accounted for quite a bit of bad, and it colored the way I saw the show and limited who I felt comfortable recommending it to, but then came an episode called “On the Run,” which honestly changed a lot about how I thought about Amethyst as a character. She was the star of the episode, which was all about her self-image, her self-esteem, her most deep-seated insecurities, her worst fears, and her biggest, proudest, most personal victories. The big takeaway from the episode was that Amethyst isn’t Rose. She’s not graceful. She’s not perfect. She isn’t always comfortable in her own skin, and she isn’t always okay with being who she is, with being born where she was, or with feeling the way she so often does. Deep down inside, she can actually be viciously self-loathing, and she does what she can, day to day to day to day, to be happy, to be comfortable, and to care for herself, and in the episode, the point is made explicitly that there is no one alive who has a right to try and judge her or make her feel bad for that. She is who she is, even if “who she is” isn’t always conventionally appealing or easily digestible to more quote-unquote “mainstream” sensibilities. Her fundamental rights to dignity and happiness are completely inalienable, and anyone who dares to infringe upon them is doing something unspeakably despicable.

In a way, she’s a lot like Greg — a necessary and more realistic counterpart for Rose and, to an extent, a counterpart for Steven. The way Rose is written and portrayed, she’s effectively a goddess on Earth, a perfectly balanced master of all things who demonstrates what we can all aspire to, and Steven follows in her footsteps. But Greg and especially Amethyst show us that we don’t always have to be like that and that it’s okay if we’re not. They show us that, as imperfect as we can be sometimes, we are still beautiful, loveable, admirable, and valid, and at the end of the day, even if Amethyst has a unique outlook on life and a bawdy sense of humor, she’s portrayed as no less heroic and no less worthy of worship and care. Steven looks up to her just as much as he looks up to Rose and Pearl and all the others, and she lays down her life to protect the beauty of the Earth and every single living being on its surface every bit as quickly.

And, after all, that is the key idea. In the end, Steven Universe is a show that doesn’t always get everything right and certainly isn’t always perfect, but it’s a show built around the idea that all life, regardless of where it comes from or what it looks like, is inherently precious and worth protecting, and the creative team’s steadfast dedication to building an emotionally complex, rich, and diverse cast is a demonstration of its commitment to that concept.

Anthony DellaRosa is an amateur critic and aspiring author with a particular passion for the stories we tell our children. He can be found on his blog, where he does informal reviews of movies, TV shows, video games, and books, and also on Twitter.

‘Hey Arnold!’: A Bold Children’s Show

‘Hey Arnold!’ taught life lessons without the viewer realizing it. An episode called “Stoop Kid” taught kids about the benefits of getting out of their comfort zone. The episode “Chocolate Boy” humorously analogized drug addiction. Arnold’s closeness with Gerald alongside Helga’s rapport with Phoebe highlighted the importance of friendship. The wrongness of first impressions was a reoccurring lesson; a dumb character would have moments of wisdom or a snobby character would have moments of vulnerability or a seemingly lucky rich kid would be shown as unhappy and/or overstressed. My favorite example of this message is in the episode “Ms. Perfect”, which introduced the character of Lila. Her popularity caused female students to envy her at first. But once they learned about Lila’s troubled life, the girls apologized and accepted her.

This guest post by Nia McRae appears as part of our theme week on Children’s Television.

Usually, urban life in movies and television is depicted in a bleak way. Growing up, I found myself confused by why the “norma” high school experience always took place in sunny suburbia. Often times, when school life in urban areas were depicted, it was… well, this:

In Hollywood, all urban areas are Gangster Paradises

Suffice it to say, it wasn’t an experience that I could relate to. The only depictions of city life that somewhat reflected my experience was the original movie, Fame (1980) and the cartoon, Hey Arnold! (1996). It may sound strange to call a cartoon relatable but HA! was unique in that way. It pushed the limits by showing the good, the bad and the ugly sides of urban life without reducing it to another story about poor and troubled minority youths in need of a white savior.

HA! revolved around the lives of fourth-graders attending PS. 118. It was a character-driven show that treated its child viewers like mature and intelligent people. Adult subject matters like addiction, muggings, family neglect, bullying, politics, war, complicated family dynamics, death, desire, gender identity, activism, capitalism, and many others were explored in an age-appropriate and usually humorous manner. All of the characters came from different walks of life. Arnold was the protagonist but he wasn’t the most interesting character per se. The most fascinating character was Helga G. Pataki. She was full of contradictions. Her tough girl attitude and sports activities would technically classify her as a “tomboy” and yet she had a traditionally feminine appearance (except for the unibrow). She was excessively hateful towards Arnold but only because she was secretly in love with him.

