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Now that the Skywalker Saga is where to photos and videos of college fraternity sex parties, gang bang and rapeofficially over, it's time for Star Wars fans to face an uncomfortable truth: Chewbacca will never get his due.

Sure, he got a Yavin medal right at the end of The Rise of Skywalker. Even better, it came from Maz Kanata, the only being in the latest trilogy to suggest that Chewie has a life outside of reacting to things people say and serving as a punchline.

Let's be real, though. That medal is the Star Wars equivalent of a participation trophy. It was an insider nod to fans who have moaned for years about Chewie being left out when Han and Luke received their honors for blowing up the first Death Star. The bauble that Maz forks over to Chewie is somehow meant to make up for more than 40 years of unjust treatment.

I think the fuck not, Star Wars.

Let's take it back to the Original Trilogy. Chewie faced plenty of disrespect even in just the first movie, between the medal snub and Leia's memorable grumble about getting "this big walking carpet" out of her way. But look closer.

Do we come out of Return of the Jediknowing anything meaningful about Chewie's story after three entire movies? He plays a mean game of Dejarik (Star Wars holochess, essentially), by which I mean he's prone to violence when he loses (or so Han Solo says). He's also perpetually Han's scapegoat whenever the Millennium Falcon breaks. He even takes a constant stream of shit from C-3PO while he's carting the broken droid around on his back.

Yes, Chewie ranks somewhere below droids in the Star Wars social pecking order. And we've all seen how horrible it is for droids in a galaxy far, far away.

Across the entire Original Trilogy, we never once stop to consider Chewbacca as a multi-dimensional character. No one ever asks him about his family or where he came from before his time on the Falcon. No one speaks to him in his own language. Our entire sense of who he is is shaped by his relationship to Han.

We get the barest of glimpses into Chewie's inner self when he mournfully yowls after the Rebels lock up Hoth's Echo Base for the night before Han returns with Luke in Empire Strikes Back. But that's it – and let's be real, he's crying for a guy who openly mistreats him. Stockholm Syndrome, thy name is Chewbacca.

It gets worse in the new trilogy. Finn treats him like trash in The Force Awakensalmost immediately after they meet. When Chewie gets shot and Finn's seeing to the wound, the understandably distraught Wookiee is being a difficult patient. Instead of trying to talk to him calmly, intelligent being to intelligent being, Finn rudely shouts, "I need help with this giant, hairy thing!"

If a doctor pulled that shit with me, I'd deck him using my uninjured arm.

Let's also not forget how The Force Awakensended with Ben Solo/Kylo Ren just straight-up murdering Han while Chewie watched from a distance. The anguish at watching his old "friend" die was too much, and Chewie's pained yowl alerted Kylo and brought First Order forces down on our heroes.

That's really messed up! Chewie was so affected by the death of Han, who as we've established treated him like crap, that all thoughts of a stealthy escape flew out of his head. The long con that Han ran on Chewie's heart is devastating once you really start to pick it apart.

Then in The Last Jedi, Chewie is framed as an animalistic monster when he eats one of the adorable bird-like porg that inhabit Luke's hideout planet of Ahch-To. It's a moment that really gets to the heart of what makes Chewie so tough to reconcile as a character. Although he was introduced as a co-pilot and a fearsome warrior, again and again the Star Wars movies go out of their way to render him as an animal and a pet.

There's a reason John Candy's Chewbacca riff in Spaceballswas half-man/half-dog. Though at least the Mel Brooks movie gave Barf some personality and some agency in the story. Chewie just follows the heroes around. He's a heavy when he needs to be but is mostly just a walking reaction shot.

The worst injustice, though, comes in The Rise of Skywalker. Our first look at Chewie is a throwback scene that references a moment from the first movie: Finn and Poe are sitting side-by-side, playing an intense game of Dejarik. Think back to that original scene: it's there to introduce Chewie as a fearsome figure, a being who might "pull people's arms out of their sockets" when he loses.

The Rise of Skywalker's take on the same situation flips the script. Now, Finn and Poe rag on Chewie for taking his time making a movie. They even openly suggest he's a cheater. The once-fearsome Wookiee takes it all in stride, probably because he's been putting up with this shit for literally decades.

I hate this scene. It's the narrative equivalent of a cat being declawed. It's so openly dismissive of the character we've come to know as Chewbacca and his place in the story, and it sets a tone for the way the rest of the unfolding movie will treat him. Our beloved Wookiee is a second-class citizen, and the main cast makes that clear from the jump.

Then there's the emotionally manipulative death scene, where Rey is led to believe her own lack of control over the Force led directly to Chewie's demise. It's tough stuff because we buy that death! Chewie has been so poorly served by Star Wars movies, why wouldn't his death exist largely to propel a first act plot point?

Of course, the whole thing is a fake-out. And to Rey's credit, she pushes to save Chewie – even though she has other reasons for wanting to get on that ship. Clearly though, no one actively wants to see Chewie lost forever. They have the bare minimum of appreciation for him, woo.

But there's still one more injustice waiting for Chewie before The Rise of Skywalkeris over. It comes when he gets the news that Leia is dead. Think about Chewie's arc in the new trilogy. In The Force Awakens, his oldest "friend" died. It then happens again The Last Jediwhen Luke Skywalker slips loose this mortal coil.

Leia's death in the final movie is one too many for poor Chewie. The scene where he gets the news of her demise is heartbreaking. He drops to his knees and wails loudly enough to turn heads. And yet, Chewie is alone. No one is there to comfort him or help him endure this difficult moment.

We get a firsthand look at how isolated he is when, right before the final battle in Skywalker, it's not an old friend who shakes Chewie out of his morose state – even with Lando in the camp. Instead, it's Lost's Dominic Monaghan who snaps Chewie back to the present with a totally insincere "Come on Chewie, we need you, buddy!"

Ugh. Brutal. The Rise of Skywalkerwas never going to bring closure for everyone. The story is too big, the cast is too massive. But the serial mistreatment of Chewbacca is an endless bummer, and a deeply shameful oversight that will haunt Star Wars forever.