Culture & Politics – Page 4 – Cheryl Lynn Eaton

01•26•10

Chromatic static.

I have to apologize for neglecting this blog, folks. It seems like it’s a lot easier to dish about the latest events in little 140 character segments on social media than it is to flesh out a full blog post. At least, that’s what happened today on when I came across the latest edition of the Chromatic Comics meme that’s been making the rounds.

“Y’know, Marvel does have a whole boatload of POC characters. Stuff like [Chromatic Comics] makes it seem like only the white ones are important and deserve focus. Y’know what would be nice? For POC characters to get the same promotion and devotion that white characters get so people don’t have to think of POC actors they’d like in the ‘important’ (white) characters’ roles.

“In other words, screw Batgirl and Jessica Jones. How about making Aquagirl and Misty Knight not suck? How about Jubilee getting some time to shine instead of shoving Emma Frost down my throat? It’s not just about seeing POC faces. There are histories and myths that come along with POC characters that deserve to be heard. And it treats whiteness as some kind of blank slate that you can just pour color on. It’s not. Daredevil was a working class Irish kid for a reason. And even though Marvel doesn’t say it, we all know Castle is a poor Italian kid from Brooklyn. I’m not just a color. I have a history. Tell it. I don’t want cinematic Photoshop.”
Cheryl Lynn Eaton

And just like I’m not just a color, that white kid isn’t just a blank slate. He isn’t the default. And acting like he is the default hurts both him and me. My stories get shunted to the side because they aren’t considered the norm and his stories are considered meaningless—something that can be easily divorced from his culture and handed to someone of another background for a cheap grab at diversity. An empty canvas to hang someone else’s image on. I get to be seen and not heard. He gets to be heard and not seen. And neither of us is honored that way.

No matter who you are, it hurts to have your stories stolen. And if you think whiteness doesn’t provide a character with color, you’re wrong. Because growing up Italian American in Bensonhurst during the ’80s and ’90s is a hell of a lot different than growing up African American in Harlem during the ’80s and ’90s. A white actor could not tell Luke Cage’s story. A story that involved anti-black racism and being railroaded into the system for a crime you didn’t commit. A story that involved being viewed as nothing more than an animal by prison guards. A story that involved growing up and becoming a man and realizing that your community has been damn near decimated by the same drugs you pushed for the mob in exchange for a pair of new Nikes and a knot of twenties—and deciding to finally make things right.

And just like a white actor could not tell Cage’s story, a black actor could not tell Frank Castle’s. A story that involved watching your neighbors hail common criminals as protectors and patrons. A story that involved watching the man who had Mr. Ancelotti’s leg broken treated like a king because he popped for fireworks for the neighborhood every year and made sure that he and his boys kept the blacks and Hispanics down in Sunset Park and Bed Stuy where they belonged. A story that involved finally realizing that those guys weren’t keeping the monsters at bay—they were the monsters. A story that involved realizing that tribalism is meaningless when your own family is lying in a pool of blood—spilled by people that you were raised to consider your own. And then you finally figure it out. It’s not us versus them. It’s you versus everyone.

And when you change the background, you change the story. Static and Blue Beetle are amazing and I want to see more of them. But neither character is Spider-Man. Each has his own story—wonderful stories that should not be separated from who they are and where they come from. And they can’t be.

So what do I want? I want to see POC characters getting more devotion from creators and more promotion from comic companies. I want to see fans supporting characters of color instead of just dreaming about what actors of color could be hired to portray the “important” white icons. Demand to be more than just window dressing. Our stories are phenomenal. Let’s get them told.

05•16•09

Trinity: The Black Reality.

“Baby, you can fall down in the mud, but you don’t have to wallow in it.”

“I’m tellin’ you. It ain’t easy.”

Two sayings. Two grandmothers. Both mine. Both true. One more saying from Martha. This one’s true too.

“This won’t kill me. I won’t die here.”

Martha Washington

Like my grandmothers, Martha Washington grew up in a hostile environment—America. More specifically for Martha, she was raised in an alternate version of the Cabrini Green housing development, which existed as a cordoned-off area of Chicago intended to house those that the government deemed to be undesirable. The Green was relegated to those who were black and those who were poor. As a child, Martha received substandard housing and substandard healthcare. She attended school in a decrepit building outfitted with exposed pipes and outdated school supplies.

What did Martha need with a decent education? To her country and to her government, she was simply fuel for a brick and mortar Ouroboros. Like her father before her, she was raised to live and die in the Green—nothing more than a lump of coal to keep society’s dirty engine running. Funny things happen to lumps of coal when you apply enough pressure. They get hard, durable, and sharp enough to cut anything.

Martha cuts her way out of the Green by stabbing a hook deep within the murderer of her teacher and mentor. For her violent act, she’s sent away to a correctional facility for the mentally ill. She moves from a metaphorical prison to a real one, but she is out of the Green. She is one step closer to freedom. The Black Reality is that freedom isn’t given, but it can most certainly be fought for. And Martha is the most skilled of fighters. The Green has honed her to perfection.

