Supporting Women’s Wrongs (Just Not Like That): Fandom misogyny and the flawed women of NANA

Content warning: Grooming, misogyny, cheating, abusive relationships.

Spoilers for NANA (anime and manga). 

The phrase “I support women’s rights, but more importantly, I support women’s wrongs” speaks to the idea of holding space for female characters to be complicated or flawed. This concept is applicable to the cult-classic manga NANA by Yazawa Ai, which features an array of complex and polarizing fictional women. The need for well-written female characters is supposedly understood and advocated for in fandom spaces, but the moment these female characters show any unfavorable attributes or make mistakes, they are rarely given the same grace as male characters. The complicated women of NANA prove that there’s a limit to how flawed a female character can be before she’s no longer palatable to readers.

NANA follows the lives of two women, Osaki Nana and Komatsu Nana (nicknamed Hachi), who decide to become roommates in Tokyo. Nana O wants to become a famous punk-rock singer, while Hachi craves love and struggles to find herself outside of her relationships with men. Beyond its iconic Vivienne Westwood fashion and abundance of queer undertones, the manga is known for its emotional realism and its complicated, messy characters. 

You’d think that complicated female characters would be a good thing, right? Especially when there seems to be a shortage in many of the most popular animanga series. In their video on poorly written women in shounen anime, youtuber Inakyu explores the ways in which female characters are often undeveloped, regulated to damsel status, or used for fan service. Varied, nuanced female characters who drive the narrative are much more common in shoujo and josei media, so it’s unfortunate that shoujo manga isn’t given the same value as shounen manga in mainstream anime fandom spaces. However, while female characters in shoujo manga are often written with more care and complexity, that doesn’t always translate to these characters being well-liked—even by the demographic these characters are supposed to speak to the most. 

In her paper “Graphic Novels and the Girl Market”, Kirsten Clemmens describes the overwhelmingly negative reactions that her teenage female students had to the female leads of shoujo series such as Fruits Basket and Vampire Knight. Protagonists like Honda Tohru and Yuki Cross are annoying due to being “overly enthusiastic, accommodating, and optimistic” (83). Clemmens found that these readers were far more interested in the development of these characters’ male love interests. Their primary investment in the female protagonist, by contrast, tended to revolve around which boy she would choose—which is a shame, considering Tohru is a perfect example of a multi-faceted, flawed female character.

Part of this reaction is, of course, tied to pervasive misogyny in the online manga community, something that Ashley McDonnell touches on in her article about shoujo and internalized misogyny. Common misconceptions about shoujo manga, coupled with misogynistic attitudes toward romance and femininity, cause even shoujo fans to gravitate toward male characters. And because male characters tend to be liked more than female characters, they are allowed to be complicated in a way that female characters aren’t; they are celebrated for their outbursts and their flaws because it makes them more interesting.

But when female characters are bad people, they are bad characters, too. A female character’s “wrongs” are vilified or not discussed at all, even when these wrongs are well-written and add to her role in the narrative.

Hachi: Imperfect Victim

Think of any misogynistic insult you could throw at a female character, and Hachi has probably been called it before. Vapid, immature, selfish, crybaby, slut… the list goes on. Unlike Osaki Nana, Hachi tends to polarize audiences and frequently sits low on “Best Nana Characters” rankings, despite being one of the story’s heroines.

To be fair, a lot of criticisms thrown Hachi’s way are based in truth. She has some growing up to do (what 20-year-old doesn’t?). She doesn’t always consider how her actions might hurt others. She lacks ambition outside of pursuing romance—and she isn’t a great judge of character when it comes to men, either. But these aren’t reasons to hate Hachi or label her a bad character. In fact, what makes Hachi so compelling is how these negative traits are integrated into Hachi’s overall character arc and backstory.

Many of Hachi’s flaws, particularly her lack of identity and dependency on men, stem from being groomed by a married man when she was in high school. This relationship was both inappropriate and damaging, leaving Hachi with low self-esteem and attachment issues that manifest in her relationships. 

While she initially moves to Tokyo to be with her boyfriend Shoji, their relationship quickly falls apart. Hachi cleans Shoji’s apartment and cooks him dinner while he’s at work, but he gets upset at her for doing this unprompted. He constantly criticizes Hachi for both her lack of independence and her perceived neglect of him once she moves in with Nana, gets a job, and makes friends. Despite these incompatibilities, Hachi is only able to leave Shoji once he cheats on her. 

