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Reasons I Love Avatar 2: Relationships (Part 2 of 2)
In the first part of the post on relationships in Avatar: The Last Airbender, I discussed how relationships played a role in the change and growth of Aang, Katara, Sokka, and Toph. I continue and conclude the discussion with a great deal on Zuko and Mai, and a bit on Azula and Ty Lee.
Meet the Anti-Gaang
The Book 3 episode "The Beach" has received mixed reviews. A lot of fans don't care for the episode, others like it. Personally I found it fascinating because of the group dynamic these four Fire Nation teenagers displayed. In direct contrast to the Gaang's warmth and mutual support, Azula, Mai, Ty Lee, and Zuko are a dysfunctional bunch of friends and indeed hardly appear to be friends at all. They snipe cruelly at each other, get into destructive bickering, and seem to delight in getting at each other's vulnerabilities. The friendliest they can get seems to be when they engage in random acts of violence and destruction together.
"Let's do this again real soon."
In their personalities as well as their interactions, these four young members of the Fire Nation elite seem to personify the outside world's worst perceptions of that warlike country. We have Zuko who is angry and irrational, Mai the cold and indifferent, Ty Lee who is flashy without substance, and above all Azula, cruel and outright inhuman without the capacity to relate to people. It's tempting to think that it's no wonder such messed-up people have such an unhealthy mockery of friendship and romance, and grow up to run such a barbaric and inhumane country. The rot, one might conclude, goes to the very core, in the souls of children, and to the very top, at the upper crust of society.
A full discussion of Fire Nation society is outside the scope of this post, but it is worth noting that the dysfunctions of Zuko and his friends arise from the dysfunctions in their culture, which are in turn reflected in the characters' families. These deep-rooted problems include violent authoritarianism (Zuko's physical and emotional scarring), the subtler but still insidious pressure to conform and shed individual identity (Mai and Ty Lee), and a hunger for power that encouraged rather than corrected ruthlessness (Azula).
Of Friends and Lovers
Yet even in this bleak picture, a textbook example of how unhealthy society and families produce unhealthy individuals, we see flashes of positive interaction. Ty Lee shows a genuine willingness to help Azula connect with people, for one thing. The lesson may be characteristically shallow, but is nevertheless Ty Lee's best effort at trying to help Azula even after the princess's verbal cruelty. To be sure, much like the rest of Ty Lee's bootlicking, it's driven as much by fear as by affection: It's not perfect, but it's what we have.
And then there are the teens' attempts around the campfire to help each other get to the bottom of their issues. (A campfire, appropriately enough, fueled by Zuko and Azula's family portrait.) Again, they might be trying to get the upper hand by exposing each other's weaknesses, yet I think this inexpert, fumbling therapy did help. They got to air the roots of their problems, a necessary if painful process, and the most touchy-feely member of the group was frank about how cathartic it was. That's probably the magic that Li and Lo were talking about; outside the confines of their usual surroundings and roles, the teens were able to bare themselves in a way they couldn't back home.
Finally, there is the single most genuine interaction around the campfire and indeed the entire episode, Mai and Zuko's "make out and make up" moment near the end. I've pointed out the ways that even the more positive interactions in this episode are tainted by baser reactions like fear and deceit. Mai and Zuko may be angry or awkward with each other for most of the episode, but they are also the only two characters who are entirely honest with each other throughout. Mai doesn't sugarcoat her responses for Zuko's benefit, and doesn't hold back on the truth when he is being an angry idiot. (This, as fellow fan![[info]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=3)
amanda_violet pointed out, is a Good Thing.) Compare Mai's reactions to Ty Lee's advice about interacting with boys. Ty Lee basically advocates disingenuousness, to giggle and smile no matter how stupid the boy is acting. This, of course, works just as well in the real world as in the Fire Nation if what you want is immediate attention.
In contrast, Mai's relationship with Zuko is based not on false platitudes and ego-plumping but on frankness that sometimes borders on the brutal. She'll tell him when she doesn't like something (ice cream dropped on her skirt, dumb seashells*), she'll be direct with him when she thinks he's wrong (stop being a jealous jerk, please), and above all, she won't take his crap just because he's royalty (you can't take out your problems on me; if you want me to be your emotional punching bag I'm leaving, prince or no prince). In fiction or in life, such honesty is really the only way to have a real and healthy relationship.
