Pinning down the exact year and context in which I first watched Avatar: The Last Airbender is near impossible. Given that I was two years old when it first began airing, I don’t think my first experience with it was watching it as it aired. I likely caught the last season, which finished in 2008, but it’s more likely that I came across it as Nickelodeon continued reruns for years after the show finished. I remember watching it with my brother, and I know that at some point, I had more or less seen every episode because when I rewatched it in 2020, everything felt familiar.
In May of 2020, Avatar was put on Netflix. I watched it as I got ready for work at a new job, and when the open-air restaurant closed the following day due to bad weather, I spent the day in bed rewatching what I now remembered loving as a child. I didn’t have many memories of Avatar beyond the characters and basic plot, but when I began watching it all came back to me. The only major difference was that this time around, I was 17, and better understood a lot of the themes and lessons at play that went over my head when I was in elementary school.
Avatar: The Last Airbender is often praised by fans and critics for its deft handling of extremely difficult, more “adult” topics like genocide, colonialism, war, etc. and explaining those concepts in a way that could be understood by all ages. A seven year old might not know what the word genocide means, but they can understand the weight of Aang’s entire people being wiped out and know at the very least that it is a bad thing. But I had learned so much in the decade since I had last watched Avatar, and I could read into the nuances of the show. That, in part, is what has kept Avatar interesting to me over the years. I have fond memories of watching it, and it generally brings me joy, but it also sparks a lot of questions and analysis for me. In more recent years, when I began reading the comics that follow the series, I began to realize how the franchise was elucidating the complexities of decolonization.
In the first installment, called The Promise, there’s a former Fire Nation colony whose governance is being returned to the Earth Kingdom now that the war is over and Zuko, an ally and friend to Aang, is the new and much more level-headed Fire Lord. I won’t lie—the writing and characterization in the comics is subpar, but what’s most interesting is the conflict that arises from trying to right the wrongs of colonial violence and occupation. Aang, Zuko, and the others soon realize that it’s not so simple as sending Fire Nation citizens away and handing the colony back over to the Earth Kingdom—the two communities have been intertwined for a century, with intermarriage and fully blended communities. It’s a very realistic reminder that there is often no such thing as a “return to normal” when such a long and violent occupation comes to an end. Every time I rewatch Avatar or read a new installment of the comics, I find new instances like this one to zero in on and analyze.
I really love the way you are digging deeper into Avatar: The Last Airbender. I watched the show in bits and pieces as a kid but it wasn’t until I was in high school when I eventually watched the whole thing through. I find it really interesting how we both have very similar stories but with two very different texts as I talked about my almost identical situation but with The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. Especially seeing that The Hobbit was written with children in mind, what do you think it means that these stories end up resonating more with us as we reach adulthood than when we were children?