My Complicated Feelings About Marvel or 'Why It Sucks to be Black, Gay, and Like Comics'

Flashback to October 15, 2015, when Axel Alonso, Editor in Chief of Marvel Comics, decided not to confirm or deny Angela and Sera's relationship or identities. This interview and Axel's non-stance was a slap in the face to many readers, especially those of us who are queer. It basically said Marvel's big Editor was not willing to throw us a bone, even though it's pretty explicit where Angela and Sera stand in the first issue of Angela: Queen of Hel. So, last night when Trump revealed that Marvel CEO Isaac Perlmutter had donated $1 million to "Donald Trump for Veterans," a sour taste was left in my mouth.

What I've noticed is that both Marvel and DC are on about a 2-year cycle with the bullshit. When one is doing better, the other fucks up. Unfortunately, what this has often meant that either PoC or queer people were being thrown under the bus. Essentially, I've found that it is becoming nigh impossible to be satisfied or completely comfortable with the comic industry as a Black gay man. DC has made some wonderful strides with queer representation, as Comicosity Senior Editor Matt Santori-Griffith has pointed out. Marvel, on the other hand, has introduced many leading series with women and PoC, though, as cited above, is shaky about them queers. Yet, after New 52, I found myself dissociating from DC because of the storytelling, though I admit they got better. And Marvel was doing great, until a couple of people opened their mouths.

This has lead many people to boycott Marvel, which makes absolute sense. Throughout these past few months, though, my dilemma has been: if I boycott someone for their stance on race or sexual orientation, what do I have left, besides less Ryan Murphy on my DVR? As someone wisely said on Twitter a couple of years ago, while the idea of moving to indie press and titles is understandable, some of us love superheroes. And I do. I love cape comics and many of the people within them. I've grown fond of many creators. So the thought of severing ties with Marvel, no matter how justified, is painful.

You could argue that I'm not doing much or that it's cowardly. That's kinda to be expected. However, that brings me to the second part of this: I don't think boycotts are effective. I think they help us on an individual level based on how we feel morally, but in our current capitalistic and economic climate, withholding our dollars seems to have much less effect. On the eve of Black History Month, that brings up a few issues. What about Rosa Parks and the Montgomery Bus Boycott? Well, when you consider there was a significant amount of upheaval and that the Montgomery bus system needed Black riders, and that was evident by the economic impact of the boycott. Marvel needs our dollars, too, but it is evident that with its ties to Disney, we may not do much damage. The same can be said for boycotting many other large companies or organizations. This does NOT mean people shouldn't boycott, or even that it isn't worth trying, but more that people's hands are in so many honey pots it's hard to ensure we could do enough to the economic system and structure of Marvel to create the change we seek. That said, I'm not above writing a letter asking for people's resignation.

So, acknowledging that I'm basically going to get screwed over no matter what, but also my view of boycotts, I'm not really sure what to do. I'm not at the point where I'm ready to give up reading comics, especially since Marvel has my attention, though I'll admit DC is gaining ground. I do think creating a voice to this dissent is important, and may have more potential than a boycott, a la Oscars So White. Trying to create an economic dent right now does not seem very likely or very easy, but you definitely have my support if boycott is your way to go. It makes sense and is totally justified. I just don't think it's the right choice for me, or even what I want to do. This also doesn't mean I'm going to stay silent.

What's important, no matter what you do, is to take up some kind of action that fits who you are. I've recognized over the years that my form of activism or advocacy works, but that I could also risk doing 'more.' My friend Ty brought up a great suggestion of talking directly (as much as you can) to Axel Alonso and other Marvel higher ups. You're no less a person for buying, you're no less a person for boycotting, and I have to remind myself of the same. This shit is complicated, especially when you bring in current economics, but my views on modern boycotts aside, that doesn't mean we are entirely helpless.

There are some awesome, intelligent, and rightfully peeved people discussing this issue with Marvel and its various complications. Please check them out. Most of all though? Find something that works for you in this entire debacle, whether it means no more work from the House of Ideas or thinning your pull list, or neither of those options.