* I think seashells are pretty and I still keep one my boyfriend gave me a year ago on our trip to the beach. I'm presenting Mai's point of view when I call seashells dumb, not mine. Also, the interactions on "The Beach" likely came at the end of a long string of jerkass behavior on Zuko's part, since Mai makes it clear that Zuko has been acting irrationally for some time. She would probably have a bit more receptive, or at least less blunt, if she weren't at the end of her own rope. Note to guys: Reducing your girlfriend to a stereotype is rarely the way to make up for having been a prat.
Katara's relationship with Aang is similarly honest, if gentler. In "The Avatar State," when she disagreed with Aang she told him exactly where she thought he was wrong and why. In "The Ember Island Players," she was frank with him about not wanting to be in a romantic relationship yet. Aang was also direct and forthright with Katara about thinking revenge was wrong in "The Southern Raiders." He didn't tell her she was right in order to please her, unlike Zuko who wanted to give Katara what she wanted to secure her approval. In his desperation to redeem himself in Katara's eyes, Zuko was willing to cater to the worst of her nature, while Aang was steadfast in his belief of her best. Later, Zuko admits it was Aang who knew what Katara needed. This honesty and directness, based on a deep knowledge of the partner's actual needs and the desire to do what's best for the partner rather than what would please her in the moment, are the very foundations of a stable, long-lasting relationship that fosters personal growth.
Of course a good relationship needs caring as well as honesty, comforting warmth as well as cold clarity. Mai, the girl who seemed so distant and uncaring, who had no problem telling Zuko off when he was out of line, was at his side the moment he stopped using anger to evade his issues and was honest with himself. Mai has no patience for self-pity in herself or others, as we saw when she refused to paint herself a victim in "The Beach" and when she teased Zuko out of his funk in "The Awakening." And Zuko's behavior for most of "The Beach," of course, was nothing but a loud and extended pity-fest that Mai refused to play into. But when he stopped avoiding his real problem and made himself vulnerable by admitting it, Mai did not use the moment to ridicule his weakness like Azula did ("You're pathetic."). Instead she accepted his confusion and accepted him, making herself vulnerable in turn by admitting how she cared for him.
"Let's do this again real soon, too."
In this way, then, we see how Mai also unlearns the negative lessons learned at home. The lesson drilled into her head was that detachment was safe, that she couldn't afford to invest her emotions because she could be shut down at any moment. While Mai laid the root of her issues at her family's doorstep, I don't think Azula was such a positive influence in that regard, either. Zuko, on the other hand, had taught her that there were some things worth caring about. Not because he was some kind of perfect man, Mai knew better than anyone how deeply flawed he was, but because they could accept each other with total honesty, flaws and all.** That kind of openness was something that had been missing from both their lives, and something they had craved without knowing it. For the first time Mai had something worth taking the risk of caring for, and that gave her the courage to defy her rigid conditioning.
** There's a wonderful short fanfic by Amanda that visualizes this dynamic well, Much Better Now, where Zuko and Mai show each other their scars. It's a very heartfelt and touching story despite occasionally overt sentimentality. As discussed above, they make a very honest couple who don't have to put up pretenses to look good to each other, whether in body or spirit.
She similarly supported him throughout the inner turmoil that he did not dare to share with her. (I'll discuss shortly why he was so afraid to share his thoughts.) It's not fun to watch a loved one deal with a conflict that you can't help with, let alone because they won't tell you. It takes patience and trust to let them deal with their unspoken issues while making yourself emotionally available to them. It's exhausting and thankless, and I was really impressed that Mai at seventeen had the fortitude to be there for Zuko without letting her fears overwhelm her in episodes such as "Nightmares and Daydreams."
Romance without Reservations
And that trust and that patience, that courage to reveal her feelings and herself, were shut down in the worst possible way from Mai's point of view when Zuko broke up with her. By LETTER. And then disappeared, evidently betraying their country and siding with its enemies. It must have felt something like leaning in to kiss someone and having them spit in your face. (Of course this wasn't what Zuko was trying to do, but impact =/= intent.) Amanda, in the abovementioned fic, even added the wrinkle that they had spent the night before he ran away together, certainly a reasonable inference from the way they were lounging around on her couch and such. Forget anger, I would have been asking if Combustion Man was free to take a job. No, I take that back, I'd have wanted to strangle the bastard of an ex with my bare hands. If at any time Mai felt the temptation to shut herself away again, it was then. It was all too easy to convince herself that trusting Zuko had been a mistake, that she had wasted her feelings and her time on an undeserving man.
