As part of our Comic Week feature we have been reviewing key figures of the comic-book franchise. But we are yet to analyse the role of any superwomen. In answer to this problem, Elizabeth Moore considers the presentation of women within comicbooks. Are they empowered or powerless? Is there a sexist undertone to the highly eroticised images? Do these superwomen present strong role-models? And are their superpowers simply masking a frightening sexualisation?
Comic book heroes are designed to be idealised versions of humanity: strong, beautiful and perfect, representing all that we could be (you know, minus the superhuman powers). But from a female perspective, this is not neccessarily an image that we should idealise. There are three main issues with the portrayal of heroines in graphic novels: bodies, poses, and costume.
All superheroes have impossible physiques; it’s a part of their fantastical appeal, but the way in which these bodies are gendered proves problematic. For example, Superman’s modern appeal comes from his huge muscles and superhuman strength. However, his female counterpart Superwomen has the focus placed upon her sizable breasts. We have to think why these features are prioritised, and let’s be honest, unless Wonder Woman’s chest holds some sort of super power that I don’t know about, we have a simple case of sexualisation and objectification.
Some of you will be aware of the Hawkeye Initiative, a blog that satirising the characterisation of female heroes by drawing Hawkeye in many of the overly-provocative poses that the superwomen are placed in. Pushing his posterior out, extending his limbs ineffectually, and placing his chest and groin as the central focus of the image, Hawkeye looks ridiculous. Although humorous, the sexualised images of women on comic-book covers arguably show them in poses akin to those of page-three models (see Poison Ivy’s seductive stare, and Catwoman’s handling of a fetishised whip as an example). In fact, when you think about it, the ways in which heroines fight in comics would be fairly powerless, their anatomic integrity sacrificed for the sake of showing more leg, or making their chests more visible. Alright, the male poses aren’t exactly structurally powerful, but at least they retain some dignity within it.
Finally, there’s the costumes, spanning from the skin-tight, low cut suits of the deliberately provocative Catwoman to the exhibitionist ‘boob window’ of Power Girl’s unitard: all superwomen find themselves exposing at least one part of themselves for no discernible reason. Think again to Wonder Woman: yes, she could allegedly deflect bullets with her unbreakable bracelets, but at no point does it say that she is completely invulnerable to weaponry, so in what way is it a good idea to run around with not much more on than armour-plated underwear? Perhaps these images signal sexual empowerment, liberation, and freedom? Looking at the combination of suggestive poses and costume, I think not.
Developed during the same time frame as the “pin-up girl” phenomenon, it’s unsurprising that superwomen have taken on this sensualised iconography; years on, why are we still stuck with the same sexualised imagery? Essentially, the times have changed, but the readership has not. The most recent statistics for DC’s “New 52” series show that only 7% of their readership is female, meaning the sphere is still very much a male one, catering to their ideals. But maybe this isn’t such a bad thing. After all, it is only fantasy, and these characters, no matter how controversial, are memorable. Yes, we could probably do with fewer T&A tributes in female-centred comics, and almost certainly a more realistic spin put on the shapes and costumes of these characters, but what would the appeal of comics be if we sacrificed all their fantastical elements in favour of supposed realism? All that’s needed is a more appropriate balance of fantasy and dignity.
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By Elizabeth Moore
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