The Cognitive Dissonance in Understanding Privilege: Why We Get Defensive When We're the 'Villain'

So at this point in social justice, we now have people derisively saying things like 'Social Justice Tumblr' or 'Twitter activists,' which point out problematic themes, just not the one of note for this post. Another major theme of this ongoing 'battle' between social justice activists or advocates of any ilk and those who disagree to varying degrees is people who also talk about privilege as though it doesn't exist. There's no doubt that this word leaves a bad taste in many people's mouths, some because it's 'overused' and others because they think it's a stupid concept. Regardless, there's a big reason behind this. We're too used to seeing things in essentialistic terms and, most of all, we're scared to use the mental energy it takes to process these distressful feelings and we take the easy, defensive, route.

Owning Up

I’m prejudiced, sexist, transphobic, and ableist. It’s high time I admitted that. It doesn’t mean that I don’t work to dismantle these ideas and make sure I’m not acting from them. What it does mean is that I can’t completely divorce myself from automatic assumptions.

It’s easy to think that people are racist or prejudiced and they don’t change. Once a racist always a racist, right? Well, I don’t think that’s the complete truth. In fact, I think we are all basically complicit in this system. We can hold ourselves accountable, but that doesn’t mean we get to view prejudice as something essentialistic. Maybe we need to realize the different ways we can be complicit in systems of oppression.

The short answer to the question, ‘Are you prejudiced?’ should be ‘Yes.’ Why? Well, if you’ve ever felt uncomfortable in the presence of a person of color, or judged people of a sexual minority, misgendered someone or made a remark about them based on their gender, you fit the bill. We don’t like to think this. We like to think that when we don’t do prejudiced things, like judge on the basis of color, gender, or ability, that we are not those things. While that may be true, it doesn’t take into account our automatic thoughts, which are often harder to change than our behaviors and have been ‘gifted’ from a society whose entire foundation is based on one form of oppression or another.

This means that we have to face a hard truth. While statistically I believe that there is someone out there who is not prejudiced and doesn’t exercise these systems of oppression, whether consciously or unconsciously, I’m not so naïve to think that we are like this from the start. As children we remain pretty innocent, but we also soak up these ideals like a sponge, outside of our awareness. By the time we are able to represent our world even symbolically, we’ve taken in the beliefs of our parents, many times to our detriment.

No one wants to feel racist or sexist or homophobic (or this may not actually be true…). No one wants to be called prejudiced. That’s because we all want to be good people, or if nothing else, seen as good people. But to think that we will suddenly arise at this point where we are absolutely, 100%, no longer working within any system of oppression is just shortsighted. We still have automatic thoughts, we still have gut feelings. Those things are what make us prejudiced.

However, it doesn’t mean that you should give up the ghost and go be a giant asshole. What it does mean that you have things to unpack and process. If you’re doing the work to challenge these assumptions, you’re working on being part of the solution.

Recognizing your complicity in oppression is the first step. To think that you’re a saint is misguided. We all struggle with our biases, even if we are genuinely working for justice and the rights of all people. Maybe the response to ‘You’re a bigot’ shouldn’t be a vehement denial followed by a laundry list of all the things you’ve done to help xyz group. Maybe, instead, it should be, ‘Oh shit. There’s something within me I need to address. How can I take this moment and learn from it?’

We like to believe the world is fine and just, but we can never forget that we are part of an oppressive society, sometimes to the extent that we help it thrive.

A Theist Imperative

One of the inevitable questions I get when I visit any family that is not my mother: Do you go to church? This is followed by a sterile 'No' on my end, and the also inevitable rebuttal: Well, you should go. I wish I was exaggerating about this.

The pressure to believe in God within my family is strong. It is assumed that I am lost without a church home, that I must go to church to ensure my salvation. If I believed in God, I would still tout that as a fallacy; I didn't like church when I was a believer because it just isn't necessary and I'd much rather spend my Sunday mornings in bed. Yet, the hold that Christianity has on Black people does not yield, and my family is one that is very religious. As time passes, I find myself struggling to assert my identity as an atheist, but also reconcile how I feel about supernatural life, especially as it pertains to any certain deity.

On Respect and Religion

Religion is something that is very important to many people. I value it because it affords psychological needs to those who otherwise might not have anything. Yet, it is not the only way those same needs, safety or belongingness, are met, nor is it something devoid of problems and impervious to criticism.

