Essay about Barret Wallace on Unwinnable

Just in time for the Final Fantasy VII Revelation announcement, my essay “Barret Wallace Was Not Wrong” was published on Unwinnable (here)! This essay is about the joy of blowing up data centers Mako reactors, and I had a lot of fun writing it.

The truth is that I’ve been thinking about the relationship between precarity and stochastic violence a lot these days, and I really can’t blame anyone for fantasizing about it. If I’m being totally honest, I have to admit that I’ve had some daydreams about it myself. My pet fantasy at the moment involves planting poison ivy all around the building that’s rumored to be the de facto [redacted] field office in Philadelphia, and I’ve also indulged in more than a few vivid daydreams about the Waymo cars and Uber Eats delivery robots I sometimes see around town.

As satisfying as setting community hazards on fire might feel in the moment, though, I’m not convinced that individual acts of violence ultimately serve any greater purpose. But then what? Are we supposed to just make angry posts online without actually doing anything?

We have plenty of stories about fictional teenagers and superheroes saving the world from archvillains to use as models of action, but they’re not obviously not grounded in reality. We also have stories about real-life wealthy philanthropists using their resources to make a difference, but that’s not really useful to the vast majority of us either. Then I started thinking about Barret Wallace in Final Fantasy VII, who is dead broke and disabled in his mid-thirties but decides to take on a giant corporation anyway. And you know what? That’s a model of heroism that resonates with me.

Here’s an excerpt from my essay:

At the end of the game, Barret Wallace does end up saving the world, but not through terrorism. Instead, he becomes a key figure in a loosely federated community of people committed to practical action that transcends individual acts of violence. This community includes Shinra’s victims as well as its former and current employees, from veterans of its space program to disgruntled middle managers. Barret wasn’t wrong when he took action against Shinra; he just didn’t yet see how powerful a global resistance movement could be.

You can read the full essay on Unwinnable here:
https://unwinnable.com/2026/06/08/barret-wallace-was-not-wrong

The Green Dreams of Kyō Machiko’s Manga

At this year’s Modern Language Association conference, I’m looking forward to giving a paper about historical memory, ecocriticism, and the work of the superstar manga artist Kyō Machiko. My paper is titled “The Green Dreams of Kyō Machiko’s Manga,” and I’ll be presenting in Session 658, “The Future of Graphic Narrative in Japan,” at 1:45pm on Sunday, January 11.

Let me share my abstract for the paper here:

Kyō Machiko is a graduate of Tokyo University of the Arts, and she won the prestigious Tezuka Osamu New Artist Prize in 2014. She’s since published more than two dozen books while attracting upwards of ninety thousand followers on her account on Instagram. In an interview with Matt Hill for The Comics Journal, Kyō explains that translations of her books have been published in Spain, Italy, Taiwan, Vietnam, and Korea, but she has not actively sought English-language publication because, she claims, “I am not a super major author in Japan.” Kyō’s modesty aside, her bibliography is impressive, and she typically publishes at least two softcover manga volumes every year while serializing multiple stories.

In June 2023, Kyō’s publisher Akita Shoten announced that her 2013 graphic novel Cocoon would be adapted into an anime. This film aired on the public broadcasting channel NHK during August 2025. Tateno Hitomi, who worked as an animator on Studio Ghibli films such as Spirited Away, Whisper of the Heart, and The Wind Rises, served as the chief animation producer. The level of care and talent dedicated to this cinematic adaptation is fitting, as Cocoon is an intensely upsetting story about an unfortunate chapter of Japanese history that’s nevertheless important to remember and pass on to future generations.

In this talk, I’ll introduce Kyō Machiko’s work and examine the critical relevance of her political messages. I’ll discuss Cocoon before turning to her more recent graphic novel Kamimachi. The argument I’d like to make is twofold. Specifically in relation to Kyō’s manga, I’ll demonstrate how the artist’s contextualization of characters within their natural environments facilitates an emphasis on the refuge sought by young women navigating a society that refuses to view them as human. As a broader observation that relates to this panel’s theme of “The Future of Manga Studies,” I want to argue that artistic political statements are no less trenchant and cutting when drawn in a “softer” style often associated with more entertainment-focused media.

If you’re interested in the subject of this presentation, I published an article about “Nature and War Memory in Kyō Machiko’s Cocoon” on Women Write About Comics (here), and I posted an informal reflection on the artist’s manga Kamimachi on my Japanese fiction blog (here).

Self Care

A modest proposal 💖 and a joke, of course!! Just a joke.

This was my submission to the 2025 edition of the anthology published by Philly Zine Fest, an event that gets cooler and livelier with each passing year. You can download a digital copy of the anthology from their website (here).

