And looking back, if more children’s television had included queer characters, I may never have had to come out at all.īefore “Korra’s” watershed moment, queer representation in kids TV existed, but only subtextually. If it wasn’t for “Korra” and queer representation in other shows I was watching at the time I may not have grown comfortable enough with my sexuality to come out in 12th grade. But the finale made me feel less alone when I felt isolated from everyone around me. “The Legend of Korra” isn’t the reason I came out. Emotion at seeing myself represented in this world I cared so much about, and emotion at thinking of how a children’s show was including an explicitly queer relationship. So when the show’s final episode confirmed Korra and Asami’s relationship, I became overwhelmed with emotion seeing them hold each other’s hands and stare into each other’s eyes. “Korra” tackled mature issues like warfare and PTSD, but it was ultimately aimed at children, and it wasn’t going to include a lesbian couple, much less star one. The two had more chemistry than either did with Mako, and there were certain scenes between the women I thought might be hinting at something more, but dismissed as me reading into things.

And one of the highlights was the depiction of Korra and Asami’s friendship.

It was only during the third and fourth seasons, when Mako and Korra broke up, that “Korra” reached its full potential. The resulting drama was insipid and tedious, often coming across as something out of “One Tree Hill” rather than the epic fantasy of the original series. But the show had many issues, none worse than Korra’s love interest and insufferable prick Mako, who cheated on his girlfriend Asami with Korra. There were highlights for sure: the spectacular animation that made “The Last Airbender” a hit was better than ever, and I loved Korra as a protagonist. Still, the first two seasons of “Korra” often left me frustrated. Diving back in through “Korra” comforted me during my rocky high school experience. I had, and still have to this day, a strong emotional attachment to the imaginative, colorful universe of the series. I was 15 when the show ended, and secretly started watching three years earlier out of loyalty to its parent show “Avatar: The Last Airbender.” I bought the tie-in merch, went as Aang for Halloween and tried running away from home when my Dad wouldn’t let me watch a new episode.

It’s somewhat embarrassing to admit, but the only time I’ve ever cried watching a TV show was during the series finale of “The Legend of Korra.”

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