20090406.outOfControl

The dying-a-slow-death aggregator of women/comics sex issues, When Fangirls Attack, pointed me today to an interesting article evaluating the position that female protagonists enjoy under the male gaze as instigated by contemporary videogame developers. Here's the summary of the part that I found interesting, if only because I disagreed.

Using Tomb Raider as a test case, the author decides that one of the primary features game developers build into games of this sort centers around the concept of control. And particularly, control of and—most importantly—over the female avatar.* As games are often built upon the proposition of virtually-realized fantasy, the author extends this to include the persona of control—as evidence of gamers' and developers' previously internalized desire to control women. If the author had recently read Bolaño, he might attribute this desire to the conscious/unconscious fear men hold for women.

In Tomb Raider, instead of becoming another—you can control another. The prospect of controlling another, as is made possible by video-games, acts as a form of interactive voyeurism as the male gamer may not feel as if they themselves are implemented within the game which may change the way they react to different situations.

The author believes that the way male gamers play a game in which the avatar is a clearly sexualized characterization differs markedly from playing with alternative representation, positing among other actions, that male gamers will intentionally bring about character deaths in particular ways that might (and this could just be my read on what he's saying) draw upon or even help exorcise male fear of the female. He additionally makes the point that when these avatars are presented in-game from the first person camera-view, players feel less of this desire to control a third party and are more likely to inhabit the avatar to the point of creating a vaguely intimate bond with the character's plight.

Speaking again of third person avatar control and specifically citing Tomb Raider's protagonist as example, the author continues:

This level of control could also act as a means for the male audience to self-assert an attitude of dominance over the opposite sex both directly and indirectly. Directly, it would satisfy the male gamers’ satisfaction of control and leadership by directly having control over the female character, and the actions she performs, to the extent where you can choose whether she survives or not.

The author sees control of the female avatar as speaking overtly of the male desire for patriarchy, the male dismissal of the female as full-fledged person, and the male desire to dominate the feminine Other that he fears. He sees this as a conscious-or-not assertion of patriarchal hegemony.

The thing is, I think he's right that a character like Lara Croft is an outright participation in the common patriarchy despite the fact that I find his theory of male dominance here overstated simply on the basis that it is stated at all. Rather than citing awkward psychological needs arising from the male cultural distinctive (i.e. the dominance/control scheme), there seems a much simpler answer to the dilemma. There is a straightforward reason for the main of male gamers who enjoy playing through female avatars that concerns neither the desire to dominate a female nor the desire to engage a feminine view of the world (something which videogames rarely capture).

The simplest answer, I think, is this: if given the option of spending twenty-plus hours watching the backside of a strapping young man, chiseled to perfection, or that of a cutish, physically desirable young woman, a large number of heterosexual males will choose the latter. (There are still a number who will associate the avatar closely with their own persona, breaking down the cipher aspect of the representative, and will feel uncomfortable choosing a female avatar when given the opportunity.) My own theory is that many heterosexual males will find it more comfortable to dwell on the appearance of a female avatar than to do the same with a male avatar, well-endowed with strength, speed, and cool, good looks. This reaction, I believe, stems from the same psychology that made the light homophobia that ruled my high school pretty much the status quo.

So rather than an overt bid for control, I think the use and popularity of female avatars such as Lara Croft speaks of the sexual preferences and appreciation of the female form intimate to the heterosexual male. I believe this principle may be comparable to the male proclivity for the use of female pornography. The desire is not so much for control as it is for sexual expression (though the difference between playing Tomb Raider and using pornography is stark enough).

I could, I suppose, argue that pornography too imposes a patriarchal psychology of male-over-female dominance and that even the theory I forward speaks to shades of similar desire to control the female (if only her form). I think those could make for fair discussions, but they seem to be some distance from the direction our author proposes.

In any case, from examples such as Tomb Raider and a host of other videogames, the male gaze is relentlessly supported and the origin is unquestionably an institutionalized sexism that rides on the back of our long history of patriarchal hegemony. There are changes that ought to be made within the industry and without—and recognition of the flaws these changes should address is an important initial step.

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Notes:
* For those unfamiliar with avatar terminology, the character one controls is referred to as one's avatar. One's onscreen representation is the cipher through which the players is masked and interacts with the game environment. In Super Mario Bros., one's avatar is a squat plumber with unspeakably large moustache. In Tomb Raider, one's avatar is an ill-proportioned** young woman in hot pants and hiking boots.

