“One is Not Born, But Rather Becomes a [Female or Ethnically Diverse Superhero]ˮ: Marvel Comicʼs Recent Gender-and Race Alterations

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“One is Not Born, But Rather Becomes a [Female or

Ethnically Diverse Superhero]ˮ: Marvel Comicʼs Recent

Gender-and Race Alterations

Master Thesis

Literary Studies: Literature and Culture (English) University of Amsterdam

Eva de Gans

Student number: 10244352 Supervisor: Dr. J. Goggin

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Acknowledgement on Plagiarism

I hereby acknowledge to have read and understood the UvA guidelines on plagiarism, and I confirm that this thesis is my own work. I have also acknowledged all references and quotations from both primary and secondary sources.

Eva de Gans November 20, 2017

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Abstract

The undeniable popularity of superhero comics around the globe would suggest that they significantly influence contemporary culture, while playing an important role in shaping perceptions of gender and ethnic identities. This article explores a number of Marvelʼs recent superhero comics that feature gender and race-swapped main characters, thereby implicitly or explicitly breaking with tradition and offering a challenge to race and gender stereotypes.

Marvel superhero comics and the company that produces them have a long and problematic history where the representation of women and ethnic minorities is concerned. Recently however, Marvel appears to be reevaluating the company’s portrayal of female and non-white characters and, in the fall of 2014, the company unveiled a new lineup of heroes that challenge many of the gender and race stereotypes that abound in superhero comics. Yet while this gesture may be laudable in many ways, these new creations remain troubling because the characters they feature are often simply extensions of their white, male counterparts such as Ms. Marvel/Kamala Khan, or Captain Marvel/Carol Danvers who are gender and race alterations of established white, male heroes.

In this article I will address problematic—but also positive—aspects of Marvelʼs superhero comics that arise when their creators remodel established white male superheroes as female or ethnically diverse heroes. Furthermore, in providing an overview of Marvelʼs troubled and troubling history where the representation of heroines and non-white heroes is concerned, I will also discuss how and if these new superheroes break with tradition by challenging possible sexist and racist stereotypes.

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Introduction

In North America, the estimated market for comics in 2013 was no less than $870 million dollars (Reid, par. 1). From this sizable market, the most notable genre is the superhero genre (Gerde and Foster 248), which many would characterize as mere entertainment, yet its undeniable popularity would suggest that superhero comics significantly influence contemporary culture and have a decided influence on readersʼ perception of the world. As Momin Rahman and Stevi Jackson, two sociologists who explored the diverse pattern of sexuality, gender and identity politics in an age of globalization, have argued, everyday culture, including comics, encodes meanings about various significant aspects of daily life such as gender and ethnicity “that not only reflect society but also construct it and affect how we can take action” (135).

The most influential global superhero comics publisher is Marvel Comics, which controls no less than 37 percent of the superhero comics market (Gerde and Foster 248). Due to the companyʼs popularity and success, it has been able to uphold the status quo of superhero comics for years, which is troubling given that Marvel has had a long and problematic history where the representation of women and ethnic minorities is concerned. Indeed, while Marvel most often portrayed their heroes exclusively as white, heterosexual men, characters that fell outside such categories have been highly underrepresented, demonized, or portrayed as grotesque, hypersexualized, and/or dangerous Others.

Following from these observations, I want to argue that reflecting on various aspects of representation in comic books is meaningful because, as Judith Butler argues, in order to transform harmful constructions of gender and race, one must stop behaving according to normalized gendered roles as often as possible (179). In relation to comics this would mean that, if comics creators were to stop creating stereotypical female and ethnically diverse

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superheroes, these gestures might well eventually help to transform stereotypical notions that people may have concerning gender and race.

Recently, Marvel appears to be reevaluating the company’s portrayal of female and non-white characters and, in the fall of 2014, the company unveiled a new lineup of heroes that challenge many of the gender and race stereotypes that abound in superhero comics. As Marvel Comicsʼs Editor-in-Chief Axel Alfonso claimed in an interview with Entertainment

Weekly: “Marvel is doing some really great things right now with all their books, especially

when it comes to embracing diversity and its success of female-led titlesˮ (Towers, par. 15). It is important for superhero fans to read about heroes to whom they can relate because this improves readersʼ notions concerning their own identities and those of others, hence Marvelʼs gesture may be laudable in many ways. However, the companyʼs new creations remain problematic because the characters they feature are often simply extensions of their white, male counterparts such as Thor/Jane Foster or Spider-Man/Miles Morales, who are all gender and race alterations of established white, male heroes. This thesis addresses problematic—but also positive—aspects of Marvelʼs superhero comics that arise when established white male superheroes are remodelled as female or ethnically diverse heroes. In providing an overview of Marvelʼs troubled and troubling history where the representation of heroines and non-white heroes is concerned, I will explore a number of Marvelʼs recent superhero comics that feature gender and race-swapped main characters, in order to discuss whether or not they break with tradition and offer any real challenge to race and gender stereotypes.

The first chapter of this thesis will provide an overview of the development of comics scholarship and of the most notable comics movements. Furthermore, after addressing problematic and positive aspects of gender and race as depicted through altered superheroes, I will argue that, even though Marvelʼs new creations remain problematic, we should still

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applaud them if the comics do indeed challenge negative and damaging stereotypical representations of gender and/or race, as Marvel claimed they would. The second chapter will focus on gender. First, it will provide an overview of Marvel’s troubling history with its female superheroes, thereby arguing that although superheroines gradually became more self-sufficient and less hypersexualized, many gendered archetypical tropes prevail to this day.

Furthermore, in order to discuss whether or not Marvel’s recent gender remodelings break with tradition by challenging possible sexist stereotypes, the second chapter will examine Jason Aaron and Russell Dauterman’s Thor and Mighty Thor, Charles Soule and Javier Pulido’s She-Hulk, Kelly Sue DeConnick and Dexter Soyʼs Captain Marvel Vol. 1, DeConnick and David Lopezʼs Captain Marvel Vol. 2 and Michele Fazekas, Tara Butters and Kris Ankaʼs Captain Marvel.

Following an overview of Marvelʼs problematic history with its non-white superheroes, the final chapter will discuss whether or not Marvel’s recent race remodelings break with tradition by challenging possible racist stereotypes. In order to do so, the following comics will be examined: G. Willow Wilson and Adrian Alphona’s Ms. Marvel, Brian Michael Bendis and David Marquez’s Miles Morales: Ultimate Spider-Man, Bendis and Sara Pichelli’s Spider-Man and Bendis, Stefano Castelli and Marte Garciaʼs Invincible Iron Man Vol. 3.

In this manner, this thesis will discuss how and if these new superheroes break with tradition, while explaining that, even though gender and race alterations are problematic, Marvelʼs new creations should be applauded if they do indeed challenge negative and damaging stereotypical representations of gender and/or race.

