"Oh, you just figured that one out?" (Kimberly Ann Hart, aka The Pink Power Ranger)

I've been thinking a lot about the idea of teamwork.

I've had good reason.  

Whole communities of people seem to be metaphorically exploding all around me.  And I'm feeling the heat from those explosions.

Now, this isn't entirely unexpected.  I usually expect that when any group of people come together in the same space, whether real or virtual, there's going to be some degree of conflict.  

But what I'm observing is a different kind of antagonism.  

It's an antagonism that seems to be coming from within groups of people - a battle over terms, concepts, definitions.  In other words, it's a border war between people who should be working together within the same borders.

Readers who know me should know that I'm not here to attack anybody.  I don't think there's much benefit in antagonism.  In fact, it's sort of the opposite of the harmony I try to achieve in my own viewpoint and in the world around me.  So, I'm not going to address specific individuals - mostly, because it doesn't matter whether everyone agrees with me or not.  That's, you know, kind of the point of not antagonizing other people, even when I disagree with them.

But, as I said, it got me thinking about what it means to be part of a team - which, in turn, led me to think about Power Rangers.

Yeah, you heard me.

Now, to say that not many people take the Power Rangers seriously would be a big understatement.

To be fair, the Power Rangers phenomenon is - for the most part - pretty specific to a certain group of people who were kids at a certain time in a few certain places.

But that realization only added to the certainty that I was on the right mental track in trying to come to terms with the problems I've had in dealing with all this conflict that's been going on around me.

You see, I love the Power Rangers.

I really do.

And I don't care who on the internet or in the world beyond the internet knows it.

"PTERODACTYL!"

So, this is usually the part of a blog like this where someone says something like:  "If you're the kind of person who just can't accept an adult loving the Power Rangers, then GTFO."  

That, of course, would defeat the purpose of what I'm trying to say.

Instead, I'll ask you to stick around and hear me out on this.  I'll ask you to listen.  The fact that many will see mine as an untenable position here isn't the point.  The point is that I'm reaching out and asking, with sincerity, that you read this and think about what I'm saying.  Is it fantasy to hope some people might stick around and keep reading?  Maybe.  But I try to believe there's still a little magic in my world.

But it isn't the kind of magic that creates sparkles and light shows, of course.  It's the kind of magic that comes from having self-confidence.  You see, if the rest of the world doesn't agree with me about loving the Power Rangers, that's OK.  They don't have to agree with me.  They can stand at the top of the tallest building in the world and shout that I'm the worst human being alive.  And they can do it with the knowledge that I'll still love the Power Rangers before they start that ascent and after they come back down the elevator to the ground floor.

It doesn't matter how much they try to shout me down, because I know I'm right.  I know my own mind.  And, for me, that's enough.  And it makes me truly happy to have that confidence.

But it's not enough to keep some people happy.

For some people, happiness can only seem to be achieved if there is an accord - one that is universal, and generally achieved by force.  The chief villain of the original series, Rita Repulsa, shown just above, was one such type of character.

It's not my way - but for some, it is theirs.

And they don't often come alone.

Despotic folks are often legion.  They're often just as dedicated in the name of their quest for exclusion and supremacy as human beings can get.

And they attract others by appealing to their worst characteristics.  And it works.

And these despotic people can amass armies - even if they have to create them from a mold, out of next-to-nothing.

But Dee, I hear some people saying, isn't loving the Power Rangers just your opinion?  And isn't it OK for people to have different opinions, and come together to mutually agree about those opinions?  Isn't that what makes communities?  People sharing their common beliefs and common interests and common values?

And my answer is, of course people in the same group often share the same beliefs, often come together because of those beliefs.

But here's where it starts to become a problem: the moment people decide that their beliefs and their interests and their values supercede everyone else's, to the point that they start to declare that their whole world - the whole world - must not only accommodate their opinions, but also accommodate their actions ... and accommodate their demands as they rain them down upon the world from what they consider their vaunted, elevated position.

And you know what that is?  That's called villainy.

And not just villainy - it's super-villainy.

And it's not just super-villainy - it's cartoon super-villainy.

And that's why - when I see people being so despotic in the real world - I feel sad for them, even as they try to draw me into some kind of rageful response.  I refuse to buy in to that kind of thinking, no matter how ... repulsive ... their behavior can become.