** For the movie version of Tomb Raider, Angelina Jolie had to wear artificial boobs to fill out protagonist Lara Croft's prospectus. That's on top of Jolie's already artificial assets.

Extra: sorry to reference a Tony Danza film in my title. I realize that was in unquestionably poor taste.

20080528

As one may have gathered over the last couple posts, I've been playing a lot of the WoW board game. This post is not really about playing games. It's about art. Or at least graphic design.

As related somewhere, I got the game to aid me in my recent convalescence—mostly to keep me from going bonkers in the midst of my inevitable battle with the dastardly cabin fever. And as related elsewhere, the game's cards and pieces are pretty snazzy-looking. With one glaring exception. The boxes that Fantasy Flight Games designed to hold the game's 1308 playing cards (yes, that's 1308). The reason FFG's boxes are so poorly designed is that they didn't happen to include any. Despite all the work they put into the game's components, they just kind of threw their hands up in the air and said, "Meh. Who cares about keeping the cards together?" Apparently the kids at FFG leave their game out all the time and never have to worry about what will happen when the game goes back in the box, gets shoved into a closet, and then weeks later is pulled down to find thirteen-hundred and eight cards spread liberally throughout the game's box.

So, just before my surgery, I decided to rectify the problem.

Using official (mostly) WoW art and a font that either is the same one WoW uses or else emulates it pretty well, I created nine boxes to hold each class's powers and talents, two boxes for the Lordaeron and Outland dungeon cards, and three boxes for the various kinds of quests (Alliance, Horde, and neutral). It was a lot of work and a bit of fun. I printed each box on semi-gloss photo paper (matte may have been better, but a semi-gloss cardstock would have been ideal) and afixed the various tabs with simple double-sided scotch tape. I still have about five boxes to make (I ran out of time before my surgery), but I should get to them eventually.

Here are some thumbnails of my boxes, each of which one may click to embiggen (and see the whole tuckbox pattern).

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The only two boxes that use non-official art are the Priest and Druid boxes (the Priest is fan art that I just thought was cool and the Druid box comes from a fan wallpaper made from in-game images—I used it because there's a curious lack of Druid art out there).

While putting these boxes together, I was able to pay greater attention to WoW art (and fantasy art in general) and I noticed something striking. Fantasy artists either have no idea how to treat female anatomy or they think its funny to lead astray their young teenage victims. Case in point: the art used on my Alliance Quest box—there is something amiss.

That's right ladies and gentlefolk. This poor bloodelf lass has, by artistic license, been entirely stripped of her nickels. Either that or bloodelf anatomy is vastly different from our own and they have just happened to evolve a nickelless frontside in order to appeal to young males and fantasy artists. Either that or the plastic surgeon just kinda shaved them off. *sigh* And geeks wonder why their fantasy environments do not readily advertise themselves to the fairer sex.

20071126

While we're on the subject of assumptive interpretations of Scripture, I've always found it amusing all the things that people consistently extrapolate out of the passage in which Jesus is asked about the lady who had seven husbands and which of those men would be married to her in heaven. Jesus responds that there is no marriage in heaven and that in such a respect we will then be like the angels.

Here then is a partial list of unjustified things that people derive from the passage:

Angels are sexless beings.

Angels cannot have sex.

Angels cannot reproduce.

In heaven, we will not have sex.

In heaven, we will be sexless beings.

In heaven, we will not reproduce.

At the most, here is what we can say about the text (note that none of the above make it into this category):

Angels don't marry.

In heaven, we will not marry.

And really, that's about it. Beyond those two things, there isn't much we can posit with anything remotely approaching dogmatism. We are fully justified in saying something like, "Wouldn't it be interesting if people became sexless in their resurrection bodies?" We are not justified in saying people will be sexless in their resurrection bodies." Note that difference and learn to love it.

The Problem with Adjectives

Just before my vacation, Kalinara engaged my interest with a post discussing just what was offensive and sexist. Or at least that's what I turned the post into in my mind, because that's what her words got me thinking about. Because of my impending vacation, I didn't really get to explore the ideas that were slogging through the muck of my consciousness. So let's do that now. Keep in mind that this is not so much a response to K as it is a rumination inspired by her comments.

