Here’s to the Ladies
Conversations on the Female Geek at Wizard World Chicago

Boobs
I had come to Wizard World Chicago through an email sent by my comic book journalist friend, we’ll call her J, to some of her girlfriends: “I know you guys probably would not be interested in the con itself although I might need some boobs… I mean… people to help staff a booth and that would be free but would involve ogling by geeks.”

I thought to myself: I have boobs. I thought to myself: Secret Life Dream #86—visit a convention where I know nothing and observe it anthropologically. So, I wrote back.

One angering early morning alarm, a hastily-purchased, overpriced digital recorder, and two cups of zen later, my two boobs (let’s call them the Ladies? Because I do) and I arrived at Wizard World Chicago. All three of us were warmly welcomed by comic book journalist J and her husband and fellow journalist L’s colleagues, who all casually stood around their equipment with the rugged edge of reporters flirting with exhaustion and seriously dating hangovers. I looked around this calmer edge of the Con, Artist’s Alley, slowly: a lady with a man and a kid in a baby stroller, a small school of teenage boys donning the prerequisite pimples and sweat, three or four older couples sauntering along and sharing knowing smiles with one another. Without the overwhelming presence of t-shirts with random comic book references and a Stormtrooper or two, it could be a mall or an indoor flea market.

Malls I knew. I could do malls. Except something was off in a way the Ladies and I couldn’t shake. At first I thought it was the intent gleam you could catch in everyone’s eye as you walked past them; a gleam that said “I’m serious about comic books”—or perhaps “I’m serious about getting past you to important high-profile writer at the booth behind you.” I zoomed out and I realized it was not the gleam—I had seen that gleam everywhere from new age book stores and sports events before, the gleam of someone who is obsessed with something particular, the gleam of the “geek.” It was something else: malls usually had more women.

Somebody’s Girlfriends

I spent the day listening, having good jokes explained to me (“What if Black Bolt had Tourette’s?” I overheard prominent writer Peter David share to a mini-roar of journalist laughter, post his on-screen interview) and asking questions like a 4-year-old. Most everyone responded with patience, smiles, understanding eyes, and eager handshakes. In a few cases I couldn’t tell if those responses were directed to me or to the Ladies, but the email (and 13 years as a post-pubescent female) had prepared me, and I was there to learn.

When my retinas weren’t burning from the haze of banners, boxes, light sabers, Jokers (journalist S counted 13), fluorescent lights, mostly pale arms, and Hulk, they were taking in the kindness and openness of the people I was meeting. People described the essence of the “fanboy:” (a person obsessed with a particular character/book/Universe, often to a point of ignoring or refusing any changes made to that book; can be used as a derogatory term, see also “fangirl”), and what it meant to be in a “completist haze:” (purchasing all the books in a series, even after creative teams had changed and the book had turned to crap, for lack of a better term), and where the bathrooms were: (behind Xena).

Yet when asking the brilliant artist, K, how she got started at ComiCons, she mentioned something that turned the presence of the Ladies into a cultural marker: “I could give an interview in itself in how I feel as a woman [here at the Con].” At this point it was clear that the women I was meeting, about 1 in every 13, held a social position of their own in comic book culture. The Ladies and I needed to know what that position meant to these Ladies and to the culture at large.

As the day left me plummeting into amazing conversations and more and more interest in the comic books I knew nothing about, I began catching glimpses of the women behind the Ladies. For example, women behind tables and eager or already-established in the industry held themselves with a professional gravitas that broke quickly when given the chance to talk about being a woman.

“I get a lot of people that think I’m somebody’s girlfriend. They’ll come up to my table and ask ‘When will the artist be back?’ There are enough women that are in comics now that there is a community…but how many artists do I know that are women working in comics right now? Five? Until recently I couldn’t have thought of more than that,” artist K elaborated. “It’s hard to talk about [being a woman], so many men hear it and they get on the defensive—but it’s nobody’s fault, it’s just how it is.”

This female geek gravitas was often tempered with searing humor. Journalist S explained, complimenting me too kindly, that the way people responded to my questions, and to artist K, was actually the same way they responded to her—a 14-yr veteran reader and industry insider: “Because you are a pretty girl, guys will never assume that you know [anything about comic books]. They speak slowly at you like, ‘You know Batman…right?’ and I’m like ‘I wanna shove my fist somewhere very uncomfortable.’ That’s the experience you get being new at this, but you would get that NOT being new at this.”

Her sly smile and tempered wit—containing only two teaspoons of residual seething—revealed the years spent encountering such responses. Humor seemed to break the tension in tales where she and other women, as female geeks, were seen as less than, or out of.