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Chapter 1:

Advantages and Disadvantages of Superhero Switch-Ups

This chapter will address problematic—but also positive—aspects of Marvelʼs superhero comics that arise when its creators remodel established white male superheroes as female or ethnically diverse heroes. However, in order to contextualize such present-day critical reflections concerning comics, the first two sections of this chapter will provide an overview of the development of comics scholarship and the most notable comics movements, namely The Golden Age, The Silver Age, The Dark Age and, finally, The Modern Age of comics. As I hope to show, since scholarly research on superheroes has gained more attention and recognition—particularly in the areas of social studies and gender studies—comics creators have made increasing efforts to develop more female and ethnically diverse superheroes. In the third section of this chapter I will, using Judith Butler’s theory of performativity, examine why scholarly research on comics is worthwhile in order to assert that it is important that comics contributors create more diverse superheroes because this aids in transforming received notions concerning gender, race and sexuality. The fourth section contained in this chapter will examine the role of the biggest and most influential comic-book publisher worldwide: Marvel Comics. The company has had a long and problematic history where representing women and ethnic minorities is concerned given that such characters were highly underrepresented, demonized and/or hypersexualized. However, since 2014, Marvel has launched multiple titles with women and people of colour in leading roles. Finally, in the fifth segment of this chapter, I will argue that, despite Marvel’s recent attempts to create more female and ethnically diverse superheroes, its creations remain problematic because these new characters are mere extensions of their white, male counterparts. Nevertheless, I will assert

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that these changes should still be encouraged given that they still challenge negative and damaging stereotypical representations of gender and/or race.

From Golden Times to Modern Times: Shifting Criticisms

Superhero. A heroic character with a selfless, pro-social mission; with

superpowers―extraordinary abilities, advanced technology, or highly developed physical, mental or mystical skills; who has superhero identity embodied in a codename and iconic costume, which typically express his biography, character, powers, or origin (transformation from ordinary person to superhero); and who is generically distinct, i.e. can be distinguished from characters of related genres (fantasy, science fiction, detective, etc.) by a preponderance of generic conventions. Often superheroes have dual identities, the ordinary one of which is usually a closely guarded secret. (Judge Learned Hand, qtd. in Coogan 77)

The above detailed 1952 definition of a superhero may still be considered relevant in describing superheroes today. Since their arrival on the scene in the 1930s, superheroes have been described as “selfless” and as having a “pro-social mission” (Ibid). Superman, for example, was often described as “savior of the helpless and oppressed” and as a hero who “battles the forces of evil and injustice” (Action Comics#1 June 1938, qtd. in Miettinen 1). However, people have begun to judge the role of our famous heroes-in-tights more critically over the years. Although American superheroes are still considered to be benevolent, more recently the comic books in which they appear have been fiercely criticized for their problematic representations of women and ethnic minorities. For example, as Jill Lepore argues in The Secret History of Wonder Woman, “Superheroes, who are supposed to be better than everyone else, are excellent at clobbering people; they’re lousy at fighting for equality” (xiii). In other words, while superheroes like Superman are claimed to be “saviours of the oppressed (Ibid),” they seem to neglect marginalized groups.

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Criticism of superheroes and superhero comics is a relatively new development. Superhero comics have traditionally been divided into distinct periods, each with different superheroes, and differing criticisms thereof. And while the distinction between various ages of comics may be as vague as the distinction between any literature or art movements, for purposes of this thesis, a rough overview will suffice.

The Ages of Superhero Comics

The two major and best-known periods in comics studies are The Golden Age and The Silver Age1_{. As Geoff Klock argues in How to Read Superhero Comics, The Golden Age saw the}

birth of the superhero who was developed out of various pulp fiction characters from the early 1930s and is generally associated with the second biggest comics publisher, DC Comics. The primary figures of the Golden Age are Superman (1938), Batman (1939), Green Lantern (1940), and Wonder Woman (1941) (2). The Silver Age, one the other hand, started in the early 1960s, when Marvel Comics launched a completely new line of superheroes (Ibid). The most famous characters of The Silver Age are the Fantastic Four (1961), Spider-Man (1962), the Incredible Hulk (1962), the X-Men (1963), the Avengers (1963), Iron Man (1963), and Daredevil (1964) (ibid).

In The Golden and The Silver Ages of comic books, superheroes were mainly criticized because the comics were thought to be unsuitable for children. Comics, it was argued, were “full of torture, kidnapping, sadism, and other cruel business” which “would affect children’s behaviour” and “lead to aggression” (Lepore 185, 208). Particularly the publication of Fredric Wertham’s Seduction of the Innocent (1954)—in which he accused comic books of creating juvenile delinquency and sexual deviancy—caused a public outcry over comic books and their supposedly negative influence on youth (Nyberg ix). This outcry 1 The first recorded use of the term “Golden Age” was by Richard A. Lupoff in an 1960 article, “Re-Birthˮ. The

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ultimately led to the introduction of The Comics Code. As Amy Kiste Nyberg explains in The

Origins, The Comics Code’s seal of approval first appeared on the covers of comic books in

the mid-1950s and contained regulatory guidelines primarily concerned with sex, violence and language (vii). Although The Comics Code already began to lose its authority after The Silver Age, it had a huge impact on the comics world. For example, the Code’s influence is especially prominent in comics from The Silver Age which are—in contrast to most Golden Age comics—very conservative since they had to adhere to strict moral codes. Wonder Woman, who was still very emancipated and independent during The Golden Age, became during The Silver Age obsessed with rather stereotypical and less “provocative” themes such as fashion, marriage and babies, instead of fighting and saving the world (Lepore 190).

Nonetheless, although superhero comics were already fiercely criticized in The Golden and Silver Ages of comics, the critiques were primarily directed at the nature of comic books, rather than the nature of the superheroes themselves. This is particularly attributable to the notion argued by the psychiatrists Bender and Lourie in 1942, who stated that even though “aggression is dealt with in most of the stories [...] its purpose as carried out by the hero is to prevent hostile and noxious aggression by others” (qtd. in Lepore 208-209). In short, the status of the superhero as “champion of the oppressed” remained untouched.

This all changed at the beginning of the Dark Age of comics.2_{As comics author}

Warren Ellis argues, this age started somewhere between Frank Millerʼs Daredevil (1983) and Alan Mooreʼs Marvelman (1982-1984) (qtd. in Klock 2). However, the period is especially characterized by Frank Millerʼs Batman: The Dark Knight Returns (1987) and Alan Moore and Dave Gibbonsʼ Watchmen (1986) (Inge 1). These works, namely, represent the birth of the so called “self-reflexive superhero narrative” (ibid). In “Form and Function,” M. Thomas Inge defines these “self-referential,” “meta” or—as Geoff Klock calls them—“revisionary-2 This third major period is also known as the Iron or Bronze Age of comics, but “The Dark Age” is the more commonly used term and suggests a figurative descent to a level of cultural impoverishment associated with

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superhero” narratives (qtd. in Keating 1266), by their tendency to “self-consciously comment on the nature and conventions of fiction” and “break with conventions” (1). Inge also notes that these metafictions “use self-awareness and self-parody as methods of commentary” (ibid). Although cartoonists have practiced these “self-referential” narratives in their work almost from the beginning, the “serious” deconstruction of the superhero only entered the genre in The Dark Age of comics with the publication of The Dark Knight and Watchmen (2).

