I just finished watching the first Inuyasha movie, titled in English Affections Touching Across Time. Some other day I might not have bothered posting about it. Much of what I like about Inuyasha is old hat, as the series has been around so long. There is something, though, and if this essay goes in the way I’m planning, it’s a weird little trip we’re going on.

I’m not normally much of a post-colonialist when I read or watch things. I don’t want to devalue the field, it’s just not interesting to me personally. I like theories that unite, rather than divide (hence my attachment to genre theory, especially myth criticism). But I’ve been reading some of Lelangir‘s essays, though, so it’s on my mind. I’m thinking particularly of “Blacks and the Convenience of Representation: Pt. 2 — Afro Samurai.” There are some interesting things in there about Japan’s media colonialism, if that’s what you’d like to call it. How many groups other than Japanese folks do we typically see in anime? And yes, of course you can think of exceptions, but in a country as famously uni-cultured as Japan (so famous some of it is undoubtedly true) people don’t seem to be overly-keen to watch characters unlike themselves.

Interestingly, and this is why I went off on that tangent for a moment there, movements toward integration do exist in anime, but they are, more often than not, occluded. Thus it is, I’m arguing, with Inuyasha.

First, a bit about post-colonialism. Now, not only have I not studied post-colonialism all that much, I’ve leant my book with all the important essays to my girlfriend, so I can’t really reference anything in a useful manner. We’ll just have to settle for general impressions. So, post-colonialists, especially the first generation, functioned on the assumption of what they called “the other.” Edward Said (yes, that’s his name, and it’s “sigh-eed,” not “sehd”), in his landmark text Orientalism, described the phenomenon, specifically concerning the eastern cultures of the world as portrayed by the western. That is, Said claimed western cultures had painted a picture of “the orient” (something Said went so far as to say never existed in reality) as this other place, full of strange people and, of course, fabulous wealth. The word “other” is often used in many grammatical forms, in this discourse, it’s not meant to be used in, so bear with me when I say that “othering” is typically a power gesture. “These people,” the western world claimed, “are other. They are different, unlike us [you see how othering assumes there is a baseline, and it is the speaker], and we can exploit them. You see, we have to, in order to make them more like us.” You may be familiar with the infamous phrase encapsulating this concept for colonial Europeans, especially in the British Empire: “the white man’s burden.”

You should notice that “othering” does not necessarily indicate the people are worse than the speaker, morally or otherwise. Only different. Most people through history have conflated the two, but in our modern world we have run into problems after separating the two. If you’ve ever undergone lectures in your school about “multiculturalism,” that is, the need to respect different cultures, you’re being indoctrinated in “othering,” which, in this context, is often called “new racism.” The thing is, most people are pretty much the same in a given place: blacks, whites, Asians, what have you. If they all grew up, say, in San Francisco, they’ll be pretty much the same. But “multiculturalism” makes the claim that they have their own cultures based on their skin color. It’s supposedly to help; it teaches students to respect other people. However, it also teaches the students that those people are truly “other.” Any Asian-American who has had to deal with people assuming he or she is from China, or would prefer to go out for sushi, has been dealing with this problem.

So, “othering” separates. If you imagine a person standing in a field, and further imagine that person forcing someone else off into the margin, perhaps near the tree line, you have a fine place to start (especially as the terms “margin” and “marginalization” have even greater use to post-colonialists).

So, Japan is fairly homogeneous (though, obviously, this could be an act of “othering” as well, just bear with me). By all reports Japanese people actively marginalize all non-Japanese people. Bloodlines, heritage, and the like are almost always important for people who pay attention to origins and who is “in,” who is “out.” There are many terms, almost always insults, for someone who is outside the norm — from the generally reviled “nigger” to the Japanese “gaijin,” which is short for “gaikokujin,” or “person from another country.”

And now, with little to no segue, back to Inuyasha. This show, on the surface, seems to have little to offer us on the subject of post-colonialism. All the characters are Japanese. Almost all the villains are Japanese, with the exception of a few demons fresh off the “continent,” which I assume means China. Menomaru, the villain in Affections Touching Across Time, is from the continent, actually. However, we can see a function of “othering” in the set-up of the show. Demons and humans are two differing groups, even though many of them look alike, at least in some way. Each group generally reviles the other. Simple othering, basically; Inuyasha, our eponymous protagonist, is a half-breed. He is half human and half demon. This presents something of a problem for him, as neither side welcomes him easily. He has been marginalized from both peer groups, something real “half-breeds” and bastard children have dealt with through history. However, the show itself does not adhere to this paradigm, and neither do the other protagonists. A modern schoolgirl (Kagome), a Shinto priest (Miroku), a demon-hunter (Sango), a young demon (Shippo), and various other characters all, after varying lengths of time, come to accept Inuyasha.

And then the healing begins.

Sorry. Dr. Phil aside, things begin to work for these characters after they accept at least some part of the world they have tried to marginalize. Kagome, being even more of an outsider than Inuyasha in some ways (she’s from 500 years in the future), acclimates almost immediately and pulls Inuyasha along with her. Each of the other characters has a quest, and each only makes progress along it after accepting someone from the other “side.” Even Shippo — harmless, gormless, hopeless Shippo — is suspicious of humans and “the half-breed,” but accepts Kagome in an older sister role to make up for his missing father. These characters overcome the margins and colonialism. Kagome is our filter, and she accepts everything — as being equally strange. She is not from a world of magic or demons, and so a demon is just as alien to her as a half-demon. It is the effect, and not the origin, that Kagome observes and values most.

How is this possible, an enterprising (and possibly facetious) reader might ask. Remember the alternate literary theory I mentioned earlier? That’s how this is possible. The rise of the hero on the mythic field creates a world in which the characters are valued for their intentions and actions rather than their origins and the fictional lines of demarcation between groups. Rumiko Takahashi was very open, upon creating Inuyasha, that she wanted to create a comic that would educate younger people about their own folklore. She felt they were losing their legends, and so she made a comic set in the feudal past. With an agenda like that and
a pool of myth and legend vast enough to never leave, Inuyasha could easily have become one of the most nepotistic entertainments in Japan. However, it instead became a champion for integration and the destruction of the “other.” Myth and myth-heroes, you see, cannot functionally support such assumptions. Myth-heroes are uniters, essentially. Beowulf is the easiest example to use as an objection here. Post-colonialists have traditionally attacked Beowulf as being very colonial. The only crimes of the “monsters,” the claim, are to be different. Indeed, many like the argument that, had Grendel’s Mother been Grendel’s Father, his actions would have been considered just.

Never mind, by the way, how incorrect that is. Grendel’s mother never comes into negotiations with Hrothgar’s clan; she never seeks a peaceful remuneration, never asks for wyrgild. She attacks and kills with no warning and no communication.

Beowulf is a uniter, in fact. He brings together the Geats and the Danes, and not only while in danger. He counsels Hrothgar concerning his succession, and creates a bond between the two nations. Upon Beowulf’s death we are told that his people will scatter, as other tribes will invade when they hear of the hero’s death.

My point is this: the motions of myth necessarily underlying Inuyasha turn it into a polemic against marginalization.