With Arms Wide Open, or, Ms. Marvel, John Stewart and Neal Adams

An old, old comic book.

An old, old comic book.

For the last several weeks Kevin Smith’s Fat Man on Batman podcast has featured a three-part interview with veteran comic book artist Neal Adams, perhaps best known for his time on Batman, Green Lantern/Green Arrow and Superman vs. Muhammad Ali. The interview is truly fascinating, and worth a listen even for those who aren’t fans of comic books or Batman.

But me? I’m a young buck. I started reading comics with the New 52 and Marvel Now. How relevant can a guy who’s been drawing comics for forty something years be to my refined, modern comic book sensibilities?

The most. The most relevant.

In episode 53 of Fat Man on batman Adams discusses his creation of John Stewart, the third Green Lantern of Earth and a black American. Of the previous Green Lanterns, Hal Jordan and Guy Gardner, Adams noted how skeptical he had been that twice an Oan power ring found its way to Earth and twice it decided that the being most capable of overcoming great fear on the entire planet was a cocky white guy.

Adams was met with apprehension in 1971, when he created John Stewart, but he fought and now Stewart is still ring-slinging 43 years later. But while that apprehension may have died down a degree in the past decades, it clearly still exists to some extent.

Superman is only black when he’s from Earth 23. Spider-Man is only black in the Ultimate universe. And we clearly aren’t getting a black Lex Luthor.

But those are established characters with established identities. Arguments can certainly be made for their racial homogenization. Well founded, worthwhile arguments. Really, really enlightened arguments.  You know, like all the detractors that spoke up when Donald Glover was a rumored contender for Spider-Man.

The one and only OG Fury.

The one and only OG Fury.

After all, that kind of thing never works. Superman’s always been white and Nick Fury’s always been black.

But established characters aside, it’s near impossible for a new character to break into comics. Superman and Batman are both 75 years old now. They’re known entities. You can pick up any piece of material about the Man of Steel of the Dark Knight and have a pretty solid understanding of what’s going down. How does a new character compete with that? Particularly one that doesn’t align with the white male aesthetic the comic book industry continues to perpetuate?

The answer is the pretty much don’t. The ongoing Static Shock series was one of the first cancellations in the New 52. Cyborg is the only member of the primary Justice League without a solo series. Simon Baz, the Muslim-American Green Lantern introduced by Geoff Johns, who is badass as hell, has all but disappeared. Never mind the fact that more than half the women in comics have costumes that could be repurposed by a stripper with zero effort or alteration needed.

There’s an inherent whiteness and an inherent adolescence and an inherent masculinity to mainstream comics that Neal Adams’ John Stewart story highlights.

They’re inherencies that had me very worried for the All-New Marvel Now series Ms. Marvel, which debuted last week.



Ms. Marvel, a.k.a. Kamala Khan, is a 16-year old girl, a practicing Muslim and the daughter or Pakistani immigrants. You know, like Peter Parker or Clark Kent.

Much has been made of the new Ms. Marvel’s ethnic and religious identity to include no small amount of press. Shortly before the books release several Marvel writers took to Twitter defending the book from detractors whose primary complaint seemed to be “I am not a girl, I am not a Muslim, why would I read a comic about someone who is nothing like me?”

Leaving aside the fact that the run-of-the-mill comic book reader is nothing like any superhero because, you know, super powers and the fact that claiming to have nothing in common with anyone who lives in the same time and place as you is willfully obtuse, I offer my counterargument:

Why wouldn’t you read a book about someone entirely different from you?

The power of literature is its ability to expose us to new ideas and perspectives. I will never be a Nazi experiment fusing a man, a dolphin and a Great White shark. But when I read Peter Benchley’s White Shark, I get some insight into what that romp might be like. The same could be said for Ms. Marvel, which in its first issue alone lent me perspective not only on the tightrope act of balancing cultural identities, but also on just straight up being a 16-year old girl.

There’s a scene in Ms. Marvel #1 in which Kamala’s father refuses to allow her to go to a party, stating that it’s not her he doesn’t trust but the world around her. I’ve expressed that exact sentiment before, but Ms. Marvel made me eat my own words, putting me on the receiving end. I gained perspective. What I don’t trust is my problem, not the problem of those around me.




One issue in and I’ve gained some perspective. But hey, that’s literature.

Needless to say, had Ms. Marvel not been a well written book all of this would be moot. Praising a subpar product because it features a member of a minority group feels like some sort of perverse, PC tokenism. But the writing (G. Willow Wilson) and art (Sara Pichelli) in Ms. Marvel #1 are on point. Tying the book into the Inhumanity event was perfect and Kamala’s choice in transformation, upon discovering she is a shape-shifter, is a smart, scathing indictment of comic book and geek culture.

It’s good stuff.

And despite the aforementioned defensive tweets that would imply otherwise, I couldn’t actually find any Ms. Marvel haters on the internet. Even when I Googled “Ms. Marvel haters.” Which leads me to believe that the problem with diversity in comics has nothing to do with comic book readers, but the comic book publishers. Perhaps terrified of any loss in sales that could come with any change in the tried-and-true superhero tropes of old it’s the comic book publishers who’ve kept instances of diversity few and far between.

Neal Adams’ story of the creation of John Stewart ends with his recounting a generation of fans offering a resounding “who?” upon learning the Green Lantern live-action movie would feature the origin of Hal Jordan, rather than the most prominent Green Lantern of my childhood, John Stewart.