Instead of closing herself off, however, she chose to put herself more on the line for him. On Boiling Rock, she defied the safety of Azula's good graces and indeed her own Nation's protection for the sake of, as she succintly put it, "saving the jerk who dumped me." She did not understand Zuko's reasons; it was not possible for her to understand because she hadn't seen the things he had, nor been through the things he had. It was doubly impossible because Zuko never shared those thoughts with her. Mai might have had some inkling that the Fire Nation's enemies were not inhuman monsters when they returned her brother unharmed, and she might have suspected something was up with the Fire Nation from Zuko's ambivalence. But those were all suspicions and hints, nothing concrete. She had no basis for a common understanding with Zuko on the issue of the war and what side to choose.
Unlike, say, Katara and Aang, whose goals are generally in agreement (something that makes them a stronger couple), Mai was caught in a conflict between her feelings for Zuko and pretty much everything else in her life. Let's just count: Her patriotism, which we know from "The Headband" was instilled in her from a young age, especially as a member of the Fire Nation elite. Her family, who might be harmed if she acted out here. Her friends, who were in active opposition to Zuko--and acting for their Nation, so far as she knew. Her very life against Azula's anger and a lot of boiling water all around to make an excellent exmple of traitors. Remember, Mai couldn't hop on the gondola and run away with Zuko; saving his life required that she stay to stop the cutting of the cable and release the winch that would allow him to reach safety. Her uncle the warden was also on the gondola, but he wasn't going to thank her for saving his life; he was the one who had ordered his own death. At any rate, he couldn't override Azula's will, or even get there in time to save her life before the Princess made her decision.
In sum, on one side of the decision was Zuko's life, her uncle's, and Zuko's companions whom she had faced as enemies. Getting to be with Zuko was not part of the equation, because she had to sacrifice herself and stay behind if he was to be safe. On the other side of the scale was everything else she ever knew and loved, including her very survival.
It was insane for her to choose to save Zuko. It was unreasonable and irrational. But that was the choice she made.
"Plenty more whupass where that came from, honey."
That's why I think the scene where Mai saves Zuko and his companions on Boiling Rock is the most romantic scene in the entire show, in addition to being a badass action scene. (I counted her taking out nine guards in twenty seconds including at least three firebenders. And then she kept fighting until Zuko got to safety - most likely she ran out of knives to pin people down, and I notice she wasn't using the wounding darts against the guards.) There are other touching romantic moments in the show, of course, such as the one where Katara saves Aang after he was killed by Azula in "The Crossroads of Destiny." There was the moment Aang first met Katara's eyes in the first episode, paralleled in the moment when she brought him back to life in "Crossroads." There are kissing and cuddling scenes galore, particularly in Book 3 between Mai and Zuko. Some choose to interpret Zuko's throwing himself between Azula's lightning and Katara in a romantic light ("Sozin's Comet"). Aang gave up the Avatar State, at least temporarily. to maintain his connection to Katara ("The Guru").
But nowhere else in the series, indeed rarely in the history of fiction, has romance been the sole driving reason for so stark a choice. No one else in Avatar acted so fully and entirely for romantic reasons, sacrificing everything including their very life, for the sake of love and trust in a romantic partner. Katara would have saved Aang whether or not she felt romantically inclined toward him (and indeed it's still unclear at that point), and none of those other romantic scenes had everything else in the world arrayed against the choice. Aang at the Eastern Air Temple comes close, but rushing to save Katara when he saw her in trouble was something he would have done for his other friends, too. Same goes for what Zuko did for Katara.
So if you're looking for a romantic hero in the series, the one who would give up country, family, friends, and life for the cause of romantic love, that character is Mai. Not Aang, not Katara or Zuko, but the seemingly cold and distant girl who overcame a lifetime of repressive conditioning, who had in fact (by most measures) been jilted by the boy she was about to throw away her life for. And it may well have been the end if Ty Lee had not intervened, and if Azula had not decided to spare their lives. Maybe she saw how they could still be useful, or maybe she was human after all and still felt something for her childhood companions.