Marriage in Colors

In my pursuit of a Ph.D. in Counseling Psychology, there have been many important things I've been taught. Among them is the idea of our clients as holistic beings. It is easy to look at them through the scope of their issues, their culture, or many other factors. However, we do them a disservice when we their whole being as a function of only one part of their identity. We owe it to our clients to see them as a confluence of all the things around them and within them. Yet, this is exactly what I see in marriage equality and why I'm having a hard time just rejoicing. There is a lack of acknowledgement of issues within the marriage equality movement and issues that are concurrent with marriage equality, such as a lack of racial solidarity in the LGBT community and transgender rights.

Why I Find 'Butthurt' Offensive

'Butthurt' is a word I've never liked. I've seen it tossed around a lot and I can't shake the connections to anal rape or casting anal sex in a negative light. Though the statement can correspond to a number of sources of one's butt hurting (spanking, literal ass kicking, hemorrhoids), I find the two aforementioned connotations problematic enough to not use the word. 

However, the conversation surrounding the word is not so clear. Because of its less offensive connections, does that warrant the word's use? Are connections to the denigration of anal sex or anal rape considered 'reaching' (and on another note, is denigration a word I should exercise caution in using)? My initial reaction was that the word related to rape, but not everyone feels that way. Yet, many words are far different across people based on intention, context, and reception. 

I don't have to be called a nigger for something to be racist, and butthurt doesn't have to be used in a manner relating to violent nonconsensual sex for that connection to exist. Language is beautiful, but often tricky. While I can easily make those implicit assumptions, not everyone is going to be on board. Yet, my assumptions are valid and important simply because they are mine. That being said, debates about the offensiveness of words often miss a key component: a speaker's intention does not always equal the audience's reception.

Though I'd honestly like to abolish the word, I can't force people to be offended, nor can others disregard my feelings because they do not agree with how I perceive the word. This goes into territory regarding how to approach words. Yes, many are offensive, even typically innocent words like Oreo, apple, and banana. Yet, the context and underlying meaning, whether overt or not must be taken into consideration. I believe we should be deliberate about what we say and question what our words mean. This is a conversation we have to have about using the word 'gay' as a synonym for stupid; you may not overtly mean that being gay means being stupid, but the use of the word denotes the quality of 'gay' having an essence of 'stupidity', implying that with homosexuality comes a drop in or established low level of IQ (a dubious metric of intelligence at any rate).

There are going to be times when I disagree on why someone finds something offensive, but that gives me no right to invalidate their feelings. This also becomes tricky, because we get far too relative. Yet, we also just can't say that things are definitively offensive or not. So, where does this leave us?

Well, with me, it means that using butthurt around me is disrespectful because I find it offensive, my reasons be damned. In this case, it's not too much to ask for those close to me to refrain from usin it. Now, if this were another word, like homosexuality (re: Tennessee schools) then we'd have another issue, namely, finding a word that serves as an identity market offensive, thus implicitly stating that those with the identity are offensive. 

People say that if you look, you will find it. This quote often disregards the notion that often what you're looking for is there. Thus, we have my perception of the word butthurt. Considering the common context of the word (gamer circles), I don't think it's a stretch to assume the word is associated with rape or devaluing anal sex. Many gamers are known for homophobia and misogyny, and the emotional resonance of the word seems to imply something more painful than spanking. Also keep in mind that the word 'rape' is a common occurrence within this community too. These elements add up to a particularly unpleasant underlying meaning of the word 'butthurt'.

We may have this discussion forever about certain words. Because language is multifaceted, this conversation may not always be cut and dry. But, regardless how you see the word 'butthurt', my perception isn't far outside the realm of possibility, based on its potential and numerous meanings, the community in which it is used, and its usage. I'd rather you not use the word at all, but if you're going to, just don't around me.