As Jamie Hughes explains in “Who Watches the Watchmen?”, The Dark Knight

Returns is seen as a revisionist comic because the character of Batman “was portrayed not as

the square-jawed law-enforcer of earlier comics, nor as the camp, pop-art figure of the classic 1960s TV series, but as a brooding psychopath” (548). Similarly, Moore and Gibbons incorporated many revolutionary elements in Watchmen that clearly break with the superhero comics tradition. For example, the superheroes in Watchmen are, unlike their predecessors, completely caught up in ideology (ibid). Rorschach, for example, “a vigilante superhero hidden behind a mask bearing an amorphous blot,” is exposed as a right-wing madman (Rauscher 132). These serious, self-reflexive texts, set a new standard for the formal and thematic possibilities of the genre and can therefore be seen as the defining texts of the Dark Age (Ayres par. 2).

The Dark Age of comics ended in the mid-1990s and had an everlasting impact on the comics world and the comics that would follow (Ellis, qtd. in Klock 2). Oddly, however, even though The Dark Age is known for its critical reflections on superheroes, scholarly discourses on the topic were still few and far between. This would change in the era that followed, known as the The Modern Age3_{of comics. This age is characterized by an increase in}

academic and theoretical scrutiny of comics. Hence, whereas previously the comics world had always resisted critical scholarly inspection it now embraces analysis and self reflection (Race 3 “The Modern Ageˮ is the era after The Dark Age and continues through the present day (Race 6), hence the

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6). Scott McCloudʼs Understanding Comics (1993) and Reinventing Comics (2000) were key texts in the instauration of a critical apparatus with which to examine comic books and were among the first critical works to address graphic narrative and new graphic approaches to storytelling (ibid).

Applying feminist and gender theories to comics is an even newer development in comics analysis given that critical scholarship tended to focus on the psychological or philosophical implications of superheroes (8). Moreover, until recently, the focus of comics scholarship took place outside of the social studies, and tended to overlook gender politics, sexuality and issues surrounding identity (9). However, since scholars have begun to recognize the importance of examining comic books, they have been able to expose the ways in which comic books reinforce and reflect patriarchal attitudes toward women and other marginalized groups. This recognition among scholars seems to have its effect on comics: since The Modern Age, more black and female superheroes have appeared on the covers of comic books and graphic novels, and discussions concerning racism and sexism have become intradiegetic topics the heroes of these fictions must deal with themselves (ibid).

It might be argued that 2014, in general, marked the beginning of a whole new age of comics involving an increased emphasis on diversity and inclusion. Even Marvel Comics seems to put an increasing emphasis on diversity and inclusion given that many notable Marvel Comics contributors are expressing sincere willingness to destabilize the status quo of the comics industry (Furino, par. 2). With the rise of the first Pakistani-Muslim superheroine (Ms Marvel 2014), a strong female Thor (2014) and a black Captain America (2014)—to name but a few characters who go against the grain of stereotypes—things are noticeably changing.

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Scholarly Research and The Importance of Diverse Superheroes

Reflection on the impact of various kinds of representation in comic books is important because popular culture, including comic books, has a decided influence on readersʼ perception of the world. While in The Golden and Silver Ages audiences were mostly concerned with the ways in which images of violence and sex might lead to juvenile delinquency, today’s critics are concerned with the ways in which comics reconstruct damaging stereotypes of women, queers and ethnic minorities.

In Gender and Sexuality, Momin Rahman and Stevi Jackson argue that “how humans act is not ‘natural’ but based on social norms (or expectations) of behavior according to our place within social structures and our identities” (134). This means that everyday culture, including comics, encodes meanings about, for instance, gender, sexuality and ethnicity “that not only reflect society but also construct it and affect how we can take action” (135). Over the past few decades, there has been an increasing tendency for meanings about social identity to be consciously constructed through consumption. This has not displaced things such as gender categories, but rather “reinforce[d] them through its [consumption’s] identification of sexuality with specific manifestations of or variations on gender” (149). While the power of media-driven consumerism now is a global phenomenon, as is the discourse on women’s rights, gay rights and ethnic rights, “[the latter] are still dependent upon essentialist understandings of identity” (ibid). This is reflected in comics, where, for example, male superheroes are represented as hypermasculine and female superheroes as hyperfeminine, or those comics wherein ethnic or queer minorities are extremely stereotyped, or simply not represented at all.

This tendency for meanings about social identity to be consciously constructed through media-driven consumerism is problematic because in today’s world, the media is no longer, as Gitlin argues in Media Unlimited, “an accompaniment to life,” but has morphed

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into “a central experience of life” (qtd. in Zingsheim 225). Furthermore, as Douglas Kellner argues in Media Culture: because media has come to occupy the preeminent location in today’s society, it is “shaping political views and social behavior, and providing the materials out of which people forge their very identities” (1). Comics, therefore, may likewise influence readers perception of their own identity, behaviour and political view―and that of others.

Judith Butler’s theory of performativity is helpful in understanding the connection between comic books and the representation of identity. Butler has argued for a performative understanding of identity rather than the notion that identity performance is some sort of innate or natural expression of the self. In “From Interiority to Gender Performance,” Butler explains that our “acts, gestures, and desires produce the effect of an internal core or substance, but produce this on the surface of the body, through the play of signifying absences that suggest, but never reveal, the organizing principle of identity as cause” (173). Therefore, because we act or move as a “woman” or a “man,” it may seem as if we essentially are one. However, as Butler explains, “such acts, gestures, enactments, generally constructed, are

performative” (ibid). In other words, while it may seem as if men act masculine and women

feminine because of set biological differences, typically male or female traits are rather

fabrications which are invented and sustained through performances that have nothing to do

with biology.

Because the gendered body is performative, it has no ontological status outside of the various acts that constitute its reality (174). That said, however, because there is neither an “essence” expressed or externalized by gender, nor an objective ideal to which gender aspires, Butler argues that “the various acts of gender create the idea of gender, and without those acts, there would be no gender at all” (178). Hence, gender is a construction that regularly conceals its genesis, a social ritual that requires a performance that is repeated. Furthermore, “this repetition is at once a reenactment and re-experiencing of a set of meanings already

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socially established; and it is the mundane and ritualized form of their legitimation” (ibid). Thus, as it preserves itself, gender is comparable to a vicious cycle.

Fortunately, although these notions concerning gender are deeply ingrained in our society, Butler states that:

The possibilities of gender transformation are to be found precisely in the arbitrary relation between such acts, in the possibility of a failure to repeat, a de-formity, or a parodic repetition that exposes the phantasmatic effect of abiding identity as a politically tenuous construction. (179)

In other words, in order to create possibilities for variety and to transform constructions of gender, one must stop to behave according to “correct” gendered roles as often as possible. This would also apply to the performance of stereotypical notions concerning race or sexuality. In relation to comic books this means that if their creators were to stop creating stereotypical female and stereotypical ethnically diverse superheroes, these gestures might eventually help to transform stereotypical notions that people may have concerning gender and race.