And now that I have retold Mai's story at length, I hope it is evident how Zuko unlearned some of the despair that had been Ozai's unwanted gift. Zuko found someone with whom it was safe to be confused and uncertain, by whose side he could be himself and not some trumped-up ideal prince. He found Mai, the third person after his mother and Iroh to love him unconditionally, who cared enough to guide him when he was wrong, and trusted him enough to wait when he was lost.
So why couldn't he tell his girlfriend what troubled him? Chivalry, it turns out, isn't so dead after all. Zuko told Sokka in "The Boiling Rock, Part 1" that Mai was the only person he had a hard time leaving behind when he defected to the Avatar's side. "Everyone in the Fire Nation thinks I'm a traitor," he continued. "I couldn't drag her into it." The only ways he could drag her into it, of course, was if he kidnapped her or if she refused to let him leave without her. Discounting the former possibility, it follows that Zuko was afraid Mai might follow him if he gave her the choice. He did everything to prevent that, from sneaking away leaving only a letter, to locking her in a cell at Boiling Rock for her own safety. And it was for her safety, not his: She fights with darts and throwing knives, there was no reason for her to pursue him bodily to harm him. He never feared Mai, he feared for her, that the strength of their bond might drive her to extremes. With good reason, as it turned out.
Mai's love and her selfless courage had even more story significance than establishing her growth, helping Zuko heal and face his destiny, and saving Zuko's life. Her defection, and subsequently Ty Lee's, completely threw Azula and led her down the spiral of madness that would defeat her in the end. Maybe Azula was reminded of her mother who had committed treason to save Zuko's life. Once again, in Azula's eyes, she had been passed over in favor of her worthless and weak brother, and she could not understand what drove these women to such irrational choices. It was her personal tragedy that she never understood the power of human relationships, the simple truth that there are bonds in this world far more powerful than those of fear or gain.
To me those bonds are the true story of Avatar, the story of how interlinked we are on a greater or smaller scale. In my next two posts for the series I will discuss the war and politics in the show, which are really just relationships on a larger scale.
So what do you think? Agree? Disagree? I'd love to hear your thoughts!
Meet the Anti-Gaang
The Book 3 episode "The Beach" has received mixed reviews. A lot of fans don't care for the episode, others like it. Personally I found it fascinating because of the group dynamic these four Fire Nation teenagers displayed. In direct contrast to the Gaang's warmth and mutual support, Azula, Mai, Ty Lee, and Zuko are a dysfunctional bunch of friends and indeed hardly appear to be friends at all. They snipe cruelly at each other, get into destructive bickering, and seem to delight in getting at each other's vulnerabilities. The friendliest they can get seems to be when they engage in random acts of violence and destruction together.
"Let's do this again real soon."
In their personalities as well as their interactions, these four young members of the Fire Nation elite seem to personify the outside world's worst perceptions of that warlike country. We have Zuko who is angry and irrational, Mai the cold and indifferent, Ty Lee who is flashy without substance, and above all Azula, cruel and outright inhuman without the capacity to relate to people. It's tempting to think that it's no wonder such messed-up people have such an unhealthy mockery of friendship and romance, and grow up to run such a barbaric and inhumane country. The rot, one might conclude, goes to the very core, in the souls of children, and to the very top, at the upper crust of society.
A full discussion of Fire Nation society is outside the scope of this post, but it is worth noting that the dysfunctions of Zuko and his friends arise from the dysfunctions in their culture, which are in turn reflected in the characters' families. These deep-rooted problems include violent authoritarianism (Zuko's physical and emotional scarring), the subtler but still insidious pressure to conform and shed individual identity (Mai and Ty Lee), and a hunger for power that encouraged rather than corrected ruthlessness (Azula).
Of Friends and Lovers
Yet even in this bleak picture, a textbook example of how unhealthy society and families produce unhealthy individuals, we see flashes of positive interaction. Ty Lee shows a genuine willingness to help Azula connect with people, for one thing. The lesson may be characteristically shallow, but is nevertheless Ty Lee's best effort at trying to help Azula even after the princess's verbal cruelty. To be sure, much like the rest of Ty Lee's bootlicking, it's driven as much by fear as by affection: It's not perfect, but it's what we have.
