Oh man, we have a big topic this week. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel overwhelmed by it. Still, we’re here, so let’s talk about heteromorphs.

First, let’s talk about the concept of fantasy racism. There is a long, complicated, and highly divisive history of applying real-world bigotry dynamics to entirely fictional races like orcs, dwarves, and elves. There are many reasons, with varying degrees of creative validity, for authors who have used this stylistic device. The most common reason for MHA is pretty simple: Shonen Jumpan extremely mainstream publication with an editorial board so notoriously conservative that it took over 5 decades to have a female editor for the main magazine, would never allow anything it published to do something so potentially divisive as directly address racial inequality and oppression. Even The promised neverland with its blatant social commentary, it had to filter through a fantasy world of demons and separate dimensions. Any author who wants to even allude to real politics in the pages of JUMP will almost certainly have to X-Men approach, and MHA is no exception.

So how does MHA’s attempt to address the issue end up? It’s… complicated, in part because the idea of ​​people with heteromorphic quirks being discriminated against has barely been brought up before. It was discussed briefly by the Meta Liberation Army and during Spinner’s backstory, but it’s not until this episode that the issue is fleshed out into something we can discuss in depth. This is always going to feel uncomfortable, and it only gets more complicated the heavier the subject. We as an audience may not know what the “Great Jeda Purge” is, but we can understand the unusually brutal outbursts of violence that accompany the name-dropping. MHA has always featured a pretty high level of physical assault, but seeing people attacked and maimed in the street is much more impactful and disturbing – and I wouldn’t blame anyone if they were put off by it. This isn’t cool cartoon violence where everyone off-screen gets healed, or cool cyborg arms after the fact; It’s cruel, inhumane, shockingly gruesome violence perpetrated by ordinary civilians. It’s a fine line between daring escalation to make a point and feeling like the tone isn’t appropriate for a superhero cartoon aimed at kids and teens.

Making matters worse is how this issue is integrated into the larger narrative. Namely, how thousands of victims of oppression and marginalization are currently being exploited by the villains – most of whom quite clearly have no interest in advancing the cause of the oppressed. The knee-jerk reaction might be that MHA is trying to equate violent resistance to oppression with the literal supervillainy of AFO, but I don’t think that’s the case. The people we see on the streets aren’t giggling supervillains, they’re regular people, mostly unarmed, battling a smaller but far better equipped group of police. Their anger is intimidating and egged on by crackpots and Liberation Army members, but at no point is that anger treated as invalid or unsympathetic. Rather, it’s a macro-scale version of the same dynamic explored in the series through characters like Twice—people who have been mistreated and abused by society at large finding solidarity and wanting to fight back against the systems that have hurt them, only to see that energy co-opted by an ever-opportunistic AFO.

As usual, MHA is more comfortable and succinct with its message when it strips things down to a personal level, presenting Shoji and Spinner as opposing voices for heteromorphs in general. Both are young people who have faced violent abuse for the crime of looking different, but have found very different responses in the wake of that violence. Spinner was isolated and only found a reason when he saw Stain’s message. Since then, his journey has mostly revolved around loyalty to his companions and friends, without much thought to the larger consequences of his actions – content to follow Shigaraki’s desire for destruction and follow AFO’s orders. Spinner sympathizes with the many normal people who have joined him, but ultimately he is a figurehead who is manipulated and manipulates in kind, rather than enforcing any actual political will of his own.

And then there’s Shoji. Much like that larger heteromorphic conflict, our many-armed hero hasn’t undergone much development, but what we see of him has an impact nonetheless. He too has faced vicious hatred, but instead of internalizing that pain, he decided to appreciate the way his body allowed him to help others and has taken that into his nascent career as a hero. Most importantly, he doesn’t try to tell the people he faces that violence is wrong, or that they should just leave the oppression they face behind. Rather, he demands that Spinner and his followers come up with a plan for actual change. Have they considered what the point of attacking a hospital is? Is Spinner a real leader with a vision for the future, or just a puppet of AFO? Shoji’s big action moment is when he delivers that big punch to Spinner, but his moment of decisive heroism is when he implores the people around him to use the bodies they have, in his words, been “blessed with” to channel their anger in the right direction.

It’s a lot, as this already too-long review shows, and I’m still not quite sure what to make of it. God knows I’m not qualified to decide whether this story is a responsible portrayal of marginalized groups rebelling against the society that has harmed them for generations. At the very least, I appreciate that more thought is being put into the cause of order and harmony here than just condemning violence. It certainly would have helped if the show had addressed this issue earlier if it wanted to tackle such a topic, rather than cramming it all into one episode.

Still, I can’t deny that I was gripped when the music got louder while Shoji and Koda had their big hero moments. It felt sincere when Shoji showed his scars and begged the crowd to let their pain manipulate them. Am I offering consolation to a couple of likable kids trying their best? Maybe, but I can’t deny that I was still teary-eyed, and I mostly understood what it had to say after the episode. Whether this episode presents a compelling political message, controversial baggage tacked on to a standard superhero story, or a total mess is up to each individual to decide.

Evaluation:

My Hero Academia is currently streaming on Crunchyroll.