So K suggested that if something offends anyone, it is offensive. She also suggested that if anyone finds something sexist, it is sexist. At first, I wasn't so into this as it allows terminology that has strongly negative import to be applied to things that might not actually deserve such negativity. I brought up the tired old example of how David Howard didn't utter a racist sentiment by his use of niggardly, even though it was racist to those who possessed a limited vocabulary. But then I thought more about it and while I'm still unsatisfied, that lack of comfort comes more from the nature of adjectives than from K's application of them.

The problem with adjectives is that, largely, they are relativistic. Perspectival. They are comparative to a usually unstated standard. And it's the unstatement of the standard where things get tricky.

At 6'2", I am tall for my age. If the standard is the average height of the 33-year-old male population of Japan. If, however, you compare me to the average height of a 33-year-old male professional basketball player, I'm not actually tall at all. The adjective's accuracy is entirely dependent upon the standard by which we measure it.

Now there are numerous standards to keep track of at any given time. Personal standards. Cultural standards. Sub-cultural standards. Statistical standards. Religious standards. Particular standards. It can easily get confusing. And we grant differing weight to standards according to circumstance.

As an artist, when I create something for print publication and it needs to be blue, I rely less upon my experience of blue (my standard for blue, as it were), and more upon both industry standard and client standard. I also don't give much weight to your mother's standard of blue.

When speaking of religion, a man of Islamic faith will more greatly grant to the weight of an Islamic understanding of what is moral than he will to the Hindu understanding of the same. Even an adjective like Christian will be applied or not applied based upon differing standards. Some will say that Mormonism is Christian because according to their standard, Mormonism is Christian. Others, of course, will fight tooth and nail to refuse use of that particular adjective to the Mormon faith—instead offering an adjective like "cult." It's all dependent upon the standard for comparison.

And so it is, I think, with adjectives like offensive, sexist, and racist. If we do not define our standard, things get really tricky. Kalinara, fortunately, does define the standard to which she appeals, stating that something is offensive or sexist if a single person finds it to be so (she also claims, then, that something being offensive isn't necessarily a bad thing).

I'm mostly okay with how she's treating the terms here save for the fact that I don't think that this is the normal way in which we use the terms. I think that generally when we say something is offensive (without using further qualifiers), we are appealing to some standard beyond simply our own personal standard—or even another's personal standard. If I say that Hitler's ideology is offensive, I'm not just saying that I am offended by Hitler's ideology (unless I add to me to the statement: "Hitler's ideology is offensive to me"). I'm saying that his ideology offends some greater standard.

The problem is ambiguity. What greater standard am I referring to? Now Hitler's pretty easy as his ideology likely would be considered offensive by quite a few standards. But let's take Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ. If some one said the movie was offensive, there are many less standards by which the film would be considered offensive. Offensive to Jews? Evidently. Offensive to some Christians? Sure. Offensive to people who wanted Jesus to speak in Greek? I guess. Offensive to the rabid materialists? It would almost have to be. Offensive to practicing Roman Catholics? Probably not so much.

A large number of people wouldn't find it offensive. Another group of people would. So was the film offensive? Depends on the standard. Dictionary standard? Well, yeah, because it caused offense to some. Cosmic standard? Probably not, as little offends the cosmic.

So when approaching a particular instance, say a work of art or a corporate graphic depiction, what do we want to mean when we describe it as sexist, racist, or offensive? What standard are we appealing to? What standard should we appeal to? I think that by arguing whether something is sexist or not, we are usually less arguing over the appropriateness of adjective itself, and more just arguing in favour of one measuring stick over another.

Obviously, I don't have an answer for this yet. But I think my dissatisfaction has done well to prompt me to consider the question.

Just Love Me. Please?

So I have this dilemma thing. Over the past year or two, I've paid an increased attention to the complaints against the fairly-plain, sexist nature of comic book fiction. Things in the realm of comics (and especially in the genres of superhero fiction and many of the genres native to Japanese manga) are a bit antique. Every month, there seems to be a fresh target upon which to vent one's righteous indignation against the indignities disproportionately bestowed upon the female character. There are entire sites devoted to women's issues in comics (with most that I've seen focusing on the ins and outs of the American mainstream affairs). The main point, however, is that things are not great.