And then there are the teens' attempts around the campfire to help each other get to the bottom of their issues. (A campfire, appropriately enough, fueled by Zuko and Azula's family portrait.) Again, they might be trying to get the upper hand by exposing each other's weaknesses, yet I think this inexpert, fumbling therapy did help. They got to air the roots of their problems, a necessary if painful process, and the most touchy-feely member of the group was frank about how cathartic it was. That's probably the magic that Li and Lo were talking about; outside the confines of their usual surroundings and roles, the teens were able to bare themselves in a way they couldn't back home.
Finally, there is the single most genuine interaction around the campfire and indeed the entire episode, Mai and Zuko's "make out and make up" moment near the end. I've pointed out the ways that even the more positive interactions in this episode are tainted by baser reactions like fear and deceit. Mai and Zuko may be angry or awkward with each other for most of the episode, but they are also the only two characters who are entirely honest with each other throughout. Mai doesn't sugarcoat her responses for Zuko's benefit, and doesn't hold back on the truth when he is being an angry idiot. (This, as fellow fan
amanda_violet pointed out, is a Good Thing.) Compare Mai's reactions to Ty Lee's advice about interacting with boys. Ty Lee basically advocates disingenuousness, to giggle and smile no matter how stupid the boy is acting. This, of course, works just as well in the real world as in the Fire Nation if what you want is immediate attention.In contrast, Mai's relationship with Zuko is based not on false platitudes and ego-plumping but on frankness that sometimes borders on the brutal. She'll tell him when she doesn't like something (ice cream dropped on her skirt, dumb seashells*), she'll be direct with him when she thinks he's wrong (stop being a jealous jerk, please), and above all, she won't take his crap just because he's royalty (you can't take out your problems on me; if you want me to be your emotional punching bag I'm leaving, prince or no prince). In fiction or in life, such honesty is really the only way to have a real and healthy relationship.
* I think seashells are pretty and I still keep one my boyfriend gave me a year ago on our trip to the beach. I'm presenting Mai's point of view when I call seashells dumb, not mine. Also, the interactions on "The Beach" likely came at the end of a long string of jerkass behavior on Zuko's part, since Mai makes it clear that Zuko has been acting irrationally for some time. She would probably have a bit more receptive, or at least less blunt, if she weren't at the end of her own rope. Note to guys: Reducing your girlfriend to a stereotype is rarely the way to make up for having been a prat.
Katara's relationship with Aang is similarly honest, if gentler. In "The Avatar State," when she disagreed with Aang she told him exactly where she thought he was wrong and why. In "The Ember Island Players," she was frank with him about not wanting to be in a romantic relationship yet. Aang was also direct and forthright with Katara about thinking revenge was wrong in "The Southern Raiders." He didn't tell her she was right in order to please her, unlike Zuko who wanted to give Katara what she wanted to secure her approval. In his desperation to redeem himself in Katara's eyes, Zuko was willing to cater to the worst of her nature, while Aang was steadfast in his belief of her best. Later, Zuko admits it was Aang who knew what Katara needed. This honesty and directness, based on a deep knowledge of the partner's actual needs and the desire to do what's best for the partner rather than what would please her in the moment, are the very foundations of a stable, long-lasting relationship that fosters personal growth.
Of course a good relationship needs caring as well as honesty, comforting warmth as well as cold clarity. Mai, the girl who seemed so distant and uncaring, who had no problem telling Zuko off when he was out of line, was at his side the moment he stopped using anger to evade his issues and was honest with himself. Mai has no patience for self-pity in herself or others, as we saw when she refused to paint herself a victim in "The Beach" and when she teased Zuko out of his funk in "The Awakening." And Zuko's behavior for most of "The Beach," of course, was nothing but a loud and extended pity-fest that Mai refused to play into. But when he stopped avoiding his real problem and made himself vulnerable by admitting it, Mai did not use the moment to ridicule his weakness like Azula did ("You're pathetic."). Instead she accepted his confusion and accepted him, making herself vulnerable in turn by admitting how she cared for him.
"Let's do this again real soon, too."
