talk to me about the theme of emotional isolation for zuko and aang
It's the main reason I'm obsessed with the show tbh.
Can we overstate Aang's isolation within the show. He's not only a survivor--a sole survivor--of a genocide, he's also knocked out of time and history. These are the facts of his physical isolation. But his emotional isolation is such a different beast. It began before any deaths did. He is set apart by the monks and by the whole world as a savior. Shortly after his status as the avatar is made known, his peers exclude him, his power too great. His humanity is denied because he's too divine. Only Gyatso seems to still regard him for who he is rather than his gifts. Of course, that's why the council decides Aang needs to be further separated from worldly relations like that, and vote to send him off. For Aang, it's the last straw. He can't bear further exile from others. To regain some sense of control, he tries to run away from the heavy burden and those who have put it on him. At least this time, he's the one choosing his loneliness. It has become so clear that no one can understand his feelings about the Avatar State.
This is the emotional state he enters the series with, icon rather than human. He starts off concealing his revered identity in an attempt to indulge in simple pleasures, penguin sledding, coy fish riding, etc. But the shame is secretly right there at the surface. He's lovable but mercurial. Friendly and animated with everyone when he first meets them but in a way that's fleeting. The knowledge that he will have to leave the village, in an episodic fashion, having helped the members of the town, even having sacrificed himself for their well-being, is an understood fact of the plot and his life. At most he sheds some of his grief by putting it into words with Katara's encouragement. But despite the whole world fighting through their own grief from the fire nation and Katara's sole-survival of her own culture's genocide, they each have people in their families and cultures who, however bitterly, hold them and hold the broken memories together with one another. No one is as physically isolated as Aang, but, more importantly for his character development, no one is as isolated by their significance to the world.
No one, except Zuko. Zuko, the banished prince. Isn't that what Aang as the Avatar is in many ways: a spiritual prince, an heir by birth to power and legacy, who has been banished from his inheritance. Only, Aang's inheritance would be peace. Zuko's would be the Fire Nation, but because of his humanity, Zuko, like Aang, is without a nation. This is one reason Zuko and Aang are such incredible narrative foils. Aang is rejected from humanity's compassion because of his divine status while Zuko is rejected from divine rule because of his human compassion and failures to demonstrate perfection. (If you're interested in this dynamic in media, Fruits Basket has fantastic explorations of these themes with Kyo vs. Yuki and Tohru vs. Akito.)
How early did Zuko start to notice the disappointment he brought to his father and grandfather? As early as we can see, Zuko seems alone. The episode with that phrase in the title reflects back on his childhood, which, noticeably, lacks the friends Azula manages to keep. He mimics and mocks her cruelty, as well, in an attempt to impress his mother. His insecurity seems already set, a sense that no one can understand. While Aang recognizes that everyone thinks he's too good to belong, Zuko lives in an environment in which he's not good enough to belong.
The reactions to their rejections correspond, too. Zuko's reaction of antagonistic pursuit of anyone and everyone--like Aang's reaction to run away (literally and sometimes emotionally with a smile or joke)--helps keep others in a framework of enemies so he can control his exile rather than the other way around. Yet these behaviors put them in dynamic relation to one another--Zuko is drawn to the endless pursuit of the strangely kind Aang, whose instinct is to behold others while remaining untouchable, while Aang becomes clearly intrigued by the person who refuses to treat him like an untouchable hero, the person who refuses to give up on the possibility that the Avatar can be flawed and fail, no matter how many times he slips away proving his divine destiny.
It's obvious that Zuko is supposed to hate Aang, as the Avatar. "The Headband" illustrates how education in the Fire Nation portrays him if the fact that Zuko's only possibility for regaining his title under his father is bringing the Avatar back isn't enough evidence for you. But Aang ought to hate Zuko just as much, if not more. Instead, they are drawn toward one another with an remarkable intensity, established within the first half of the first season, "The Storm" x "Blue Spirit" combo punch! In fact, the blue spirit episode really reveals what they can mean to each other. Not only in Aang's question at the end that invites Zuko back into the past with him, but in the way that Zuko is made to be the divine entity for a brief period while Aang is helpless in the fort. Then, that question at the end: "Do you think we could have been friends?" Isn't that the opposite of the isolation they feel. In the woods, without a nation or an allegiance, Aang, remembering the people and time that he was forced to leave asks Zuko, who has just betrayed the people who banished him, in another version of life where they were both simple people rather heirs of vast power, if they could have formed a kind of union that would have dissolved the loneliness that consumes both of them. But it's momentary and they have to return to the world that defines them as the Avatar and the Banished Fire Prince.
This becomes one of the cores of the show, as echoed in the finale, where Zuko and Aang consummate their friendship, but by then, through traveling the winding road toward one another and aiming to take on a part of what the other person represents, they have found a balance that refused the binaries of divinity and fallibility that had previously separated and defined their lives, binaries that exiled them from connecting with others, binaries that built towers to isolate them from the world. The victims and survivors of genocide, the subjects of colonial violence, nor the sufferers of abuse need be pure to claim their pain, nor must the people who want and work towards justice be saints to do that work. Harder for many audience members to absorb, despite their love for Zuko who's arc is meant to emphasize the point, there is a spark of divinity in everyone, from the most unloved to the most violent and tyrannical. This second fact must exist alongside the first, or else the premise won't hold. How you choose to act and engage with that spark of divinity is a human choice we each make on our own, but that does not deny it's existence. The divine ideals must be allowed to fall apart into comedy and tragedy, while the mundane, the profane, and the cruels horrors of life must be allowed to be seen as something that hold the possibility to become beautiful and part of a grander design. The Avatar must be allowed to be Aang and Zuko must be allowed to be the Firelord so that we can have Avatar Aang (the last title of the series) and Firelord Zuko (the most celebrated character arc of the series). They need one another to assuage the fear, isolation, and dread that black-and-white perfectionist thinking boxes us into.
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