Gail Simone's Blog, page 1132
November 28, 2011
Catman Is Filling My Dashboard
Is today Catman Day or something?
Seriously people.
Just LOL at you if you're not following Gail Simone, The Dangerous Ladies, Fuck Yeah Krysten Ritter and The Nifty Fifties.
You are a Sweetie McSweetenstein.
APE IN A CAPE: So, I'm Learning About Doctor Who and THIS Happens...
I've somehow managed to go my entire life without really knowing much about Doctor Who. I saw a single episode a while back and it made no impression. But people I love and respect love and respect the show, so I thought I would give it a try.
Everyone said start with the reboot, the Eccleston…
Reblogging because, for some reason, I really REALLY think Ziona will want to read this.
yuppppp when i went back and re-watched torchwood i realized how immensely fucked up that whole thing was. and really, i've found that i don't like the way that sex gets dealt with on torchwood at all, now that it's something that i look at and study. i still like the series, but a lot about it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
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What I am finding a little bit stunning, even here on Tumblr, is all the people saying, "Well, Owen isn't really a nice person."
That really, REALLY misses the point. I get it, he's not a classic hero, that's fine. And my impression from this scene is that he's a scumbag. You could tell the story of him being a scumbag and using a spray that helps him rape and destroy people and make it interesting and maybe even redeeming in some way, if you chose to go that route (I didn't say it would be easy, but you could—he could face punishment for what he's done, or he could ask forgiveness, whatever).
The point here is that the people who MADE THE SHOW made the rape spray scene into a gigglefest. They clearly thought this was daring and hilarious. Owen is not a real person. The people who wrote and produce the show made these choices.
The scene, which gleefully posits a double rape, is played strictly for laughs. Does that not strike people as painfully stupid and wrong?
So, I'm Learning About Doctor Who and THIS Happens...
I've somehow managed to go my entire life without really knowing much about Doctor Who. I saw a single episode a while back and it made no impression. But people I love and respect love and respect the show, so I thought I would give it a try.
Everyone said start with the reboot, the Eccleston stuff, and go from there. And the first three episodes or so were so cheesy and uninteresting that I almost gave up right there. It just didn't seem for me.
Needless to say, I stuck with it, now I'm hooked. I really like Eccleston, I like Tennant but not QUITE as much yet (I know, blasphemy). I'm enjoying the storytelling and I love the companions, can't wait to get to more Catherine Tate (I'm mid-series three).
So I'm addicted, I love it, I want to write a Doctor Who story. And I am interested in the spin-offs. Torchwood is the only one on Netflix at this time, and so I watched the first episode, and it's moving along okay, although it really doesn't seem to have a real dramatic engine at this stage.
Then right in the middle, with all the positive stuff Doctor Who has had about race and gender and sexuality (not perfect, obviously, but some good stuff in there), one of the characters, ostensibly one of the good guys, is involved in a long sequence that's supposed to be hilarious, about a spray that is essentially a rape spray, a super-roofie.
He goes to a bar, tries to talk to a woman, she wants nothing to do with him. He says he's got to work in the morning and doesn't have time to waste talking to her or charming her, so he sprays this stuff on his face that turns her into a sex maniac, for him exclusively. Ha ha, hilarious, fuck you, Torchwood.
Then they go outside and her boyfriend shows up, and she tells him she's going to have sex with this idiot, so it's not just rape, it also will destroy her relationship, and it's all played for laughs. The boyfriend is about to pound the guy into oblivion, so the guy sprays another spray on his face, and the boyfriend now wants to fuck him, too. Ha ha, titter titter, giggle, it's even more hilarious now because it's a guy, ha ha. Hee hee, he's going to rape the guy now, too. So FUNNY!
DOUBLE fuck you, Torchwood.
I don't get it, I was loving the Doctor Who stuff, which seemed to at least be trying to be non-exclusionary. I would expect this from a lot of shows, but not one in the Who-verse.
Am I missing anything here? Does this ever get explained or redeemed? Because otherwise, I don't think this show is for me.