Which puts many female comic readers on edge, looking out for these breaches of egalitarian principle.

Which is where my dilemma comes in. The graphic novel on which I've been working since November features a female as the lead. I think she's a pretty good character and engaging. Strong in some areas, greatly flawed in others. Kinda like real people. Or so I intend.

The problem is that in delving into this feminist subculture of the comics subculture, I get the feeling that no matter what I write, I can't win. Along with all the good critique I've read, I've also been pretty taken aback at some of the grossly inadequate critique out there. For every feminist out there who's giving things a fair evaluation, there are those who operate on assumption rather than evidence—tarring, feathering, and dismissing with a description that becomes so common that it begins to lose all strength: misogyny.

What worries me is not the reasonable critics. It's the ones who don't need to be reasonable. One of the dangers in taking on the identity of a critic is that one tends to feel the need to find error so deeply that one is not satisfied if error is not found. I see this all the time with burgeoning young proofreaders and editors (yes, part of my skillset is that of a master editor!*). After a few weeks of proofreading and editing, they become so anxious to find mistakes that they begin seeing them everywhere. Even things that are not mistakes. When they become especially attached to their role, it often takes some fierce discussion to convince them that they are not seeing what they imagine they are seeing. I'm gathering that a portion of the feminist (note: not female) comic-blogging atmosphere is suffering from such a malady.

For every honest appraisal of sexism in comics, we're getting hit with over-reactions and presumptions. Or maybe that ratio's off. Maybe it's 3 reactions :: 1 overreaction? Or 1 reaction :: 2 overreactions? Or 10 reactions :: 3 overreactions? I don't know. What I do know is that its dangerous to put out a book in this kind of environment.

What I mean when I say "this kind of environment" is a charged environment. Feminist momentum in the realm of comics-blogging is picking up. And as that momentum picks up, the sightings of Jesus in a tortilla will be picking up as well. Things that deserve ire will garner it—but what about the innocent stuff that gets caught in the sweep?

I'm essentially the poster-child for American privilege. I'm white, male, Protestant, blond-haired, blue-eyed, not fat, and I grew up in Laguna Beach. The only count in my favour is that I didn't grow up rich (as my father was an artist—and not one of the $2500-per-work kinds either). I've got all the marks against me that screams: "How can you write a ____ character? You don't know what it's like to be me! You've never endured the struggle or prejudice that I have!" And it's true. My struggles have nothing to do with speaking English as a second language, being discriminated against because of the colour of my skin, being dismissed because I don't have a Y chromosome, or being hated/feared because my sexuality deviates from norm.

All the same, I like stories—and think I have one worth telling. One about a woman.

After having written it, I'm worried that I will be perceived as misogynistic Not by the reasonable—I have no fear of my acquittal on their part. But it's the ones looking for trouble that worry me. One of the things that makes the reception of a creative work such a dicey proposition is that I see some feminists praising a specific instance in a book while other feminists revile the same instance. And both groups cite their feminism as the basis for their decision to praise or revile.

Colour me baffled.

Really, it shouldn't surprise me, as people constantly cite ideology as the fuel for their evaluations. I knew people who voted for Bush because they were Christians and couldn't, in good conscience, vote any other way. I knew people who would not vote for Bush because they were Christians and couldn't, in good conscience, support his presidency. I know I shouldn't fear this dynamic, but ideologies are powerful (and often unpredictable) things. And this book is dear to me and I don't want to see it sacrificed to thoughtlessness.

I count myself fortunate that I'm just in the first year of a four-year project and that the climate may have been entirely mellowed and resolved by the time I'm ready to present my story. But if its the same? Or worse? How can a creator win?

I don't believe there is anything in my book that should offend readers to the point that the story is tainted. I do believe that some will be offended and the story ruined for them. I did my best to craft not just a believable woman (which would be inadequate) but to craft a believable person. Bad things happen and she doesn't come out completely rosey. I think a good feminist/humanist/what-have-you could read my story and be satisfied that I did a good job with what she's looking for. I guess the current climate just worries me is all.

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*note: don't take my blog writing as evidence that I'm a bad proofer, everything on this site is first drafted and though it could use a good proofing, I'll save that for my serious writing.