Possessing this blend of presence and humor did not just seem to come from the years in the industry, but also from years of needing to assert the space needed to appreciate a culture crafted for men. One exclusive male writer, S, shared with me, “You would get guys in the [comic book] store, growing up, saying—out loud—‘a girl in a comic book store?’ and it’s alarming to people. At first to me, it was surprising. Comics are in the same in novels, film, TV—there should be something for everybody. The way the business-end of it has worked is that it’s been dominated by male power-fantasy superheroes.”

The business side of the comic book industry would organically lead to male rulership of comic book geekdom, as the buyers are the geeks, and the buyers of comic books are considered to be 18-35 year-old men. Beyond marketing, the male-dominated geekdom phenomena is well-described by Pop Feminist in a recent blog:

“…the amount of energy and time required to truly take part in this kind of demanding subculture [including comic book geekdom] prevents [a woman] from participating because (most) women don’t have expectations that they will be served by others. Being part of a subculture, like being a nerd, is a luxury. The lower economic classes of both genders and all races may be completely absent from these hyper-involved fandom cultures. It requires money, time, and most of a all, the care of another to be part of this elite club.”

Perhaps the echoed assumption that female comic book creators and industry insiders are ‘somebody’s girlfriend’ does not fall far from the nature of being a geek itself. The presence of female support that encourages and allows for the time and money to attend a ComicCon is common enough for fan attendees to assume that comic book creators have partners supporting their dedication and staffing booths for them. Perhaps this assumption comes from the fact that these fan attendees often bring these partners along, too, and so would assume that male creators would do the same. Perhaps I noticed that at several points throughout the day, withered women sat on the steps of the main Wizard World floor holding bags, staffing their own “booths” as somebody’s girlfriends.

T & A
I was staring into an impossible bosom one minute and then exploring ethereal, incandescent femininity the next. All of them had the Ladies, of course, but the Ladies I had expected—the helium-balloon swellings held in painted-on costumes—sometimes sat alongside ethereal leading ladies and leathery realism (along with the more water-balloon-like properties).

The relative rarity of women in the industry for years meant that women were depicted for the traditional geek and that geek’s titillation. Male writer S asked the simple question: “How many women are in comics, the characters—and how many are in there for titillation purposes?” The use of the boobs for the bank seemed to work its way into the gross inflation of the comic book market in the 90’s, with women appearing in lingerie on collectible covers.

Perhaps it’s no surprise that following comic book universes with such exaggerated depictions makes facing real Ladies…well…difficult. Speaking about the ComiCon attendees that collect and get signatures and generally seem to keep to themselves, female geek/journalist S noted: “Most of those [the guys who avoid social interaction] are the guys, you can tell, have never seen a real woman. You can tell because when you walk past…they follow. Their heads actually turn. And you speak to them…and they don’t know what to do. They also work at a lot of comic book shops. Then there’s a whole range of writers and artists that are fairly hip and cute and probably do get laid at cons….”

The physical realities of Real Women in their Midst may stem back to the fact that this whole Con, this celebration of comic books, like the industry, was originally marketed for and by men. Comic book storeowner S, who did know how to talk to woman quite well, even at 3 in the morning, stated that “Most [comic book] stores have a locker-room mentality. A girl walks in, everyone stops talking, because they don’t know how to handle themselves around women…it’s awkward.” As female geek/journalist J put it at 10 AM the day before: “Some of the stereotypes are true. You’ll meet really cool people and you’ll meet people who shift and sweat and who can’t talk to you.”

Oddly enough, the sexual negotiations that exist between men and women at this convention—and J, I agree with you: the pickins’ for the men are slim—can be oddly empowering for the women present. Female geek/journalist S described her own behavior at the Con: “You can ratchet [sex appeal] up and talk about tits all the time—it’s safe. It scares people, it’s intimidation. [There is] no sense of entitlement that you find with frat boys….When men approach you at a convention, [they are] surprised when you laugh at their jokes, not expecting you to sleep with them.”

Considering that WWC contained an after-hours party at the Hyatt worthy of an article all its own, its interesting that many female geeks reported that men assume that if a woman is not taken (thus “somebody’s girlfriend”), she is there to troll for guys. As another male journalist, J, confessed, “As a tribe, we do have higher earning potential.”

The stacked guy to girl ratio does mean that after-hours mixers equals free drinks for the ladies and less ladies for the men. However, pair this with the following: female journalist S was able to secure three free drinks and meals based solely on the fact that every time one of her male colleagues made a sexual comment about her she insisted that they buy her something to learn to stop doing that—and many of these meals were from the same people. While the Ladies and I had learned that inflated bosoms sold to geeks, I also glimpsed this snapshot into how a predominantly male culture negotiates its responses, from the awkward to the absurd, to a good pair of real tits.