Marvel Comics

Superhero comic books are extremely popular in the United States. Although the standard U.S. superhero originated in comic books, more recently they appear in multiple types of media entertainment, such as movies, video games and all types of other merchandise. It is therefore not strange that superheroes have influenced American culture for years (Van den Anker and Verhoeven 118), and have played a big role in shaping perceptions concerning gender-, sexual- or ethnic identities.

The most popular—and therefore most influential—superhero publisher in the U.S. and on a global level is Marvel Comics. Due to Marvel’s popularity and success, it has been

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able to uphold the status quo of superhero comics for years. This has not always been a good thing because the company has had a long and troubling history concerning the representations of women and ethnic minorities: while they portrayed its heroes exclusively as white, heterosexual men, characters that fell outside such categories were often portrayed as grotesque, hypersexualized, Other and/or dangerous villains. That is, if such groups were represented at all.

Marvelʼs strong bias towards white and male superheroes may have been influenced by preconceptions comics publishers had about their audience. Comics creator Jason Aaron, creator of the new female Thor, explained that the comics industry put itself into a demographic corner when: “[o]ver time, we [comics creators] started to appeal to the same, dwindling fans.” This already started during the 1960s and 1970s, when “comic books moved from grocery store newsstands to specialized shops, which mostly catered to a young, white, male audience” (Hickey, par. 5). Consequently, Aaron says, the industry lost a way to attract new fans (ibid).

Fortunately, Marvel Comics seems to be moving in the right direction given that in the fall of 2014, Marvel unveiled an entire new lineup featuring many women and people of colour. In addition, while such minorities were usually relegated to what-if scenario’s and alternate universe storylines, they now have centre stage (Furino, par. 1). With over fifty-five comics, Marvel has restarted with and made some major changes to, for instance: Thor (now a woman), Ms. Marvel (a Pakistani Muslim girl), Captain Marvel (also a woman), Spider-Man (a Puerto Rican/Afro-American), Captain America (an Afro-American) and Ironheart (an Afro-American girl).

It seems that this change has been influenced by a shift in comics readership given that more and more women and people of colour are reading comic books. In fact, in 2014 the Facebook universe of self-acknowledged comics fans in the United States grew to over 24

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million fans, of which women accounted for 46.67 percent (Schenker, par. 3). Although there are no exact numbers available to show the percentage of ethnically diverse readership, it is very likely that Marvelʼs efforts increase their popularity among all minorities.

According to Kelly Sue DeConnick—creator of the new Captain Marvel—three things in recent history have created this shift. First, there is the comeback of “ImageComics,” which is the third largest comics publisher after Marvel and DC. DeConnick argues that because ImageComics creates stories that are not part of a shared universe—unlike the superhero worlds of Marvel and DC—it is easier for new fans to start with a new comic book (“Plan ‘Bʼ ˮ). Consequently, DeConnick explains, “there’s a lot of new [female fans] coming from that” (ibid). Second, DeConnick points out that superhero movies did exceptionally well, and that 50 percent of their audience is female. “Those women came out of those movies going, I think I might like to find out more about Iron Man or Black Widow. And so they found a comic book store” (ibid). Finally, DeConnick asserts: “[I]f you have a smartphone—and you have a smartphone—then you have a comic book store in your pocket. So you don’t have to get over any social anxiety you have about entering that space” (ibid). The new flood of women readers, DeConnick says, has changed the way comics creators think about their audience, who they hire to work on these books, who they put on the cover, and how they put them on the cover (ibid).

DC Comics creators Johns and DiDio confirm this: “From the mid-to-late 2000s, comic books’ largely white male cast of characters had attracted largely white male fans— older ones. And because of it, readership and profits flat-lined for more than half a decade” (DiDio). However, they state, “the world has changed, and we’ve got to change our characters along with them [sic] and diversify our cast, our voice and really be able to connect with as many of our readers as possible” (ibid).

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Although one would think that diverse comics are desirable, this new turn in the comics industry has rubbed some fans the wrong way: many were outraged by Marvelʼs diverse line-up. Before most comics were even launched, the internet became lavished with articles as “Female Thor Is What Happens When Progressive Hand-Wringing And Misandry Ruin A Cherished Art-Form” and “Turning Male Characters Into Women is a Cheap Gimmick” (Fordy; Milo). Some of these fans give valid criticisms, such as Tim Fordy, who claims that these superhero mix-ups are just publicity stunts (Fordy, par 14), which is, as DiDio says, partly true (“Comic Book Publishersˮ). Others make the solid point that Marvel should not “shoe horn a female character into a male hero’s position as, at the end of the day, she’s still defined by the male character, not her own legacy” (Ivenger, qtd. in Milo, par. 8). Some, however, express solely anger and say that they “don’t want [comics creators] bizarre and outlandish politics to pollute our hobby” (Milo, par. 1).

The problem is, however, that most white, male fans still see themselves as the “true” and major fan base and, therefore, do not see the need to change their already perfect heroes. As Milo argues, men, “the core audience,” do not seem to care about gender-swapping great male characters (par. 11). However, as DiDio argues, the world is changing. More and more women and people of colour are reading comics, and they, too, deserve to feel represented. In fact, for women and people of colour to be as represented as white, male men, the comics industry still has a long way to go. As comics creator Jason Aaron found: “Among the characters for which we have gender data, females made up only 29.3 percent of the DC character list and 24.7 percent of the Marvel roster” (qtd. in Hickey, par. 16). Although there are no data available for non-white superheroes, Marvelʼs history with non-white characters would suggest that it is unlikely that their numbers are much higher. Thus, despite what some angry fans might argue, Marvelʼs recent efforts to create more female and non-white heroes are necessary if the company wants to equally represent all of its fans.

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Marvel’s Superhero Switch-Ups: Backlash or Progress?

FEMME FATALE: Surely you’ve noticed. Female superheroes aren’t nearly

as revered as male superheroes.

BUBBLES: Sure they are. There’s Supergirl. Batgirl. FEMME FATALE: Shhh. They’re so lame. Merely extensions of their male counterparts. Who besides you is a heroine in her own right?

BLOSSOM: Huh! There’s Wonder Woman and . . . eh . . . um . . . um . . .Wonder Woman...

BUTTERCUP: She’s right! There is no one else!

(McCracken, The Powerpuff Girls)

While Marvel’s recent innovations are inarguably positive, one might wonder how far these changes really stretch. Without a doubt, it is very important for superhero fans to see heroes on the page to whom they can relate. Not only does this improve readersʼ notions concerning their own identities—and those of others—but it also improves their own self-worth. Nonetheless, Marvel has been undermining its own efforts in a number of ways. First, all of the superheroes they have (re)introduced are gender swaps or race remodelings of prominent, established white male characters: an Afro-American Captain America, a female Thor, a Puerto Rican/Afro-American Spider-Man, Spider-Woman, She-Hulk, and the new black and female Iron Man. All these superheroes are extensions of established white, male heroes. Even Kamala Khan, the new Ms Marvel, is the successor of the first Ms Marvel: the white, blonde Carol Danvers. In turn, Carol Danvers, who is now Captain Marvel, is the successor of the first Captain Marvel, the male Mar-Vell.

