many can wear the big 80s bomber jacket

[The following rant/reminiscence was prompted by Noah’s set of posts on Wonder Woman as a flawed feminist icon]

I collected most or all of the George Perez run of Wonder Woman when I was a bit younger than Vanessa, Wonder Woman’s adolescent pal. I was into it, especially the young-adult-lit stuff, like the Very Special Issue about teen depression and suicide. But seeing as how that was the first (as well as last) iteration of the character I experienced, I can’t say that Wonder Woman got me young enough to be my feminist superhero icon.

As I’ve mentioned, the mid-80s X books were really the foundation of my superhero (and beyond, if we’re being honest) worldview. There were plenty of well-rounded (by 80s Marvel standards) women in the New Mutants… I consciously identified with Rahne, the meek, pious good girl, but secretly identified with Illyana, because she was so full of rage for no real reason. But ultimately, I think my childhood feminist hero was Rogue.

Her power was, if she had contact with someone else’s skin, they would be knocked unconscious and she would get all their memories and powers. I guess it’s about the power and the loss of control and the terrifying vulnerability inherent in sex, or intimacy of any kind. Who can say what will be unleashed when you touch another person? I think, even as a little kid, I understood that awesome dread.

And the fact that Rogue had to protect herself against intimacy all the time, what did that mean? For one, it meant that technically, her costume was more in line with a man’s costume, skintight but covering head-to-toe, than swimwear/lingerie, like Wonder Woman. Her biggest fashion statement was an oversized brown leather jacket. It signaled both her toughness and her need to shield herself (and maybe as a kid growing up with religiously dictated dress codes, the consciously covering up felt like my reality).

It meant that no one ever ever got to touch her without her permission, or they’d be sorry. And you could say, being as she was created and written by men, that it’s all about straight male fantasies and fears, vagina dentata or whatever, but really. Think of how powerful that statement is for a little kid, who has no power over whether people she doesn’t know will muss her hair or pick her up or worse (I was never molested myself, but I really hated it when adults would be overfamiliar with me. But as a child, especially a female child, there was nothing I could do about it). Not even to mention all the fun when I grew up, where it would have been nifty if random-ass guys who groped me could have instantly fallen into a coma. How’s that for bodily integrity.

It also meant that all her romances were unrequited romances. Which is nice for kids, who know all about wanting, but have no reason yet to be modeling, you know, the actual identity compromises and icky sex stuff of settling down with a prince. That might just have been me, though.

It undoubtedly says something about my current female/feminist identity that the icon I think about is not all Girl! Power! Tough As A Boy! Her great powers were even greater vulnerabilities, and they were centred on her female body. Maybe a lot of the lesson of Rogue was the same lesson I’d pick up in other consciousness-raising works like Cerebus and From Hell: as a woman, you just can’t win.

0 thoughts on “many can wear the big 80s bomber jacket

  1. I wonder how we get “as a woman you just can’t win” from From Hell. Obviously, that’s a kind of feminist work…and most of the women in the story are slaughtered by Gull/the Ripper…but there is the one who escapes to Ireland and faces down Gull’s ghost. Is this not a kind of (hopeful) victory? (After much misery)

  2. eric,

    well, i just know that i identified really really strongly with all the women. i couldn't get to sleep after, knowing i was a prostitute, & about to be murdered.

  3. Miriam:
    You do a great job of articulating what I’ve thought about Rogue for years, but never really managed to put into words.

    It seems silly to say Rogue is an inspirational force in my life (especially considering where some writers – I use that term very loosely – have taken her character since I first fell for her) but she really was a powerful touchstone for me as a teen…and as a feminist statement that shaped my world a little, whether I realized what it was then or not.

    I never really got over my love affair with her. I constantly pick up comic books with Rogue in them, even today, hoping I’ll see a glimpse of the character I fell in love with so long ago. These days I never find her in the glossy pages, but fortunately I’ve got all those great back issues to re-read.

    Thanks for giving Rogue the credit she (and her creators – even if they didn’t have the intentions right) deserves.

    Kelly

  4. I was also a huge Rogue fan.

    Out of curiousity, what did/do you think of Gambit?

    When the character was first introduced, I couldn’t *stand* him — his continued pursuit of Rogue felt too much like sexual harassment. I stopped reading the series before their relationship became Twu Wuv.

  5. Being male, I feel a little out of place commenting on what is a very feminine article, but not uncomfortable enough to remain silent. Thank you for giving me such unflinching insight into your role models and what they mean to you. I found the whole piece quite moving. The X-Men (is that a sexist team name? I don't know…) deserve praise for having so many (and so many unique) female characters.

    Personally, and gender aside, I related most closely to Skids. Her power was being surrounded by a permanent force field. This meant nothing could hurt her, but also that she couldn't really touch anything, either. The message is obvious: to truly feel love one must also be vulnerable to potential hurt. As one who has both hurt people who've loved me as well as been hurt by people I've loved, I found a great deal of depth in the character.

    It is also worth noting that Skids' appearances in X-Factor were written by a woman: Louise Simonson.