DC may have expressed apprehension at the prospect of a black Green Lantern (not to be confused with a green Black Lantern) but the fans didn’t. Forty three years later the comic book industry is clearly still apprehensive about men who aren’t white and women who wear clothing, but as the fans have proven with John Stewart before and Kamala Khan now, they are not.

I couldn’t get Ms. Marvel at my regular comic shop. It sold out the afternoon it hit shelves. When I finally did find it in a different store I managed to grab the last issue available. The book is already scheduled for a second printing and hit #1 on Marvel’s digital sales charts.

With success like that coupled with the fact that Ms. Marvel #1 is a legitimately good comic book, it’s only a matter of time before the comic book industry figures out what Neal Adams and the rest of us have known all along: if three Green Lantern rings come to Earth, they are not going to land on three white male fingers.

For more Pony Tricks coverage of Ms. Marvel #1, check out Episode 11 of the Pony Tricks Comic Cast.

For more on gender diversity in entertainment:

More Like Womb Raider

Deep Blue Sea and Feminism


Get Over It, or, Kevin Smith is the Future

On Saturday, August 24th, Kevin Smith and BFF/collaborator Jay Mewes came to The National in Richmond, VA for a screening of their animated film Jay and Silent Bob’s Super Groovy Cartoon Movie, a live Q&A session and a podcast recording and I was there for all of it.

My connection to Kevin Smith is pretty straightforward: I’m a devout listener to his Fat Man on Batman podcast (go figure). But, that’s pretty much where my relationship with Smith ends.

The crown of my Thursdays.

The crown of my Thursdays.

Smith is also the mogul behind some dozen or more other podcasts, a film director and the author of various screenplays, comic books and an autobiography. I am largely unfamiliar with all of them.

But the over forty episodes of the Fat Man on Batman podcast have afforded me over fifty hours of the most in depth, fascinating Batman discussion I could ever imagine with everyone from Adam West to Kevin Conroy to Grant Morrison. For free. The least I could do was shell out some doe and check out one of Smith’s live appearances.

The rest of the audience was far less casual.

I’m about ten years too young for Clerks to resonate with me on a profound level. When the film debuted in 1993 I was three years old. My own youth was defined more so by Superbad than Jay and Silent Bob and my viewership leans more toward Blu-ray than VHS. But the exorbitant amount of people present with such an immense amount of passion for Smith’s work was a sight to behold, whether I could relate or not.

Fan after fan lined up to ask Smith questions and thank him for his work, some trembling and stammering as they stood before a man they loved. One particular gentleman thanked Smith for his films and the laughs they afforded him whilst overcoming cancer. More than one attendee spoke to Kevin Smith teary eyed.

And I, who just really, really like his Batman podcast, sat like an outside observer, blown away by the genuine affection between a humble entertainer and his fans.

And if I didn’t listen to Fat Man on Batman I would’ve had zero idea the event had ever transpired.

A majority of the people I told I was going to see Kevin Smith had little or no idea who I was talking about and while I was familiar with the man myself I had little to no idea of the extent of his prolificacy.

If you’re a fan of Kevin Smith you essentially have the ability to hear from him every single day through his impressive network of podcasts (SModCast Internet Radio), and I have a sneaking suspicion that most of the people that were in attendance do just that. It’s a beautiful relationship between an entertainer and his fans and one that, to the best of my knowledge, is unrivaled.

Equally beautiful: a handful of folks I mentioned Kevin Smith to expressed distaste for his work. And they never have to hear or see Kevin Smith again.

Save the sporadic Comic Book Men promo on AMC, Kevin Smith doesn’t have to cater to the general public for a second. He knows exactly who his audience is and he caters to them near exclusively. You aren’t going to get promoted tweets about Smith’s next project on your Twitter feed because he already has millions of followers, millions of listeners and a vast collection of rabid, diehard fans.

Whether you like Kevin Smith the man or not, Kevin Smith the business model is the future: very specific programming for a very specific audience.

Why listen to the rock radio station for an hour to and from work each day because you like the one Nine Inch Nails song that pops up twice a month?

Why throw on TBS when you get home from work because reruns of the Big Bang Theory are the best white noise you can find at the end of the day?

Why subscribe to cable at all when you watch five out of 500 channels?

For fans of Kevin Smith a wealth of brand new material specifically for them is available at any time for free, and in return when Mr. Smith goes to Richmond the house is packed.

I do not know what snoogans means. But everyone else did.

I do not know what snoogans means. But everyone else did.

Was I a fan of Jay and Silent Bob’s Super Groovy Cartoon Movie? Not really my thing. And I went in expecting as much because, as I’ve said, I’m just a guy who really, really likes Batman and wanted to show my support for a bishop of Gotham. But there was rarely a moment throughout the screening that the audience as a whole was laughing there collective ass of in earnest, because Kevin Smith and Jay Mewes independently tailored and produced a specific product for a specific audience that they know very, very well.

I still haven’t watched Clerks again. I’m sure I’ll get around to it eventually, but at the end of the day it’s not on the top of my to-do list. But after spending time amongst the collective that is Kevin Smith and his loving, loyal fans, I’ll listen to Fat Man on Batman with a new appreciation. And I’ll probably go see Smith again the next time he comes to Richmond.