Reviving My Love for Anime During a Pandemic
I’ll never forget the first time I stepped into the comic book store near my house in the sixth grade. The little shop was too full of book piles and shelves to evenly promote each masterpiece it held, making it a goldmine of underrated treasures. I didn’t go to a school where mangas were especially popular, so walking in, I had no preconceived idea of what was “cool” to read and what I wanted to pick out. As my eyes randomly scoured through an array of cartoon universes, they decided to settle on one that was resting in the corner of the room. The book covers’ colors were faded by the dust that had landed on them over time. I had never seen the manga advertised anywhere but for some unknown reason felt drawn to it: Stray Little Devil by Kotaro Mori. The story follows a young girl, Pam Akumachi, who gets transported into a “Spirit World” where she is transformed into a demon, and tries to go back to her human home.
The protagonist’s last name later became my online username for years to come on blogs and forums. Little me, in a way, wanted to self-associate with the persona of an ideal she was aspiring to become. The well-intentioned protagonist’s growth I got to see as each chapter progressed was something that gave me hope throughout my awkward pre-teen years. I loved the cuteness of the drawings, the immersive and carefully curated worlds, the chills one could get from a simple picture.
My reading list enlarged, and all I drew in my sketchbooks after my first find were those big-eyed characters whose confidence I longed to emulate someday. I went to a few conventions only to feel the energy of other people who were as lucky as I was to find comfort in reading mangas. Soon enough, I got into Japanese animated aesthetics from loyally playing Pokémon on my Nintendo DS and discovering the moving works of Studio Ghibli. I couldn’t afford to scour through every series I wanted to explore, but was already more than happy enough in the bubble I had built and progressively furnished with my collection of beloved picture books.
But like those childhood friends with whom we lose touch without knowing why, I inadvertently neglected this hobby as I grew older in favor of academics and bigger passions of mine. I slowly forgot about the pleasure that this pastime provided me with and the names of the characters that once chaperoned me.
That is until my second year of college, when 2020 rolled around and forced me to spend most of my time sitting at home. While loneliness has become a commonality since COVID-19 hit, I do deem myself to be a lucky introverted hermit who has had enough on my hands to stay occupied. With outside and social activities having turned sporadic, college deadlines have never been easier to reach and solitude more effortless to find. And especially when you’re as obsessed with checking off to-do lists as I am, time quickly becomes something that you have just a little bit too much of — not enough to embark on a bigger project, but too much to spend it all passively scrolling on Instagram.
Although the way we choose to use our time is restricted by our day-to-day priorities, deep down, there’s always space in our hearts for things we once adored as children. The hobbies and trivialities that don’t necessarily play an essential part in our lives today, but that we still look at fondly from a distance: I think that’s what anime and manga mean to me. While the pandemic did help me discover new movies and shows, my attention quickly turned to them in the same unexplained way my younger self did with mangas in her neighborhood’s bookshop. Feeding into my inner child felt different than passively watching any “regular” show or movie. I truly felt invigorated by investing my free time into watching something that actually meant a lot to me. Plus, as an adult, I had a new and more complex perspective on character developments which only snowballed my rekindled love for my old friend.
As current events continue to bring new uncertainties and as I continue to grow into my twenties, watching anime brought me encouragement and motivation. Off the top of my head, I found solace in watching the continuous selfless bravery that the Survey Corps preserve in Attack on Titan to work towards a collective brighter future, Akko’s drive in Little Witch Academia to achieve her dreams, Gon’s undying positive attitude in Hunter x Hunter, and the way Izuku focuses on his own growth rather than focus on others’ in My Hero Academia. Anime also gives me the opportunity to remember that the world is endless in its potentiality: I loved the comedic absurdities of Assassination Classroom, the touching human bond painted by I Want To Eat Your Pancreas, and the alternate world showcased in The Cat Returns.
One thing that I thank the past lockdowns for is the room it has offered me to take into consideration things that make me happy in the simplest way possible. By finally taking the opportunity to explore my penchant for these endearing animations, I ended up discovering new and important self-care methods. There is beauty in allowing oneself to love something in the present moment: if this pandemic has taught us anything, it’s that this idea of a so-called “bigger picture” is ever-changing and relative. And perhaps, “unproductive” past times that make us happy in the present moment are more important than we give them credit for. ◆