Dissonance and Self-Worth

Once upon a time, 7 billion people, or at the very least 300 million American people I know this story applies to, grew up with the idea that they are wholly inferior. That story was told from many different perspectives: religion (you are not good, you need God or your chosen deity to sanctify and cleanse you to make you suitable for saving), entertainment (buy this because your life is incomplete without it; the only people you see on tv and in movies won't look like you no matter who you are, but especially if you're a racial, sexual, ability, age, etc., minority), life in general (if someone makes 1% higher than you on a test, you automatically set up a hierarchy of intelligence). That story was also found to be inescapable; it was heard no matter where people went, and the most saddening part of that is people heard it so much that they began to repeat it to themselves in their solitude. So, it is no wonder that finding self-worth, personal truths, and the belief that one is enough is something that seemed to happen later rather than sooner, that people had to struggle under the weight of criticism from self and others before they found the truth that is their light and inherent value, and that some even found ways to hurt others because they were hurting. So, what happened to those who found a way to change this story, to discard it or accept it and move on to something brighter?

Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

I've put a lot of stock into turning 25. I have dubbed it my 'Get My Shit Together Year.' My birthday is in a little over three weeks, and as that date approaches, I'm noticing some significant changes in myself. I'm a lot less confused about where I stand on different issues and what my opinion is, and much more inclined to be firm about where I am and be okay with that. I believe that we can set up self-fulfilling prophecies and wonder if that's what has been going on, or if it's the natural progression of who I've been for the past year or so.

Like a Phoenix

As I was driving back from spending the weekend with the man I'm more than willing to call the love of my life, I did some self-reflection. Lately, it's felt like my anxiety hasn't given me many breaks. It comes and goes in waves, usually at inopportune times. What I realized, though, is that it is no indication of me being at a standstill. In fact, it has coincided with some great things for me: a new identity as an instructor, welcoming the identity of boyfriend again, and learning how to adjust to a new flow in my life. So, I came to the conclusion that I should give myself a break and a pat on the back. At the same time.

When None of the Pictures Look Like You

So, I came across a wonderful article earlier that talks about body image issues among gay men. Yeah, it wasn't quite there, but I agreed with its essence: Gay men are surrounded by images of 'perfection', ultimately an external illusion that others have better bodies (with the implicit assumption that they always will). We are at the mercy of a media that readily buys into the idea of the affluent, young, attractive, built (and mostly hung) gay man. But, let's add one more idea to that: White.

It Ain't That Good

Chick-fil-a is in the news today. In case you did not know why, it is because today is Chick-fil-a Appreciation/Depreciation Day. It is the day in which people are going to Chick-fil-a because they just so happen to love it or love the politics attached to the company and its CEO (that of supporting, politically and financially, traditional marriage and policies relating to the concept) OR people are protesting or boycotting the company because of said alignment with traditional and conservative ideology.

A Lesson in Everything

Let me give you a breakdown of how my summer went/has gone since my best friend left town:

I have:

Put Forth the Effort

Autopilot is a beautiful thing. When my feelings are in full force, I get an amazing sense of energy and words, pictures, and thoughts can fly out of my at astounding speeds. However, as I've grown, I've realized that my emotional life is not going to always afford me such energy. Sometimes, it will sap the energy from me. Other times, I'll have to find the energy myself.

One Year Later

It's always darkest before the dawn.

One year ago today, something happened that would set the course of the next twelve months for me. My boyfriend of two years and I broke up. That night was as hard as it could be, as the shock could only set in so much. It got worse. I found myself spiraling, seeking counseling, making mistakes and trying my best to recover. I wasn't sure how I'd get through what was expected to be and what actually was the hardest semester of my life without my rock, my source of strength. At my darkest, I wasn't sure what today would look like. And yet... I'm here.

I'm here after assessments I wasn't sure when I would finish, but did. I'm here after dates that worked out and dates that didn't and that almost sorta but not really boyfriend. I'm here after that one night I cried so much my eyes were puffy and swollen the next day, the day I had to take place in new student orientation. I'm here after tests and presentations with no one to invite but my classmates. I'm here after nights where the anxiety was so bad, I had to smoke to be able to eat or sleep. I'm here after trying to go back and being turned down.

This past year has been the hardest and the best year of my life. This was the year I finally decided to love myself actively, that I decided to look at my actions and really question whether or not they made me feel happy or good. I have seen tremendous growth, pain, progress, and love, and none of that could have happened if I had stayed in that relationship. These are all things I know now that I did not in the depths of my pain, moments in which I made decisions that caused someone pain. And yet, I could not and would not be the person I am right now, in this moment, had I not made those mistakes.

