And with this discovery, all my unrealized fantasies rose up suddenly that Saturday morning into realities – or, at least, the closest I’d ever come to fantasy and reality merging into one fantastic package. That morning, I began a lifelong love affair with superheroes. They captured something very specific in my heart. Something primal and powerful. Something I had never felt before and was desperate to hold onto.
I was officially, obsessed.
Years later, I can tell you the simple truth of that obsession and why it clutched me so powerfully – the world had finally showed me something that I could get excited about, and I responded in kind. I responded with a youthful enthusiasm (the kind I yearn for to this day), and I embraced this new love and swallowed it whole. I wouldn’t trade all the cringe-worthy dramatic hijinks of those teenage years for anything, because it was the one and only time in my life that I recall being unabashedly devoted to something. And that devotion and enthusiasm for superheroes inspired both my writing and my art, unlike any other single thing.
It also totally freaked my parents out. Bonus!
At college, I floundered in my graphic design program at The University of Arizona. While other kids ate, breathed, and slept graphic design, I was taking secret comic book classes at night on the side at the local comic book store. My parents (though likely still freaked out) let me transfer to The Savannah College of Art and Design so I could enroll in their sequential art program. I still loved superheroes so much, I was going to study them in college. You know you love comics when you not only decide to go to college to study them, but also somehow manage to convince your parents that it’s a completely reasonable choice. It was wholly unreasonable. But I don’t regret a second of it. (Even though I still can’t draw my way out of a paper bag. Well. Not a big one, anyway.)
Years later, while going through one of my “hate” phases of comics, when I had left comics behind to pursue other things, I began writing my first novel.
But that first novel was about two teenage girls with superpowers. There was no escaping my obsession with superheroes, even when I tried to escape comics. Since superheroes and comics are inexorably linked, it was only a matter of time before I circled back around to comics again. But when I came back to comics, superhero and beyond, I found that the 15 year old that started out loving comics so blindly had grown into a pretty determined feminist. And you know what was filled with a surprising amount of sexism? My beloved superhero comics.
The feminist and the comics lover in me soon started coming to blows.
For some people, this is the point when they would gracefully exit stage left, leaving superhero comics behind forever. But not me, oh no, nothing graceful for me! There will be no grace! I decided that I loved superhero comics anyway and believed in all that they could be and thus I would force them to be those better things, come hell or high-water – kicking and punching, scratching and biting, pulling hair if necessary. In reality, this mostly meant a lot of reading, writing, and thinking critically about comics, and eventually getting in a lot of disappointing fights on the Internet. It’s an exhausting battle to try to force change, and I frequently feel like I’m helping nobody, including myself. But every time I’m rolling that boulder back up that hill, I see a few more female comics readers; a few more positive female comics bloggers; a few more creators, books, articles and even tweets that suggest that change, she is a-comin’.
But I can’t stop there. No comics lovers can. We need there to be something in mainstream comics for girls and women. And right now, I’m sorry to say, there ain’t much.
In 2007, DC boldly tried a “comics for girls” line called Minx. It was fraught with problems, not the least of which was that they weren’t committed enough to the idea and gave up within a year when it didn’t meet with immediate success. There were other problems – the name “Minx” was not a great choice; and though they filled the books with wonderful creators, very few of those creators were women. Most importantly, however, they didn’t manage to get the books into bookstores in large numbers, which meant that their intended audience didn’t even know that they existed. It was a wonderful idea. Perhaps it was just ahead of its time. I like to think that that’s true. And that it will be tried again with better success.
In the meantime, there are critical and important debates about women and comics going on right now; a powerful surge in the fangirl community; a steady removal of the stigma of being a woman who creates comics; as well as a groundswell of new female talent. In July 2011, an all-female comics anthology called Womanthology raised over $100,000 in funding on Kickstarter in a month, becoming the single most successful comics venture on Kickstarter ever. And the theme for that anthology? Heroic.
I frequently talk (some would say rant, but you know, tomayto, tomahto!) about how little change really actually has to happen for comics to become more accessible to girls and women. You don’t have to do a major reconstruction. I firmly believe that all the same themes that men respond to resonate in women as well. I believe superheroes reveal universal truths that apply equally to women and men. But you do have to give things a minor facelift, a remodel if you will. You have to take down the implied “no girls allowed” signs that are formed by hyper-sexualized female characters at every turn and too few female voices as both characters and creators. You have to do a little bit of policing (some would say editing – and thus there is an entire job called, you guessed it, editor!) to make sure that images like a teenage Supergirl without a head being ogled by older male characters doesn’t make it out the front door.
But this isn’t rocket science.
It’s being smart and thinking a little bit outside of your privilege, which we all have and are all guilty of being blind to from time to time. That privilege is one of the reasons that diversity in comics creators is so key to the success of this industry. It’s much harder to make the mistakes of privilege when you have others with different backgrounds working with you. Sometimes mistakes are going to be made, it happens. But you should also have a slew of smart people at the ready to correct those problems when they do happen, rather than making things worse. Another symptom of not enough diversity and thus too many people blind to their own privilege.