Essay about Final Fantasy VII’s Anti-Capitalist Critique

I’m excited to say that my essay “Final Fantasy VII Confronts Capitalism: Tifa Lockhart vs. Medical Debt” is now on Sidequest (here)! 👊🌟

I recently read the official Final Fantasy VII Remake prequel novel, Traces of Two Pasts. I was fascinated by Tifa’s backstory, especially how she was driven to the starting point of the game by medical debt. I hadn’t come across a serious discussion of this book in fandom or elsewhere, so I wanted to write a short but accurate summary with substantial analysis. My goal was to situate the book’s anti-capitalist themes in the context of the game’s story, Japan’s economic recession in the 1990s, and our current hellworld.

Here’s an excerpt from my article…

Tifa is twenty years old at the beginning of Final Fantasy VII. Despite her youth, she’s calm and level-headed, yet Tifa willingly becomes a member of Avalanche, an armed militia that conducts terrorist attacks on Midgar’s power grid. Though she questions the use of violence, Tifa understands that aggressive action is necessary.

The juxtaposition between Tifa’s personality and her involvement in an active terrorist organization begs the question of how such a kind and gentle woman could become so politically radicalized. The question Kazushige Nojima asks in Traces of Two Pasts is much sharper: under the circumstances, how could she not? If you had to walk in Tifa’s shoes, wouldn’t you become radicalized too?

You can read the full piece on Sidequest here:
https://sidequest.zone/2025/06/02/final-fantasy-vii-confronts-capitalism/

In Praise of Moss Disability Zine

In Praise of Moss is a zine that argues against the myth of productivity while celebrating the value of a diversity of contributions to our culture and communities. Not everyone can be a tree, and that’s okay. Moss is an equally important part of an ecosystem.

I wrote this zine from a perspective that respects people of all abilities, but I think it’s important to acknowledge the more challenging aspects of disability. Disabled people are often expected to “pull their weight,” usually with the assumption that there’s only one way to measure success. In addition, people who live with invisible disabilities are often met with frustration and accusations of laziness when we’re unable to work or behave “normally.”

Moss is a useful metaphor for a recontextualization of what it means for disabled people to be useful to our communities and valued in our relationships. By exploring how moss can support an entire ecosystem, we can craft a model for how disability positivity can benefit society.

In addition, moss is remarkably adept at surviving disaster, which makes it an engaging analogy for resistance against the pressures of self-optimization exerted by neoliberal capitalism. While my focus is on disability, I believe that all readers can benefit from a shift in perspective that encourages us to grow naturally without worrying about productivity. 

When I write about “resisting productivity,” I’m speaking from the position of someone in academia who is directly affected by the myth that hard work will lead to prosperity. I hate the way this myth is weaponized against disabled people in the realm of higher education, and I want to destroy it. Very softly and quietly. Like moss.

While I love the lo-fi DIY aesthetic of many of the disability zines I’ve found on Etsy and in indie bookstores, it was important to me to create an attractively formatted physical object that feels good in my hands and accommodates my own disabilities by being easy to read. I want people who encounter this zine to feel that it’s valuable, and that they’re valuable too. I was fortunate to be able to work with Fireball Printing, a local Philadelphia service that creates gorgeous full-color publications.

If you’re interested, you can order a copy of the zine from Etsy, or you can download a free digital version on Itch.io.

🌿 https://digitalterrarium.itch.io/in-praise-of-moss
🌿 https://www.etsy.com/listing/1881401704/in-praise-of-moss-disability-zine

Seeded Ground

Seeded Ground is a twelve-page botanical horror comic about growth. It reads a bit like a supervillain origin story, but I created it as a statement of resistance against the oppressive ideologies of neoliberalism that have lured so many people in my generation into the trap of self-optimization.

You can download a free digital copy of the comic from Itch.io here:
https://digitalterrarium.itch.io/seeded-ground

I was inspired to draw this comic by a tweet written by a respected senior scholar. They argued that assigning at least five pages of writing every week is necessary to maintain “a certain standard of quality” in the undergraduate students who register for their classes.

This tweet inspired me to reflect on an unfortunate aspect of education in the United States. Namely, it’s an unstated but almost universally accepted goal of the formal education system to monopolize students’ time in order to train them to become the sort of adult workers who are willing to devote their lives to their career. An employee at a “good” job is expected to wake up early, commute, spend the entire day at work, and then go home and finish the tasks they didn’t have time to complete at the office. Meanwhile, freelance and part-time workers are expected to be available at any hour of the day, every day of the week, and at short notice. This is messed up, and I hate it.

My own experience as a professional working adult has essentially been the equivalent of that professor’s tweet. Namely, I’ve felt compelled to engage in meaningless work that no one will ever see in order to maintain the pretense of “a certain standard of quality.” Around the time of the pandemic, I got fed up. Was I really supposed to feel guilty about not replying to emails within 24 hours while I was sick with Covid? Fuck that.

These days I’m much more aggressive about enforcing boundaries concerning how much work I’m willing to do, and I can’t even begin to express how much the quality of my life has improved. I have no regrets.