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However, as is argued in the above extract by Femme Fatale (a villain featured in the childrenʼs cartoon The Powerpuff Girls): “Theyʼre so lame. Merely extensions of their male counterparts.” Namely, no matter how amazing or inspiring they are, they will always be subordinate to their white, male counterparts given that if there are two superheroes with the same name, one will always think that the original one—who has been around for ages and has that name in the immensely popular film franchise—will outlast the “newbie.” Most of the time, this turns out to be true as Marvel’s diverse line-up is not a new phenomenon: we have seen superhero remodelings before. Time and time again, they disappeared just as fast as they came. Thor, for example, has already been replaced by women in the past(such as Black Widow and Rogue).Likewise, Captain America’s role has, among others, been filled by John Walker and Danielle Cage (DeFalcon et al. 231).

In Marvel’s new line-up, many changes seem decidedly impermanent as well. For instance, in each case of the heroes just mentioned, both the “replacement” and the original are operating in the Marvel universe at the same time. Marvel’s original Thor, Iron Man, The Hulk, Captain America and Spider-Man still exist. Although some of these originals are weakened or unable to fight for some reason or other, they can come back as soon as their creators decide they have had enough of their replacements. Thus, if comics creators genuinely want to create more diverse superheroes, why don’t they just come up with entirely new female or ethnically diverse superheroes, instead of making temporary changes? Diverse superheroes seem to be popular enough. According toThe Los Angeles Times, for instance,

the first issue starring a female Thor sold more than 200,000 copies and Ms. Marvel #1, following the first Pakistani-Muslim hero Kamala Khan, was a New York Times bestseller and has been nominated for six prestigious Eisner Awards (Furino, par. 11).

Moreover, compared to movies, comics are not expensive to make, so it is not that big of a risk to create titles that might not sell. While movie creators are often hesitant to create

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female or ethnically diverse leads—it would be a financial catastrophe if they would not sell —it seems that comics creators must be freer to experiment. As comics writer Marjorie Liu argues, unlike movies and television, comics are a much “more nimble” medium that can adapt more quickly, given that:

[If] you’ve got the internet, a Tumblr page, a website, you can start setting up your work and actually beginning to share it. It allows you to be seen in ways, and appreciated and shared in the ways that you can’t in every other medium. So that’s why I have a lot of hope for this industry, that we will see real change and a real reflection of that change much faster than perhaps we will, for example, in Hollywood (McNally par. 18).

Even though Marvel Comics might dominate public consciousness when it comes to comics, Liu explains: “it’s the independent scene that’s really changing the game—specifically because there are more opportunities for women and people of color to create their own stories, whether via smaller comics press or by publishing their own work directly online” (par. 13).

Indeed, Marvel still has a problematic history regarding hiring women and people of colour. Even in 2015, only 13 percent of its creators were women, and 22 percent were non-white (Shannon, par. 5, 14). In fact, it took Marvel until 2016 to hire its first female African-American writer. Consequently, as Liu argues, while it is great that we have a female Thor and a black Captain America, “Unless you have the structural diversity, the structural change behind the scenes—more women, more people of color actually calling the shots and editing these books—those optics won’t last” (par. 16). Likewise, comics critic David Brothers remains unimpressed by Marvel’s race and gender bending: “As important as representation on the page or screen is, having representation behind it is paramount” (Robinson par. 6). “The greater the diversity of creators working with a company,” he adds, “the greater the storytelling opportunities that are available to that company” (par. 7). Indeed, as chapters 2

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and 3 will show, comics featuring female and, particularly, non-white heroes that are not made by diverse creators, often fail to depict these characters in a realistic way. Marvel might have avoided that problem had they employed more diverse creators.

Nevertheless, if Marvelʼs comics really challenge harmful stereotypes concerning gender and race, it seems that they should be encouraged because they would still help to transform such damaging stereotypes: as Judith Butler argued, in order to transform harmful constructions of gender and race, one must stop or refuse to behave according to “correct” gendered roles as often as possible (179). While Marvel should likewise create more female and non-white superheroes in their own right and hire more diverse creators, a good first step in improving a readerʼs notion about identity and that of others―provided, of course, that these comics challenge sexist and racist stereotypes―would be the use of gender and race alterations.

Conclusion

Since scholarly research on superheroes has gained more attention and recognition— particularly in the areas of social studies and gender studies—comics creators have made increasing efforts to create more female and ethnically diverse superheroes. Given that this aids in transforming received notions concerning gender and race, it is fortunate that Marvel Comics has launched multiple titles with women and people of colour in leading roles. However, because these new diverse comics are often temporary phenomena and based on sales and rip-offs rather than on making new diverse superheroes made by diverse creators, one may wonder whether or not Marvel should be applauded for making them. Although Marvel still has a lot of room for improvement in this respect, the use of gender and race alterations would be a good first step in improving readersʼ notions about their identities and those of others. Therefore, provided that these comics challenge sexist and racist stereotypes,

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Marvelʼs comics should be encouraged. The following two chapters of this thesis will discuss whether or not Marvelʼs diverse superheroes are still valuable by analyzing to what extent Marvelʼs recent gender and race-swapped comics challenge sexist and racist stereotypes.

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Chapter 2:

“One is Not Born, But Rather Becomes a Woman”:

Marvel’s Gender Swaps

In order to discuss whether or not Marvel’s recent gender remodelings break with tradition by challenging possible sexist stereotypes, this chapter will examine Jason Aaron and Russell Dauterman’s Thor and Mighty Thor, Charles Soule and Javier Pulido’s She-Hulk, Kelly Sue DeConnick and Dexter Soyʼs Captain Marvel Vol. 1, DeConnick and David Lopezʼs Captain

Marvel Vol. 2 and Michele Fazekas, Tara Butters and Kris Ankaʼs Captain Marvel. I will

address the following categories in which superheroines have been represented in problematic ways over time: victimization, i.e. are the heroines represented as a victim or as a saviour; sexualization, i.e. are superheroines sexualized though their body, costume and/or posing; occupation, i.e. whether the human alter egos are represented as more than just girlfriends, wives and/or mothers. Finally, since the female Thor, She-Hulk and Captain Marvel are based on male heroes, attention will be paid to how the female heroes differ from their male counterparts where their names, superpowers and the way they received those superpowers are concerned. I will also discuss the extent to which the heroines have replaced their male predecessors by looking into whether or not the alterations seem to be a permanent or temporary change.

