Monday, July 14, 2014

Why I Like Comics (And Why That Shouldn't Be a Big Deal)

The other day, I got into a discussion with my thirteen year-old brother about why I liked comic books, specifically DC comic books and characters. I spent ten minutes trying to defend myself, offering my opinions and thoughts and perspectives, explaining that there are quite a variety of factors that make me interested in that particular company’s creations, and how he probably would like them if he gave them a chance.

He promptly responded with “Batman’s the only cool DC superhero. All the rest are stupid. And you’re weird for liking them.”

Then he walked away.

These kinds of exchanges are not unfamiliar in my house. I grew up with criticism all around me, whether it was from my parents or my brothers, about every little thing that we did. Music choices, movie preferences, television show interests, even down to the things we wore were always open for scrutiny. My family has always been good at picking each other apart, not realizing that we’re doing serious damage to our confidence.

With that being said, however, it’s not fair to place the blame entirely on my family for the level of insecurity and frustration that I feel on a regular basis towards my own personal interests. Despite the fact that “tolerance” has become a big buzz word these days, more often than not the people I come across are quick to give others stink eyes or strange looks when they bring up something that they’re interested in that doesn't fit what that person would deem "normal." I've kept my love of comic books to myself in the majority of social situations for this very reason. Add to into the mix that I'm female and it's just one step away from "social suicide" to say anything about how I harbor a deep affection for Batman and his various family members.

There are several reasons why I am interested in comics, and while I don’t think I should have to justify myself to the world, I’ll explain anyway because it will help make my point later on.

Above all else, I am a writer, and comics are—when stripped down to their basics—books. They are comprised of characters, plots, conflicts, antagonists and protagonists, settings, themes, symbols, and dialogue. It just so happens that these elements are transferred through a visual medium, one that focuses on telling a story through images and speech rather than text. They are far more direct than books in that sense, but they still offer everything that an actual novel does; they just do it in a more succinct way, capturing characters and action in images and speech bubbles rather than pages or paragraphs.
Yes. This is silly.
Comics are also far more complex than people realize. For whatever reason, there still seems to be a stigma that follows the word “comic” around like a stagnant, offensive odor. I can understand where the assumption that they are “silly” would come from—back in the Golden and Silver Ages of comics, there were certainly more outrageous plots and campier characters. The problem is, you have to look at those comics from their cultural context. That’s what people wanted. They didn’t want dark, heavy, or complex themes coming from their ten minutes worth of entertainment that cost them a nickel. They wanted buff men in bright costumes to beat the crap out of villains and criminals because that was simple and easy. The world at that time was either suffering from the backlash of WWII or experiencing a morality crisis that came with the fifties and sixties. Having a rigid example of Good vs. Evil that reinforced the idea that there were still genuinely good people in the world was necessary.

And while many of the traditions of those characters still exist if for no other reason than because “it’s tradition” (keep in mind, many of the DC characters have been around for over fifty years), there are so many other elements of comics that have evolved with time. For one thing, female heroes are becoming far more common than they used to be, with fans even backlashing when a writer who portrayed a well-rounded female character was fired from the comic (she was rehired two weeks later). It isn’t perfect (Starfire’s costume design in Red Hood and the Outlaws is kind of...well, whorish), but the fact that there is even a fan base for a female character who fights crime like a badass is a step forward.

The story lines and characters are far more complex as well. In my own humble experience, I feel that DC tends to lean towards the more psychologically disturbed characters than the brute force fighters. But there is still a level of inner turmoil no matter what way you look at any comic book superhero. All of their stories are, at their core, about sacrifice—they are committed to saving the lives of others no matter what the cost, and many times that means their own life. There’s a reason so many of them have tragic back stories; it takes one hell of a traumatic event to bring a person to the point where they are willing to dedicate their life to beating people up and protecting innocent pedestrians who mean nothing to them in the scheme of things. Helping others and handing out justice to those that deserve it becomes a replacement for the things they’ve lost, be it family, friends, or even a part of their body. This is why the villains in each superhero’s life become such a huge part of their story: stopping them is their entire purpose. It’s their reason for existence. It just so happens that the villain has made whatever their mission is their life purpose and the incongruence of their goals creates conflict—physically, emotionally, and mentally. It’s personal. One cannot exist without the other.

Then there is the concept of the secret identity, which is probably in and of itself an opportunity for a psychologist to have a field day. Heroes are often fighting the line between who they are as a superhero and who they are as Joe Shmoe. Unlike in the early days of comics, the person underneath the mask is a key player in the story. There is still a life that superheroes fight to keep when they aren’t lurking about the streets. For many of them, the juggling act required to have any relationship outside of their fellow crime fighters is too much. Those that they care about will always be at risk and there will never be enough time to dedicate to both crime fighting and loved ones. Spiderman could be considered the quintessential example of this conflict, as his comics tend to focus on that element of his character quite a bit. But what I think sums this idea up the best is the fact that they are established as human beings. They are living, breathing characters that struggle with the roles and responsibilities they’ve placed on themselves and what the world demands of them.

Heck, there’s even a part in Robin #156 that openly deals with suicide and shows Tim Drake (Robin/Red Robin) admitting to the fact that yeah, superheroes aren’t always 100% confident in what they’re doing and that he sometimes needs to talk to someone, too.

