You can ask my mom if you need proof, but the first thing I ever asked for for Christmas was a Ninja Turtle action figure. It was 1990, I was 5, and had just started kindergarten. According to my mother, I wanted my own action figures because the boys wouldn't let me play with them unless I had my own.
And I was very specific about what I wanted! At the time, popular releases like "Disguised Turtles," and "Wacky Action" turtles annoyed me. I wanted a Raphael, and I wanted him plain, just like he was on the show and in the movie. And it wasn't until 91' when I got a "Storage Shell" Raphael that I was completely satisfied, and even then my interest had begun to wane.
Why? might you ask?
All right... confession time.
I wanted to be April. And the long and short of it is that I pretty much wanted to play out some Ninja Turtle romance in my head where April got together with the brooding Raphael and made turtle babies. However, since there was really only one readily available action figure version of April a la 1987 (I think anyway) I kind of gave up on her.
Flash forward a few years or so, and I was an 8 year old who was really into the Batman cartoon series that aired after I came home from school. My grandmother would make tuna fish sandwiches for Jack and I, and we'd sit in our living room's matching salmon colored recliners watching Animaniacs and Batman. Most notably, I was completely entranced by the dynamic between Harley Quinn and the Joker. In particular, there was an episode called Harley and Ivy (1993) in which Harley Quinn was kicked out of the Joker's group somewhat violently. Yet immediately, she remarks how much she misses him already, and sets off to prove her worth.
I have this memory of being completely in love with the episode because in my head it was a love story. I was sure that the Joker called while she was at Poison Ivy's house and begged for her to come back. I recalled that he even came by to swoop her up, to reclaim her! And that the reunion seemed deliciously sweet. Plus, I was genuinely mad at Ivy for interfering in the reunion of the two.
Well. I recently viewed said episode via my brother's XBOX Live and was somewhat let down to find that I actually agreed with Ivy this time around. Harley's middle name really must have been "Welcome" because she WAS a freakin doormat.
SHE was the one who called him in a weak moment. He didn't call her! And the only point at which he indicated even missing her was when his lair, or whatever, had become a mess, the hyenas hadn't been fed, and he didn't have any clean socks! And I suddenly found it ridiculously ironic that I had somehow romanticised the most feminist episode of a Batman cartoon I had ever seen.
Fast forward another 8 years, and I'm sitting in English class this time falling in love with Stanley Kowalski (and Marlon Brando) basically for the same reasons.
Savage guy, who is probably an alcoholic, but who selfishly wins Stella over every time despite Blanche's efforts and in spite (via the film version) of the fact that Stanley may have actually raped Blanche.
And I'm totally not kidding. The whole "Stellllaaaa!" scene really turns me on. I mean, even the neighbor is "protecting" Stella who is actually pregnant with Stanley's (probably gorgeous (mmm, Brando...)) kid, and he calls up that he "wants his girl to come down with him!" and Stella almost compulsively walks down the steps where he crumples face first into her chest.
What can I say, I like the sensational, I guess. And I know you think I'm going to make some parallel about how I've chosen a zillion Stanleys and Jokers and brooding Raphaels or even, though I didn't think of it before, Casey Jones's. But don't get me wrong. I'm pretty damn sure I'd never be attracted to Mitch aka Karl Malden of Streetcar, and the point is I really think that through the last little bits of my continual metamorphosis, I have shape shifted from the dreamy Stella and the doormat Harley and the amorous April-I-created-in-my-head to become the feminist Ivy, and the smart/career-girl April, and yes, perhaps I'm even terrified/guarded Blanche sometimes.
I'm not soft anymore on the outside. I don't run up to what I want baring all and saying here! here! and totally not expecting the falcon kick that follows. As falcon kicks do follow. I don't have as much blind faith in the inherent goodness of humanity anymore. Maybe I lost that faith particularly late, and THATS why I have so many bruises. But is it really so wrong to believe in people? There's nobility to that, isn't there?
Later in the Ninja Turtle comic series there is a whole plot development where April and Casey, married by this point, become distraught that they can't conceive, and soon discover that deadly nano-robots have been injected into April's bloodstream and are threatening her life. I laugh at this now because as much as I wanted to be all cute and domestic with some superhero for a spouse, I don't think I really would have warmed to the nano-robots attacking my brainstem idea even with the conception twist thrown in.
And in all honesty, the brutal lovers and the superhero lives can just stay put behind my television screen. Because whoever I end up finding to fight off the nano-robots in my bloodstream is going to be equally in love with me, and baring his own fleshy undersides, and I will NOT falcon kick him to the chest. I won't even kick him out of my underground lair! There will be no mystery and no secret identity. And no drinking problem. And no disturbing the peace, after I've consented to have your child, by continually screaming my name at the bottom of a fire escape.
Instead it will be admiration, high regard, protection, wonder, blithely sound, and endearingly ardent.
You know, just in case you wondered.
Also. I think turtle babies would probably look ridiculous anyway. The kid would need a mad crazy IEP.
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