All The Ways Kim Possible Made Me Feel That My Dreams Are, Well, Possible
How the show’s queer undertones and ass-kicking helped me understand, and accept, myself.
Kim Possible has been one of the biggest parts of my life for the majority of it. In 2002, when it first aired, I was nearly eight years old and had an overactive imagination. I was a year older than most of the kids in my own class, because my mom had held me back an extra year in pre-school. That was isolating in and of itself, but I was always an outlier among other kids for many other reasons — including but not limited to the intense maturity I had developed at such an early age from dealing with constant abuse from my parents and constantly moving schools, homes, and states. I was also isolated at all times, in some sense, because I’m autistic. And even though I was unaware of it as a child, I was always a bit of a loner.
Other people didn’t understand me, and I couldn’t make heads or tails of them either. I desperately wanted to, but I gave up on it most of the time in favor of sitting alone in the classroom and reading about everything from Russian history to the Star Trek universe to my favorite book, The Hobbit.
Eventually at recess I made friends with two boys, Sascha and Khumo, who were slightly older than me and in the third grade. We all loved Kim Possible, and we wanted to be spies ourselves. They were the Ron and Wade to my Kim. After we got bored of playing football or with Bionicles, we eventually came up with a role-playing game where we would run around the large field and gated playground at our school and go on “missions” given to us by the “higher-ups.” I made up all of the details, and sometimes I was convinced it was all real.
Sascha and Khumo consistently helped me deal with intense conflicts with my friends Bebe and Ashley, who liked to gossip and who made me feel like I was bad at being a girl in the way that other girls were girls. Of course, I didn’t realize then what I know now — that I’m not a girl, I’m genderqueer and nonbinary. Unlike me, Sascha and Khumo were allowed to act in certain ways that boys were allowed to — talk a lot, be authoritative, take up more space than I was allowed without being reprimanded.
In Kim Possible, I found an example of someone who wasn’t a man who was also allowed to be those things and more.
Because I loved Kim and wanted to emulate her, one time, I even got sent to the principal’s office for climbing over the gate and escaping onto the street during recess because I was convinced that I had a mission to get to and school was in my way. (Honestly, still a huge mood to this day.) Another time, I literally brought a laser to school and burned off part of the fence to escape from recess before class started.
In Kim Possible, I found an example of someone who wasn’t a man who was also allowed to be those things and more.
Some of these persistent behaviors stemmed from being inspired by Kim Possible, of course. Her strength, resilience, and love of adventure made me feel seen, and like I could be just like her. But those desires for adventure weren’t the only feelings that Kim Possible instilled in me. Honestly, Kim Possible made me gay. After all, Kim and Ron are basically lesbians. Wade is trans. Shego is definitely gay. You can’t prove me wrong. But I digress.
Kim was always portrayed as strong: she’s communicative, independent, and knows way more than anyone else about saving the world from evil people at only 15. She’s also a kind, loyal friend, a dedicated student, and completely committed to justice and the greater good. In other spaces, teenage girls were fit into tight, rigid boxes and told the things they could be or do while still being digestible for people without being “too much.” But not only was Kim allowed to be everything she was and is, but she was written that way purposely. There were other strong and intense female and femme–presenting characters at the time who inspired me too, including Debbie Thornberry in The Wild Thornberries, Elle Woods in Legally Blonde, Mia Thermopolis in Princess Diaries, and Lilo and Nani from Lilo and Stitch. Like them, Kim was allowed to be complicated and messy and so much at once and still end up happy. It was all I truly wanted.
The other women and girls in the show were written the same way. Monique, voiced by Raven-Symoné, was Kim’s best friend besides Ron and a powerhouse in her own right. In the show, she and Kim had insightful, reflective conversations about life. Monique doesn’t take shit from anyone, stands up for Kim whenever needed — including to Ron when he puts Kim in danger or hurts her — and ultimately has a really good heart. On the other hand, Shego, an antihero, is never portrayed the way many other female villains of the ’90s and early aughts had been. She had a clear origin story, clear reasons for why she fought Kim, a more full character arc.
The relationship between Shego and Kim was also one of the first dynamics between two female characters that I ever saw on screen where the chemistry between them was palpable. While some have argued that it most certainly was sexual tension, I think it would be just as valid and important to acknowledge they might just really dislike each other. I don’t think it changes the significance of the fact that two girls were shown having any form of intimate relationship where they experience intense feelings for each other, even if that’s hatred.
Despite all the times I was called “a lot” or “too much” growing up, it was always portrayals like Kim Possible that made me feel like it’s okay to be exactly as much as I am without having to apologize or owing the world my failure or unhappiness.
But it wasn’t just that Shego, or even Kim and Shego’s dynamic, that made me gay — or, rather, filled me with a deep desire to have that intense of a connection with a girl — and reflected the strong feelings that I’d had towards girls in my own life before. Kim Possible filled me with hope that I could be an intense girl who wanted to do it all and could, because she was stronger than a world that wanted to keep her down. She could have loyal friends, enemies she was capable of reconciling with, and big dreams that she was never once shown to be incapable of achieving.
Despite all the times I was called “a lot” or “too much” growing up, it was always portrayals like Kim Possible that made me feel like it’s okay to be exactly as much as I am without having to apologize or owing the world my failure or unhappiness. As we head towards the 20th anniversary of this monumental cartoon, I can only reflect on one of the most important lessons Kim Possible taught me: that I not only can be all I am and find success, loyalty, and love, but that I deserve to.
