I have you. A lover and a friend. You are everything I need. You are the sun, the air I breathe. Without you, life wouldn’t be the same. Please don’t ever go away. And if you go, then don’t forget to take me with you.
The feminist critique is in the air now. If my rendition of Black Panther wasn’t created by that critique, it breathed the same air. I can’t really kill off or depower women characters without grappling with Gail Simone. I can’t really think about how women characters are drawn anymore without thinking about the women in Bitch Planet, and how they seem drawn beyond the male gaze.
This is why criticism is important. The job of criticism isn’t to interrupt or encourage commercial prospects. (“Batman vs Superman smashes Box Office, despite critic complaints!”) Criticism should push our imagination and help us understand what is actually possible in art and, I’d argue, even what is moral. Through much of my time collecting comic books I never took much issue with how women were drawn. I had a vague sense that there was something about, say, the reworking of Psylocke that bugged me. But I simply didn’t give it much thought. It never occurred to me, for instance, to ask whether a superheroes pose was anatomically possible. It never occurred to me to ask why a super-hero would have DD cup-size. Was that for her benefit, or for mine? I never asked.
The feminist critique of comics has made “not asking” a lot harder. That, in itself, is a victory. The point is not to change the thinking of the active sexist. (Highly unlikely.) The point is to force the passive sexist to take responsibility for his own thoughts.
Being in love with you is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done. And I don’t mean because I’m worried that you’ll break my heart or in some horrible way the universe will twist us into hating each other. What I mean is that I am growing with you and this is scary. This is scary because I have been stretching towards the same sun facing the same window in the same house breathing the same air. Being with you is like walking outside for the first time and realising that there is more to life than I’ve ever known. It is like showing a toddler a picture of a constellation and watching them fail to understand the vastness of it all. That the world is big and we are small and huge all at the same time and how can this be? That we can exist at the same time as every other extraordinary thing on this planet. How can this be that with you, I am wide eyed and trembling and delirious. That I can walk into this massive God filled place together, feel the steady weight of you at my side and think ‘I did not know any of this wonder existed at all.’
One day when we realize that our bones are made of the same dust as the planet’s, that our lungs are breathing the same air as the migrating birds, and that our blood is pumping because of the love and care of thousands. That’s when we’ll realize that we aren’t as broken as we think we are. We’re full of the world.
No, stay away from me. Go away. Don't breath in the same air as me. I don't have feelings for you. I didn't make that robot just for you... I made it because you're cute and you're always on my mind. Don't smile at Yoosung. Don't breath in the same air as him. Breath here. Smell me instead of them! Stay close to me but only within 5 feet-
me, sitting on the bathroom floor, wondering how i could’ve possibly been born into a world where he exists alongside me, breathes the same air i do and sees the same sky every morning, for he is ethereal and on a whole other plane: ok