November 23, 2011
Your recent post made me realize that I can't immediately name any transgender comic authors/creators. Are there any major ones that I should be familiar with? Begging pardon for ignorance.
I feel a little awkward about naming trans creators as they might wish to remain private, even if it's not really secret in the industry. But there are at least four that I know of, all incredibly talented people. If their names are already out there or if they have expressed a willingness to be identified in this manner, then of course that changes things. But without their consent, I can't really list them, I'm sorry.
So I'm a Women and Gender Studies major and one of my final academic papers for the semester requires me to write about feminist agents for social change and the awesome things they do, and I'm going to play it close to my areas of interest, which is to sa
This is complicated. Forgive me if I ramble a little.
I think my short answer is no, I don't see myself that way, I wouldn't attribute that kind of influence to myself. I'm just a woman who liked to tell stories. In the big picture, my voice is small and sometimes a bit scattered and I'm clearly not the golden voice for social change that the comic book world really needs.
I have tried to use what little influence I have in ways that match my convictions. I've tried to volunteer for, donate to, and promote causes that match my beliefs. And I've fought in public and behind the scenes for causes when I thought it was warranted. I've tried to use my work in a more inclusive way.And I've worked hard to try to bring in a wider diversity of creators, characters and readers.
On the other hand, I look at the stuff I've wanted to accomplish and have not yet done so and it's just a massive list. And there have been missteps and times I should have listened instead of being defensive.
So all I can really say of myself is that I am remarkably imperfect. I hope for a better future for social issues in comics and in the media in general, and I will do my best to hold up my end.
I will say, as an afterthought, that one thing that IS positive about my position in the industry, and those of people like Nicola Scott, Jill Thompson, and Amanda Conner…it may well be that the simple act of thriving in a VERY tough and male-dominated industry is a bigger agent for social change than even our work, in some ways. The fact that a handful of us now have our own readerships, our own lines at conventions, our own groups who will buy our work almost sight unseen…that is a message that publishers can't ignore. In that way, I might agree that my career has some meaning for change—aspiring creators who aren't cisgendered males can see at least that it CAN be done, whereas in the not too distant past, the idea of a female writer with her own readership was almost hypothetical. I am proud of that, even if it wasn't particularly something I achieved intentionally. Like those other women, we just wanted to make good art.
I hope this all makes sense. Clearly, I don't have the answer for this worked out myself yet.
So I'm a Women and Gender Studies major and one of my final academic papers for the semester requires me to write about feminist agents for social change and the awesome things they do, and I'm going to play it close to my areas of interest, which is to sa
This is complicated. Forgive me if I ramble a little.
I think my short answer is no, I don't see myself that way, I wouldn't attribute that kind of influence to myself. I'm just a woman who liked to tell stories. In the big picture, my voice is small and sometimes a bit scattered and I'm clearly not the golden voice for social change that the comic book world really needs.
I have tried to use what little influence I have in ways that match my convictions. I've tried to volunteer for, donate to, and promote causes that match my beliefs. And I've fought in public and behind the scenes for causes when I thought it was warranted. I've tried to use my work in a more inclusive way.And I've worked hard to try to bring in a wider diversity of creators, characters and readers.
On the other hand, I look at the stuff I've wanted to accomplish and have not yet done so and it's just a massive list. And there have been missteps and times I should have listened instead of being defensive.
So all I can really say of myself is that I am remarkably imperfect. I hope for a better future for social issues in comics and in the media in general, and I will do my best to hold up my end.
I will say, as an afterthought, that one thing that IS positive about my position in the industry, and those of people like Nicola Scott, Jill Thompson, and Amanda Conner…it may well be that the simple act of thriving in a VERY tough and male-dominated industry is a bigger agent for social change than even our work, in some ways. The fact that a handful of us now have our own readerships, our own lines at conventions, our own groups who will buy our work almost sight unseen…that is a message that publishers can't ignore. In that way, I might agree that my career has some meaning for change—aspiring creators who aren't cisgendered males can see at least that it CAN be done, whereas in the not too distant past, the idea of a female writer with her own readership was almost hypothetical. I am proud of that, even if it wasn't particularly something I achieved intentionally. Like those other women, we just wanted to make good art.