In this way, then, we see how Mai also unlearns the negative lessons learned at home. The lesson drilled into her head was that detachment was safe, that she couldn't afford to invest her emotions because she could be shut down at any moment. While Mai laid the root of her issues at her family's doorstep, I don't think Azula was such a positive influence in that regard, either. Zuko, on the other hand, had taught her that there were some things worth caring about. Not because he was some kind of perfect man, Mai knew better than anyone how deeply flawed he was, but because they could accept each other with total honesty, flaws and all.** That kind of openness was something that had been missing from both their lives, and something they had craved without knowing it. For the first time Mai had something worth taking the risk of caring for, and that gave her the courage to defy her rigid conditioning.
** There's a wonderful short fanfic by Amanda that visualizes this dynamic well, Much Better Now, where Zuko and Mai show each other their scars. It's a very heartfelt and touching story despite occasionally overt sentimentality. As discussed above, they make a very honest couple who don't have to put up pretenses to look good to each other, whether in body or spirit.
She similarly supported him throughout the inner turmoil that he did not dare to share with her. (I'll discuss shortly why he was so afraid to share his thoughts.) It's not fun to watch a loved one deal with a conflict that you can't help with, let alone because they won't tell you. It takes patience and trust to let them deal with their unspoken issues while making yourself emotionally available to them. It's exhausting and thankless, and I was really impressed that Mai at seventeen had the fortitude to be there for Zuko without letting her fears overwhelm her in episodes such as "Nightmares and Daydreams."
Romance without Reservations
And that trust and that patience, that courage to reveal her feelings and herself, were shut down in the worst possible way from Mai's point of view when Zuko broke up with her. By LETTER. And then disappeared, evidently betraying their country and siding with its enemies. It must have felt something like leaning in to kiss someone and having them spit in your face. (Of course this wasn't what Zuko was trying to do, but impact =/= intent.) Amanda, in the abovementioned fic, even added the wrinkle that they had spent the night before he ran away together, certainly a reasonable inference from the way they were lounging around on her couch and such. Forget anger, I would have been asking if Combustion Man was free to take a job. No, I take that back, I'd have wanted to strangle the bastard of an ex with my bare hands. If at any time Mai felt the temptation to shut herself away again, it was then. It was all too easy to convince herself that trusting Zuko had been a mistake, that she had wasted her feelings and her time on an undeserving man.
Instead of closing herself off, however, she chose to put herself more on the line for him. On Boiling Rock, she defied the safety of Azula's good graces and indeed her own Nation's protection for the sake of, as she succintly put it, "saving the jerk who dumped me." She did not understand Zuko's reasons; it was not possible for her to understand because she hadn't seen the things he had, nor been through the things he had. It was doubly impossible because Zuko never shared those thoughts with her. Mai might have had some inkling that the Fire Nation's enemies were not inhuman monsters when they returned her brother unharmed, and she might have suspected something was up with the Fire Nation from Zuko's ambivalence. But those were all suspicions and hints, nothing concrete. She had no basis for a common understanding with Zuko on the issue of the war and what side to choose.
Unlike, say, Katara and Aang, whose goals are generally in agreement (something that makes them a stronger couple), Mai was caught in a conflict between her feelings for Zuko and pretty much everything else in her life. Let's just count: Her patriotism, which we know from "The Headband" was instilled in her from a young age, especially as a member of the Fire Nation elite. Her family, who might be harmed if she acted out here. Her friends, who were in active opposition to Zuko--and acting for their Nation, so far as she knew. Her very life against Azula's anger and a lot of boiling water all around to make an excellent exmple of traitors. Remember, Mai couldn't hop on the gondola and run away with Zuko; saving his life required that she stay to stop the cutting of the cable and release the winch that would allow him to reach safety. Her uncle the warden was also on the gondola, but he wasn't going to thank her for saving his life; he was the one who had ordered his own death. At any rate, he couldn't override Azula's will, or even get there in time to save her life before the Princess made her decision.
In sum, on one side of the decision was Zuko's life, her uncle's, and Zuko's companions whom she had faced as enemies. Getting to be with Zuko was not part of the equation, because she had to sacrifice herself and stay behind if he was to be safe. On the other side of the scale was everything else she ever knew and loved, including her very survival.
