Alice Rush on Women, Comic Books, and Sex…
A part of me envies young girls growing up these days. More important conversations about feminism and gender equality are happening prominently in the media and the female role models being shown across television and film are fantastic. When I think back to my former years and the films I grew up on, all I can see is a man’s world. James Bond, Indiana Jones, films that I still love today but no doubt had an effect on the way I saw myself as a woman, and the role of women in society.
Female representation on the screen at the moment is stronger than it’s been in years: we have Jessica Jones heading up her own show and Orange Is the New Black breaking down stereotypes. We have Rey on a heroic quest in The Force Awakens and we have Furiosa kicking so much more ass than the titular character in Mad Max. We have a Captain Marvel movie on the horizon, a Wonder Woman that will size up against two of comic book’s biggest male heroes and an all-female Ghostbusters team.
Up till now we’ve sit quietly (sometimes not so quietly) and watched as what seems like every major film or television programme has shoved the journey of a straight, white man down our throats, while neglecting the role of the female. So with all of these women on our screens it really is an exciting time to be a girl at the moment. There are much more opportunities to see, connect with, and follow the story of someone other than Matt Damon.
There is still a way to go with regards to representation of women of colour and transwomen, however that’s another discussion for another time, probably from a writer who hasn’t grown up in white, middle class privilege. We should celebrate how far we have come, whilst also using this as a time of reflection and discussion on current and past female representation. Which leads me into what some may call dangerous territory, as I think it’s time to confront the representation of women in the oft-dubbed ‘Man’s World’ of comic books.
The subject of women within the world of comic books has always been one of triumph and dispute. The stereotypical view of comic books and their offsets (film, merchandise etc.) being only for spotty teenage boys has been well and truly debunked for years now. In a study by Eventbrite, last year at San Diego Comic Con visitors were 49% male, 49% female and 2% non-identifying. The recent movements forward within comic book representation on-screen have been important in kicking that age-old and insulting stereotype out of the window. Comic book fans are diverse and multiple, and underneath this umbrella is a huge fan base of women. The idea of the Man’s World has truly come crashing down, which is a wonderful thing. However, as with the above examples, just because there is a louder and more apparent female following, this not does equate with fair representation of women within the genre.
With a huge line up of comic book films slated for the future this box office dominating beast is not set to wither away any time soon. But as all comic book fans know, with great power comes great responsibility. These films and television shows are incredibly popular and hugely influential, and thus we should be allowed to critically analyse them, to hold them to account. To say that women have been treated fairly within the genre wouldn’t just be a lie; it would be a huge, whopping, great, lie cake, covered with a creamy lie frosting, with a sprinkling of lie flakes and a cherry on top. And apart from that analogy making me extremely hungry, it also makes me extremely sad. And angry.
Many would profess that we have made leaps and bounds with female representation; gone are the days Batgirl worrying about her hair and makeup, instead we have women who stand toe to toe with male villains and heroes alike, who have their own stories and purposes. And this is totally true, but sadly I seem to be able to count these examples on one hand.
Too often the female stories are borne out of the male ones, at worst a typical damsel in distress used to further a narrative plot point, at best a ‘lady version’ of the main male character, usually wearing much less armour (seriously guys, if Wonder Woman can kick ass with hot pants and a bikini top why does Thor have to suit up? These guys are wusses) and much more heavily sexualised. For the latter, and for the example I’ve been meandering this article towards, one need only look at the online fallout of Margot Robbie’s Harley Quinn in DC’s upcoming Suicide Squad.
From the first trailer arguments brewed. Some say she is being used only to appease the male gaze, others are blasting these voices as “PC warriors”, pointing out Harley has always been a strong character who owned her sexuality, and some are putting their judgement to one side until they have seen the whole film. No matter where you aligned yourself, there was no denying that compared to her male counterparts Harley’s sexuality was prominent.
Female sexualisation is a tricky subject, as it is something that has been used to both liberate and oppress women. For too long girls have been made to feel dirty for enjoying sex and wanting to be sexual when it’s not something that should be looked down on at all. Sexualisation can be an incredibly empowering tool; however we must be careful when considering the intentions behind the sexualisation, and in terms of film and television, whose hands this is in. There is nothing wrong with having sexy female characters in comic books. There is something wrong when this is what they are defined by.
Yes, male characters are often depicted with bulging muscles and tight spandex, but within a world where a plethora of stories and experiences for men exist, their sexiness is never their defining characteristic. Calling out objectification and manipulation of female sexuality does not equate with shaming women about sex, which has been a line used against people who disliked Harley’s representation in the trailer. Women owning their sexuality and men using it to make money and reinforce gender stereotypes are two vastly different things. Repeat after me, women owning their sexuality and men using women’s sexuality are two completely different things.
Those who saw the representation of Harley as the latter drew a lot of criticism from a sect of the online community who seemed to typify the inherent sexism within film and television. Women are finally starting to get the positive representation and storytelling we deserve, but there is a class of men who apparently cannot deal with this ‘threatening’ presence. They feel the need to step up and defend THEIR comic books, THEIR stories, THEIR films.
The list of reasons these men came up with to protect their right to enjoy a scantily clad Harley without the annoying natter of ‘PC Warriors’ was plentiful and hypocritical. “She’s always been a sexy character!” cried some, seemingly unaware that just because something was doesn’t mean it always will be. “She using her sexuality to empower herself” cried others, also seemingly unaware of the ridiculous contradiction of a man deciding when a woman’s sexiness was empowering for her or not. “There’s nothing wrong with sex, sex sells!” cried a fair few, but hang on I thought this was about empowerment, not using women’s sexuality to make money? Another, more sinister sexism also arose; an often unconscious exposition whereby the commenter’s believe they are defending women but truly they are prescribing to a deeply rooted, twisted and negative view of what women should be. It’s the same sexism that people are now calling out in Joss Whedon’s work, notably Natasha Romanoff’s storyline in Age of Ultron. This voice praised Harley for using her sexuality, for not conforming to the stereotype of a damsel in distress, for being a character who owned herself and stood her ground. And whilst it’s true Harley is definitely more progressive than a lot of female characters in the genre this does not mean her existence ticks gender equality off the list.
What this voice failed to acknowledge was the male dominated world she lives in: her character was created by men, she is defined by her status as a love interest to a man, and thus it’s natural some would question her sexualisation as something to serve the male gaze. The assumption that because Harley is a “strong” character this means her representations are a positive reinforcement of female sexualisation is an example of such internalised sexism. It is arguable if it is even up to a man to define whether or not he thinks something is positive or degrading to women, as at the end of the day he is not the one affected by the issues.
Instead of defending our ‘right’ to ogle at women on-screen or arguing with one another about whether female sexualisation is positive or negative we should be discussing whether it is being used as a tool of oppression, degradation or control. All of these comments for me highlighted exactly why we need more critical discourse within the genre.
The mere thought of opening up commonly held societal issues to the concept of thoughtful and progressive discussion is all too often chastised as an infringement on freedom of speech, and circles of the media retreat back into themselves, patting themselves on the back for protecting yet another possibly outdated/sexist/racist/transphobic issue. This will not stand.
Just shoving women into films and television shows won’t do anymore. We should question and discuss female representation without the fear of being shouted down as an enemy of free speech, and agent of Political Correctness. Wanting fair treatment of women on our screens, the number one way we absorb media and one of the most influential forces in our lives, is not unjustified. We can’t settle for the odd “kick-ass” woman used in a vain attempt to even the playing field. As a collective audience of countless lives, loves, emotions, genders and experiences, we deserve better.
And it’s time to fight for it.
Alice Rush