In the first section of this chapter, therefore, I will provide an overview of Marvel’s troubling history concerning its female superheroes. I will argue that since the Golden Age, comics creators have often represented their superheroines as being inferior to their male counterparts in various ways. For example, whereas superheroes were depicted as strong, self-reliant saviours, heroines were usually represented as hypersexualized victims who were

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dependent on their male colleagues. Marvel was no exception in this regard and, although superheroines gradually became more self-sufficient and less hypersexualized, many gendered archetypical tropes prevail to this day. The second segment of this chapter will examine Jason Aaron and Russell Dauterman’s Thor and Mighty Thor. I will argue that, despite the probable chance that Thor’s gender alteration will be impermanent, the new books challenge sexist stereotypes in many ways. The third section contained in this chapter will investigate Charles Soule and Javier Pulido’s She-Hulk. The comic was part of a new wave of Marvel titles spotlighting solo female heroes, but it was also the first to be cancelled. Nevertheless, as I hope to show, Soule and Pulido’s comic breaks with tradition. The fourth section of this chapter will discuss Kelly Sue DeConnick and Dexter Soyʼs Captain Marvel Vol. 1, DeConnick and David Lopezʼs Captain Marvel Vol. 2 and Michele Fazekas, Tara Butters and Kris Ankaʼs Captain Marvel Vol. 1. I will argue that, regardless of some problematic areas in DeConnickʼs Captain Marvel Vol. 1, DeConnick, Fazekas and Butters made many positive changes where the heroinesʼ agency, role and sexuality is concerned.

The Problematic History of Female Superheroes

Superhero comics have had a long and problematic history where representing superheroines is concerned. It was during the Golden Age that various gendered components were developed and honed and while women were included among the heroes, their treatment was already notably different from their male counterparts. For instance, from their inception, heroines like Supergirl and Batwoman were largely identified by the men whose title they inherited and they existed mainly to be rescued by the hero (Race 15). In addition, many heroines had no role, occupation or even a name of their own. As Katherine J. Murphy argues in “Analyzing Female Gender Roles,” occupations are a strong indicator of female status and roles are even more important in comic books because superheroes have secret identities (par.

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caregiving roles in their choice of occupation (Ito 88, qtd. in Murphy par. 17). Susan Storm, aka Invisible Woman, for example, one of the few powerful superheroines in her own right, was limited to the role of girlfriend, wife, and mother in the Fantastic Four comics series (Dunne 6, qtd. in Murphy par. 17).

In the Golden Age, female superheroes were still relatively progressive compared to the Silver Age. As L. Robinson explains, since women were encouraged to leave the private domestic sphere to promote war efforts in 1940 to 1945, many women had jobs and were more economically independent than women from previous generations (33, qtd. in Race 13). This was reflected in comics, which portrayed female superheroes such as Wonder Woman as symbols of American strength, freedom, patriotism and independence (Larew 592).

However, this all changed during the Silver Age of comics. With the end of WWII and the return of the male workforce, women were sent back into the home (ibid). Consequently, thousands of American women were not only told they were no longer needed (Lepore 176-177), but also that they “threatened the stability of the nation by undermining men” (Race 17). This push towards domesticity was in turn avidly promoted in comic books. For example, Wonder Woman suddenly became a babysitter, a fashion model (Lepore 176-177) and wanted desperately to marry her boyfriend Steve (Race 17). At the same time, female superheroes began to vanish altogether, hence, apparently, as women were slowly forced out of the public sphere, they also vanished from comics (Larew 596).

During the Dark Age of comics, female superheroes gained more prominence once again. Because The Comic’s Code—which banned violence and sexuality in comics— gradually lost its authority, comics creators began to make their stories grittier and their heroines more scantily clad (Race 31). Female bodies became less anatomically accurate, with breasts twice the size as heads, and unnaturally tiny waists, while violence, rape and the torture of comic book heroines became more popular. In fact, in the 1990s, the rape and

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murder of female characters became so prolific and graphic that comics writer Gail Simone started a website called “Women in Refrigerators” to uncover the trope of women being murdered, tortured, raped, or used as props for revenge plots within comics (35). Such gruesome plot devices were only included to allow the male hero to act heroically, whereas the assaulted heroine was relegated to the role of defenceless victim. Nevertheless, despite many protests, (sexual) violence against female heroines is often used in mainstream comics as a plot device to this day.

From the Modern Age of Comics onwards, however, female superheroes became more self-sufficient and were drawn in a more seemingly realistic way. Gradually, more popular storylines were entrusted to female writers, who produced strong female superheroes (ibid). Although the percentage of female comics creators and editors remained low, they began to achieve more popularity which brought a rush of female-centric storylines. Consequently, heroines were coded with more agency, strength and agility, yet potentially harmful gendered archetypical tropes prevailed given that the majority of female characters remained in the role of fragile woman in need of rescue (ibid).

Although the sexism in the comics industry is largely a consequence of a lack of female comics creators, comics heroines being represented differently from their male counterparts is also attributable to the influence of a wider ideological field of gendered understandings of power. As Carol A. Stabile notes in “Sweetheart This Ain’t Gender Studies,” stories concerning superheroes represent a desire for saviours whose powers do not come from god, but are nevertheless sufficient to the task of saving the world (87). Therefore, the narratives in superhero comics are essentially protection scenarios that “indulge in fantasies about the heroes’ unlimited ability to protect a silent and largely feminized humanity from that which threatens it” (ibid). In other words, the central premise of superhero lore is that someone needs to be protected. In regard to U.S. culture more generally, this “someone”

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is invariably female or feminized, i.e. as a woman, child, elderly person or animal (ibid). In turn, the active roles of the protectors are masculinized strength and power, which are the foundations of masculinity (ibid).

Stabile notes that masculinized strength is particularly heightened in narratives that have emerged in moments of international crisis (ibid). Popular examples are the Batman and Superman comics, both born in the depression and the rise of fascism. Captain America followed these successes as the US became involved in WWII. Similarly, Spiderman, the Hulk and Iron Man were products of the early 1960s, in response to the Cold War fear of nuclear war and Communism (ibid). In these comics, the idea of a masculine protector is avidly promoted, whereas the victims in these narratives are mainly feminized.

In the post-9/11 landscape, superheroes have become more popular than ever and the gendered lines of protection in these narratives remain more impervious than ever. While men are heroes, women are victims and in constant need of protection. As Stabile notes, although more recent superhero narratives may appear to be multicultural and gender neutral, insofar as they feature women and people of colour, “at the end of the day only white men protect, or survive to protect” (89).

Especially in comics these gender binaries seem to be amplified because, as Ross Murray argues in “The Feminine Mystique,” superhero narratives display a proliferating parody of gender “norms,” given that “superheroes always effect a certain kind of naturalized gender mime” as they “symbolize the ‘ideal’ of a certain kind of gender” (59). In short, male superheroes are portrayed as some version of the hypermasculine and female superheroes as some version of the hyperfeminine.

Another remaining discrepancy between male and female heroes—which probably is a consequence of the abundance of heterosexual male comics creators—is physical appearance. In Superhero Comics, Geoff Klock maintains that female superheroes have traditionally been

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the subjects of sexual voyeurism, resembling pin-up girls more than actual characters (111, qtd. in Miettenin 85). In contrast, the comics medium has depicted men as being asexualized (Cocca 411), which is to say that, although one might argue that male superheroes are sexualized through their tight-fitting costumes, there is a crucial difference between how men and women are depicted in comics4_{. For example, as Michael Goodrum points out in “Squirrel}

Girl”:

The built male body, while sexually objectified, is also a means of conveying power and authority and, while musculature is on display through the tight-fitting costumes of the men, it is not ‘on display’ in the same way as the bodies of superheroines, who seemingly exist as display first and agent second (103).

