How Breath of the Wild’s Zelda helped me process my bisexuality

As for The Legend of Zelda franchise, the Princess of Hyrule has a specific role in life that she has to play. Not only does she embody the goddess of wisdom, but she is also royal, and she is expected to be smart, ready and traditionally feminine. Rarely does she want something else for herself. But in The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, Zelda struggles with the role in which she was born. Because the world is unable to unlock her inner sealing power and meet her father’s high expectations, the world seems to be turning against her. Despite this pressure, she finds a sanctuary in her chosen family and her inner strength. That’s why I like her as a bisexual woman. She helped me see my own worth and worth.

In the old games, Zelda was more like your stereotypical princess. Usually you would have dressed her up until nine in Hyrule Castle or trapped in a dungeon. In Breath of nature, Zelda is often out in the field, looking out over a frog or a rare flower. As someone who likes to talk incessantly about some baffling video game or provocative book, I totally understand it. I like to share my passions with friends and the world at large. Whether she is learning about the local flora and fauna or the old guardians, knowledge is the thing that drives her and fills her with meaning. The more excited she gets about a new discovery, the faster she talks. But Zelda does not always feel comfortable expressing her authentic self.

Breath of nature contains a heartbreaking scene in which the king of Hyrule confronts and deceives his daughter. He digs her into what the gossipers say about her, how she wastes her time studying the guardians, and so on. In her father’s eyes, her true identity matters little. According to him, she has a role to play and she is absolutely messy about it. While Zelda balls her hands in her fists out of frustration, it’s like a scene from my own life. Her anger is almost palpable. This is something I can connect with deeply. There is nothing more disappointing than being chastised for not living up to expectations or fulfilling a role that someone else wants you to play, especially when it comes from a loved one.

Like Zelda, I was expected to be someone I am not. When I was a kid, I loved video games because it expanded my imagination and calmed my anxious mood. However, they were considered and dismissed by my peers and family as a “boy affair”. In my early twenties, I had to get out of the closet during a car ride. My family members told me that I should go to church because I was dating a woman, as if the divine intervention could restore me in some way. When I was a little older, I was advised to hide my bisexuality from the man I saw. For many years I could not handle the pain. I crumbled like a slenderly built sandcastle under the weight of these expectations. Nothing deprives you of your autonomy, as if you do not have a voice.

My loved ones believed that bisexuality was not a real thing. They could not turn their heads over the fact that a person may be attracted to men and women. They could only see the world in black and white terms. The setback I received was cruel, unjust and unfounded. But I learned a lot from it. I realized that I could not live my life according to someone else’s plan. Up to that point, I was trying to be the perfect daughter and girlfriend. But the box that others put in me got smaller with each passing day. To lead a more authentic life, I had to ask my friends for help.

Zelda is unable to meet her father’s expectations (a crazy thing to do). They are her chosen family and accept her for who she is. They promote a safe space where she can express herself freely, whether she’s sleeping on Urbosa’s shoulder or sobbing in Link’s arms. It is so important to have a strong support network, especially if you are dealing with attitudes of loved ones. Everyone deserves to feel loved and empowered. Zelda’s champions made me think about my own chosen family and how they lifted me up during a very dark time in my life.

At university, my relationship with my real family was strained. I could not talk to them about my sexuality without getting a million questions. Everything seemed gloomy and hopeless; I felt like I was drowning. But my friends, a group of wonderful fit with open minds and hearts, regularly took me for car rides in our hometown. They allowed me to express my worries and fears as they hissed up and down the busy highway that cut like an arrow through our city. It was cathartic. The gratitude I still have for them is great and immeasurable. They were beacons of hope and light during those difficult times. They helped me find my own strength when I was at my lowest.

Zelda also finds her own strength when she is at her lowest point. In one of the last series, a multitude of aggressive guardians include her and a weakened Link. When she raised her hand to stop a guardian from killing Link, her sealing power waved out of her in the form of a bright yellow light. After the light disappears, some Sheikah guards approach her and Link. The power in Zelda’s voice is unmistakable, as she gives the guards clear instructions to hasten an inappropriate link to the sanctuary of the resurrection. Despite everything she went through, she went on. While Link is praised for his physical prowess on the battlefield, I have always believed that the true hero of Hyrule was Zelda. She takes control of her fate and finds her inner voice.

I found my voice too. When I reached out to my husband in my thirties, I was petrified. I actually wrote a screenplay for myself because I was worried I would choke my own words. Even though he’s one of the nicest people I know, I was still afraid he would reject me. My anxiety probably stems from the earlier traumatic experiences. Fortunately, he was perfectly fine with it. He was just sad that I missed the Pride month for a few weeks because he wanted to celebrate it with me. He’s a good life partner, and I’m so happy to have him in my corner. It took me a long time to get to this point in life, but I’m so glad I did.

Zelda taught me a lot to find my inner strength. Giving up on myself was just not an option. Zelda had to overcome her father’s doubts and find her voice. I had to overcome the ingrained boasting of the people I loved. I am not defined by those experiences, but I am definitely shaped by them. It’s not just about finding your inner strength, but also about realizing that people can be wrong. No one can decide what role you are meant for. I am valid and deserve love and respect, and no one can take it away.