She still remains the most complex female character I’ve ever seen in a cartoon. Helga was a bully with a gentler side that she was too proud to show. She came across as a brute in public but in private, she was creative, cultured, and intelligent. Her multilayered characterization made people cheer for her as a character, especially in hopes of her someday becoming romantically involved with Arnold. The dynamic between Helga and Arnold subverted gender stereotypes. The cartoon gender-flipped the cliché of boys being mean to girls as a way of showing affection. She exhibited “masculine” traits of being rude, violent, and insensitive to others. She was also ambitious; in the episode “Married,” she dreamed of being president. Arnold, on the other hand, exhibited “feminine” qualities of being patient, empathetic, and supportive.

Helga had insecurities and anger issues due to her family life. Her dad, Bob was a self-absorbed blowhard who measured a person’s worth by accomplishments. Her mom, Miriam, was a dissatisfied and absentminded housewife. Her sister, Olga, was an overachiever who her parents constantly lavished with praise and attention. Helga was neglected by her family–a fact emphasized by her father’s continual habit of calling her by the wrong name. The episode “Helga on the Couch” revealed that when she and Arnold were toddlers, he was the first to give her positive attention. Because of her extreme loneliness, she responded to Arnold’s kindness with great intensity. The episode gave further insight into why Helga had what’s often viewed as the “masculine” problem of repressing her sensitive side due to the typical “male” fear of being ridiculed and seen as weak.

Despite having qualities associated with boys, Helga wasn’t immune to the pitfalls of being a girl in a patriarchal society. A lot of episodes revolved around her doing stupid things for a guy or being tempted to be more lady-like to please someone. She went above and beyond doing foolish things over Arnold whether it was sabotaging his date with a girl he liked named Lila in “Love and Cheese” or pretending to be very sophisticated in “Dinner for Four” or pretending to be Arnold’s French pen pal in “Arnold’s Valentine.” A lot of things that Helga did for Arnold’s attention were over-the-top for comedic effect. But an episode called “Helga’s Masquerade” was painfully realistic. In the episode, Helga mimicked Lila in fashion and behavior, hoping that Arnold’s affection for Lila would transfer to her.

After she basically turned herself into a carbon copy of Lila, Arnold started giving her the attention she desired. However, she became unsatisfied having changed herself to please him. By the end, she returned to being herself. Another episode that was very informative for young girls was “Helga’s Makeover”; Helga was left out of a sleepover party because she wasn’t girly enough. She conforms despite her best friend, Phoebe, telling her to be true to herself. Once she’s welcomed by the girls, she changes her mind. Its overall lesson was that there’s more than one way to be a girl.

Social commentary about women’s magazines

I was a kid when I first saw these episodes, unaware of how closely Helga’s growing pains would mirror my life in terms of making a guy’s opinion of me way too important or struggling/clashing with expectations of what a girl is “supposed” to be.

They’re nine-year olds, by the way — They’re 9-year olds, by the way

Arnold had personal struggles that also served as inspiration for young viewers. Arnold lived in a boardinghouse that his grandparents owned. He was usually the voice of reason but he sometimes made mistakes. In the episode, “Mugged,” he dealt with being mugged in the wrong way. He had to learn more than once to appreciate his nontraditional family. But overall, he was the embodiment of altruism and a great role model for kids. His tendency to go the extra mile in assisting people caused Gerald to frequently say to him, “You’re a bold kid, Arnold.” His selfless nature was unusual for a kid his age and it made him a target for bullies. Still, he was never self-conscious about being singled out nor was he insecure about his head’s football shape despite how much Helga teased him about it. This clued in the child audience member that it was okay to have physical features that differ from what is considered “normal.”

Just like city life, HA! exposed children to a lot of culture. It had episodes that lovingly and creatively gave its own twist on classic operas and plays. Cartoonish sound effects were balanced out with smooth jazz, making for an eclectic musical score that reflected the essence of the show. Additionally, the introduction of country music in episode “Mr. Hyunh Goes Country,” alongside other episodes that involved a Frank Sinatra-like character named Dino Spumoni, helped kids to develop an early appreciation of music. The refreshingly non-stereotypical Jewish character, Harold was probably the first introduction a lot of kids had to Yiddish words. The show normalized interracial couples; Helga’s best friend, Phoebe, was uneventfully shown to be the product of a white mother and Asian father. Also, she and Gerald–an African American–had brief moments of innocent flirtation throughout the series.

