Ten minutes into wandering the main floor of the first anime convention I’ve ever attended, a voice barked out loudly for all in the immediate vicinity to hear:
“Hentai, get your hentai, hentai here,” delivered with the moxie of a hot dog vendor at Wrigley Field forty minutes away from the Donald E. Stephens Convention Center, where this man was peddling porn in front of a rainbow-colored flag labelled “yaoi.”
So here I am, I thought, in the heart of soft power.