It's weird to think that leaving a relationship led to some of the greatest things happening in my life, but it did. Don't think, though, that the person I was with was an asshole to me. No, quite the opposite. He tried, he really did, and I started to see that once we were through, though that did not mean we were supposed to still be together (though telling me this last September would not have made the slightest of sense).

I'm happy that something so heartbreaking led me to become a much better person as a result, even if I had to make mistakes and bad choices along the way. I hope things ended up for him the same way, but that's the most energy I'm going to devote to that endeavor. Today, one year later, it's time for me to step forward and worry about myself and those in my life, not someone who isn't here anymore, though I will always wishing him Love, Light, Peace and Healing.

Months ago, I wasn't sure what it would take to get here. I wasn't sure what it would look like. Sometimes, it really was just hard to get to tomorrow, rather than months and months later. Yet, I'm here, as a testament that pain does pass, though it will be a companion to us at various points in our lives; this is a Truth that will never change.

I'm glad that, though things are not the way I want them to be, they worked out in a way that led to positive things. I may not be as overwhelmingly happy as I was in February, but I'm gaining a profound sense of peace. I can see life in different ways. Even on my bad days, I can trust that my life will be okay, that I will be okay, as long as I rise to match the sun and keep moving forward even if I feel I don't have the strength to do so.

So, in essence, thanks. Thanks for no longer being here, because it forced me to stand on my own (with help from my friends) and realize just what I'm capable of and what I deserve. Thanks for being the catalyst in me loving myself. Sorry for the pain I caused along the way. I still have progress to make and things to forgive, but I've come such a long way even to get to this point. My hope stays strong that I won't feel this way forever, that one day the anxiety surrounding you will be gone and the freedom I feel in fleeting moments will last until I die.

Something so painful led to something so good, and as a result I started to really shine, something that has gone on to affect others in a loving and positive way. You're partly to thank for that.

A Talk with My Father

I told my father I don't believe in God. He didn't take it well.

Open and Honest

Yesterday I had this post planned out. Now, I'm struggling to pull my thoughts together. There are so many.

The past year has been heartbreaking, heart wrenching, beautiful, healing, and inspiring, and I still have a long way to go! I've ended a relationship, finally started to actually date in the casual sense, told my mother and father that I'm an atheist, dedicated my life to love, fucked up any chance of a friendship with my ex, started making amends with others and myself, and began to be honest. So much has happened.

Sometimes, I worry that I'm not being genuine, that I'm faking this Love. I worry that others see me as weird (I know; we've gone over this). I worry that my downs are what people see and define me by. I worry that my downs define me in general. But, when I am honest and compassionate with myself, I find that worry has no place in my life, but will be a constant companion.

I had to learn that, even though I've dedicated myself to Loving, pain and insecurity are still going to be around. I'm still going to have bad days. Things are going to happen that I don't like and that are out of my control. What matters is that I get through each of these things, keeping my faith, hope, and love intact. In fact, I've found that Hope is one of the best, brightest, and strongest parts of me, and it makes my life a lot easier. I mean, where do you get in life without hoping that things will be great?

In an attempt to pull all these thoughts together: my life has changed in a wonderful way, and I'm happy for that. No, everything is not the way I want, but I trust that everything is as it should be, though even this statement is hard to deal with.

I'm done trying to wrest control of everything in my life. I'd rather just take this thing moment by moment. It'd behoove me to be a bit less high strung anyway.

The Shack

I just finished reading The Shack. I had heard about it months ago, as it was making the rounds in various church reading groups, and quickly dismissed it as Christian fiction not worth reading. However, I was wrong. It is worth reading for many reasons and has specific and general appeal.

Perks

I just finished The Perks of Being a Wallflower. It's one of my favorite books. In high school, it was one of my favorites because I felt far less alone. Today, it is one of my favorites for the same reason.

I have felt alone for a very long time. It makes sense, because I am me and no one else is me, so all I have to go on are my experiences, and sometimes I'm lucky enough to be able to compare a current experience to a previous one. Other times, I'm just fucking lost. Regardless, solitude is one of the defining factors of my life. At any given moment, I am like no one else. Sometimes, this fact is highlighted by the company I keep. I don't know if that's what life is supposed to be like, if we are supposed to feel so different from others.

