Thanks for the detailed OP!
Was just reading this FemHype article yesterday, about transphobia in Persona 3 and Catherine, and now gay panic with Persona 5.
ATLUS & ACCOUNTABILITY: WE NEED TO STOP GIVING QUEERPHOBIC GAMES A PASS
The transphobia in Persona 3 is upfront, cliché, and something of a groaner. Its the trap motif all over again, which frames trans women as a commodity for the consumption of men while simultaneously invalidating their identity. A femme-presenting person is used as a cheap gag to elicit disgust, shock, and derision from the main characters and the audience. Whether or not this person identifies as trans is ultimately irrelevant to the stigmatization it perpetuates against gender non-conforming people especially trans women. It upholds political myths that frame us as predators, or just bad copies of real women. These tangible implications are often violent, especially for trans women of color.
Its painful, though a common scene in comedy, and its prevalence often informs how cis populations perceive us. This myth has, to no small degree, affected my own life in very tangible ways. Ive been shouted and jeered at in public, pressured to leave jobs, and forced to adapt a state of hyper-awareness in social situations. It can become incredibly stressful, and to have these perceptions reinforced by a cheap gag is a crude reminder of the pain I so often feel, but its hardly the worst offender from Atlus.
Catherine is notable for featuring Erica, a waitress whose gender is explicitly addressed by her friends, one of whom is Vincent, the games protagonist and player character. While Persona 3 features a one-off offense, Catherines transphobia is routine and pervasive. Erica is subject to constant harassment by her peers like misgendering, grumbles about her deadname and past, and explicit mention of her being a man. In the games final scene, Toby, visibly shaken, cries: I want my damned V-card back! Erica shrugs it off, saying: Once that card is punched, theres no refund. Shes not allowed to be offended because to acknowledge this scenes damaging message is to validate her identity.
These beliefs while held by the characters are featured without criticism for the purpose of cheap laughs, the crux of which is the implicit assumption that the players agree with a hard truth in the jokes underlying rhetoric. Catherine is absolutely venomous towards Erica hell, the villain treats her better than any of the protagonists do. But unlike Atlus presumed audience, I dont find these moments funny; they hit too close to home. And to top it off, the games Japanese artbook explicitly deadnames and misgenders Erica in her character profile. The result is not just innocuous queerphobia represented in a game or book, but a representation of bigotry that tacitly upholds the social and political status quo that have dangerous effects on the lives of actual queer people.
...
Personas androgynous aesthetic and focus on self-interrogation felt like a mirror where I could reach in and congeal my own reflection. These stories held power for me, and they meant something a way for me to understand and explore my identity in times of illness and trial. Its hard for me to appreciate them now. These games have moved me to tears, and Id be lying if I said that Im not still affected by my time with them. Itd be easier to just move on, but they matter too much to me.
Still, the Persona games continue to betray their own thematic declarations of diverse self-actualization and acceptance if they cant represent the humanity and complexity of queer and marginalized people. I realize that Ive come to resent the games themselves and my cloying attachment to them. How can I move on? Persona 5 doesnt benefit from that important time and place for me like past Atlus games, so I wonder if when played on its own merits will I be able to appreciate it despite the ache I feel in my chest? Despite the anger I harbor?
My personal feelings are valid, but theyre not my call to action. Its perfectly fine to find value in Persona, and Im certainly not asking anyone to feel the animosity that I do. Trust me, Im envious of you I want to love these games, too. I want this conflict in my chest to be resolved. Rather, we need to do better at nurturing these conversations and holding developers accountable for the stories they tell and, perhaps most importantly, by promoting the diversity of storytellers themselves. Representation cannot end at the screen.
