“Are you okay?”



I had a hard time writing this one, to be honest. I’ve started and stopped and deleted and restarted twice, and took an extra week to mull it all over and re(-re-re-)vise. Alone Together is the most important episode of Steven Universe when it comes to potential real-world impact, so I owe it a bit of extra thought.

Its complexity isn’t structural; far from it, the episode is easily broken down into six core sequences.

Steven attempts to learn fusion from the Gems. Steven talks with Connie about it and they dance. Stevonnie awakens and gets The Talk. Stevonnie goes on a run. Stevonnie meets Lars, Sadie, and Sour Cream, and has a moment of introspection in between. Kevin.

What’s more, the initial two sequences are pretty straightforward. The first reestablishes fusion as a concept and shows through words and visuals that Steven can’t do it: the size discrepancy alone distinguishes him from the Gems, and he’s absurdly out of sync with their movements.

The second reestablishes Connie as a compassionate friend (welcome back from Fusion Cuisine, by the way) who relates with Steven’s insecurities by sharing her own; the two come together in a dance that blends platonic and romantic affection (the sentiment is echoed by Aivi and Surasshu, who are outstanding in this episode). Steven gives Connie a twirl, but Connie provides the dip.

Once Stevonnie comes along, Alone Together gets complicated fast.

If it had stopped with the Gems’ initial reaction to Stevonnie, Alone Together still would’ve been a revolutionary episode. They’re the ones who first make it clear that in this episode, Stevonnie a metaphor for first relationships and sex. And if that’s not enough, we get the astounding suggestion that these things aren’t inherently bad!

It’s obviously a huge tightrope act to discuss sex on a show meant for kids, so it’s absolutely necessary for it to exist in subtext and as part of a larger story about relationships so as to not sexualize children (seriously, no thank you). But through metaphor, important lessons can be instilled without delving into details that would cross the line for this show and these characters.

Pearl represents a more conservative approach, deeming Steven’s fusion “inappropriate” and demanding they knock it off. We’ve seen her blush around exposing Steven to fusion in the past, and she’s the most traditional of the lot, so it’s no surprise that she takes on this role. But she notably isn’t portrayed as a prude: she and Garnet get the most sensual fusion practice moment in the opening sequence. Pearl just thinks there’s a time and a place for fusion and this isn’t it.

Garnet’s fusion-positive response is just magical. Her outright glee almost feels like a punchline to the no-nonsense appearance she’s steadily maintained to this point; as far as happy expressions go, all we’ve gotten is a wry grin or two until now.

Her version of The Talk is a simple affirmation: this is an experience, and with a little care, it can be a good experience. Estelle nails the barely-contained joy in Garnet’s voice during her speech, and when it’s over, Stevonnie is free to be on their own without the baggage of shame or disapproval.

(Amethyst doesn’t get too much to do, but she notably names Stevonnie and is chipper about the whole affair. I see you smirking in the margins up in that screenshot!)

We spend most of the episode seeing firsthand the giddiness, the confusion, the uncertainty of this new relationship. Stevonnie’s initial moments are those of happy bewilderment, with every awkward lurch rendered in vivid detail. At times they resemble an action figure with its limbs flipped wrong.



But after Garnet’s encouragement, we get the episode’s iconic twilight run, which is right up there with Stronger Than You as one of the show’s signature depictions of shared happiness (again, big thanks to Aivi and Surasshu, particularly Aivi Tran’s piano work). Stevonnie’s in total control of their body now, and it’s beautiful and powerful. Their only hint of hesitation comes when they reach the edge of a cliff, but soon they’re leaping right back into celebration mode.



To me, the most memorable part of this sequence is Stevonnie’s laughter at the end, and that’s thanks to the magnificent AJ Michalka. As part of singing duo Aly and AJ, Michalka’s no stranger to being half of a whole, and her immediate ability to capture Steven and Connie as distinct but non-gimmicky voices within Stevonnie is astounding. Hearing both of their voices in that musical laugh is the perfect coda to Stevonnie’s first lesson: that this is supposed to be a good thing, and when it’s just the two/one of them, it’s pretty easy!

It’s rare that Stevonnie is actually alone together after this. The donut sequence highlights them as an object of external desire, first to Lars and Sadie, and then to Sour Cream. For now, this isn’t portrayed as a bad thing: it nets them free donuts and an invite to a rave. That they attract male and female characters alike brings another level of queer normalization to an episode that takes as a given that Stevonnie is non-binary.