Geeks v. Boobs
So, possessing the Ladies at Wizard World Chicago may mean that your male colleagues miscredit your commitment to geekdom, or give you unique attention, but the industry and its conventions are shifting to increasingly to include all varieties of voices.

“It’s the same problem with ethnicity [as with gender]—how many non-white people are there [in comic books]? I’ll write scripts for characters and not really tell the artists what race they are or anything and they always turn out white. Even working with foreign [artists]…it’s kinda weird. There does need to be more diversity: gender-wise, religiously…in everything,” said male writer S.

Witnessing the Marvel panel meant that I witnessed not only men at the top of their game sharing their expertise and passion, but also a bunch of fellow fanboys (meant in a good way) who circumcised pickles as part of a inside joke from a previous convention. I witnessed a casual conversation where a top Marvel executive explained how reflexive comic book culture is, how eagerly the top people listen to the readers. According to writer S, any rivalries that exist creatively among companies are mostly a fan creation; making quality products unifies all comic book creators, regardless of their current bosses.

This self-reflexivity and spirit of unity can only spawn more women shaping and enjoying the industry as fans (or both). While there were likely only 12,000 women to the men’s 150,000 at Wizard World Chicago (my estimate is based on physically counting a general 13:1 m/f ratio), that is still 12,000 who are involved in the consumption and creation of comic books. They are undeniably female geeks. They may possess some weathering from a culture not traditionally built to equip them with voices and some negotiations with their Ladies in a culture that hypes the Ladies up so much, but the very presence of female comic book creators, journalists, and fans—and the fact that comic book industry leaders are willing to listen—signals change.

For now, possessing a pair of Ladies may actually help you break into the industry; as journalist J explained, “[As a woman], people will make allowances for you, and they want your attention on a one-on-one basis. They see you and talk to you because they know they want more women in the industry. [They want to say] ‘We have a woman in our group!’ It’s a Catch 22; being a woman may actually get me a job because they want woman who are working [in the industry], but at the same time it’s a struggle because being a woman in a male-dominated industry always will be.”

As successful male writer S put it, getting into the industry takes the same combination it always has: “talent, contacts, and luck.” Perhaps as more female geeks become accepted as vital fans and creators, the ‘contacts’ portion of that equation will increase and sex ratios will begin to balance out.

As the next generation of women is eager to enter the industry and create a space for their own brand of geek, so comic book creators have taken ownership of their own segments of the comic book industry. Artist K’s female-focused art contains photo-realistic glimpses of some women who she actually met at ComiCons: female geeks are not just making the art, they are the inspiration for it. Creators like David Mack and the “Powers” series have lead the way in independent comics, as I learned, for more realistic female-centric stories and art, and DC’s new Minx line, while arguably not well marketed (according to journalist J), is still set to appeal to the female set.

Journalists S and J are starting up a podcast they feel will inspire a new look at the female geek: two lovely ladies interviewing top industry professionals innocently…in bed. As Journalist S puts it, “I kinda enjoy the weird testoroney culture of the whole thing [comic book world] anyway. It’s a very weird thing that we want to take advantage of with our podcast—hopefully by doing it, [the comic book world] will realize that these girls actually read comics and they know what they’re talking about AND they’re cute.”

Her statement reveals a desire to not only be recognized for her intellectual presence and dedication to the culture, but also for her physical reality, her sexual presence. She is not just a geek, but a specifically female geek who recognizes that she is different from the majority of the geeks around her—and wants to stop taking slack for it and apologizing for her taste and her boobs. This acceptance and embrace of what was traditionally out of place befits the “geek” community as a whole; once a mark of “not fitting in,” the word “geek” was at no point during my day seen as a four-letter word or a mark of inferiority.

I came to Wizard World Chicago because of the Ladies, and while I half-expected the stereotypes of geeks to dominate my day—the pale, physically unfit, intelligent, awkward, reclusive virgin—instead I encountered men and women who challenged those stereotypes as comic book creators, journalists, and fans (usually in some combination of the above). Though I should note that many were, indeed, pale.

Furthermore, these Wizard World attendees were overwhelmingly willing to share their assessments of how the culture currently stands in relation to Ladies. For that honesty, the Ladies and I humbly thank you. I should also note that many of these conversations, while held throughout the day, included men and women listening to one another and commiserating on the state of female geek affairs. Many of the conversations also included random sexual/gender jokes, but those were tossed out almost equally by both the males and females. The Ladies and I left WWC with the feeling that maybe, just maybe, the comic book world is bridging the gaping canyon that usually exists between geeks and boobs.

One of the newest additions to Shotgun, Isabelle Burtan studied archaeology and anthropology at Harvard. And I agree: our people need study.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, July 29th, 2008 at 10:46 am and is filed under Comics, Con Job, Culture, Isabelle Burtan. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site. Your comments will be moderated but will appear as soon as humanly possible.