Steven Universe — Child of Trauma
Warning: Spoilers for Steven Universe and Steven Universe Future
“How do I live life if it always feels like I’m about to die?”
With this one sentence, the world of Steven Universe, and Steven Universe himself, was changed forever. With this one sentence, Rebecca Sugar and the Crewniverse confirmed something many of us already knew: beneath the colorful, sweet, fluffy exterior of a boy with magical powers, is actually a story about a boy with trauma and learning to cope with it.
Steven Universe has never shied away from tricky themes before (consent, mental health, queer representation, etc.) but never have they been so direct as they were in the most recent episode of Steven Universe Future — Growing Pains. In this episode, we find Steven at the lowest he’s been in the entire run of the show. Everyone he knows is either leaving or living lives without him and, even though he’s happy for them, he feels a deep emptiness inside. An emptiness that’s only exacerbated by a botched marriage proposal he gave to his best friend (and partner?) Connie. She turned him down because, well, she’s fourteen and he’s sixteen. Neither of them are anywhere near ready for that step. But only she realized that. Steven is spiraling too hard to notice until it’s too late.
This brings us to the events of Growing Pains, one that hits too close to home for anyone who’s ever dealt with childhood trauma (certainly did for me). His powers act up in response to the stress he’s under, forcing his body into painful swelling and distortions, pushing Connie to convince him to see Dr. Priyanka Maheswaran (her mother) who runs all types of tests on him to determine what’s wrong. Towards the end of the examination she says a word I only dreamt they’d use in this show, a word that most children who go through it don’t realize it’s true until someone points it out to them: trauma. No workaround. No fluff. The actual word. Trauma.
She points out to Steven that he recovered physically but he never got help mentally. The way he’s lived his life (always being in some form of danger from a young age) has trained his body to react to every problem around him like it’s the end of the world. Stress is literally killing him. But the gravity of it doesn’t quite hit Steven until she asks him about his history. And he does something many children of trauma does. He fucking unloads.
It was hard to hold back tears as he just spoke about each horrific experience he’s been through. The way he started speaking about it in such a nonchalant manner only for it to start falling out of his mouth with the speed and urgency of an ambulance barreling down the road was what hit the most. He needs to talk about it. He just didn’t believe it. Until now.
I understand this pain. I understand living life like any moment could be the last. I understand feeling like a burden to other people if I can’t give them something in return for my companionship. Relationships were transactional. That’s what trauma does to you.
Rebecca and company have shown me they understand too. The show does something beyond vital with this representation because it puts into words the pain of growing up with trauma, something that feels too heavy to even attempt understanding.
Not only is this great storytelling, it is also bold and important storytelling. I’d argue this moment in the show is the most important one as of now. Sure, the reveal of Pink Diamond was game-changing from a plot perspective. One that filled in many of the missing pieces from the shows history. But this moment with Steven, a moment where he finally admits he’s been through trauma and needs help, forces the audience to view the series through a different lens. Tell me this: can you seriously go back to the pilot and fully enjoy his Cookie Cat rap without thinking about where it leads him? Can you enjoy the silliness of him wanting to see a giant woman without thinking about the nightmares he’ll have later on in the series? Everything is different now. We can’t ignore that.
This show is phenomenal with it’s representation (Lord knows, as a queer person myself, I adore all of the queerness this show puts forward) but this moment meant more to me than anything else it’s done. For the first time, I had a character who knew what it felt like to wake up from stress-induced nightmares, all the while not realizing how far back they go. Someone who knows what it’s like to feel like they’re going to die even when they aren’t. Someone who also makes bad decisions because of these feelings but doesn’t get demonized or glorified for them.
Something that excites me a lot about this is knowing there’s a way to describe trauma to people who have never been through it. When I deal with people who make light of my trauma because they don’t understand it, I have something to turn their attention to. I can tell them, “this is what that feels like” and hopefully make someone a little wiser. Better yet is the knowledge there are kids out there who finally have someone to relate to. Kids who have been (or continue going) through trauma now have someone telling them “nothing’s wrong with you, what you’re feeling is real, what you’re feeling is hard, but you aren’t alone”.
I can’t help but think about the above question Steven asked his father. A question so big it’s hard to believe there’s only six episodes left to answer it. There’s a part of me that’s skeptical they’ll find an answer to something I’ve been trying to answer most of my life, but then again, this show surprises me at every turn. Whatever answer they come up with, I know it’ll be in the good-nature of the show and one that promises hope. Another word children of trauma don’t hear very often.
Steven Universe brought me so much joy over the years and was there to help me through some really rough periods. Even though I’m sad it’s ending, I’m happy it’s ending with an incredibly important story. Steven and company will be deeply missed for sure.
And here’s a shout out to my fellow peers with childhood trauma! We’ve been seen. We are important. We are represented.