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Some resources discussing women in comics:

When Fangirls Attack - hand-edited aggregation of articles on women in comics

Pretty, Fizzy Paradise - posts on comics by Kalinara

The Beat - sociology-tagged posts from The Beat

Comics Worth Reading - Johanna Draper Carlson reviews comics

Written Worlds - posts on comics by Ragnell

Girls Read Comics (And They're Pissed - Karen Healy is angry

and...

Some of my own musings on related matters

</minxSexism>

If paying attention to a segment of feminist-blogging diaspora has demonstrated one thing more unassailably to my mind that anything else, it's this: despite best intentions to the contrary, people are people - and as such are flawed. And one of those evident flaws is seen readily in the fact that people are uncomfortable with whatever it is they deem to be Other.

If you count sex as a difference, then you predispose yourself toward sexism. If you count race as a difference, then you predispose yourself toward racism. If age, then ageism. If nationality, then nationalism. If religion, then creedalism. If you are ego-centric like me, then you are predisposed toward misanthropy. I suppose it's only natural - and so, understandable - that one who sees himself as distinct from another group would predispose himself to treating unfairly members of this group.

This doesn't mean it's right. Only that we should expect it.

And so, as frustrating as it is to read, there is no reason I shouldn't have expected sexism to be nearly so rampant in the conversations I've been reading. From both males and females. And yet it did surprise me for some reason.

I suppose it was simple naivety on my part to imagine that many of those calling for equality would not themselves be guilty of sexism. I mean, I am, for all intents and purposes, an egalitarian and I catch myself in hypocrisies from time to time - so I don't know why I believed it should be different with others.

In any case, I thought I'd reflect on some of the common inadequacies in some of the discussions I've come across in this particular niche of the discussion: sexism and comics.

Much of this came about in respect to a new line of comics that will be marketed toward a young female demographic. This new line, Minx, and will be produced by DC Comics (the Batman and Superman company); and out of something like nine writers and artists for the new line, only two of these are women. The producers of the line (women themselves), in an effort to clam the minds of many who were already crying foul play, promise that they tried to more women involved but the women they wanted were either unavailable, not interested, or didn't pitch an acceptable book.

So that's the set-up. And I know you're dying to hear about the sexism, so here we go.

Women Seeking Women
One commenter, a strong voice of feminism-in-comic circles, says,

I also seek out authors of my own gender because my experience has been that I’m more likely to get a voice that I can relate to. You may not care about the gender of the authors you read, but consider that that’s not true for everyone.

Another says:

It’s the difference between "this is written/drawn for me and it’s nice" and "this is written/drawn for me and it could have been written/drawn BY me because I can really identify with the women doing it."

There are two things going on here: 1) a marketing truth - that people buy stuff from people that are similar to them; and 2) sexism. The first isn't all that interesting, but the second piques my curiosity.

For the sake of argument what would we say if you gave me a book and, before telling you what I thought about it, I asked if the author was black? Because, you know, I have a hard time relating to blacks. What we would say is that I am a racist jerk and that by saying I cannot relate to someone because their pigmentation differs from mine, I am really just lowering them to the level of an entirely different kind of creature. I am no longer treating black people as human; they are now Other.

This is what's happening here. It is being suggested that men cannot write believable women (and I presume, conversely, that women cannot write believable men). Or maybe, to state better, men can't write women as believably as women can (and vice versa). For the authors of these comments, men are no longer people in the same sense that women are - they are Other.

And that is a sexist notion. (For more on the topic, please refer to my Y: The Last Man article discussing the topic.)

Thar's Condescension in Them Thar Hills

Many readers, mostly male, have said that this not-enough-women-thing is silly, there should be no gender quotas, blah blah blah. It’s easy to say there should be no quotas when you’re on the winning side.

It’s interesting that most (but not all) of the people who are saying it’s okay that the line is mostly men because art should be gender neutral are MEN. Interesting but hardly surprising.

And one commenter says in response to some poor sap who said he didn't understand where all the rage on the issue was coming from,

Rage? More like exasperation, which, as a fella, are unlikely to ever have to understand.

Nearbout a year ago, when I first started perusing comics blogs with anything approaching what we might term, "in earnest," I came across Kalinara's very pink site. One of the first posts there I ever commented on dealt with feminism, sexism, et cetera. I was hesitant and self-deprecating, remembering past incidents in which being the, quote-unquote, privileged majority rendered any point I made a moot one. I had always been frustrated that I was perceived as a white, American male simply because it kept me from being viewed as a person. Instead, I was nearly always perceived as The Man - or some sort of herald to Said Man.

