THRUD introduces the classic, 3,000 year old myth of Thor that we all know and love, and then promptly sets it on fire. Thrud is the story of the world’s last goddess, who, after losing her beloved mother Thor and world during Ragnarok, inherits her legendary, yet unruly, weapon, Mjölnir. Alongside her friends, the witty, cantankerous, Oskar, tender of the World Tree and Nini cute, fire-breathing, shoe-chewing dragon offspring of the legendary Nidhogg, Thrud and her companions journey across the Nine Realms to rebuild the universe, protect the innocent, become great warriors, and learn what it means to be truly human. Thrud represents the incredible power and resilience of women, the unbreakable bonds of chosen family, and the peril of failing to protect our environment. The project hopes to undo a millennia of misogyny and whitewashed storytelling of our most dynamic myths. Thrud is a symbol of hope for anyone who has ever felt too small to accomplish big things, and quite literally, with a giant hammer that shoots pink lightning, smashes stereotypes along the way.

Now where did the idea to create this come from? Having Northern European heritage myself, I found Norse Mythology fascinating and felt connected to it. I had been told these tales since I was a child, explored them in painstaking detail studying art history at university in England, and watched dozens of adaptations. However, as entertainingly horrifying as these stories were, I noticed their authors would select the same, disappointing tropes. White. Male. Violent. Women. Wait. What women? Where were the women? At a certain point I had enough. I felt exhausted by an endless onslaught of misogyny and whitewashing from the world’s adaptations of the oldest stories, and of course the culture and politics living in western civilization. Something had to be done.

I began to question it all. Why were we still revolving classic myth adaptations around white men? How do we know what they looked like? Why assume gender? Oh wait. That’s right. We can’t! Alright. If that’s reality. Can’t we do better? And why were there so few women? I noticed they were only permitted to be mothers, wives, sacrifices, or erased. To be born a woman in these sagas meant nothing. They were victims, pawns and if they were lucky, mentioned and vanished. It was as if the authors decided women’s contributions weren’t worth sharing. If girls grew too powerful, they removed them.

Frustrated, I was determined to find progressive heroes in Norse Myths. I had little luck. Each time I would find a new woman, she’d disappear. The few included the poor Goddess Freya who was horribly victimized and forced to marry a madman. Not ideal. I looked to the next generation. I began to see a recurring name. Thrud. However, the same vanishing issue surrounded Thor’s mysterious daughter. The legendary Thunder God had a female-identifying child, but we never learned anything about her. Did she inherit power? What was her story? Where was Thrud?! I became obsessed. I spent years dreaming of what she could be. I also wondered why Thor was always depicted as a man. More on that later.

The longer I fleshed out Thrud’s adventures, I was reminded that stories and rules are made up. I had a lightbulb moment. Why not redefine these legendary myths and make them empowering? Why not make Thor female? Why not make Ragnarok an analogy for a cataclysmic climate event based on society’s hubris? Relatable! Why not bring agency to Thrud? How about a powerful girl who forges her own identity? I wanted to outline themes important to all of us. Not just women. Not just one background. For everyone. I wanted to bring to life a tale about smashing boundaries, race, gender, power and redefining what it means to be a legend, a survivor. It was time for a show about a nonconfirming hero that was unapologetic and funny, who heals herself by healing her world.

I reached out to the talented artist Hilary Taylor to help me draw Thrud. I worked with Hilary on multiple shows, including CoComelon, where I was formerly the Senior Producer and Showrunner. I art directed as a powerful, brash little girl, intentionally created to appear of an ambiguous, ethnic background roared to life. Her body was meant to take up space in a tiny package. Thrud was strong. Her body, robust. Her smile, big. Her voice, loud. She was also funny. As such, we designed a practical adventurer outfit but gave her a stuffed space-panther to sit on her head. After all, who travels anywhere without their favourite plushie?

Turning to plot, I kept thinking of Ragnorak as an analogy to our dangerous habit of ignoring climate change and science. The many pay the price for the wickedness of the few. In my story, Thrud and her friends are dragged into Midgard by the unruly weapon Mjölnir, blessed by Thor, Thrud’s mother before she died, leaving Thrud with nothing but a weapon and a request to use her powers for good. Initially, resistant and apathetic, Thrud learns that the other worlds are angry and full of monsters. Many blame Thrud for their misfortune. Most are unwelcoming and hostile. They have every right to be.

At first, Thrud balks. Why help these ingrates? What could they possibly have in common? Why should she share power? Don’t they know she’s lost everything too? Her mother. Her world. They’re gone. However, with the help of her friends and step by empathetic step, Thrud overcomes her biases, and forges a strong connection to the worlds’ inhabitants, and becomes heavily invested in repairing each one. By doing so, she becomes a powerful warrior. By giving to others, she gets an incredible amount back in return. Thrud learns more the wonderful notion that chosen family is an unbreakable bond meant to be fought for and protected.

Not everyone can be redeemed. Not all losses can be recovered, but healing is possible. Thrud, never afraid of a good fight, provides plenty of action, whilst also practices diplomacy. Thrud learns that she is not responsible for her own kind’s mistakes, but finds power in resilience and community. She inspires us. Thrud becomes a legendary Goddess and warrior when she fights for all, not just herself.

When watching the upcoming series and reading the books, I intend to leave audiences feeling empowered. I want us to remember that regardless of stature, gender, or creed, we can stand up and create a life of kindness and strength. We have the power to reshape and reforge our future. We don’t need permission to fight. It’s our right. That is what I believe the Norse Myths have been trying to tell us for over 3,000 years. We can all be a tiny lightning Goddess. We can handle anything that the world throws at us. Most importantly, it is our duty to help one another. We must laugh boldly in the face of misogyny, whitewashing and oppression to build a better world.