Later on in the story, Hachi ends up tangled in a love triangle between Nobu, a member of Nana’s band BLAST, and Takumi, a member of rival band Trapnest. She initially hooks up with Takumi to fulfill the fantasy of sleeping with her celebrity crush, but she quickly realizes he’s not so great beneath the rockstar facade. Nevertheless, she falls into a habit of sleeping with Takumi whenever she’s lonely—and more specifically, whenever she feels rejected by Nana. 

Once Hachi swears off seeing Takumi again and devotes herself to Nobu, even this “perfect” relationship only lasts for so long. An underlying reason for this is due to Nobu’s idealized view of Hachi, which Shin, a teenage member of BLAST, points out to Nobu. Despite Shin’s young age, he’s incredibly perceptive. His observation highlights that, despite Nobu’s belief that Hachi is perfect and “not a slut,” the narrative intentionally portrays Hachi as a flawed person like everyone else. Despite this, Yazawa’s writing of this arc also demonstrates an awareness of the disconnect between Hachi’s complexity and how readers (and, subsequently, other characters) view her flaws.

Aside from Nobu’s misguided views of women, Hachi’s self-sabotaging tendencies also play a role in their relationship’s downfall. When Hachi discovers that she’s pregnant and that Takumi is likely the father, her relationship with Nobu is basically over. However, it’s Takumi that reveals the news to Nobu over the phone, leaving Hachi both blindsided and unable to defend herself. By the time Nobu is able to see Hachi in person, she can’t stop crying long enough to properly speak to Nobu, and he leaves with the impression that Hachi cheated on him with Takumi. 

This moment frustrated many western readers, particularly those who felt that Nobu deserved more closure, yet it’s difficult to imagine anyone remaining more composed than Hachi in this situation. While it’s easy to interpret this scene as Hachi not caring about Nobu’s feelings, it’s actually the opposite: Hachi thought so lowly of herself that, in this moment, she felt that Nobu would be better off without her and that she only deserved someone like Takumi.

While Hachi can be self-absorbed, she is simultaneously desired for her selflessness, “female passivity,” and “qualities as a potential wife and mother”—all of which are traits found in shoujo heroines. Hachi assumes the role of motherly figure for Shin, but this passivity isn’t all positive. She does more harm than good when she holds back her feelings, pulling away from the people she loves before they can abandon her. In particular, Hachi views herself as a burden to Nana; when she feels rejected by Nana, she sleeps with Takumi to cope with her loneliness and ends up driving an even deeper wedge between herself and Nana. Hachi’s passivity also causes her to prioritize building a nuclear family with Takumi over her own well-being. She puts up with Takumi neglecting her, cheating on her, and emotionally and physically abusing her because she craves stability and love for herself and her children—even in its most warped form. Even as Hachi’s nurturing and selfless nature make her the ideal mother and wife, these qualities prevent her from achieving any real contentment. 

While it’s fair that fans may find her behavior obnoxious or exhausting, it’s undeniable that the reasoning for Hachi’s behavior is complex, deeply rooted in her inner psyche, and fully developed throughout the story. But even with these hallmarks of strong character writing, Hachi doesn’t garner universal empathy due to being an imperfect victim. Ultimately, Hachi has internalized the belief that she doesn’t deserve to be treated well, so she finds comfort in dysfunctional and abusive relationships that reinforce her negative opinions about herself. Though it’s no surprise, it’s a shame that for so many western readers, their opinions of Hachi hinge on how many men she slept with or how sympathetic her mistakes were, rather than centering her complexities or the realistic depiction of her deeply human flaws.

Junko: Unpopular Voice of Reason

While Junko is a member of the supporting cast rather than a heroine, she’s still a shining example of a controversial NANA character. Junko is Hachi’s high school best friend, and she remains Hachi’s main confidante upon moving to Tokyo. Junko tends to be unpopular due to her “tough love” approach to her friendship with Hachi, but what’s often overlooked is her role as the voice of reason in Hachi’s life.

