How Our Identities Are Shaped By Our Definitions of Cool
If you’re walking around downtown Los Angeles, you’re bound to see at least one person wearing an anime t-shirt. Based on your perception of the coolness of Japanese culture and anime, you might gravitate towards them or book it as far away from that person as possible. Appearance isn’t everything, but it sure activates our implicit biases and preconceptions about a person. Part of why we feel attacked when someone claims that the band we love is totally lame is because our definitions of what we think is cool have become tied to our identities.
My parents, who completely hate horror and gore movies, were terrified when I ecstatically begged them to watch The Ring and Saw movies in middle school. Their rejection of what I liked felt like a rejection of me and who I was, despite them trying to reassure this was not the case.
As global horizons widen, modern identities are increasingly ascribed through facets of culture rather than traditional definitions of gender, familial ties or nationality. With this comes complexities about how our identities are formed through what we deem “cool”, and who we deem as “in ”and “out”.
Why Do We Think What We Think Is Cool
In Isao Yukisada’s film Go! , the main character Sugihara recounts his life as a zainichi Korean — Japanese. In the absence of a strong identity as Japanese, Korean or even as a zainichi, Sugihara draws from a multitude of different places to find his identity. He states that he wants to get rid of all boarders, but in doing that he rejects Japan and Korea and anchors himself in Black Americans. In the original novel by Kazuki Kaneshiro, it describes how he dutifully practices guitar everyday, afterwards listening to Jimi Hendrix. Listening to Hendrix play the American national anthem to protest the Vietnam War, he states “The voices of minority people had no way of reaching the top, they they to find some way of making their voices louder…. I was practicing guitar for precisely that moment. ” Sugihara is aware of his status as a minority and gravitates towards those who are fighting against it. He quotes Malcolm X when ruminating about his philosophy on fighting, “I hated violence as much as Malcolm did. But sometimes you don’t have a choice. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, do you turn the other cheek? Hell no. Some jerks will bypass the cheek and hit you where it hurts. Even when you’ve done nothing to deserve it. ”
Sugihara seems to be alluding to his treatment as a zainichi, discriminated against and targeted for the facet of identity he cannot control. Through reaching out to find touch points like Malcolm and Hendrix, he fights this narrative of a marginalized victim. Sugihara reinstates control over his identity and pieces together a unique raison d’etre that reflects his experiences, building him into a character we think is cool. By not ascribing to a singular identity, Sugihara is in a way free to pick and choose what he likes from certain cultures and remain open to change. He is able to mold himself into what he sees fit rather than taking on an identity prescribed to him by any one entity or pre-established institution.
In Sayonara Amerika, Saynonara Japan, author Micheal K Bourdagh recounts a 2003 interview with Sasaki Isao, a Japanese rockabilly singer who is notorious for recording the hit song G.I. Blues. Isao states that the United States is distracting the world ( particularly Japan ) through the three S’s : Sport, Screen and Song. However, in lieu of national or state identity, these three have very well become facets of how we create our identity. I grew up with no cell phone and no cable TV, and without these significant technological gateways to culture, most of my consumption was through a 90s clamshell Mac that was handed down. In the absence of Family Guys and Friends, I gravitated towards a different sort of screen and song; Vocaloid, a synthetic software developed by the Yamaha corporation, represented online by a blue hair girl called Hatsune Miku.
The term Vocaloid encapsulates a variety of voice banks created by sampling thousands of vocal samples and reconfiguring them into programmable lyrics and melodies. Users can choose from the many voice banks available, the most popular being Hatsune Miku, Kagemine Rin and Len, Meiko and Kaito, which are sample based voice banks composed of over 3,800 samples. Vocaloid has become a worldwide phenomenon in the last two decades, giving musicians and visual artists a foundation on which to worldbuild their own stories and build entirely new fandoms.
Why is Vocaloid cool?
From the beginning, Vocaloid has been a creator community endeavor supported by makers and fans. Termed “Prosumers”, these artists, producers, animators and illustrators are responsible for contributing an entire genre of media, incentivized by nothing other than their own curiosity and desire.
Vocaloid is cool because is allows the creation of a decentralized ecosystem between illustrators, fans, and artists united under characters with no narrative pre-attached to them. Unlike fandoms of anime, TV shows and movies, Vocaloid is unique in the way it invites creators to utilize and iterate upon existing characters, which then expands itself into different mediums. I argue that the software is inherently cool, because by design it presents pre-defined parameters within a focused creative context: music making. Vocaloid is a good tool, and good tools inspire you to make. The software is like a musical version of Minecraft — a virtual playground.( If it wasn’t cool or effective inherently, then no one would use it right ? ) Vocaloid is differentiated from other musical vocal softwares because of the technological capabilities + the appeal of the characters. Combined, the software gives fans and creators a character framework from which to relate to without having the confines of an existing plot and the means to create naturally. In many ways, the Vocaloid software is so successful because of our acceptance of their character utilization as dolls in stories that span genres and styles as diverse as the creators themselves.