And that's because I still acknowledge their value as human beings, even if they don't acknowledge mine.  It's because I fight for their freedoms, even though they don't want to accept my existence.  I keep my doors open, even as they work feverishly to slam theirs shut in my face and remind me of how far outside those doors I am in their eyes.

And you know how I can do this?  I can do this because I have a power that they lack - a power that may seem unfathomable to them, but which comes as second nature to me as breathing.  It's a power that glows with warmth inside of me, and makes me infinitely stronger than them.

It's a power called empathy.

And it brings light to my whole world, and protects me.

You might say that my empathy is my armor.

Empathy helps me to understand that even the worst-behaved people out there are human.  As I said before, I'm not interested in attacking any specific people with harsh words or judgments.  I'm trying to keep this more general - because I have empathy. 

I don't want to antagonize others - because I have empathy for their feelings.  I don't want them to feel like they have to conform to my viewpoints over their own - because I have empathy for their views.

I also think they should respect differences of opinions, even as I know that they surely won't.  I know that some people don't want to be inclusive.  They want only to be exclusive, to have the biggest and best clubhouse in the galaxy where they may look from an authoritative position on the world.

That makes me sad - but it doesn't make me hate them, because I also know that they're people dealing with their own lives, their own issues, their own dramas.

And, heck - I'm autistic.  I'm not even supposed to have much empathy.  And yet, I have more than the many out there who have no regard for anyone who isn't like themselves.  

But my empathy doesn't just shield me.  It strengthens me by giving me the skills I need to deal with a world full of people that are sometimes hostile, sometimes cruel.

I think this is also a part of the reason why the Power Rangers resonated with many children and some adults.  

Most children have very little power in the world, and know how powerless they are in the living of their day-to-day lives.  Some adults who are disenfranchised by the social and cultural norms of modern society often feel the same sense of powerlessness.

Who, in that position, wouldn't want to be chosen by some mysterious force and given strength they can only pretend to have?  Who, young or old, lives in that condition of helplessness and doesn't dream of being so empowered?

And my empathy empowers me in other ways, too.  

Empathy can also be a very powerful weapon.

Great care, however, must be taken in how it is used.

Those words are from the second verse, less-often heard, of the Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers theme song.  And they sum up the nature of empathy as a weapon.  It's not meant to attack others, but rather to be a tool of self-defense, to help someone who has the power of empathy to see the other side of an argument, to understand the perspective, to recognize our shared humanity and to act accordingly, to never forget there's a human face behind online identities and to never forget there are real feelings being hurt when insults are thrown around in a digital space.

What this empathy does in its capacity as a weapon is guide my hand to make the most effective use of my strength to strike not at my opponents themselves but at the weaknesses in poor arguments and bad ideas, avoiding hurtful nastiness or vicious degradation of others.

How much energy do people waste slinging rage back and forth against each other in the real world?  Just imagine how effective we could be toward furthering our ideals in the world if our empathy kept our efforts guided not against those with whom we disagree but the bad logic that divides and repels us all from each other?  We could be constantly moving forward.

But, of course, the real world is more complex than the fictional of the Rangers.  And the real world requires more thoughtful solutions than well-applied martial arts or well-aimed laser pistols.  And that's also the appeal of the Rangers to me, the way that the show is set in a world where the problems are so big and broad that the people and creatures in it are truly who and what they are, free from duplicity for the most part - barring the occasional double-agent or spy.

As an autistic person, I find the human capacity of many people to be everything except who and what they really are to be deeply troubling and deeply upsetting.  It saddens me when I see people existing in a personal space that's not their own.  I usually assume that they're simply too afraid to be who they are, simply too intimidated to let themselves be a real person or have real thoughts or real ideas out in the public sector.  

That's a big part of why I write this blog - to force myself to put my own thoughts and ideas out there and to rally exist as I write each word as the person I truly am.  It's vital to me to be the kind of heroic presence in this world that stands for exactly what I stand for and make no duplicitous attempts at representing myself as anything other than who I really think I am.  That others don't see me that way, - that others refuse to even acknowledge that my struggles are real - well, that's their own intellectual toxicity at work, in my opinion.