As an epilogue to Seeded Ground, I illustrated a quote from the radical social theorist Herbert Marcuse’s 1964 book One-Dimensional Man: Studies in the Ideology of Advanced Industrial Society:

“If the individual were no longer compelled to prove himself on the market, as a free economic subject, the disappearance of this compulsion would be one of the greatest achievements of civilization.”

And he’s not wrong! I know it’s a twee Millennial stereotype to hate capitalism, but I really do believe that the point of life is not to optimize your performance as an employee. People need room to grow.

And if that growth is impeded? All sorts of bad things can happen. 🌿

WWAC Roundtable on LGBTQ+ Manga

Last week I had the opportunity to contribute to a Pride Month roundtable on LGBTQ+ manga organized by Women Write About Comics. In this roundtable, we share specific recommendations as well as more general thoughts on topics such as autobiographical essay manga, nonbinary manga characters, and debates surrounding BL and yuri manga.

The discussion was quite interesting, and you can read it here:
https://womenwriteaboutcomics.com/2023/06/roundtable-pride-month-manga-edition/

This conversation was very cathartic for me personally. It was a traumatic experience to publish my monograph on queer manga, as I encountered incredible resistance during every step of the project. I’ve also been surprised by the feedback I’ve received, with critics claiming that I didn’t write enough about “real” queer creators. My book feels more cursed than the Necronomicon, and I’ve been extremely hesitant to talk about it or the research that went into it. Still, it felt good to finally address the issue of who “gets to count” as queer, as well as why many queer people in Japan may not have chosen to identify as such in the past.

Thankfully, the situation in Japan is starting to change, and WWAC’s Pride Month manga roundtable captures the spirit of this social and cultural shift as it’s reflected in popular discourse, especially in creative work by and about openly queer people exploring and celebrating their identities.

Haunted Houses

I recently published a new edition of my horror fiction zine Haunted Houses!

Haunted Houses collects seventeen pieces of surreal flash fiction about haunted spaces and the terrible people who inhabit them. This edition of the zine includes several new stories and illustrations, as well as a gorgeous cover illustration by Megan Crow, who was able to channel the everyday spookiness of West Philadelphia. Although the stories in this zine fit firmly into the mode of magical realism, I wanted to use the medium of fiction to explore a truly terrifying set of real-life themes relating to housing, from gentrification to rent spikes to urban depopulation.

If you’re interested, physical copies of the zine are available on Etsy:
https://www.etsy.com/listing/890744799/haunted-houses-fiction-zine

I’ve also started to host free digital editions of my older zines on Itchio:
https://digitalterrarium.itch.io/

A Monstrous Little Mermaid Story

I’m honored to have an essay in one of my favorite online magazines, Cosmic Double. “A Monstrous Little Mermaid Story” is about how I discovered the joy of queer transformations in HP Lovecraft’s “The Shadow over Innsmouth.”

“A Monstrous Little Mermaid Story” is free to read on the Cosmic Double website here:
https://cosmicdouble.com/2023/01/08/a-monstrous-little-mermaid-story/

I originally created this essay as something of a writer’s statement for a short story called “Don’t Eat the Fish.” The story is about the uncanny space at the intersection of queerness, disability, and economic precarity, but I also think it stands on its own as an unsettling work of body horror. I workshopped this story for years as I slowly developed my skills, and I worked hard to polish the narrative voice and sharpen the genre effectiveness while also being as honest as I could about the nuances of my own personal experience.

I generally try to keep overt identity politics out of my writing, which isn’t a value statement as much as it is a personal preference. It’s not as though my stories aren’t informed by my identity or social environment. Rather, both my identity and my environment constantly shift and change, and my stories generally aren’t about myself to begin with. Still, because this particular story was so strongly informed by my positionality, I spent more than a year submitting it a series of literary magazines dedicated to raising the voices of queer, disabled, and economically precarious writers.

Unfortunately, every single magazine I submitted the story to was like, “Oh damn, that’s truly upsetting, and this story is not Positive Queer Representation™ enough.” Usually, when I have a story rejected, I’m lucky enough to get a personal note from an editor along the lines of, “This isn’t a good fit for us right now, but we all enjoyed this piece and would love to see more work from you in the future.” With this story, the response was inevitably: NO.

I therefore wrote this essay as a way of processing what my story and its literary influences meant to me. I’ve long since accepted that the story itself will never be published, but I’m truly grateful to Cosmic Double for being willing to publish an essay that may not be Positive Queer Representation™ but still attempts to represent what I believe is a very real aspect of nonbinary (and trans!) queer identity. That takes courage, and the essays I’ve been reading on the site led me to believe that the editors are open to an earnest investigation of what it means to feel “monstrous.” If you’re interested in well-crafted essays from unexpected points of view, please check them out!