This hurts my fandom heart.
When MMPR first aired, I was too old to be the target audience, but not so old as to avoid developing ridiculous crushes on characters. The gateway drug to my first commited fandom.
I wrote mediocre self-insert fanfic (Tommy and Kimberly’s child from the future, naturally) that was gently and patiently edited by a shipper writer whose work I so desperately admired. I can’t remember the lady’s name, but she forever taught me how to treat fans younger than myself, and that kindness matters more than critiques.
For a long time, if you Googled my name, on the first page of results, it would pop up with a Power Rangers link. No, I wasn’t a Big Name Fan, but I was pals with them and we got up to some hijinks.
My family bought me a stuffed white tiger toy for christmas. Not a White Tiger in the sense of the character that JDF played. The four-legged, furry kind, but the reference was intentional. The stuffed tiger still sleeps on my bed, 20+ years later, because pieces of fandom stay with you, long after that burning passion for it has faded.
Browsing through the clock app, IG, and Tumblr, trying to figure out why this one hurts so much, I’ve read other people’s stories. About being kids in the school yard, trying to ninja-kick each other. About conventions and prized photos with sprawling green-inked signatures. Distant memories of a 90s childhood through to grief-laden loss over a man they had spoken to on the phone not a few weeks ago.
I still haven’t figured out why I’m continuing to tear up. Why it’s hitting in a way that other para-social/fan losses haven’t.
But there is comfort in knowing I’m not alone.