One of Junko’s most frequently discussed pitfalls is her tendency to be overly harsh with Hachi, like when she tells Hachi that getting pregnant was her own fault for sleeping around too much. Additionally, when Hachi’s boyfriend Shoji cheats on her, Junko doesn’t exactly take his side, but she does point out that Hachi wasn’t blameless in their breakup. Junko may be Hachi’s best friend, but she’s also friends with Shoji. While she continues to give Shoji grief over his actions for the rest of the manga, her ability to stay neutral in the situation rubs many readers the wrong way.

However, what the audience may consider bad or “cruel” advice from Junko is sometimes due to a lack of context. Her perspective on Hachi’s life is limited to what Hachi communicates to her, which is often very little. Beyond her exasperation with Hachi, Junko openly admits to her boyfriend Kyosuke that she tends to get carried away, lecturing Hachi as though she knows everything. This admission reveals that Junko’s abrasiveness is an intentional writing choice. She isn’t a poorly developed, one-dimensional villain; she’s an imperfect woman who is aware of her flaws.

When you compare Junko to Yasu, a male character who is arguably the most universally beloved NANA character, the double standards become clear. Yasu tops numerous character polls and serves as a “wise older brother” to Nana, but he isn’t perfect. He often enables Nana to depend on him and has complicated motives for his devotion to her, but that never lessens his popularity. By contrast, Junko is hated for playing virtually the same role in Hachi’s life.

Another under-discussed aspect of Junko’s character is her character’s function. Most of her scenes involve giving advice to Hachi or gossiping with Kyosuke about whatever drama the main characters are currently experiencing. These scenes can make Junko seem like a bad friend, but it’s worth considering, instead, that she provides an outsider’s perspective on the plot that the readers wouldn’t otherwise get from the main characters.  

Junko may be a well-utilized supporting character, but she rarely receives love from western readers because she is unpalatable. While her mix of both positive and negative traits, her conflicting loyalties, and her flaws should get her recognition as a complex female character, they instead lead to a disproportionate level of dislike and vitriol for her character.

Somewhat surprisingly, Junko’s unpopularity is on par and sometimes more intense than the hatred for male characters who have done far worse things (such as Shoji, the cheater, or Takumi, the serial abuser). A clear pattern emerges: male characters can be bad, but interesting people, whereas female characters are judged solely by whether or not they’re likable.

Reira: Problematic Princess

One of the most polarizing NANA characters to discuss, however, is Reira, the lead singer of rival band Trapnest. She’s a favorite to cosplay due to her distinctive, pink-haired design and iconic songs in the anime adaptation. She’s also an extremely unpopular character due to being… well, a really bad person.

To be clear, many readers have valid reasons to despise Reira. Despite being an adult woman in her 20s, one of her main “love interests” is Shin, who is a 15-year old teenager. They are portrayed as star-crossed lovers, but regardless of intent, their relationship is clearly an example of grooming. Just as Hachi’s relationship with a married man negatively impacted her, Reira’s relationship with Shin is undeniably damaging—particularly after he was groomed into sex work by a woman who looked like Reira.

It’s understandable that Reira makes many fans uncomfortable. Nevertheless, amidst the discussion of flawed female characters, it’s interesting to compare this discomfort with how much male characters can get away with while still being appealing, as Princess Weekes explores in “The Politics of Loving the Bad Guy.”

Evil women are fun in theory, but Reira is proof that in reality, there is a limit for female characters. Her character also illustrates the difference between an awful person and an awful female character:

Reira is deeply flawed, incredibly complex, and—what many fans beg for in female characters—evil.

It’s not that readers need to overlook Reira’s relationship with Shin or admit that she’s a good person; as a member of the rival band, she is one of NANA‘s antagonists and acts accordingly. However, what most fan discussion of Reira neglects to discuss is how her grooming of Shin, while objectively wrong, serves to flesh out her character. Despite Reira being an adult, her role as Trapnest’s singing princess has left her emotionally stunted and ignorant of the world. Her romantic fixation on Shin, a young teenager, further establishes her desire to regress back to the comfort of childhood, even at the cost of Shin’s innocence. It’s morally reprehensible, grotesque and selfish—but it also makes Reira complicated, in a disturbing yet unique way.

Beyond her relationship with Shin, Reira faces many of the same criticisms as Hachi. Selfish, immature, insecure, and a terrible decision maker. The key difference is that, while Hachi is typically more sympathetic due to her caring nature, Reira unapologetically lives up to her reputation.

