Pages and Panels

Growing up, I was a voracious reader. I read everything I could get my hands on. It wasn’t uncommon for me to tackle a novel a night. But we never really spent money on comics, because they were too expensive for how quickly I’d read them. 

I liked superheroes. We watched Batman: The Animated Series and Batman Beyond and Teen Titans and my brothers and I were obsessed with Young Justice.  But I’d never sat down to read a comic book. At least, until fifteen-year-old me was stuck in the middle row of our mini-van, driving with my brothers and dad to one of my dad’s gigs. Less than two hours into a ten hour drive, and I’d already finished one of the books I’d packed when I felt a tap on my shoulder. When I turned, my older brother was offering his book to me, the green hero on the cover the same shade as his face was turning. He was never very good at reading in a moving car. 

That was my first comic. Blackest Night, trade paperback. 

I devoured that book. I never knew that comics were like that- so much story. I hadn’t read a book with pictures in it in a very long time, and I knew there was no way an artist could capture the images in my head as well as my brain could make them up. But reading Blackest Night (and the terrifying moment baby Robert bit Donna which scarred me for the rest of my life). After I’d finished it and we’d gotten to carnival we were working and my brother was no longer too nauseous to finish it, I insisted he read it so I’d have someone to talk to. And before I knew it, my brothers and I were in a tiny comic store in the middle of nowhere Ohio, buying plastic Lantern rings and the Alex Ross Giant Superman: Peace on Earth. I still don’t know why I decided that would be my purchase, as my older brother got more Lantern books and my little brother picked up Morrison and Quietly’s Batman and Robin trade. Obviously, I read those on the way home, and that introduced me to adult Dick Grayson. I wanted to be a Superman fangirl, but my circus boy has been there for me since day one. And when I got home, I no longer stayed up all night sneaking romance novels. Instead, I got sucked into the world of comics Tumblr.

The social networking site is still a very strange place, but for me, it was the only place where I could find anyone who I felt I could relate to when it came to comics. I’d just graduated high school and was starting college- where I was majoring in writing and theater- but had to find a way to make all new friends and also deal with really becoming my own person. I was meeting other comic readers who were suggesting arcs and books and stories faster than I could keep up. And it was one of those people who sent me a copy of Runaways she’d saved to her computer. Suddenly, I not only had new friends who supported my growing love of comics, but I had a new role model in Gert, a loud-mouthed, stubborn, headstrong teenager who was everything I never felt brave enough to be, but in a body that looked like mine. It was something I’d never seen before.

Gert was a fat girl whose story didn’t revolve around her losing weight, or taking up too much space, or losing out on romance because she had a belly and a butt. Instead, she got the handsome jock, who actually respected her and listened to her.  She led her team. She had a dinosaur. I wanted to be Gert desperately. I even learned how to edit photos so I could edit myself into a “poster” for the Runaways movie that was being discussed. (Actually, I taught myself how to make full copy and wrote an entire teen magazine as though I was in this movie and also that I was dating Chris Evans. I am both ashamed and proud.) I stayed with the series until after Gert’s death, until the original creative team left. I never quite managed to get into Joss Whedon’s run and just kinda lost the series after that. But the most recent version of the title has gotten me back into it, and yes, I did tear up when I purchased Runaways #36, with an adult Gert who still looks like me on the cover.

After I stepped away from Runaways, I lightened up on the comics obsession. I was deep into undergrad and didn’t have a lot of free time. Plus, I shifted my focus to Disney and theater because I knew that was the direction my career was heading. I moved to Florida and realized that as an adult, I still felt like I had no idea what things made me happy. I worked. I went home. I slept. I worked. And I realized that every time I felt happiest, it was when I was looking at or talking about comic books. Reading about Gail Simone’s Women in Refrigerators theory, or censorship and the Comics Code Authority, or the very scandalous history of Wonder Woman, I always felt most engaged and… myself.

That was when I realized I loved comic books. I didn’t just like them. I loved them. And I wished desperately that the career path I’d followed would have been able to have more comics in it. 

So I stopped hiding. I went to the comic book store by myself for the first time looking for more Dick Grayson content because I was still fascinated by the circus boy I felt like I could see myself in. I was promptly kicked out of the comic book shop because “Girls are only buying comics because they think Chris Evans is hot.” (He is, but I wasn’t even looking for Captain America stuff. I was looking for the Dennis O’Neil and Chuck Dixon Nightwing run) I still struggle with going to a new comic store because I’m scared of how the often-male leadership in unknown stores will respond to a woman fan.) I finally ended up ordering the first trade volume of Nightwing off the internet and from then on, I felt like I’d finally figured out who I wanted to be. I was a comic book nerd. More than that, I was a huge comic book nerd. I started following more modern authors and artists, plus paying attention to the themes and styles that earmarked the eras of comic book classification and how they reflected the social situations of the times. How characters grew and developed from title to title- very easy to do with Dick Grayson in particular of course. And then I went back to school because I was hoping to take my pervious experience and turn it into a new career in comics.

Then 2020 happened.

I can’t say I’m grateful for the past year and a half. It’s disrespectful to all the people who have suffered and lost so much- losing more than just jobs and livelihoods, but also family members to a virus that sometimes still feels like the plot of a comic book. (Here’s looking at you, Batman: Contagion). But as I approach my thirtieth birthday next week, living the life I’d always feared- living in my mother’s house, wearing sweatpants and unemployed- I have to admit that without the push of 2020, I don’t know that I’d have been brave enough to fully publicly admit that this is who I am and who I want to be. But I guess as I step into this next phase of life, I’m really grateful that I’ve finally found something that makes me this happy, something that feels entirely me. And I’m really grateful to those of you who have come along with me thus far. So thank you!