Then of course there is the influx of anti-heroes that have been present in literature since the dawn of time but really get noticed in comics because of the definitive nature of “good” and “evil” that still exists as the backbone of every comic storyline, regardless of how much those values are toyed with. Characters like Deadpool and Red Hood are fascinating because they aren’t black-and-white hero or villain. They are redeemable, but never manage to draw a line between good or bad (not to mention that Red Hood has received more positive feedback as his new character than the poor kid ever got as Robin—which I think is unfair, but that’s another conversation for another day).

In a culture that is morally ambiguous, where values and codes of ethics are changing on an almost daily basis, you’d think that these kinds of stories would be ideal. Especially nowadays, with the onset of the Internet that has allowed people to stretch their identity and find meaning and acceptance in places and amongst people like never before, it seems almost obvious that someone who plays tug-of-war with their identity would be appealing to the masses. Yet, there is still a stigma surrounding the notion of “crime fighting” and “superheroes.” People I know have even said that they are only willing to see superhero movies because “the comics are stupid.”

Again, I ask: Just what is it that makes them any more “stupid” than other elements of pop culture?

Just so I can make my point (and a little bit out of spite and smugness), here are the synopses of a variety of pop culture icons that have been loved and cherished by millions of people across the decades (taken from Wikipedia because I’m too lazy to write all of them out):

“The series, named after the titular character, chronicles the adventures of a young wizard, Harry Potter, and his friends Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, all of whom are students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The main story arc concerns Harry's quest to overcome the Dark wizard Lord Voldemort, who aims to become immortal, conquer the wizarding world, subjugate non-magical people, and destroy all those who stand in his way, especially Harry Potter.” [Link]

“Players of the games are designated as Pokémon Trainers, and the two general goals (in most Pokémon games) for such Trainers are: to complete the Pokédex by collecting all of the available Pokémon species found in the fictional region where that game takes place; and to train a team of powerful Pokémon from those they have caught to compete against teams owned by other Trainers, and eventually become the strongest Trainer: the Pokémon Master.” [Link]

“In the story, a group of freedom fighters known as the Rebel Alliance and led by Princess Leia, plots to destroy the Death Star space station, which carries a planet-destroying capability created by the Galactic Empire. This conflict disrupts the isolated life of farmboy Luke Skywalker when he inadvertently acquires the droids containing the stolen plans for the Death Star. After the Empire begins a destructive search for the missing droids, Skywalker agrees to accompany Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi on a mission to return the Death Star plans to the Rebel Alliance and save the galaxy from the tyranny of the Galactic Empire.” [Link]




“In a world where summers span decades and winters can last a lifetime, the Westeros crown comes with a price. Betrayal, lust, intrigue and supernatural forces shake the four corners of the Kingdom, from the scheming south and the savage eastern lands, to the frozen north and the ancient Wall that protects the realm from the darkness beyond. Kings and queens, knights and renegades, liars and noble men vie for power in the bloody struggle for the Iron Throne.” [Link]

“A teenager is accidentally sent 30 years into the past in a time-traveling DeLorean invented by his friend, Dr. Emmett Brown, and must make sure his high-school-age parents unite in order to save his own existence.” [Link]

"A young girl, destined to slay vampires, demons and other infernal creatures, deals with her life fighting evil, with the help of her friends." [Link]


I’m not judging any of these stories. In fact, some of them I find to be delightful in and of themselves and have nothing but respect for the fact that they managed to achieve popularity despite their “unconventional” plots. But my point is this—how is it that someone who loved Harry Potter or Star Wars can claim that comic books are any more ridiculous or outlandish than some of what is presented in those stories?

I would be ignorant, of course, to assume that comic books were the only things still receiving terrible backlash. And to that, I make my next point:

The fact of the matter is our culture has reached a bit of a paradigm shift: what was considered “nerdy” or “lame” has practically turned itself on its head. Now, the norm is for people to watch shows like Game of Thrones and play video games like The Last of Us. The San Diego Comicon is practically impossible to get into, and Cons around the world have reached enormous levels of popularity with the ever-increasing variety of fandoms that they celebrate. To obsess over something is standard rather than faux pas. It’s the reason websites like Tumblr and Reddit exist—and continue to flourish. The entire “nerd subculture” has made its way into mainstream media, improving along the way and creating stories and characters that are far more complex than they ever were before. I mean seriously, have you SEEN video games these days? I am not ashamed to admit that the first time I saw the trailer for the new Mortal Kombat video game, I thought it was for a movie (and I was really much too excited about that for my own good).

So then why is it that we are still criticizing others for the things they are into? Why are Cons still slapped with the “nerd” label when they represent everything about our culture that is now normal? Why is it less cool to read comics about a vigilante who dresses up like a bat at night than to play a video game where a man drags a teenage girl across a post-apocalyptic America that is being ravaged by infection that turns people into zombies?

It isn’t just hypocritical; it’s down-right asinine.

Still, I would be ignorant to assume that a blog post by an anonymous person on the Internet will have any effect on the culture at large. But for those of you reading this, my final words are this:

Before you criticize what someone likes or refuse to try something because it looks "dumb," stop and think. Then, look in the mirror. There's bound to be something you like that is just as unconventional as what that person you're judging is into. Celebrate individuality and the multiple interests of others. If Tumblr can do it, so can you.

(Also, seriously, do you know what comics look like these days? They're freaking gorgeous.)