Additionally, Vocaloid is cool because something that is discovered not necessarily something that is sold to you. Unlike a Marvel movie or popular music on the radio, outside of Japan Vocaloid’s presence in mainstream media is virtually nonexistent. If you know about it, it’s because you discovered it through an anime convention, you were introduced to it by a friend, or because you stumbled upon the subculture on Youtube or via the Japanese video sharing website Nico Nico Douga.
From an artist standpoint, the early Vocaloid videos did not have significantly high production value. Music was often produced with stock midi sounds, and the accompanying music videos had low frame rate and basic animations that pale in comparison to the 3D, AR and VR capabilities of the 21st century. However, creators took artist liberty with what they had and stretched Vocaloid to the limit of their imaginations, spawning a myriad of fandoms that collectively make up the Vocaloid community.
The visual and environmental versatility of Vocaloid characters combined with lack of existing narrative is exactly what allows them to maintain credibility and character integrity across multiple storylines, iterations and platforms. Thus allowing thousands of fans across the world to feel they have an intimate relationship with a character they are familiar with, despite being warped and translated into different genres and contexts.
Case Study: Vtuber Denio | Calne Ca Miku — Making Miku Your Own
Original Character : シーエ
The character Calne Ca is an interesting case study in the Vocaloid fandom because it’s one of the most liberal examples of character iteration. The creator Denio crafted a 3D modeled Vtuber rig which allows him to takes this character out of just the Vocaloidsphere and into other mediums like VR Chat and Youtube videos.
What is so cool about Calne Ca? Is it her ability to subvert the kyara look of Miku, while still having sex appeal? I would argue that it’s the way Miku can be manipulated to be relatable to certain audiences. You may not enjoy gore, horror or insects crawling out of girls’ eyes, but if you are a Vocaloid fan, Miku’s body gives you a touchpoint to relate to this character. Calne Ca is not a vague character created by a random Pixiv author, she is interfaced into the Vocaloid network, and builds upon existing precedents of who fans know and believe Miku to be. She is the horror gore version of Miku, for those who are into that.
I personally find Calne Ca very cool because she is a monster girl in the form of a character I know and love. I relate heavily to monster girls simply because of trauma. Monster girls are creatures that don’t belong anywhere ( 居場所がない), things that are unique and attractive but unlovable at the core because of who they are. Rather than being cherished, they are spectacular things to be gawked at, manipulated, hunted and controlled. Monster girls are objectified, loved and feared simultaneously, but never accepted for who they are. They are always liminal, striving for affection and love but that desire is always obstructed by her form. In a lot of ways, Miku is the ideal vessel for monster girl iteration. The fact that Calne Ca is a monster girl and in the body of Miku makes her both familiar and relatable to me — therefore making her the pinnacle of cool.
On Gendered Idols and Objectification — Does Being Able to Objectify Something Make It Cool?
Stating Vocaloid is one thing, but really understanding why characters like Hatsune Miku have a global appeal requires us to look at the socio-cultural pull of augmented idols. The Vocaloid system provides a doll ( really a voice bank ) that can be modified and objectified to the creators whims. The attraction that Vocaloid holds within the subculture is the ability for anyone, but primarily males producers, to capitalize on the pop idol culture and contribute songs and stories as “officially ” as any girl group. It’s as if you could take the voices of Black Pink singers, use them to create your own song and music video, and have the song go viral.
From a feminist perspective, there’s much criticism to be had about Vocaloid and their uses. Miku is an idealized version of girl, centered in the moe aesthetic and rooted in the young, underdeveloped femininity of a shoujo character. Her image is commodified by male fans and creators at their whims. Miku is the ideal idol because she has no will or agency of her own, and cannot interfere with her fan desires, thus generating an interactive idol who molds and shapes to a fans will.
In her article “Nothing That’s Really There” pop culture writer Ana Matilde Sousa known by her popular pseudonym Hetamoe states, “The notion that Miku is not real or does not exist may result from the fact that the most crucial stereotype concerning women and technology is that “it is men who are in control of technology.” Indeed, Miku is frequently portrayed as a hollow sign or a passive commodity onto which male fans project their fantasies, laced with pernicious gendered and racialized stereotypes about the “submissive Asian woman.” Such interpretations do not consider Miku’s “peculiar and distinctive kind of agency, one that is neither a direct nor incidental outgrowth of human intentionality but rather one with its own impetus and trajectory.” In this sense, one’s relationship to Miku is never unidirectional.
I would argue that her coolness does stem from the ability to be manipulated like a doll, that is in fact what she is. Miku is an immaterial concept, a hologram at best. To say that she is submissive and reinforcing stereotypes about Asian women may is a convincing arguement, but it’s to assume some sort of delusion from the user who will liken real life women to fictional characters on screen. There’s a reason why men prefer 2D girls and have anime girl pfps — they are a fantasy; idealized versions of girls that are convenient and fun to think about. Whether or not this is harmful to 3D girls doesn’t take away from the fact that characters like Hatsune Miku are largely appealing and fun to manipulate.
In Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema by Laura Mulvey, Mulvey argues that in cinema women are constantly subjected and objectified through the male gaze and cannot escape it. I would argue that this is not only male gaze but a societal gaze. The “objectifiying lens” through which Miku was created, and her subsequent features — smooth skin, long legs, silky hair and short skirts — is something that I as a woman also appreciate and desire. For those who argue that Vocaloid are a product of male gaze, I would counter that is just one perspective which may be true to some extent. Vocaloid are subhuman creations created with a wider audience in mind than just men. Though they may appear to have a submissive personality or whatnot, they also feature some bold traits that arguably go against the traditional female image and display more of an outlier type image. For example the fact that Miku’s hair is blue (form of self expression which is looked down upon in professional culture in Japan) or the fact that she has a tattoo on her arm (which in Japan is highly associated with like Yakuza).
There are definitely mediums and anime which are overly tailored to a male audience, however I believe Vocaloid is cool specifically because of the characters subhuman aspects. There is a point in which a character is too similar, too relatable where we no longer find them cool. Sugihara is portrayed to be as the most conventionally cool character possible in Go!, but because I grew up with a similar background and with similar experiences, to me he just seems like another guy among guys. By relating to him too closely, the cool narrative that the director sells me seems false and unrealistic, I know that in reality someone like Sugihara is probably hard to deal with. I instead gravitate towards something even more transcendent, foreign and unattainable. I’ve found that in Vocaloid, because they are subhuman they can embody the image of flawlessness and perfection that is unreachable for me. Nonetheless, I appreciate the unattainable, unrealistic forms of Vocaloid— the subhuman aspects are that which I find the coolest. Free of humanity, personality and limitation, Vocaloid characters transcend humanity and enable fantasy.
On Nationality Interfacing With Identity
Growing up, I had the ability to pick and choose the best elements of four nationalities, Chinese , Korean, Japanese and American. Raised in an urban city in an ethnic enclave, I was able to live a relatively persecuted life and never gave much thought to my nationality or how people around me perceived me. However, this isn’t a luxury that our main character Sugihara is able to benefit from in Japan.
He is quite bothered by his father’s nationality change from North Korean to South Korean, and brings it up quite early in the film. Sugihara doesn’t want to be identified by this change, and in the novel states,“My citizenship had changed from North Korean to South Korean almost overnight, but nothing about me had changed. Nothing about me was changing, and I was bored. With that change in citizenship, I felt like I had any number of choices before me. ”
Throughout the film, Sugihara goes from wanting to deny the significance of ethnicity for any person, to realizing that nationality is just as important to his identity as anything else that he enjoys is. He asks, “What’s in a name” alluding to Shakespear’s Romeo and Julie, almost to imply that one’s name is significant to their identity, indicative of their heritage and nationality. Through the death of his close friend Jeong Il and the conflict with his love interest Sakurai, Sugihara fights for the ability to be seen as a person, an individual rather than the labels that others slap on him. Nonetheless, these encounters force him to consider the implications of how others perceive him and his nationality.
Two years ago, I had my first “ethnic awakening” in which I realized firsthand how much ethnicity really does matter. I moved to Portland, Oregon to work at Nike World Headquarters in Beaverton, Oregon to take part in a half year design internship. Despite being ecstatic to move to a new state and work at a top company, I was bewildered by the social and cultural gap that seemed to lie between me and my predominantly caucasian coworkers who liked to spend weekends drinking wine, swimming at the lake and playing disc hockey. Thrust into an entirely new strata of privilege and wealth, I found myself strangely feeling isolated and misunderstood by people who had never needed to take the bus three hours to work or rely on food stamps. At the very least I couldn’t find a soul in sight who liked Vocaloid or had even heard of the name Hatsune Miku.
Identity on A Global Stage
These days what we think is cool is becoming a part of who we are. So what does it mean that a Chinese, Korean girl from the US thinks Vocaloid is cool? It means that Japan has a stake in my identity. Thinking back to the three S’s: Sports, Song, Screen — Vocaloid used both song and screen combined to take root in my identity formed in adolescence. However small, this means I have a vested stake in Japan, and I’m not alone in this. Vocaloid’s influence on US artists is still alive and well. Last December 2020 , popular pop punk artist Ashnikko released a remix of her song Daisy featuring Hatsune Miku.
Daisy 2.0 features anthropomorphic 3D models of Ashnikko and Hatsune Miku dancing, perhaps a nostalgic ode to the early 2000s MMD videos. As many fans in the comments state, Ashnikko is among the many teens who grew up watching Hatsune Miku videos in middle school and high school. Now a pop artist at 25 with 2.4 million followers, Ashnikko has the creative power to bring Miku into her own song and videos, and is sharing Vocaloid with a new generation of US consumers. Viewed politically, it can be argued that this is Japan’s form of cultural warfare, a dominating form of power that is intangible and relatively unregulated. The new generation of United States consumers have a vested cultural interest in Japan, and with it comes a stake in their economy and politics. In the event of another World War, I would hope that this has implications for how current and future generations see our global neighbors. Perhaps we would think twice about bombing the country that created Nier Automata, Takeshi Murakami and Vocaloid.