January 12, 2007
White Tiger
I've never read any of Tamora Pierce's fiction, which isn't a surprise because it's really not aimed at me, but she's now joined a very small group of women to have written a superhero comicbook, and that deserves a closer look.
(My apologies for the black-and-white sketch. I couldn't find a colour scan of this page.)
As you can see from the art, there's already been some victories, here. There's no plunging neckline and no inexplicably exposed belly or legs. A lot of noise gets made about superhero costumes on women, how they're little more than bikinis with boots and capes, how it's all just a bondage/fetish fantasy, etc. For the most part, these accusations are not inaccurate. One look at Huntress is all it takes to see what they mean:
So WT's costume is a victory, a very real victory in a medium that is three-quarters visual. The fact that she's in flat boots, and not high-heels, is another very real victory. I give it two years after Pierce is finished writing the character before her neckline is extended to her navel and she's mysteriously wearing high-heeled boots for no reason. My faith in the gender awareness of comicbook artists is not high. [1]
It's also clear, pretty quickly, that this character is written by a woman. Now, I'm not one of those who would say that only a woman can write a woman. I know of many male writers who can do that job. But there is a predominance of male writers who can't write women but do write women in comics, and because of that context, it is important that the feminine point of view is introduced into the medium and the genre of the superhero specifically. Its almost total absence thus far as lead to a boy's club mentality, especially at Marvel, which only further alienates women and makes the whole problem worse.
Pierce's rendition of Angela del Toro is consistent with what we've seen of her so far, a professional law-enforcement officer who's not entirely comfortable with putting on a costume and working outside the law (as well she shouldn't be!). Agent del Toro was introduced to Daredevil comics a few years ago as part of an FBI team staking out Matt Murdock in the hope of exposing him as the Daredevil, which they never did, and even though they were right, del Toro was essentially fired from the FBI because she though the whole sting was stupid, and Daredevil was a hero. Not a shocking position to take for a woman who was practically raised by other Marvel superheroes, Iron Fist, Power Man, and the original White Tiger, her uncle.
So we have the always charming story of a superhero finding her footing, literally and figuratively, but also of a woman who's trained and ready for the job. Not a bumbling noob, but also not an old hand. The subtle touches come in how Angela reacts to the attention paid to her. She certainly exchanges witty repartée with her villains, and it's often gendered or sexualised, but because she's an equally powerful participant in the fighting, that back-and-forth never has the tinges of rape or simply violence against women that it could. Even more telling, when she finally receives some popular attention for appearance, her reaction is somewhat bemused and embarrassed, but with more than a little pride. "Gosh, really? You want to take a picture of me?" She doesn't pose sexually for the cameras that finally capture her image, but she's clearly not horrified at the idea of being photographed. The reaction is genuinely feminine, and therefore human, but also not eroticised. She gives a cheerful thumbs up instead of the standard comicbook gag in this circumstance: half of her costume ripped off in a fight, and twisted around at an impossible angle that reveals both her T and her A at the same time.
It's not the best superhero story I've ever read, though it's compelling in its own right, but the very fact that a woman is writing it is clear from the first few pages. The fact that Angela's gender is not something 'extra' about her character is particularly important. She's not "a superhero who's also [gasp!] a woman!" Femininity just isn't an alien presence in this book, and that's important within a genre in which it usually is.
[1] It's important to point out that there's nothing inherently wrong with erotic depictions of women, even bondage/fetish fantasies. Sexuality and fetishes can be perfectly healthy, positive things. The problem here isn't the sexuality but the narrow scope of it, the objectification, and the superficiality. Women in comics are often just sex objects, and nominally heroic characters. They're designed, visually, merely for the sake of an aesthetic of beauty that emphasises weakness and passivity, unlike their male counterparts, who are presented as attractive because of their strength and proactiveness. My point is that it's silly to object to imagery because it's sexual or because it depicts a fetish. Too many voices of protest against sexism end up merely protesting against sex. We have to be more specific, do more work, to be clear about what is actually offensive or destructive, here.
Posted by orion at January 12, 2007 9:13 AM