As Mervi Miettenin writes, by focussing on the physical appearance of the heroine alone, her other traits or what she may have to say are subdued (85). Because the identity of comic book heroines has often been presented as being inseparable from their physical appearance, it has contributed to her objectification as the focus of the sexualizing, “male gaze”5_{(ibid). The}

design of the heroinesʼ costumes, bodies and the poses in which they are drawn have especially contributed to their oversexualization and subduing of their other traits. First, heroinesʼs costumes were designed to be sexy rather than practical, which suggests that their looks are more important than what they do. Second, their bodies are usually hypersexualized as they are drawn with huge breasts and hips and unnaturally tiny waists, which likewise contributed to their objectification. Third, as Carolyn Cocca argues in “The ‘Broke Back’ Test,” while the male superheroes are generally drawn facing front with a focus on their musculature, “the heroines are often drawn from the back or from the side, large-breasted and 4. This difference can be explained through John Bergerʼs Ways of Seeing in which he observes how women are portrayed in oil paintings and advertisements. Berger points out that the social presence of a woman is different than that of a man given that a manʼs presence is dependent upon the promise of power which he embodies, whereas a womanʼs expresses her own attitude to herself, and defines what can and cannot be done to her (45-46).

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small waisted, long haired and long-legged, sometimes without their faces shown at all” (Cocca 411). Additionally, heroines are posed in ways in which heroes simply are not. In the most extreme version, Cocca explains, a heroineʼs back is drawn unnaturally twisted as well as arched, “displaying all of her curves in front and back simultaneously” (ibid). This rather unnatural pose has come to be known as “broke back” since one could only pose in that way if one’s back was broken (ibid). Although female bodies in action may show strength and sexiness, “broke back” poses suggest object status and sexual submission. As Cocca asserts, object status and sexual submission may undercut a heroineʼs fictional power (ibid).

The categories mentioned above, in which heroines have historically been represented differently from their male counterparts, are especially evident in the case of gender-swapped heroines. For example, when analyzing a female version of an established male superhero, one is readily able to compare the different ways in which their bodies are drawn, what the role and occupation of their human alter egos are, and whether they are primarily represented as victims or saviours. Moreover, since gender-swapped heroines and their male alter egos represent the same superhero, it is interesting to note if and how their superhero names differ and whether they have differing superpowers and different stories of the ways in which they received their superpowers. For example, when comparing the name Superman with Supergirl, the “girl” in Supergirl suggests a more subordinate position compared to the mature “man” in Superman.

Furthermore, as Rebecca A. Demarest observes in “Superheroes,” the different kinds of powers and the ways in which they are used are strictly divided between male and female heroes. For example, superheroines seldom have inborn powers: usually, their powers have been gifted to them by men (par. 1). A good example is Catwoman, whose strength and speed were taught to her by a karate Sensei and a boxer. Batman, on the other hand, must have learned his judo and karate from somebody, but stories never mention who that is, and it is

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implied that he accomplished everything on his own. Although Catwoman works very hard during her training, it remains integral to the story that she did not get to where she is on her own (par. 3-4).

Moreover, as O’Reilly points out, while most hero stories include a series of trials designed to prove the hero’s worthiness, many female superheroes must defend their roles as heroes in a manner not demanded of their male counterparts (273). A famous example is Wonder Woman, who has to survive multiple deadly games to prove that she is worthy enough to carry the name “Wonder Woman” (280). However, a few years earlier when Clark Kent decided to become Superman, his decision was neither questioned nor challenged. He simply becomes a hero because he chooses to be one (ibid).

Similarly, while female superheroes have powers that are often defensive and lacking in physical combat skills, the male characters have powers that are mainly offensive and require physical combat (Miettenin 87; Demarest, par. 7). For example, while the females on the X-Men team have defensive powers such as supersonic voices, weather control and telekinesis, the male characters have offensive powers such as burning lasers and super strength (Demarest par. 6-7).

The superheroines created by Marvel Comics have not escaped any of the sexist tropes to which I have just referred. Moreover, even in contemporary comics, sexism remains the status quo. Fortunately, in the past few years, many notable Marvel contributors have expressed sincere willingness to change the state of affairs. Additionally, in 2014, Marvel Comics launched many titles spotlighting solo female heroines, the most notable being the new female Thor, She-Hulk and Captain Marvel. The next two chapters will focus on whether these new books indeed break with tradition indeed by challenging sexist stereotypes, as Marvel claimed they would.

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In 1962, Marvel introduced Thor as its fourth superhero (Misiroglu 370). The hero—who was based on the warrior heroes of Norse mythology—was created by editor and writer Stan Lee and artist Jack Kirby (ibid). Thor’s first adventure was featured in Journey into Mystery #83, which introduced the frail doctor Don Blake, who—by stumbling upon a magical cane—was transformed into a blond, muscled Viking who wields a magic hammer, called Mjölnir (ibid). Upon touching the cane, Blake becomes the Thunder God, Thor, for, as is inscribed on the hammer, “Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of...Thor” (Lee, qtd. in Misiroglu 370). With the help of his hammer, Thor can fly, control the elements and possess extraordinary strength. Mjölnir, apart from being a useful weapon, returns like a boomerang when thrown, and can bring on a storm of any kind of magnitude (Misiroglu 370). However, if the hammer is out of Thor’s grasp for more than one minute, he transforms back into his civilian identity (ibid).

Since his arrival on the scene in the 1960s, Thor has been one of the company’s most enduring stars (ibid). However, in 2014, Thor’s current writer Jason Aaron and artist Dauterman replaced Thor with a woman given that, after a battle against the villain Nick Fury, Thor loses the ability to wield his hammer, Mjölnir. The hammer remains on the moon, where Thor attempts to lift it numerous times to no avail. After Thor leaves, Mjölnir is picked up by a woman and although initially it is a mystery who the woman is, it is eventually revealed that she is Thor’s ex-lover, Jane Foster (“Jane Foster”). Now, however, she is the new Thor.

Although there have been a few alternate universe narratives with female Thors and occasional stories in which a woman picked up the hammer, there never was a female Thor in the original narrative (Dockterman, par. 8). In fact, for the larger part of Thor’s history, Thor is the same character. There have been short periods during which other people have the hammer, but these are few and they never last long (par. 12). However, according to Jason

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Aaron, the recent gender alteration will have long-term effects on the title. As Aaron said in an interview with TIME: “This isn’t something that’s just going to last for a few issues. She [Foster] is Thor. She will carry that hammer in her own books and the other books as well. So for the foreseeable future this is Thor” (par. 31).

Indeed, in the spring of 2016, Aaron and Dauterman launched Mighty Thor, the second comic in which Jane Foster carries the hammer. However, one can be in doubt as to the long-term effect this change will have. First, the original Thor still lives and he is healthy and willing enough to take over the hammer when necessary. The only problem is that, for now, he is not “worthy” enough to carry Mjölnir. But Aaron only has to create a story wherein the original Thor proves himself again, and he will be restored to his former superhero status.

