Fate's Refusal to Honour (or at least properly research) Depictions of Non-Japanese Figures 2: Electric Bogaloo ft. Wandjina from the Current JP Summer Event
Disclaimer: While I am an Australian, I am NOT of Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander descent. Therefore, I am coming at this issue from an outsider's perspective. If there is an Aboriginal person, or more specifically of the Mowanjum people from the Kimberly regions, please PLEASE correct me if I am wrong on any front.
The culprit behind the events of the current Summer story in the JP servers has recently been revealed to be Wandjina, a creator Dreamtime figure from the Mowanjum people's culture.
In any other context, I would be thrilled to have an Australian figure in FGO, but the problem here is the figure they use.
Wandjina are sacred to the Mowanjum people, and therefore one needs to go through Aboriginal Law to obtain the right to use the Wandjina's image.
In Australia, this resulted in an actual conflict between a non-indigenous artist and aboriginals. You can read more here, but one quote to note is from an Aboriginal man of the Darug people, Chris Tobin: "Aboriginal law is very specific on what you can and can't do with wan[d]jinas." Another quote on this topic is made by the owner of an Aboriginal art gallery, Adrian Newstead: "Only a few Aboriginal artists ever win the right to depict wan[d]jina, and only then after years of initiations and ceremonies..."
I am NOT attaching an image of FGO's iteration of Wandjina due to this. Not only is her appearance only Aboriginal on a surface-level with her 'dot art' aesthetic (dot art* is only a recent addition to Aboriginal culture, created back in the 1970s), having no resemblance to an Aboriginal person (note, that while many Aboriginal people are white/pale, FGO continually chooses to depict people of colour as light skinned as possible. And yes, I know she's blue, not white. There is literally no records of her being blue skinned; is this because Wandjina's are associated with rain????) but she is also not very Wandjina looking? These figures do not have mouths, have large eyes meant to resemble the eye of a storm and are typically depicted with elaborate headdresses. That little glowing boomerang on her head is not exactly elaborate. And WHY does she have a boomerang??? Because she's Australian???? By that logic, every Japanese figure needs to have a katana. #GiveMurasakiaKatana2023.
There is also the issue of Cnoc na Riabh. While it is funny to think that she's a foreigner because of an Australian influence, Yaraan-doo is also another Aboriginal figure. And it is slapped onto a white girl for a fan service event. I'd just rather Fate leave Aboriginal culture alone and just do, like, Ned Kelly or something if they're going to continue like this.
More resources and info under the read more!
You'll have noted in the quotes that I've edited an 'n' into wanjinas. This is so I didn't confuse anyone: both can be the correct spelling! I just stuck to what I thought FGO was using for their Wandjina.
Here's an overview of what wandjinas are and their inappropriate use in art: https://www.creativespirits.info/aboriginalculture/arts/what-are-wandjinas
Here's another page about an inappropriate use of Wandjinas (note: it's only a short synopsis about a documentary that covered the incident, I'm uncertain if you would be able to get access to the documentary outside of Australia): https://www.creativespirits.info/resources/movies/who-paintin-dis-wandjina
It should also be noted that the two websites I've linked above are from the website Creative Spirits. While it is run by a non-Indigenous person, the person behind it is currently transitioning it to be an Aboriginal owned and run resource. You can read more about how this site is run in his About page.
*If you want to know about dot art's origin, here and here are some resources on them. However, this article brings up something interesting that I would like to bring back to FGO Wandjina's dot art aesthetic. It notes that "the term 'dot painting' stems from what the Western eye sees when faced with contemporary Aboriginal acrylic paintings" (emphasis mine). All three articles note that dots were used to obfuscate sacred symbols and artifacts so that those who were not initiated into their cultures could not see what these figures were. In that case, what the hell is the dot art seen on Fate's Wandjina supposed to represent? In this article, it talks about the symbolism in Indigenous art. Fate's Wandjina has none.
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Eddie’s doing some dumb trick with a couple of wooden spoons, clever hands making them move through the air in improbable ways, and Steve’s about to bite his whisk in half.
He’d thought for sure that Eddie would be going home the first week; Edward Munson, 29, bartender/musician from Brighton with mismatched tattoos and wild hair, seemed like exactly the kind of pretentious asshole who would flame out early with some ill-advised hipster experimentation. If Steve (28, social worker from Indiana, USA) had been a complete asshole, he’d have said that Eddie didn’t have the fundamentals. That he was all sizzle, no steak.