Charlie had a lot to deal with, and I do, too. Those things are not always something I am comfortable talking about, especially because I think that no one else will be able to understand in a way that I do. I don't think I'll ever have enough time to sit down and talk to someone about everything that goes on in my head and in my life and have them completely grasp how it makes me feel grateful and powerless all at once. The most important thing is that I don't invalidate my own feelings, nor anyone else's, because what we deal with is what we deal with; every part of our lives is unique compared to someone else's, and no one ever deals with the same problems in the exact same way.

What I got from the book is that I'm scared of a lot of things. There is so much that can happen or does happen that I just do not know how to handle. My default is to go through it alone, because you can only say so much to so many people in your address book, and I'm not typically one to talk about everything anyway, nor to unload my problems onto others (though I've recently spent time with someone who has graciously sat and listened as I told him things that are not easy to talk about with others).

Yet, that fear can keep people stagnant. I'm scared that it has kept me stagnant. But, at the end of the day, all I can do is act or not act. If I choose to act, it can come from an authentic or inauthentic place. I can't control anyone else. And, as Charlie's sister says, my attempts to control the events and people around me are only an attempt to get the outcome I desire, because I'm scared that letting things be will mean not getting what I want. If I've learned anything in the past few months, though, it's that 1) I can never be attached to any particular outcome because when I am, disappointment is sure to follow and 2) Not getting what I want can turn out to be something very great for me.

There's a lot I'd love to get off my chest, but, as I said, I'm just not sure I have the time to sit down with someone and outline everything I'm scared of. So, I try to find peace, whatever way I can, and make sure that those attempts come from a place of Love for myself (even though they sometimes don't).

The best thing I could do for myself right now and always is to act and be in an honest way. It may mean people leaving, it may mean not getting what I want, but at least I will have actively participated in my own life.

A Parable of Baking

Despite today's demoralizing attempt to make meringue, I discovered I have a love and maybe even a talent for baking. For years, I decided not to bake. I said I wasn't good at it, largely because of a rather unfortunate attempt to make lemon squares in high school.

Then, I dated someone who could bake. Exceptionally well. He could do with baking what I can do with cooking. So, naturally, I called him the Baker in the relationship and let him do all of that stuff, with my help on the rare occasion. For a couple of years, I did not consider baking to be a part of my culinary repertoire. Until we broke up.

In my gradual downslide from the lack of a relationship, I tried all sorts of things. Baking was one of them. I found a recipe for vanilla bean cupcakes and decided to make them. I also was inspired by Annie from Bridesmaids, played by Kristen Wiig. The scene where Annie makes the beautiful cupcake is inspiring to me, to the point that I call it her moment of triumph. So, last summer I decided to try to fill a spot left in my life, baking, by doing it myself. Rather than leave it alone, forever naming it 'his' talent and 'his' thing, I tried it for myself. And you know what? I found out something new about myself.

Those cupcakes came out great. They were well received, despite my doubts about them. I had reclaimed something for myself that I had always considered an integral part of someone else. Baking those cupcakes was one of the first moments where I realized that the hole I felt was in my life did not need to be filled by another man. It very well could have been filled by me.

Since then, I've made other cupcakes, I've made cookies, and I even made a rather spectacular pecan pie. I've made homemade muffins, including this morning's cinnamon cake donut muffins. There is a meringue-less lemon pie chilling in my fridge, waiting to be delivered to a friend, as well as my stomach. In essence, I'm proud of myself for trying something I thought for years I couldn't do. I'm especially proud of myself because the results came out great.

Like today, I'm not always going to have complete victories. But, this is okay. It's the fact that I'm trying to do things for myself, to prove to myself that not everything I say is set in stone, and that at any moment I can make a great batch of cupcakes, cookies, or a wonderful pie.

The moral of this story? You may feel that something is not for you, but maybe it's worth a try. Maybe that thing you always said others, but not you, could do is something you are good at. Even if the results are disastrous, you rose above preconceived notions of talents or limits and actually tried. Many people let the fear of failure stop them from trying. Let's just say I will definitely still be baking goodies after today.

And maybe, just maybe, that seemingly person-sized hole you feel in your chest, your heart, or your life can be filled with you.