I don't think of myself in terms created by others.  I think of myself in terms created by me.  And they can't shout me down - because I'm not engaging in a shouting match with them.  I'm living my own life, being my own person, engaging in my own variety of what I consider to be a proper life.  

And I'm OK with knowing you may disagree.  In fact, there's a part of me that hopes that the people who read this blog are sometimes the people who disagree with me.  I wish they would engage me and try to learn from me, and I from them.  I wish we could bridge the gap between our viewpoints and find common ground, could accommodate each other's views of the world.

But I didn't always feel this way.  In fact, before I created this blog I was experiencing a tremendous reluctance to put myself out there.  You see, I had just revealed myself to my online friends as a transgendered person.  I felt it was unfair for me to be deceptive by omission, and I treasure honesty in others - so I felt I must demand it in myself first and foremost.  I felt any other path would be hypocritical, even as I worried I would have to face innumerable enemies and fight an impossible battle once I revealed who and what I am to the world.

And this is where, even years ago, the seeds of this blog - and even this particular article - started to bloom ... because I started to think of my favorite heroes, and began to consider how they would deal with a situation was difficult and challenging and put them in personal risk.

And that's when I thought about one particular Power Ranger.

I thought of Kimberly Ann Hart.

Kimberly was the first Pink Ranger in the original Mighty Morphin Power Rangers series.  And she was - and is - my favorite Power Ranger who has ever donned one of the Power Rangers uniforms and taken a ride on a Zord.  

She was my favorite for a variety of reasons.

I loved that she was a gymnast in her civilian identity.  As anyone who reads this blog knows, I love gymnasts and wanted to be a professional gymnast at one point in my childhood - but that's another article. Put simply, I adored - and, yes, envied - the grace in the way she moved.  As a relatively clumsy kid, I strove to change that part of myself. 

I loved the fact that she piloted a Zord that could fly.  Flying scared me - and still does, to this day.  So, of course, it makes sense that I'd have a hero with a habit of flying everywhere, wouldn't it?  That's how I roll.

Her Zord was also gorgeous.

I mean, look at this thing.

What's that?  It's just a toy model, you say?

Yeah, I know.

And I don't care.  Piloting a giant robot crane is still awesome.

Likewise, Kimberly had one of my favorite Power Ranger weapons: a laser bow.

I loved the look and design of it ...

... and I fully admit that I still get goosebumps upon seeing all the glowing pink energy effects, cheap as they are.  

But none of these things in and of themselves are what make Kimberly truly awesome.

Rather, it's the role she fills in the team.

Kimberly is, in my opinion, the personification of the spirit of teamwork within the core original Power Rangers group.

And this brings me back to the idea of teamwork that began this piece.

You see, Kimberly wasn't originally all that keen on becoming a Power Ranger.  At first, she outright rejects Zordon's request that she become one.  She doesn't seem to think she's up to the responsibility and the burden of the task of saving the entire world.  She thinks less of herself than that.  

And she's wrong in doing so.  She's wrong in doubting herself.

But her self-doubt is understandable - and in some ways, it's even justified.  What one individual would ever think they could stand up to an alien armada?  The short answer is - she couldn't.

But she wasn't thinking about a core element of the situation - that she wasn't alone.

And that's how I found that I had to think of my own decision to take on a particular burden in my own life.

Kimberly probably couldn't have stopped the alien invasion on her own.  Even Zordon remarks that this is the case in the first few episodes of the show, commenting that it is only with the combined powers of the entire group of Rangers that success is possible.

But together, the Rangers can unite their abilities.  They can combine their prehistoric vehicles into an incredible giant robot that can defend Earth in a capacity far greater than they might have individually.

And this tradition of teamwork - of uniting together to create a force far greater than any one individual could achieve toward a noble cause.

It's a defensive cause, one that has nothing to do with despotism and everything to do with protecting the innocent.

This element of the show has been a hallmark of the series in every single inception, over the course of every version of the series from the original to the present day.  

But fantastic robots and prehistoric animal vehicles are less important than the aforementioned teamwork, to me - and the plethora of shows that tried to copy the formula of the Power Rangers and failed to do so always missed the mark that it was the chemistry of the performers and their sincere handling of the material that made the absurd premise work.  