It was insane for her to choose to save Zuko. It was unreasonable and irrational. But that was the choice she made.
"Plenty more whupass where that came from, honey."
That's why I think the scene where Mai saves Zuko and his companions on Boiling Rock is the most romantic scene in the entire show, in addition to being a badass action scene. (I counted her taking out nine guards in twenty seconds including at least three firebenders. And then she kept fighting until Zuko got to safety - most likely she ran out of knives to pin people down, and I notice she wasn't using the wounding darts against the guards.) There are other touching romantic moments in the show, of course, such as the one where Katara saves Aang after he was killed by Azula in "The Crossroads of Destiny." There was the moment Aang first met Katara's eyes in the first episode, paralleled in the moment when she brought him back to life in "Crossroads." There are kissing and cuddling scenes galore, particularly in Book 3 between Mai and Zuko. Some choose to interpret Zuko's throwing himself between Azula's lightning and Katara in a romantic light ("Sozin's Comet"). Aang gave up the Avatar State, at least temporarily. to maintain his connection to Katara ("The Guru").
But nowhere else in the series, indeed rarely in the history of fiction, has romance been the sole driving reason for so stark a choice. No one else in Avatar acted so fully and entirely for romantic reasons, sacrificing everything including their very life, for the sake of love and trust in a romantic partner. Katara would have saved Aang whether or not she felt romantically inclined toward him (and indeed it's still unclear at that point), and none of those other romantic scenes had everything else in the world arrayed against the choice. Aang at the Eastern Air Temple comes close, but rushing to save Katara when he saw her in trouble was something he would have done for his other friends, too. Same goes for what Zuko did for Katara.
So if you're looking for a romantic hero in the series, the one who would give up country, family, friends, and life for the cause of romantic love, that character is Mai. Not Aang, not Katara or Zuko, but the seemingly cold and distant girl who overcame a lifetime of repressive conditioning, who had in fact (by most measures) been jilted by the boy she was about to throw away her life for. And it may well have been the end if Ty Lee had not intervened, and if Azula had not decided to spare their lives. Maybe she saw how they could still be useful, or maybe she was human after all and still felt something for her childhood companions.
And now that I have retold Mai's story at length, I hope it is evident how Zuko unlearned some of the despair that had been Ozai's unwanted gift. Zuko found someone with whom it was safe to be confused and uncertain, by whose side he could be himself and not some trumped-up ideal prince. He found Mai, the third person after his mother and Iroh to love him unconditionally, who cared enough to guide him when he was wrong, and trusted him enough to wait when he was lost.
So why couldn't he tell his girlfriend what troubled him? Chivalry, it turns out, isn't so dead after all. Zuko told Sokka in "The Boiling Rock, Part 1" that Mai was the only person he had a hard time leaving behind when he defected to the Avatar's side. "Everyone in the Fire Nation thinks I'm a traitor," he continued. "I couldn't drag her into it." The only ways he could drag her into it, of course, was if he kidnapped her or if she refused to let him leave without her. Discounting the former possibility, it follows that Zuko was afraid Mai might follow him if he gave her the choice. He did everything to prevent that, from sneaking away leaving only a letter, to locking her in a cell at Boiling Rock for her own safety. And it was for her safety, not his: She fights with darts and throwing knives, there was no reason for her to pursue him bodily to harm him. He never feared Mai, he feared for her, that the strength of their bond might drive her to extremes. With good reason, as it turned out.
Mai's love and her selfless courage had even more story significance than establishing her growth, helping Zuko heal and face his destiny, and saving Zuko's life. Her defection, and subsequently Ty Lee's, completely threw Azula and led her down the spiral of madness that would defeat her in the end. Maybe Azula was reminded of her mother who had committed treason to save Zuko's life. Once again, in Azula's eyes, she had been passed over in favor of her worthless and weak brother, and she could not understand what drove these women to such irrational choices. It was her personal tragedy that she never understood the power of human relationships, the simple truth that there are bonds in this world far more powerful than those of fear or gain.
To me those bonds are the true story of Avatar, the story of how interlinked we are on a greater or smaller scale. In my next two posts for the series I will discuss the war and politics in the show, which are really just relationships on a larger scale.
So what do you think? Agree? Disagree? I'd love to hear your thoughts!
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