At a time when mainstream comics are floundering heavily, it seems like insanity to ignore the money of 50% of the world’s population just because change is a little bit scary. Change is scary, but if there’s one universal truth about change, it’s that it’s constant. Change, especially for those used to the status quo, more than being scary is hard. And we as readers, creators, and lovers of comics have to force it from the outside more often than not by pushing that boulder up that hill every day. Though it can be exhausting to be Sisyphus, we must remember these words from “The Myth of Sisyphus” by Albert Camus: “The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”
Camus may not have meant it the way I’m choosing to use it, but from now on I’m going to try to think of myself as happy while I push that damn boulder, because maybe that needs to be enough.
At least for now.
Captain America’s Next Top Model
Anika Milik has a lifelong interest in both fashion and superheroes. Think Mary Jane Watson: fashionista, fangirl, free spirit. And in love with Spider-Man. Anika runs Red Carpet Superhero (tightropemarvel.wordpress.com), a fashion geek and geek fashion blog, and is one of four contributors at the comic book culture blog Fantastic Fangirls (fantasticfangirls.org). She lives with her family in Connecticut and works at Wesleyan University.
What is the difference between Jim Gordon and Bruce Wayne? Both fight crime in Gotham City. Both hold themselves above the law. (Bruce is the masked vigilante Batman. Police/government official Gordon consults and conceals a team of masked vigilantes on a regular basis.) Both keep secrets from family, friends, and the public at large. Both have strong opinions and high ideals. Both are complicated. Both carry weapons as part of th
eir job. Both wear specific clothes to do that job.
But Commissioner Gordon wears a uniform. Batman wears a costume.
Costumes are an excellent indicator of genre. Imagine yourself in the main character’s clothes and answer the question, “If I go through my daily routine dressed like this, will anyone find it strange?” If – taking societal expectations on gender or age, etc., into account – the answer is “Yes,” that’s a genre film (or series, or novel, etc.).
Be True to Your School
Superhero comic books are considered genre fiction. It highlights the thesis that costumes – not just uniforms or fashion – are a vital element of a superhero persona. More vital, even, than the moniker. You can call yourself “Batman” all you want, but if you run around in a tracksuit, no one will make the connection. Take away the cowl and the cape, and it’s not Batman. It’s Bruce Wayne in a tripped-out tracksuit, most likely made by Armani. By the same token, Captain America can’t wear what every other American soldier does, because he’s not every other American soldier. He has to stand out. Comics are a visual medium, and costumes are key.
Costumes are, therefore, an excellent way to show devotion to a character. I have taken this to such a level, I freely admit to being a fangirl fashionista.
I have been cosplaying for 15 years, and I’ve been dressing up my whole life. I was that little girl who wore her Wonder Woman Underoos over her clothes, and I wore them everywhere. I have special outfits I only wear at Disney World. In high school, I had a favorite cardigan I called my “Eponine Sweater” after my favorite character in musical theater, and I consistently buy clothes in the style of Kaylee Frye (Firefly) or Jessica Jones (New Avengers, Alias).
Fangirl fashion is something I share with my daughters. Kiki, 15, and Aeris, 6, have both been to conventions in costume. Aeris had a brush with cosplay fame when she dressed as Hit-Girl from Kick-Ass for Free Comic Book Day, and posed with Darth Vader at our local comic store. The picture went round the web, reblogged and retweeted by Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. (the creators of the character), and Chloe Moretz (the young woman who portrayed her in the film – or as Aeris calls her, “the real Hit-Girl”). Aeris has not read the comic nor seen the film, but she understands Hit-Girl to be a little girl superhero. With her mask and cape and utility belt, Aeris is Hit-Girl, sprung to life from the pages of the book.
Stealth Cosplay!
But Aeris and I don’t dress up only for conventions. She wore a tutu to her first day of first grade, and I’ve worn a Hogwarts school uniform to work more than once. We don’t only cosplay, we also practice undercover cosplay.
“Undercover cosplay” is, essentially, when you cosplay and don’t tell anyone. It’s when you cosplay at work or school, out in the “real world.” That T-shirt that you bought because so-and-so character on such-and-such a show wore it in your favorite episode? When you wear that to go to the grocery store instead of to a convention, that’s undercover cosplay. It’s also the easiest form of cosplay to accomplish. Entire websites are dedicated to finding knock-off versions of runway fashions, celebrity red carpet looks, and movie/TV appearances. There are also television shows and magazine articles. It’s practically its own industry.
The older, slightly more sophisticated sister of undercover cosplay is what I call “Ready-to-Wear-Superhero.” “Ready-to-Wear” is a fashion industry term for off-the-rack and mass-produced designer wear. Ready-to-Wear Superhero means using superhero costumes as inspiration for a fashionable outfit to be worn somewhere other than a convention. This is distinct from cosplay in that it’s not meant to replicate the original look, but to refer to it. The process takes some creative thinking, but the result can be pretty spectacular.