Kalinara, however, said it didn't matter and that ideas were ideas and she didn't care about my chromosome status. Or something like that. It was refreshing. And smart. Because chromosomes don't matter when it's ideas that are on the table.

Yet despite Kalinara's willingness to put sexism behind her, others are not so aicable to the concept. Or maybe they're find with the concept but find the practice more difficult. In any case, every last person who says that men cannot understand an issue like this by virtue of the fact of their "privilege" is wallowing in sexism. They are guilelessly wading through tar pits of that muck they're swearing their lives to do away with.

This is interesting, but not surprising. Not because they're women, but because they're people. And people are thoroughly flawed and are usually of two or three or nine minds at any given time. To restate a Frank, despite everything, I believe that people are really lame at heart.

Sexism and My Super Ex-Girlfriend

As the topic of feminism (and the tangentials of sexism and misogyny) has come to interest me slightly, I thought I would discuss a particular point made in a discussion I mostly read by Tom Foss. In a largely well-thought-out post, he notes a recent accusation of misogyny in Uma Thurman's character in the film, My Super Ex-Girlfriend—a character who becomes a nightmarish stalker for flaccid Luke Wilson. Tom remarks:

I'm assuming here that the charges were made against the portrayal of Uma Thurman's character, G-Girl, a superheroine who is, among other things, clingy, emotionally unstable, manipulative, and prone to jealousy, all traits stereotypically associated with women.

My quibble here is minor, but one that I think presents an important note to the conversation. Clinginess, emotional instability, a propensity toward manipulation, and an inclination toward jealousy are not actually stereotypes of women—but are certainly stereotypes of Evil Ex-Girlfriends^tm. While G-Girl is probably guilty of wallowing in cliche, I think it mistaken to deposit her in the lap of female cliche as such. Most women in literature or in the national perspective are not viewed as these things—but in difficult ex-girlfriends, these traits are certainly cliche.

If My Super Ex-Girlfirend has anything to apologize for, it's not sexism (or worse, misogyny). More likely, it simply needs to say I'm sorry for trafficking in tired, lifeless writing and an undue reliance upon trite cliche. But then maybe not, how many guys have had ex-girlfriends who proved to be "clingy, emotionally unstable, manipulative, and prone to jealousy"? I know I have. (p.s. if you're one of my ex-girlfriends and you're reading this, I'm talking about one of the others. not you. never you.) It's kinda like the cliched ex-boyfriend who's abusive, possessive, and passive aggressive to the hilt? How many women have known that guy? I know that at various times in the past I have fulfilled the Passive Aggressive portion of that bill (really, I'm all better now. I promise.).

I think the reason we see those cliches crop up more often in literature is that a messy breakup has more intrinsic drama going on in it. Sure, my cleaner breakups has exactly as much drame going on in reality—but that was all underneath everything and wouldn't be easy to draw out in a story without a million-and-three thought bubbles. So maybe lazy writing is the culprit? Or maybe, as readers, we prefer to read about people in freaky situations so we can smugly go, "There but by the grace of God..." and continue enjoying our piña coladas from the safety of our poolside lawnchairs. Or something.

The Problem with Feminism

(well, not feminism per se - but a particular kind or expression of feminism)

Ah yes, you guessed it. Another post about comics. Er, feminism. Er, comics. Er, well hmm. To read around the comics blogs I happen to frequent, it kinda seems like the two are inexorably linked. Okay, really, this is more about feminism and authorship than about comics, but I will use comics as a jump-off point.

For those of you unawares, there is a book by a man, Brian K. Vaughan (and illustrated by a woman, Pia Guerra), called Y: The Last Man. Vaughan has crafted a fascinating story of a world in which the entire planet's male populations (whether human or lower on the food chain) instantly die, coughing up blood and collapsing. All the males save for Yorick Brown and his pet monkey, Ampersand. They mysteriously survive. Really, the premise sounds like the beginnings of some crude sort of Kevin Smith film, yet Vaughan charts the travels of Yorick through this courageous new world with skill and imagination.