But the fulcrum of the sequence, and of the episode, is their solo conversation where they talk themself through another moment of hesitation after instinctively nabbing two donuts. Again, Michalka shines, now maintaining Stevonnie’s voice throughout instead of reverting to Steven or Connie: they both want to know if the other’s okay, and while the two are on the same page, it’s vital to check up on themself during this new experience. Seriously, half the fun of any Stevonnie appearance is AJ Michalka’s stellar work.

I wish I could say that Garnet’s speech and Stevonnie’s internal conversation were the only reasons Alone Together is the most important episode of the series, that the only lessons growing children need about sexuality and romantic relationships are positive messages of flexibility, love, and trust. But we need to talk about Kevin.

I’ve made clear that I’m no great fan of early Lars and Ronaldo, but Kevin’s the only character on the show that makes me physically ill. There’s an overwhelming plague of Kevins in the real world, and most of them lack the bombastic red flags of Gaston or Donald Trump. Kevin’s toxicity is jarringly realistic for a kid’s show. Combined with Beach City Drift, Kevin presents an unprecedented and pitch-perfect lesson for children about dealing with creeps, and as horrible as it is that young viewers need to learn this (or have unfortunately already learned a thing or two), I’m so happy Steven Universe is picking up that slack.

Kevin’s actions are a terrific “get the hell away from anyone who does this” checklist for some and a “don’t ever do this ever” checklist for others. He only approaches when Stevonnie feels vulnerable. He gives them a blatant once-over. He repeatedly calls them “baby” instead of caring about their name. He gets into their personal space. He actively ignores their nonverbal and verbal cues that they aren’t interested. He dismisses their concerns as “crazy,” a time-honored putdown that’s as prolific as it is insidious (seriously, if there’s one takeaway for boys and men reading this, stop calling girls and women crazy please; Stevonnie isn’t female, but Kevin’s actions certainly reflect how girls and women are regularly treated by Kevins). And when they dance, he tries to regulate their actions. Kevin is the worst.

Stevonnie is already feeling exposed by the time Kevin steps in, with the once-positive attention from Lars, Sadie, and Sour Cream shifting to objectifying gawking at their dance from the whole crowd; their isolation in a trippy disco ball is great visual shorthand. They ponder about how dancing is good when they do it together, and get confused that it’s not the same here. It turns out the important thing isn’t the action itself, but the person or people you’re sharing the action with. This episode should be shown in every sex ed class on the planet.

Kevin only compounds Stevonnie’s discomfort, and with yet another brilliant Aivi and Surasshu track (now showcasing Surasshu Velema’s electronic work) we reach Alone Together’s intense conclusion. Steven and Connie’s emotions, like ours, are all over the place when they defuse. Did Stevonnie, as Garnet suggested, make sure it was a good experience? Is such a thing even possible in a world where Kevins lurk?

It’s honestly up to interpretation whether their laughter and tears and cheering and dancing are out of anxiety, relief, happiness, trauma, wonder, or whatever blend of those emotions you choose. Sour Cream’s little hurrah evokes the minigolf ending of Rose’s Room or Garnet’s grounding in Mirror Gem as a means of breaking the tension, but Steven and Connie are in their own world. One that we’re only seeing through a hole in the wall.

Every time I finish Alone Together, I realize I’ve been holding my breath. In my first viewing, I figured it was out of sheer disbelief. But I immediately watched it again, and was just as blown away. There’s a weight to this episode that boggles my mind, an enormity of emotions packed into eleven minutes. I can’t just sit down and watch it in the same way I can with personal favorites like Steven and the Stevens or Hit the Diamond; Alone Together is something I need to specifically be up for, and that’s extraordinary for a show that began with a kid rapping about ice cream.

Future Vision

When Amethyst points out how hard fusion is, Garnet’s “Not for me” is just flagrant; her reaction to fusion in general here is a huge hint of her status.

Amethyst is the only Gem who shares Steven’s attitude during practice, and their similar emotional state is key to forming Smoky Quartz.

Running as a display of empowerment and joy is mirrored by Kiki after her own liberation in Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service.

Connie kept Alone Together (the song) as a ringtone for Steven well after Alone Together (the episode), judging by its reappearance in I Am My Mom nearly a hundred episodes later.

(the song) as a ringtone for Steven well after (the episode), judging by its reappearance in nearly a hundred episodes later. Rose’s wording when showing off fusions seems to run in the family. Pretty cool, right?

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!



During the period that I wrote this post, I had the privilege of telling Rebecca Sugar herself that, speaking as a children’s librarian, Steven Universe is the most important show on television: I sincerely believe that the world would be a better place if every kid on the planet watched it. Alone Together is a major reason why.

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