Heroine Chic
Take this one step further, and you arrive at “Heroine Chic.” (I am so inspired by the idea of this, I devoted a blog to it.) Superheroines, for better or worse, fight in clothes that are far more fashionable than practical, but I love – I live for – the moments when I see a celebrity or model on a red carpet or runway, and think “Damn, but she looks ready to fight crime in that.” Because supergirls wear such ridiculous outfits anyway, I really, truly want a superteam made up of Hollywood It Girls in Gucci, Dolce & Gabbana and Chanel.
Captain America’s Next Top Model... you know you want it.
Heroine Chic, like Ready-to-Wear Superhero and undercover cosplay, also exists on the rack and in the mall. It’s out there, waiting for you and me and every other comic book fangirl or boy. We embrace Heroine Chic when we don boots that Ms. Marvel would wear, or a mini-skirt like Supergirl, or decide to streak our hair like Rogue. And when we embrace Heroine Chic, we embrace the idea that we are powerful.
Or put another, more direct and explicit way, that we have power. That’s a message that all women and girls – and, for that matter, socially awkward geeks of all genders and backgrounds – deserve to, and possibly need to, embrace. No matter what we wear, we wear it to say something about who we are. Dress like a superhero, and you stand for what she does.
We have power. We, honestly, have great power. We should embrace it, take responsibility, get out there and save the world.
Therefore, I present...
Ten Tips to Creating Your Ready-to-Wear Superhero Who Looks Suitable For Saving the World.
1. Start with the silhouette. Comic books are, by definition, visual. And fashion design invariably starts with the silhouette – the way the clothes drape on the body. Take the big picture and break it down into elements. Is she wearing pants or a skirt? How long are his sleeves? Is it a jumpsuit? Is there a cape? How does it move, does it flow or is it stiff? How many layers are there? If this was one of those shadow art boxes that were popular in Victorian times instead of a comic panel, how would we differentiate Spider-Man from Superman from Wonder Woman from Wolverine?
2. Add the color palette. Of course, it’s much easier to differentiate our heroes in a full-color panel than a shadow, even to a casual observer. The majority of superheroes wear bright, bold colors. They stand out, as intended. And a neat quirk in comics, especially older ones, is when colorists use the same color palette for a hero out of costume. To pick an example, in one of my favorite scenes from Peter David’s original run on X-Factor, Alex Summers wears a bright blue suit and yellow bow tie – because those are the colors of his uniform as the superhero Havok.
Using color is one of the easiest ways to make any outfit pop, and to reference a character’s look. And it’s also one of the easiest ways to maintain the idea of a certain character while playing with the silhouette. Trade a skirt for short pants or jeggings for a jumpsuit – but keep the colors – and you achieve the same effect.
3. Branding. Toward the end of Neil Gaiman’s Death: The High Cost of Living mini-series, Death (a.k.a. Dee Dee) replaces her stolen ankh pendant, the symbol of her power, with a similar one from a street vendor. The man who took her pendant assumed he was robbing Death of her abilities and therefore defeating her – but the ankh he stole didn’t contain her power, it represented it.
In the same way, Superman’s S shield doesn’t grant him his power, it represents it. The Apple on the back of my laptop is decorative; without it, my computer would run exactly the same. And yet, the Apple logo does have a purpose – it says, “Hey, everyone, I’m a Mac.” Superheroes have symbols for the same reason that corporations have logos and ponies have cutie marks – it’s all easy, obvious and ubiquitous recognition.
But there is more to it than that. As Dee Dee says, “Symbols have power.” They’re not just advertising, they mean something. If a particular superhero stands for X, and X is something you admire and agree with, that superhero’s symbol can stand for you, too.
The more popular heroes have branded merchandise available, which will simplify your adopting their symbol as your own. The less popular ones may take a little more creativity, but let’s say that, like me, you are a huge Ms. Marvel fan – lightning-bolt key chains, belt buckles, or hats are
not unheard of, or even scarce. Official merchandise is nice, but it’s not necessary. Like Dee Dee’s $10 knock off necklace, it’s up to you to make it work.
4. Let’s talk about capes. There are a few recurring elements in superhero costumes, and one of the best is a cape. I bought a “superhero kit” for a six year old’s birthday once, and it consisted of a book of questions and catch phrases, and a bright red cape. That’s all a kid needs to build his own heroic identity.
Lots of superheroes wear capes. Some supermodels, superstars, and royals wear capes. Very few average everyday ordinary people wear capes. That’s not to say you can’t! If you want to wear a full-on superhero cape to go live your not-precisely-superpowered life, go for it! But there are ready-to-wear alternatives.
Chicks Dig Comics: A Celebration of Comic Books by the Women Who Love Them Page 19