Y: The Last Man is of that very best kind of science fiction - the kind that presents the standards of society and forces you to question them and consider their weight without (and this is the important part) rendering judgment itself. The best science fiction makes you think. It causes one to reevaluate his mores and his assumptions about his world.

With a subject as ripe for exploitation as a tale of a single man left alone with a world of women, Vaughan exerts considerable restraint. While his characters are indeed sexual beings (even as we are), they are always first and foremost individuals (even as we are). There are women who can't live without their men. There are women who rejoice in the worldwide plague that killed the men. There are those who take stock of their lives and move on as they might. There are those who take charge, those who acquiesce, those who are violent, those who are scientists. Really, every kind of individual you could think of exists as denizen of this new kind of life. And their ideologies are equally diverse.

Still, the main character is Yorick. Well, Yorick and his two companions on his quest (Y: The Last Man really plays off as more a roadtrip/quest story than as anything else), genetic scientist, Allison Mann, and secret agent, 355. We see things largely from Yorick's point of view as he witnesses just how the world has changed in malekind's notable absence. Personally, I think it's the right perspective from which to approach the storyline (in a similar story in which all women save for one perished, I would certainly want to see that world from the perspective of the woman). This is not to say that the women's perspective on things is ever ignored - quite the opposite in truth - but only to say that Vaughan's narrative reference is this lone man.

And here's where the feminism comes in. (You thought I'd never get to it.)

I'm going to pick on a post by Franny at So So Silver Age, only because its handy. The perspective she offers isn't unique and I've seen it presented by a number of women and men over the years (and the issue she brings up crosses over into other social categories as well - notably ethnic and less notably creedal, national, and age-related categories). In short, Y: The Last Man makes her angry. Why?

It seems that despite the fact that she generally agrees that Vaughan does a good job with the book (and with presenting the circumstances without the sexist overtones that one might expect in such a story), she still finds something over which to be outraged. Her problem is that Brian K. Vaughan, because he is a man, has no business writing the kind of story he's writing. In her own words:

Brian K. Vaughan is a man, and despite ideological and artistic intentions, his male privilege (the unspoken benefits of being male, invisible to people who grow up as men in our society but highly visible to those who do not have them) makes it inherently biased.

It is a well put together series. The apparatus works. I read it. But it still makes me furious.

I retain my righteous anger that women should be the ones to write about what women would do if left to their own purposes in an unmanned world.

Now, I'm not interested in critiquing Franny so much as I am interested in looking at the perspective she advocates. And where it falls short.

There are a lot of directions from which one could approach the argument, but let's start by looking at the nature of most fiction. Despite the typical advice to young writers, one simply cannot write what one knows and have a successful career as a writer. Instead, we write what we can imagine. It's true that the better our imagination conforms to the sense of reality to which our audience holds, the better able they are to believe in our writing. Still, any time the author writes a character that is not him, he is making things up. Fabricating. Writing a foreigner.

The perspective that governs Franny's thoughts here (and indeed, those of at least a subsection of feminists) is one that makes the foreigner off-limits to the author. As you may realize, this is severely limiting to storytelling.

I should never be able to tell a story with a fifty-year old because I am not yet fifty. And for me to presume to represent a fifty-year-old with my fiction should outrage all those who either are fifty or have been fifty in the past. Because theirs are shoes in which I have never walked. How can I possibly characterize accurately a person who carries the weight and wisdom and experience of so many years? In Franny's perspective - if held consistently - I cannot. Neither can I write villains, cab drivers, Roman Catholics, atheists, British, Asians, jocks, schoolteachers, or parents.

I can only use imagination and reasonably deduce what an individual in any of those life circumstances would do, think, believe, or say. Actually, the same holds true for if I were writing my brother as a character in a story. Of course I'm going to be importing my biases, my beliefs about my subjects, my life experiences, and my culture into my storytelling. And yet, even as much as my skills at literary craft, my ability to write believable characters is what will label me a Good Author or a Bad Author.

According to the ideal Franny presents, there really shouldn't be any stories featuring more than one character, since all characters save for the author's cypher are as foreign to the author as female characters are to a male author - one like Brian K. Vaughan.

Really, perspectives like this aren't doing any favours for those who have legitimate concerns for the treatment of their sex by authors. There are a host of issues regarding women in literature and in comics that ought to be addressed. It's too bad there are idealogies undermining valuable critique in this way.