Anime fan witnesses subculture become mainstream

I was 11 years old in 1999 when the anime series Dragon Ball Z aired in the United States for the second time. Its blend of action, sci-fi and fantasy was unlike anything available to American children at the time. The show's naive yet brave protagonist Son Goku became my hero. Goku flew on a cloud and battled demons and aliens using kung fu and a staff that could extend.

It wasn't long before I learned the series came from Japan; it was part of a vast library of animation geared toward teens and adults. At the back of my local video rental store, I could find VHS copies of Japanese classics like Akira, Mobile Suit Gundam and Perfect Blue. I was drawn to the novelty of the visuals and cultural inspirations.

I bought Dragon Ball Z toys when I could and demanded my parents drive me to esoteric shops in the city so I could pay extra for a bootleg copy of the PlayStation game because it wasn't released for American distribution. I had become an anime nerd.

I sensed that I was part of a subculture because my friends who were brave enough to wear print T-shirts emblazoned with Goku as a super saiyan were teased in class. We all received that treatment whenever we used terms like "Kamehameha", the most widely used finishing attack in the Dragon Ball series, Goku's signature technique. Our classmates accused us of speaking foreign gibberish.

Twenty-five years later, I reflected on those memories when I heard a panel of celebrities discuss Son Goku on late-night television. The audience didn't need a primer to understand who the character was. These days, anime is as mainstream as Mickey Mouse.

Despite Son Goku's fame in the United States, relatively few Americans might know that his creator, Akira Toriyama, drew inspiration from the Chinese classic novel Journey to the West. The novel's protagonist is Sun Wukong, the Monkey King, who rides a cloud and battles spirits using kung fu and a staff that can extend.

He is the titular character of the smash hit video game Black Myth: Wukong. The game is gorgeous, punishing and, most importantly, fun. Players must battle through a gauntlet of bosses based on Chinese mythology. As is the popular trend in gaming, the plot isn't explained explicitly; players must read disconnected text to infer the greater story. The international gaming community is feverishly gobbling up any lore they can.

This has been my life for the past few weeks. I've scoured the internet for morsels of backstory and symbolism. I'll admit that I have felt remorse at least once for killing a boss in-game after reading about his tragic backstory.

I am a child again, eager to nerd out over novel content.

Such is the way culture is shared. Curious individuals seek what is new and share it with their friends and family. Eventually, a trendsetter will catch on and expose the gem to a broader audience. What is foreign becomes familiar and subcultures become mainstream. Culture is sticky; it cross-pollinates.