Hey everyone,
Something a little different today. Below is a personal essay I wrote over four years for a zine edited by Merrit Kopas. It was supposed to be about Dragonball, so I wrote up my teenage years being obsessed with the anime, and how it became something of a family affair. I would probably focus more on that part if I was writing it now, btw. I’m running it here because I was thinking about it after a talk with my girlfriend the other day, and because almost nobody read the zine when it came out (I asked my friends not to after Ms. Kopas used my dead name, even after I specifically asked her not to).
In the years since I was into (and then out of) anime, I’ve held a soft spot for Dragon Ball Z, a show about a bad dad named Goku who tries to save the world, over and over and sometimes even does. His nemesis-turned-friend Vegeta is a good dad, who might also be evil, and probably always went to his kids soccer games; Goku probably was off training somewhere. It’s goofy, episodic and had all the appeal of an old serial. I can see why my folks were drawn to it, and why I was, too. Android 18, a tough woman who sorta looked like Kim Gordon, was an early trans idol of mine.
As for the series itself, I haven’t seen it in years, but I hear it’s still going. As I say below, I should watch it sometime.
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Back, about a decade ago, anime was a big part of my life. I used to collect issues of Animerica Magazine, had over a dozen volumes of the Lupin III manga and a stack of DVDs. But above all of them was Goku, Gohan and the rest of the Dragonball Z crew. I fell hard for that show and although I haven’t seen it in years, I’m glad I did.
When I started high school, I went to a new school where I didn’t know anybody. I lived in a small town way up north of Toronto and half the school was bussed in from the local countryside: people from even smaller towns or from the farmland a few minutes drive outside town. People age, but teens stay the same: they’re always trying to act older then they are and are obsessed with seeming like they’re adults. Needless to say, a young, anime-obsessed teen who didn’t know a soul fit in like a neon sign with these people.
Eventually, I stumbled into a crowd of like-minded peers. Steve was the centre of the group. A large guy, older than the rest of us and both loud and crude, Steve was the person we all gravitated around. He was both a hardcore anime fan and a juggalo, someone who regularly sketched his way through lunch and wasn’t above wearing facepaint to class. He was the first guy I met who was into Dragonball and, for a pretty long time, one of my closest friends.
There were others, too. There was a transplant from Churchill, Manitoba, a place so far north you had to fly in; Rick, a tall gawky guy with hearing aids; and stoner artist we all called Duff who was Steve’s sort-of apprentice.
We all used to hang out at lunch and shoot the shit. Back before Facebook, Twitter or texting, I used to look forward to hanging in the cafeteria at lunch and talking about the series with these guys: whatever happened the night before, whatever fanart they’d drawn, that sort of thing. Eventually, someone introduced the Dragonball card game and we’d play that for the better part of an hour or more, hanging out in the caf at lunch or on our spare period (or whatever class we were currently cutting). Where other teens cut class to get high in the bushes out behind the school, we’d cut and bring our binders down to the lunch room.
It seems hard to believe now, but back about a decade ago, Dragonball was big. I don’t just remember watching it on TV at eight pm every night, but I can remember my whole family – both parents, my sister and my autistic brother Stephen – sitting down to watch it. The local comic store didn’t just advertise their selling DBZ comics but held card game tournaments. Hell, even the local Wal-Mart got into the act, selling those shiny button-down shirts with Goku powering up.
Still, in high school, it was decidedly uncool to talk about how Goku was running his way back from King Kai’s place or if Piccolo was a good role model for young Gohan (oh, for sure). This was a place where people used to wear trucker hats to school without a sense of irony, where people used to pass the time by getting high and wandering along the highway. I didn’t just know a guy named Jimbo, but we used to hang out all the time.
Our crew would hang out and talk about stuff, but usually Dragonball Z. Other animes were sort of popular – I remember digging Cowboy Bebop a bunch and I think Steve was into Gundam Wing – but generally, it was a lot of Goku talk. Why not? Goku was as powerful as anybody in the universe, but also a goofy, down-to-earth fella. He’d die saving the planet, get wished back to life and probably immediately make some god-awful, corny dad joke. What’s not to love? Of course, we all lapped it up.
As the years went by, the group expanded: new students would hear Steve was a big Dragonball guy and join the group: Erik, who lived in a townhouse down the street from the school; Miles, who lived out of town and pushed British comedies on anyone he met. We’d all hang out and talk about how Cell was an asshole but Android 18 was a badass. At the centre of it all was Steve, who remained committed to Goku and pumped out fanart, eventually branching into designing original characters for us all.
One fall, I met a girl named Emily, who was also into anime; for about a year we’d hang out and watch and for Christmas, she gave me an anime DVD. I still have it, somewhere. A few months later, she told me about this event she’d be going to: Anime North. We didn’t go together, but on the Sunday, I talked my dad into driving me the three hours south to Airport Road and we wandered the halls of a now-demolished hotel. Of course, my big buy that day was some Dragonball Z manga.
By the time I hit grade 12, I was deciding to become more like my classmates and less like my circle of friends. Looking back, I see how insecure I was and how I was consciously trying to be someone I’m not; at the time, I probably said I was growing up. I still hung around Steve, Erik and everyone, but when they’d talk about Majin Buu, I’d read from a beat-up copy of The Great Shark Hunt I kept with me. Soon, I started hanging around on sites like Something Awful and started acting like an asshole in real life; I became friends with a guy named Aaron who introduced me to “trolling” and convinced me Dragonball was something for stupid nerds.
By the time I graduated, I’d decided I was too cool for this kid stuff. I gave away my manga, threw the fanart in the trash and taped over my VHS copies of the Cell saga. I was 19 going on 30 and decided I had to act the part; that summer, I bought a copy of a Broken Social Scene record. I turned my back on Goku.
A few months ago, I went to a work party and saw one of my coworkers in one of those Goku button downs. We got to talking about the show and our shared memories of it and he mentioned there’s a new Dragonball movie. It wasn’t great, he said, but if I liked the series already, it’d be worth a shot. And although I’ve lost touch with Steve over the years, but I sometimes wonder what he’s up to, if he’s still watching. I still haven’t watched the new movie, but it’s comforting to know Goku’s still around, saving the planet. I really should make some time.