In the same way that Hachi’s flaws are informed by her past, Reira is a product of her upbringing. Once you learn that she grew up as an only child, bullied and treated as an outcast due to being half-Japanese and unable to speak Japanese very well, her self-absorption and inability to empathize with others feels, if not sympathetic, then at least like a warranted dimension to her character. Additionally, Reira’s closest friend growing up was Takumi, who protected her and started their band as a vehicle for her voice. When you consider the impact of being best friends with Takumi for 10+ years… it frankly makes sense that Reira’s morals are non-existent. So does her intense, unrequited attachment to Takumi and decision to sleep with him after he marries Hachi. It’s another unpopular choice that nevertheless makes sense within Reira’s self-destructive character arc.

However, the biggest double standard exists in the different reader responses to Takumi and Reira, who are essentially two sides of the same coin.

With Reira being a groomer and Takumi being a controlling abuser, it’s difficult to definitively name one as worse—but that isn’t the point. Instead, consider the amount of blog posts, TikToks, and manga forum threads devoted to analyzing Takumi. He’s not a popular or well-liked character, but as a multi-faceted male antagonist with a sad backstory, he does receive endless think-pieces that attempt to understand and even defend his actions.

It’s easy to find something compelling and/or sexy about a villain, but more often than not, that treatment is reserved for male villains. Despite Reira having just as much complexity to her moral failings, her character writing is rarely praised or discussed with more nuance than jokes about sending her to jail.

Nana O: An anomaly

You’ll notice one character who has been absent from the discussion thus far: Osaki Nana, NANA‘s other heroine. She’s the singular outlier when it comes to divisive female characters in NANA. While she’s not universally beloved, she usually ranks high in character fan polls. Why is this?

As always, there’s multiple reasons, but the biggest factor is that Nana, especially compared to Hachi or Reira, is the antithesis of the “girly girl” character that so many shoujo readers despise. Through interviews with Canadian readers of shoujo manga, June M. Madelay found an overwhelming disdain for “girly,” “irritating,” or “stereotypical” female characters in shoujo manga. Nana is independent, goal-oriented, and not defined by romantic love for a man. In many ways, these characteristics make her more “masculine” and thus more appealing. And similar to the way that Nana is idolized by Hachi in-universe, she is also aspirational for female readers who, Madelay notes, want to become more like a “strong female character” than a typical “shoujo girly girl.”

Even so, Nana’s popularity goes deeper than that. Despite her alluring rockstar persona, Nana’s flaws are revealed over time. Though it’s not as intense as the hate leveled at Hachi, Reira, or Junko, Nana has been criticized for her treatment of Shin and using Nobu to keep Hachi “in her backyard.” She can be controlling and codependent (there’s overlap between her personality and Takumi’s, even), but ultimately these flaws are deeply compelling. And just like Hachi and Reira, her attachment issues stem from trauma; in Nana’s case, she was abandoned by her mother as a child.

It’s clear that Nana is both a glamorous, independent woman and a possessive, flawed person. What’s more? These contradictions are what make Nana such a great character. It’s a shame, then, that the other female characters in NANA aren’t treated with the same level of nuance by readers.

Some of this polarization may come down to Nana being filtered through Hachi’s adoring gaze, so anime-only perception of Nana in particular may be more positively-skewed. Perhaps Nana’s jealousy and fear of abandonment are just more relatable to the average reader. Nevertheless, Nana’s more masculine traits are the real key to her popularity. It shows that, even when a complex female character is well received, there’s still misogyny at play.

Conclusion

In all this, the point is not to make a definitive ruling on which NANA women are good people and which ones are bad people. The fact of the matter, though, is that NANA would be very boring if the women were all “perfect.” The narrative makes space to critique the morality of its characters, but a more nuanced discussion can take place in fan communities once we remember that these are characters, written by an author, and that their flaws make them all the more interesting and complicated. So the next time you reread NANA, you don’t have to support Hachi, Junko, and Reira’s wrongs, but your gut reaction to them may be worth digging into. See if these women are more complex than they are given credit for, as a direct result of their unpalatability, of their humanity. You may discover a deeper appreciation for how carefully Yazawa crafted the complex women of NANA and all of their wrongs—and you may even find something relatable in their worst moments.