And chief, to my way of thinking, in making this work was Amy Jo Johnson.  I've included a link there to her webpage.  Buy her CD.  She's a very talented actor AND singer.  Tell her so on her Twitter page, while you're at it.  

You see, if you go back to the original series, it was Kimberly - mostly through Ashley's performance - that kept the team together during its darkest moments.  Now, I'm not talking about any kind of stereotypical maternal element, though that trope does rear its head in the show.  I'm talking about something more than that: a manifestation of the spirit of teamwork, of bringing disparate elements together with positivity and hope ... and the crane-like grace necessary to navigate not just physical battlefields, but emotional ones as well.

You see, one of Ria's chief weapons throughout the series was manipulation - setting the energies of the Rangers against one another through deceit and treachery.  Remember when I talked about the tactics of despots a moment ago?  These are two of the chief weapons of despots, utilized through the power of misinformation and the fomentation of dissent amongst allies.

And, of course, Kimberly wasn't immune to these problems ... and there are episode-specific spoilers to follow.

There was the episode where she was transformed into a punk rocker, for one.  

But, for the most part, Kimberly was the emotional center of the team, and because of that was the most appealing to me - because her power wasn't just dependent on her martial arts skill or her capacity to do damage.  

Rather, hers was a strength neither Rita nor any of the other innumerable villains in the series had a hope of defeating - Kimberly's intelligence, emotional strength and capacity to work with others. 

You see, for an autistic person like myself, teamwork can be a real challenge.  So, of course, I aspire to be more like Kimberly - someone who always tries to find the best in everyone, even those who have been at one time or another at their worst.

You see, this picture directly above?  That's Rita - after she becomes the Mystic Mother and dedicates herself to helping others throughout the universe.  Sure - it took years and years for this to happen, but it happened ... and it wouldn't have happened without all various teams of Rangers working together to put Rita into a position where she could be changed.

Now, of course, the Rangers' plots are - as I've said - writ-large, silly and overdone and ridiculous.  But I don't care about that.  I get something more out of it, in all its myriad incarnations ... because I see the ultimate message of the series as one of universal teamwork - that we have to remember that there may come a day when our worst enemy is someone upon whom we will have to depend.

And that spirit is best represented by Kimberly, in my opinion - from the symbolism of her crane rising from the fire of volcanic lava to the quiet moments when she reaffirms the value of her friends to herself and to each other.

Kimberly's dedication to the other characters seems real and genuine, even in fantastic situations.  It's a real world virtue represented in overwrought circumstances, but it's one that bears remembering - in my opinion, at least.  It's a virtue that's easy to forget in our zeal to be right, to win, to always come out on top.

Power Rangers teaches kids that they don't have to always win - but rather have to try their hardest.  

Kimberly reminds us that the bonds of friendship are stronger than any mechanical dinosaurs.

And so I decided to be like Kimberly - to take a burden I was reluctant to wear, because I recognized the need and recognized that there are other people aside from myself out there who need help ... and that I have the skill and strength and power to help them.

I can't do it alone, but here's the amazing thing:  in coming out as trans, I found out that I wasn't alone after all.  Just like Kimberly, I discovered that there were people out there who had my back, and who would stand up for the same virtues in which I believed and continue to believe against those who try to oppress me or anyone else.

Really, I discovered that I was not only not alone - but that there was a world of people out there like me who welcomed me both to the family and to the fight that is part of the burden of being trans, part of a sisterhood of transgendered women who all stand for what'a right against the monolithic thinking of a select few who want to tear us down ... or, in some cases, apart.  But, as I said, we have each other's backs, so that's not going to happen.

Just like the Power Rangers face foe after foe, we too must stand in defense of the general public against forces that want to decide for everyone else what's best to do and to think.  We don't believe in deciding for others how they feel.  We do strive to assure that everyone has the freedom to live and the freedom of self-determination and the freedom not to be pigeonholed into absolutist thinking that demands obedience above individual expression, conformity over originality, mundanity over unique expression.  

Just like Kimberly, I try to find the good in everyone - even the people who speak out in harsh criticism of me.  I don't hate them.  I only feel sad for them, just as I feel sad for anyone who would rather behave in a monstrous fashion than accommodate human variety.  

It's a fight that takes many shapes, but there are many of us, too - all different, all unique despite sharing some common traits.