Most bully characters in cartoons are mean just for the sake of being mean. It makes them easy to dislike and dismiss as “bad.” Hey Arnold! didn’t make things easy. Characters that seemed scary were shown to be harmless up close. Harold had an imposing presence and boisterous voice. But his bark was always proven to be bigger than his bite because whenever someone stood up to him, he would cower and sometimes literally cry for his mommy. Helga thought Big Patty was dumb and mean but with Arnold’s help, she discovered Patty was actually reasonable, nice, and perceptive. Helga would be mean to Arnold in public but then hide to secretly profess her love for him and/or express her regret for hurting him. Oftentimes, characters that I thought I was supposed to despise would turn out to have a softer side. As a result, I would feel conflicted and eventually submit to having compassion for them.

The reason why seemingly despicable characters would inspire sympathy is because the show swayed the viewer to see the people from Arnold’s nonjudgmental perspective. There would be episodes that provided explanations, not excuses, for why a bully was mean in order to make children as understanding as Arnold. Helga was not an easy character to pin down and therefore, she challenged young viewers to see the areas of gray. Normally in fiction, a female school bully is reduced to being the catty pretty girl. But Helga’s power didn’t come from being pretty; it came from instilling fear into people with the threat of violence–an attribute that’s traditionally given to a male bully. What kept you from fully hating her is there being episodes that revolved around Helga’s home life that made you feel sorry for her and understand her better.

Hey Arnold! taught life lessons without the viewer realizing it. An episode called “Stoop Kid” taught kids about the benefits of getting out of their comfort zone. The episode “Chocolate Boy” humorously analogized drug addiction. Arnold’s closeness with Gerald alongside Helga’s rapport with Phoebe highlighted the importance of friendship. The wrongness of first impressions was a reoccurring lesson; a dumb character would have moments of wisdom or a snobby character would have moments of vulnerability or a seemingly lucky rich kid would be shown as unhappy and/or overstressed. My favorite example of this message is in the episode “Ms. Perfect,” which introduced the character of Lila. Her popularity caused female students to envy her at first. But once they learned about Lila’s troubled life, the girls apologized and accepted her.

The show also deconstructed the traditional definition of a happy and healthy family. Helga technically had a nuclear family yet they were dysfunctional. Arnold didn’t have a typical nuclear family yet he was emotionally healthy and stable. His parents died when he was young which was explained in the episode “Parents’ Day.” The show never glossed over the pain of losing a love one. There were scenes that showed his sadness and his longing to know more about his parents. The importance of an extended family and surrogate family was highlighted throughout the show; his kooky grandparents were his guardians and the offbeat boarders acted as surrogate relatives. Though the boarders had their funny quirks and various accents, it never went into the territory of caricature. Whatever flaw any character had was attributed to their individual personality, not their race or culture or gender.

An example of the diversity on *Hey Arnold!*

I applaud the show for never babying its audience. It had numerous Halloween episodes that I fondly remember being genuinely creepy. One of the most touching examples of its creative risk-taking is the episode “Arnold’s Christmas,” which revolved around Vietnamese tenant, Mr. Hyunh. He had to separate from his daughter during the Vietnam War to give her a better life. It’s still rare for me to see a show or movie that sympathizes with what ordinary Vietnamese people went through during the Vietnam War. Another episode that had the subject of war was “Veteran’s Day,” in which Grandpa reminisces about his experiences as a World War II veteran. But not all of Hey Arnold! episodes were profound; serious episodes would be balanced with lighthearted episodes like “Beaned,” “April Fool’s Day,” or “Stuck In A Tree,” as to not overburden the viewer.

Hey Arnold! was a show that celebrated diversity and encouraged children to do the same. Like Gargoyles or Batman: The Animated Series, it redefined what a cartoon could be by taking big chances. I’m still awed by the character development, witty dialogue and complicated subject matter it had. Just like Animaniacs, it’s a cartoon show that people can watch again as adults in order to understand the occasional subtle adult humor they overlooked as children. It had great representation when it came to race, gender, class and culture. It was one of the few shows that revealed the positive sides of living in the city, including the richness of knowing people from all walks of life. With humor and sensitivity, it challenged me intellectually and it instilled me with lessons that would be valuable in childhood and beyond.

Nia McRae graduated summa cum laude from Medgar Evers College where she earned a Bachelor of Arts degree in Liberal Studies with a concentration in history. She has a strong passion for critiquing racial and gender politics in the media and putting it in historical context.