Martha Washington: Give Me Liberty artwork

And when Martha finally escapes the confines of the correctional facility, she does what she has been trained to do. She becomes a legally sanctioned fighter—a soldier. Her record is wiped clean and she takes one more step towards her liberation.

“I’m telling you. It ain’t easy.”

The Black Reality is that you have to work twice as hard to get half the recognition. Martha works four times as hard and gets all of it. She saves her country numerous times. She exposes her detractors for the dangerous and deluded beings they are. She does not do this for glory, but because her will and desire for freedom is simply that strong. She is that special.

“Baby, you can fall down in the mud, but you don’t have to wallow in it.”

But just because it ain’t easy doesn’t mean that it’s always hard. The Black Reality is that joy can shine through like a jewel even in a setting of heartbreak and pain. And Martha is able to find love in the harshest of environments from her mother, her mentor, her lover, and her friends. Even when the weight of the world is upon her shoulders, in her small circle she is cherished and admired and appreciated.

“This won’t kill me. I won’t die here.”

The Black Reality is that sometimes the fruits of our labor will be the ones to enjoy the fruits of our labor. Yes, technically, we do die. However, we live on in the ones we leave behind. Every freedom I enjoy was fought for by my mother, and my mother’s mother. And so on. Never ending. Immortal. Martha does not get to see peace in her homeland, but she knows that her progeny will take her wisdom and one day forge a peaceful nation with it. She endures the Black Reality so that her descendants may become the Black Ideal. And a new Reality will be formed by those who follow the blazing path Martha set before them. She shines like a diamond. Because she is one.

05•07•09

Trinity: The Black Fantasy.

A while back, David Brothers wrote a fantastic series of posts over at 4th Letter about the Black Trinity and how it relates to comics. He examined three concepts found not only in comics, but in other artistic forms as well—the Black Reality, the Black Fantasy and the Black Ideal. If you’ve clicked the links I’ve provided for you, and you should, you’ll notice that David used only male characters as examples for these concepts.

David and I had talked for a bit off-blog about how some of the comic industry’s most popular black female characters could fit into his concept of the Black Trinity. He had even attempted to talk me into doing my own series of blog posts examining the Black Trinity from a female perspective, but at the time I was more than a bit weary of talking about comics at all. Until today. Until I was presented with the following image:

Today? Today we are going to talk about the Black Fantasy from the female perspective. And the Black Fantasy is Storm. Storm is what black women want, or are constantly informed by the media that they should want, but are also told that they never will achieve. To be loved and to be beautiful. To be free. To be special.

Beautiful. Beauty is perhaps the most notable of Storm’s attributes. After all, her birth name, Ororo, is said within the pages of X-Men to mean beauty in Swahili (instead of uzuri, the actual Swahili word for beauty). Her stunning features are often remarked upon by other characters that come into contact with her. Her eyes are of the bluest hue. Her white locks are pin straight and luxurious. Truly, hers is the epitome of the “good hair” that our media proclaims all black women should desire and strive for. Even Claremont knew and reinforced this.

But who could blame Harmony? What black woman wouldn’t envy Storm? Storm had no need of relaxers or sunny Saturdays spent beneath the searing metal of her grandmother’s pressing comb. She never sat patiently while a beautician sewed blonde ringlets to her head to hide her tightly woven brown cornrows from view. Her hair was naturally straight. Her hair was naturally light. She was born conforming to the majority of our society’s beauty norms. She was born not looking like all the other little black girls. And because of that, she was lauded as beautiful. Because of how not black she appeared to be. How sad. How sad that the black fantasy presented to little black girls is to be able to shed not oppression, but to shed one’s blackness.

For fans of the character watched while the features the character did have in common with many young black and brown girls—brown skin, full lips, almond-shaped eyes—all features that Storm has never been complimented on, slowly faded from view as many colorists selected light tan hues and artists preferred sharp angular features to depict Storm.

Special. The specialness of Storm has always been repeatedly reinforced within the pages of Marvel comics. Storm was born special. Her powers are special. Her physical features are special. She is so special that the character is apparently too special to be simply black. And so Storm becomes a mutant with a capital M. No intersectionality for the goddess. It’s all Xavier’s cause, all the time. Aside from brief contemplations of her heritage, of course. But is that ethnic heritage something she wants? Survey says no. Not the African-American part, anyway. Nor the Kenyan side, as well. Storm seems to have wholly embraced her husband’s culture with her betrothal to the King of Wakanda.

Loved and Free. And what of Storm’s husband, Black Panther? With her marriage to T’Challa, Storm has been given what many covet, a land where one can escape white supremacy and an adoring black king to stand steadfastly by her side. Storm has successfully claimed every aspect of the fairy tale. But is it a fairy tale worth reading? Black women cannot live vicariously through Storm. She is the Black Fantasy Marvel spent more than two decades telling us we could never be. The fantasy is useless, for there is no comfort in engaging it. The character only serves to remind us of how short black women fall from the racist norms society demands we aspire to.