I hope this all makes sense. Clearly, I don't have the answer for this worked out myself yet.
So I'm a Women and Gender Studies major and one of my final academic papers for the semester requires me to write about feminist agents for social change and the awesome things they do, and I'm going to play it close to my areas of interest, which is to sa
This is complicated. Forgive me if I ramble a little.
I think my short answer is no, I don't see myself that way, I wouldn't attribute that kind of influence to myself. I'm just a woman who liked to tell stories. In the big picture, my voice is small and sometimes a bit scattered and I'm clearly not the golden voice for social change that the comic book world really needs.
I have tried to use what little influence I have in ways that match my convictions. I've tried to volunteer for, donate to, and promote causes that match my beliefs. And I've fought in public and behind the scenes for causes when I thought it was warranted. I've tried to use my work in a more inclusive way.And I've worked hard to try to bring in a wider diversity of creators, characters and readers.
On the other hand, I look at the stuff I've wanted to accomplish and have not yet done so and it's just a massive list. And there have been missteps and times I should have listened instead of being defensive.
So all I can really say of myself is that I am remarkably imperfect. I hope for a better future for social issues in comics and in the media in general, and I will do my best to hold up my end.
I will say, as an afterthought, that one thing that IS positive about my position in the industry, and those of people like Nicola Scott, Jill Thompson, and Amanda Conner…it may well be that the simple act of thriving in a VERY tough and male-dominated industry is a bigger agent for social change than even our work, in some ways. The fact that a handful of us now have our own readerships, our own lines at conventions, our own groups who will buy our work almost sight unseen…that is a message that publishers can't ignore. In that way, I might agree that my career has some meaning for change—aspiring creators who aren't cisgendered males can see at least that it CAN be done, whereas in the not too distant past, the idea of a female writer with her own readership was almost hypothetical. I am proud of that, even if it wasn't particularly something I achieved intentionally. Like those other women, we just wanted to make good art.
I hope this all makes sense. Clearly, I don't have the answer for this worked out myself yet.
So I'm a Women and Gender Studies major and one of my final academic papers for the semester requires me to write about feminist agents for social change and the awesome things they do, and I'm going to play it close to my areas of interest, which is to sa
This is complicated. Forgive me if I ramble a little.
I think my short answer is no, I don't see myself that way, I wouldn't attribute that kind of influence to myself. I'm just a woman who liked to tell stories. In the big picture, my voice is small and sometimes a bit scattered and I'm clearly not the golden voice for social change that the comic book world really needs.
I have tried to use what little influence I have in ways that match my convictions. I've tried to volunteer for, donate to, and promote causes that match my beliefs. And I've fought in public and behind the scenes for causes when I thought it was warranted. I've tried to use my work in a more inclusive way.And I've worked hard to try to bring in a wider diversity of creators, characters and readers.
On the other hand, I look at the stuff I've wanted to accomplish and have not yet done so and it's just a massive list. And there have been missteps and times I should have listened instead of being defensive.
So all I can really say of myself is that I am remarkably imperfect. I hope for a better future for social issues in comics and in the media in general, and I will do my best to hold up my end.
I will say, as an afterthought, that one thing that IS positive about my position in the industry, and those of people like Nicola Scott, Jill Thompson, and Amanda Conner…it may well be that the simple act of thriving in a VERY tough and male-dominated industry is a bigger agent for social change than even our work, in some ways. The fact that a handful of us now have our own readerships, our own lines at conventions, our own groups who will buy our work almost sight unseen…that is a message that publishers can't ignore. In that way, I might agree that my career has some meaning for change—aspiring creators who aren't cisgendered males can see at least that it CAN be done, whereas in the not too distant past, the idea of a female writer with her own readership was almost hypothetical. I am proud of that, even if it wasn't particularly something I achieved intentionally. Like those other women, we just wanted to make good art.
I hope this all makes sense. Clearly, I don't have the answer for this worked out myself yet.
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