Second, in Thor: God of Thunder #12, Jane Foster is diagnosed with breast cancer, hence, although she is very powerful in her superhero form, in her human form she is sick and dying. She is treated with chemotherapy, but this does not have any effect because her transformations into Thor neutralize the effects of the chemotherapy (Aaron, Mighty Thor #1). Thus, it seems very possible that—as soon as Marvel has had enough of a female Thor— Foster will die, while the original Thor will prove himself worthy and everything will return to the status quo.

Regardless of the probability that Thor’s gender alteration will be impermanent, the new books challenge sexist stereotypes in many ways. Unfortunately, neither the writer nor the artist is a woman, but Aaron and Dauterman do seem to put effort into breaking with comics traditions. First, for one of the first times in comics history, a female superhero and her male counterpart have exactly the same superhero name. Usually, the female version has “girl,ˮ “womanˮ or “sheˮ attached to her superhero name instead of “man,ˮ as in Superman/Supergirl, Batman/Batwoman and Hulk/She-Hulk. Particularly the replacement of “manˮ with “girlˮ suggests an unequal position, but “womanˮ and “sheˮ may be troubling as

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well since these pronouns underline the fact that the heroines are mere counterparts to their male predecessors. However, as the villain Titiana asks in Thor #5: “Thor? Thor is a woman now? Like the for-real Thor? She ain’t called She-Thor or Lady Thunderstrike or nothing like that? ” (Aaron). But, no, Thor replies, “Thor is Thor ” (ibid).

Secondly, neither in Thor nor in Mighty Thor, is the female Thor sexually objectified. Her superhero costume is not revealing and seems in fact rather useful and comfortable. It consists of a helmet, a red cape and realistic breast armour and her whole body is covered, except her arms. Her body is realistically drawn, with regular sized breasts and a normal waist, but with very muscular arms, as would be necessary for a strong and athletic hero. Moreover, she is never drawn in an impossible “broke backˮ pose. In fact, it is the male Thor who seems to be sexually objectified: while in the previous books Thor Odinson was fully clothed, in Aaron and Dautermanʼs new books he is topless.

The new Thor’s civilian alter ego, Jane Foster, is likewise not sexualized. In fact, while most female comics characters are drawn as possessing model-like beauty, Jane—due to the chemotherapy—is bald and she looks very worn out and bony. Nevertheless, she is not represented as weak at all, as she acts tough, intelligent and independent. And while she occasionally accepts help from her allies, she is never the one who needs to be rescued. This is definitely a break with tradition, as Jane Foster was originally portrayed as a pretty blonde nurse, who was desperately in love with Thor. She was often used as a plot device and had to be saved multiple times. For example, in Journey into Mystery #88, Loki hypnotizes Jane and sets a tiger against her, from which Thor has to save her (“Jane Foster”). Foster actually recalls this in Mighty Thor #3 and says that Loki “was always kidnapping me to use as a prop in his schemes against Thor. He treated me as a plaything. Never caring if I lived or died” (Aaron). Moreover, while Foster originally is the assistant nurse, and girlfriend, of doctor Blake, she eventually becomes a doctor and a consulting physician for Tony Stark, aka Iron

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Man (“Jane Foster”). In the new books, she is not romantically attached to any man, so her role is not solely based on her relationship with one.

Third, in her Thor form, Jane has exactly the same powers and weapons as her predecessor. So, unlike many other heroines, the new Thor does not have the kinds of defensive powers that superheroines usually have, as her fighting with Mjölnir is mainly offensive and requires physical combat. Moreover, Jane receives her powers in the same way her predecessor does, namely, by being “worthy” of Mjölnir. She also learns all her fighting skills on her own, and not, as is usually the case with heroines, from someone else.

However, there remains one troubling aspect concerning the narrative given that, although Jane decided to become Thor, she has to prove herself before she is accepted as such. Mjölnir finds her worthy, but other characters do not seem to be convinced so easily. For example, when she fights a Frost Giant in Thor #2, he exclaims, “Ha! A scrawny little girl holds the hammer of Thor? What mockery is this?” (Aaron). And another Frost Giant says in

Thor #3, “Look at that scrawny little thing. She ain’t worth freezing. Ain’t worth spit, near as

I can tell” (Aaron) Although after these degrading remarks Thor easily proves herself worthy by beating them, apparently it is still not taken for granted that a “girlˮ can be Thor. When in

Journey into Mystery #83 Blake takes the hammer and becomes Thor, however, nobody

seems perplexed.

Certainly, one may argue that Frost Giants are the villains, and that therefore one may only expect them to act disrespectfully towards Thor. Still, Aaron incorporated many similar scenes where Foster has to prove herself as Thor and he seems to do this so the readers will be convinced of her worthiness. Many readers have, however, shown contempt for the new female Thor and in Thor #5, for example, an evil Troll says exactly what these angry fans argue against the new gender-swapped Thor, “Thor? Are you kidding me? I’m supposed to call you Thor? Damn feminists are ruining everything! [...] You wanna be a chick super hero?

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Fine, who the hell cares. But get your own identity” (Aaron). So, even though such scenes criticize readers who do not want a female Thor, they are reiterating the sexist trope in comics history where a female hero constantly has to prove herself worthy.

Nevertheless, apart from the likely consideration that Jane will wield the hammer only temporarily and that she often has to prove herself as Thor, Aaron and Dauterman’s books are challenging sexist stereotypes in many ways.

“And a She-Hulk I’ll Be!”: Marvel’s All New She-Hulk

The Hulk made his debut halfway through 1962 (DeFalcon et al. 85). The new hero was created by Marvel’s Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, who made the new hero a mix of Frankenstein’s monster and Dr Hekyll and Mr. Hyde with a dash of Cold War paranoia (85).

In The Incredible Hulk #1, the frail scientist Bruce Banner designs an experimental new G-Bomb that is based on gamma radiation, but just before the bomb is set to detonate, a teenager enters the test area. Banner orders his assistant Igor to stop the countdown, and races out to save the boy. Unfortunately, Igor appears to be a Russian spy and ignores Banner’s instructions. Although Banner manages to save the child, he is contaminated with the gamma rays when the bomb explodes (ibid). As a result, Banner transforms into a huge monster, the Hulk. The Hulk is extremely big and strong, possesses little of Banner’s memory and intelligence, and is very easily enraged. Therefore, he is rather an anti-hero as he can be a menace to society (Cottilleta). The Savage She-Hulk #1 was launched eighteen years after The Incredible Hulk #1, in 1980. The female version of the Hulk was created by Stan Lee, who

wrote the first issue about Bruce Banner’s cousin, the shy lawyer Jennifer Walters. Walters is shot and seriously wounded by a criminal gang and as no other donors of her blood type are available, Bruce Banner gives her a blood transfusion. Bruce’s radioactive blood mutates Jennifer, as it has him, transforming her into the She-Hulk (ibid).

“One is Not Born, But Rather Becomes a [Female or Ethnically Diverse Superhero]ˮ: Marvel Comicʼs Recent Gender-and Race Alterations