In the chaotic, brutal world of Chainsaw Man, few characters have sparked as much debate as Makima. Calm, calculating, and always in control, she exudes power from her first scene—and never lets go of it. To some, she’s a compelling female character who flips the usual gender dynamics of anime on their head. To others, she’s a manipulative abuser cloaked in the aesthetic of empowerment. And both perspectives have strong evidence.
Makima is not your average antagonist—or heroine. Her allure lies in her ambiguity. As a high-ranking devil hunter working for Public Safety, she holds incredible authority in a world dominated by fear, violence, and patriarchal systems. She weaponizes charm and calmness, embodying the image of a composed woman in control. But underneath her composed surface lies a terrifying ability to dehumanize, manipulate, and dominate those around her—especially Denji, the naive protagonist.
This duality is what makes her such a lightning rod in anime discourse. Is she a feminist icon because she operates with confidence and power, unafraid to lead, kill, or command? Or is she just another example of toxic manipulation and emotional abuse wrapped in the illusion of strength?
To truly understand Makima, we need to explore her psychology, her role in Chainsaw Man, her impact on the characters around her, and how fans (and critics) interpret her place in the wider anime landscape.
Makima’s Power: Authority, Control, and Command
From the moment Makima appears, it’s clear she’s not just powerful—she’s in control. She leads the Special Division with calculated grace, never raising her voice yet commanding absolute obedience. Her contracts with other devils, especially the Control Devil, give her near-divine abilities to dominate others, even across long distances.
Makima represents a kind of power rarely seen in anime female characters: not physical, but psychological and institutional. She doesn’t fight in flashy battles like Power or Aki. Instead, she manipulates from the shadows, turning even the strongest opponents into puppets.
In that sense, she breaks gender stereotypes. Anime often confines women to nurturing, reactive roles, but Makima is neither kind nor reactive. She’s assertive, active, and even terrifying. She commands men, intimidates devils, and bends Denji’s world to her will—all without ever getting her hands visibly dirty. This makes her a unique force in a male-dominated genre.
Feminism or Fetishization? The Gendered Lens
So why do some fans label her a feminist icon?
It’s not just her power—it’s how she wields it. Makima flips the script on traditional male-female power dynamics. She’s not the love interest, the sidekick, or the emotional support. She is the boss. She uses male desire to get what she wants, particularly from Denji, who is entirely under her emotional thumb.
This inversion of power dynamics can be read as commentary on gender and dominance. In a media landscape where women are often objectified or infantilized, Makima’s control feels refreshing, even empowering. She’s in charge, not chasing validation or romance.
However, this power is also heavily sexualized. Makima’s beauty, calm demeanor, and implicit promises of affection create a specific type of allure—one that caters to a dangerous fantasy of the “dominant woman.” Her control over Denji is deeply manipulative: she promises him love, family, and a normal life, only to break him emotionally and spiritually. This exploitation of affection for control blurs the line between empowerment and fetish.
Some argue that while Makima is written with complexity, she is still a product of a male creator’s vision of female power—beautiful, dominant, but ultimately heartless. That undercuts her feminist potential and drags her back into the realm of archetype.
Makima and Denji: Abuse Disguised as Affection
Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of Makima’s character is her relationship with Denji. She doesn’t just manipulate him—she builds an entire illusion around him. She offers him food, praise, and affection, crafting a version of motherhood, sisterhood, and romance that never truly exists.
Denji, starved for love, becomes her perfect pawn. She weaponizes his trauma and abandonment issues to create a false sense of belonging. In many ways, Makima is not just controlling—she’s emotionally abusive.
This dynamic isn’t just a subplot; it’s central to the themes of Chainsaw Man. Denji’s arc is about autonomy—about realizing that even love can be a form of control when wielded by someone like Makima. Her betrayal is not a twist—it’s a reveal of what power unchecked by empathy looks like.
From this lens, Makima isn’t a feminist icon. She’s a warning: of how seductive and damaging manipulative control can be when hidden behind a beautiful face and calm voice.
Symbolism and Metaphor: Makima as the Control Devil
Makima is not just a character—she is a concept. As the Control Devil, she is the embodiment of humanity’s fear of being dominated. Every action she takes reinforces this. She kills without remorse, rewrites memories, and treats people like pets. Even her polite tone is a mask for something monstrous.
This makes her more than a villain. She becomes a philosophical question: what happens when power becomes dehumanized?
In feminist theory, there’s often discussion about the difference between empowerment and exploitation. Makima embodies that gray zone. Her power is not tempered by empathy or justice—it’s fueled by her desire to reshape the world according to her own rules. In this way, she mirrors real-world systems of control, including patriarchal and authoritarian structures.
Ironically, she adopts the tools of those systems—fear, domination, charisma—while occupying a female form. This tension is why she’s both compelling and uncomfortable. She is not here to be liked. She’s here to control.
Fan Reaction: Idolization vs Condemnation
Makima’s character has inspired fierce division in the fanbase. Some praise her for being bold, unpredictable, and powerful—finally, a woman who isn’t boxed in by conventional femininity. Others argue that she glorifies emotional abuse and is misinterpreted by fans who see domination as empowerment.
The idolization of Makima—especially in fanart and social media—often skirts dangerously close to glorifying her manipulative traits. She’s frequently sexualized, often placed in dominant or humiliating poses with Denji or other characters. While some fans read this as reclaiming agency, others see it as reinforcing harmful dynamics.
At the same time, her critics sometimes miss the point of her writing. Makima isn’t meant to be likable—she’s meant to be disturbing. And in Chainsaw Man, disturbing is often where the message lies.
Conclusion: Icon or Villain?
So, is Makima a feminist icon or a manipulative villain?
The answer may be: both, or neither. Makima is a multifaceted character who resists easy categorization. She is powerful and in control—but her power is toxic. She represents both female agency and the perversion of that agency into domination.
What makes Makima important isn’t whether she’s a role model. It’s that she forces us to question our definitions of strength, femininity, and control. She makes us uncomfortable, and in that discomfort, there’s room for critical thought.
Makima is not the hero. But she’s a character you can’t ignore—and maybe that’s exactly the point.