And that common trait is that aforementioned empathy.  We recognize each other's suffering and we understand that we share human experiences, even if we don't share exact histories.  

The exact details aren't important, though.

We know that we must reach out to defend not just the people on our team, too, but everyone who's experiencing suffering in this world, whether we know what it's like to walk in their shoes or not.

You see, I don't need someone else to have lived my life for me to want to protect and defend them.  That's not the point of being a soldier for change in society.  Anything less starts to become kind of a self-congratulatory club rather than a team of people working together to change the world.  If you're only protecting people who are like you - if you're only defending people who are the same as you ... you'll not only miss out on making the world a better place than you could be, but you could also miss out on so much more ... like making new friends or discovering new experiences you hadn't even thought about in the limitations we all face in living our one small life in so vast a world.

Can you imagine someone willfully working to avoid ever experiencing anything new?  Because, to me, that would be a tragedy.  Me - I see the dents and abrasions of what I experience in life not as scars from wounds but as characteristics of a beautiful kind of imperfection that make me unique, not quite so obvious, not quite so cookie-cutter, not quite so assembly-line as a human being.  Who wouldn't want that?  Who wouldn't want to wear little flaws with pride, knowing that those flaws show I've been a warrior all along?  So I wear my flawed symbols, and I wear them with confidence.  

I like it when people stand out, even when they're using familiar symbols.

And, yes, it's true - standing out makes a person a target ... and that's another reason we must all have so much empathy, why we must train ourselves to see as best we can from the viewpoint of others' lives and understand that their experiences and ours may be different - but that for the most part we want the same things as humans.  We want safety for the people about whom we care.  We want protection from those who try to harm us.  We want enough resources to live.  

And, if we're fortunate enough to have been truly moved by the lives of others, we want to share our good times with people we truly love ... 

... whatever their stripes, or colors, or histories, or lines, or marks, or groupings, or identity.

And yes, our enemies change shape, too - reappear and disappear, grow and shrink - day-in, day-out - and the cycle of their violence is, indeed, a continuing drama like the season-long wars the Power Rangers face.  We meet old foes again, think we've lost people who return to us, face heartache and tribulation and betrayal and discovery and hope.  

But whatever the given day brings, we keep fighting - as we must - because we've come out as trans. We've taken on the burden of being public about who we are so that others don't have to fight those battles quite so hard.  

And we fight because we must do so to survive.  We take aim not at people who perpetuate injustice against us but at the injustices themselves.  We direct our energies with empathy so that we focus on where our power can do the most good, where it can be the most precise, where the maximum power of our efforts can best help stop oppression and outright evil.  

We must take aim at that which is evil and have empathy for the perpetrator, all at the same time.  To do this,  we have no choice but to give of ourselves when others try to take from us.  We must give and in so giving we must show that our hearts can bear the weight of their constant abuse without resorting to the tactics they use against us.  We must use our intellectual and emotional weapons only for defense.

We must be courageous when we are threatened, and we will be threatened.  We must gird ourselves with our emotional and intellectual armor.  We must stand together - and we must reach out and defend others who might not be part of our fight.  We must protect everyone - not just the people we most like.  A woman who is an enemy to other women is still a woman, and must not have her own agency taken from her.  We might not like what she has to say, but we have to fight for her right to say it.

We must remain ever-vigilant, and move through the world with measured strength and care.

We must be welcoming of others.

We must listen ...

... even when our instincts tell us we shouldn't.

We must be fair.

We must view the world in a way that is just.

We must stand firm for our values and beliefs.

We will be decried, yes, and we must be prepared for this.

We will be doubted.

We will be wounded.

And when we're wounded, we have to reach out to the human empathy of our tormentors even as we vehemently oppose their actions.  We need to remind them that we're human without aggressing against them, because they are human too.  We must try to reach out so that we can specifically reach into their hearts, to their humanity.

It will never be easy.

But we must always remember, no matter how much we hurt, to balance our warrior spirit with our compassion and humanity.

But most of all, we need to keep our imaginations fresh and alive.

Without imagination, the sorrows of life can seem insurmountable because we can't imagine any other way.

Without imagination, we can't imagine a world with hope for the future.  And without hope, we can never take flight as we were born to fly.