It’s a good thing Steve’s not a complete asshole, because Eddie’s been blowing the technicals out of the water so consistently it’s actually pretty fucking embarrassing. His signatures and showstoppers are making a very respectable showing too, except for the time he tried to incorporate some fresh pandan extract and fucked up the liquid ratio, leaving him with a dripping mess that Mary’d declined to even try.
Afterwards, Steve had seen him leaning against a tree and struggling to light a cigarette. Steve went over for no particular reason, flicking on his lighter and holding it out like a peace offering. Eddie looked at him warily, but bent over the offered flame.
“Can’t believe I made it through this one,” Eddie said after a moment, white smoke curling out of his mouth.
“Yeah, I feel like that every week.” Steve leaned against the tree next to Eddie. It was a big tree, the kind that’s probably been growing in this field since before England was even England.
“Nah, but—c’mon, you know what I mean.”
“You had some bad luck with your showstopper. Happens to the best of us, man. Your signature hand pies looked sick as hell.” Steve’s own hand pies had turned out pretty well, so he was feeling generous. It had only been the third week; plenty of time for Steve to snag Star Baker, though even by that point, Steve had been getting the creeping feeling that he was being a little too American about the whole thing. Everyone else seemed to think competitiveness was some kind of deadly sin. It was—actually kind of nice, to get the same kind of nerves he’d always gotten before high school basketball games, but know that he wasn’t really fighting against anyone except himself in the tent.
Anyway, the very next week, Eddie had done some kind of kickass gothic castle with a shiny chocolate dragon and gotten Star Baker for the second time. Steve had clapped him on the back, appropriately manly. Eddie had pulled Steve into a real hug, arms tight around Steve’s shoulders and his whole lean body pressed up close and warm. It had only lasted a moment, and then Eddie had bounded over to Mel and Sue, both of whom he’s been thoroughly charming since the get-go.
Steve thinks that when this season—or, uh, series—airs, no matter where Eddie places, the entire country is going to be just as charmed. Eddie’s going to get whatever kind of cookbook deal or streaming show he wants. Sponsors will take one look at that handsome face and charismatic grin, and a whole world of possibilities is going to open up for Eddie.
Steve’s not in it for any of that, of course. He’s here kind of by accident, because Robin pushed him to apply, and it’s a goddamn miracle he’s been holding his own. Hell, it’s a miracle he’s in this country at all. When Robin had started looking at the Cambridge MPhil program in linguistics, she’d said wouldn’t it be great if and he’d snorted, yeah right, like I could ever get whatever job I’d need to move to another freaking country, but then—well. Things had happened the way they’d happened, and now Robin’s almost finished with her degree and Steve is taking time off from the London charity he works at in order to be on Bake Off.
He’s told all this to the cameras, plus the stuff about how baking started as a way for him to connect with the kids he used to babysit in Indiana, blah blah blah. He thinks it’s probably too boring for them to air, but he gets that they have to try to get a story anyway.
Eddie Munson, on the other hand, is probably going to be featured in all the series promos. Steve is rabidly curious about what Eddie’s story is, but he hasn’t worked up the nerve to just ask. It should be the easiest thing in the world. They’ve got kind of a camaraderie going, the two of them; a bit of a bromance, as Mel’s put it more than once.
It’s true they get along pretty well, and the cameras have been picking up on it: on the way Eddie’ll wander over to Steve’s bench like a stray cat whenever they get some downtime, how they wind up horsing around sometimes, working off leftover adrenaline from the frantic rush of caramelization or whatever. There’s the time Eddie had hopped up on a stool to deliver some kind of speech from Macbeth, of all things, and overbalanced right onto Steve, who had barely managed to keep them both from careening into a stand mixer. Sue had patted Eddie on the shoulder and said, “Well, boys, that’ll be going in the episode for sure.”
They both get along with the other contestants just fine, of course, but they’re two guys of about the same age with no wife and kids waiting at home. It’s only natural that they’re gravitating together, becoming something like friends, Steve figures. It’s pretty great that he’s getting at least one real friend out of this whole thing.
It would be even greater if Steve could stop thinking about Eddie’s hands in decidedly non-friendly ways. With all the paperwork he’s signed, he can’t even complain to Robin about how Eddie looks with his sleeves pushed up to show off the tattoos on his forearms, kneading dough and grunting a little under his breath with effort. Steve had almost forgotten to pre-heat his oven that day.
Two benches away, Eddie fumbles the spoons he’s been juggling with a clatter, and he bursts out laughing, glancing over at Steve like Steve’s in on the joke. Steve grins back, heart twanging painfully in his chest, and thinks: well, fuck. Guess this is happening.
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