As an artist, and a comic book artist to boot, I have to say that yes, the way I draw a character, whether I mean it to or not, will make a statement. I just finished a four issue mini-series, The Gamma Gals this past April, and I thought really long and hard before I even wrote the script about the type of comic I was making (a superhero series about three teenage girls who gain superpowers), and what I wanted to say with it.
While my goal is always to entertain, I also have to be cognizant of how people will receive that entertainment. I have characters that are black (like me!), white, asian, Mexican, disabled, and LGBT (the three leads, actually). I thought about how the portrayal of those characters would be seen by my readers, and especially readers that could possibly be from those groups. Did it bother me that I had to be more sensitive and aware? No. Why would it? It made the creation of the comic more engaging. I feel like my diverse cast of characters are respectful, and I hope that they don't offend. But if they do, I want to be told why, so I can work to improve it.
My job is to portray the worlds I create as best as I can. But that also means I'm going to be representing a lot of people in some way, shape or form. Whether it's a Muslim shopping in the background, or an overweight person fighting crime (one of my heroines struggles with her weight, for example).
As a black man growing up a fan of comics and superheroes (enough to want to actually become a comic book artist himself), I have to say I was always dismayed at the lack of high profile comic book characters I saw in mainstream comics. I couldn't afford many comic books growing up (another factor that drove me to the profession; I subscribed to the philosophy, "If you can't afford comics, make some yourself!"), so most of my exposure to characters like Batman, Superman, and Spider-Man, were from cartoons and maybe the occasional Superman/Batman book I saved up for and bought in Walgreen. It wasn't lost on me how incredibly white those series were. From the leads, to the supporting cast.
I've mentioned it a million times on NeoGAF, but in school, I was told by my classmates that I couldn't play Batman, Superman, Spider-Man, or the Flash with them, because they were white, and I was black. I could play the bank robber or gang member. I didn't know who John Stewart was. I didn't know who Black Lightning was. I had no idea Black Panther existed. So I grew up, a child of the 80's, thinking that there were no heroes in my favorite genre of all time that looked like me. That had a profound effect on me growing up. It didn't help that non-superhero themed television reinforced the notion that blacks were often the buffoon, criminal, or incompetent as well. Rarely the lead. Rarely the hero. But there was probably one episode where they'd throw the black sidekick a bone and have him do something heroic while the white leads looked on and cheered.
This also had an effect on the very comics I would create myself. I could show you folders and folders of drawings and comic book pages of characters I created. Over 90% of them were white, and the minorities and women were almost always supporting characters, sidekicks, and love interests. That's the effect the white comic book world had on this young black artist.
I'm sad to say that I didn't actually realize I was doing this until I was in my early 20's, and I'd have conversations with my then girlfriend, now wife about representation of minorities and women in comics. As a white woman, her perspective was interesting in a lot of ways, especially when I realized how similar the marginalization of women in American entertainment is to the marginalization of minorities. Those conversations eventually gave birth to the germ that would become The Gamma Gals.
Having to consider what my art is saying to its intended audience is one of the best things to happen to my thinking and creative methods. It's opened up my mind creatively, in that I no longer default to "white male protagonist" when I sit down with this hot new idea that popped into my head while reading the news, or a book, or listening to music, or watching television. And then, when I sit down to draw that protagonist, I don't just think "super model attractive with a perfect figure." It's made my art better. It's made the worlds I create more interesting and feel more real. My backdrops aren't populated solely by perfect looking white people anymore. My leads don't always look like they stepped out of GQ or Cosmo. Sure, those characters still exist and appear in my books (as do lots of white people), but they aren't the sole thing any longer.
I'm glad my work can be criticized. I'm glad that, if the message my art is sending upsets people, that they will open their mouths and tell me, so I can better myself. As someone who's had his artwork looked at and critiqued by J. Scott Campbell, Joe Madureira, Humberto Ramos, and countless others, I have a thick skin when it comes to criticism. Getting overly defensive about your work doesn't help you improve. Greg opened himself up to criticism the moment he posted his comment on Twitter. That's how social media works. He clearly wasn't prepared to engage in the discussion, so I have to wonder, why bring it up in the first place? Nothing I post on my Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, Instagram, etc, are things I have no desire to discuss. If I don't want to be political, I won't post something political. Being apolitical is still a stance, and it's going to open up discussion. Greg did what a lot of people this election cycle did, and tried to toe a middle ground. That's totally in his rights to do, but it's not going to keep people who lean on either side of the issues to stay quiet.
As a huge fan of Greg's work, I have to say I'm incredibly disappointed in his response. I'm not surprised by the response, but disappointed.
I enjoy having these uncomfortable discussions. Maybe it's because I'm one of the people affected by systemic and institutional racism, and how it has shaped my life, self esteem, confidence, and overall psychology. Calling a white person a white person, and pointing out that there is an inherent privilege afforded to that white person by virtue of being white, isn't racist. It's a statement of fact. That's not some kind of aggressive attack against white people. Nor is it calling a white person that benefits from said privilege a racist when pointing it out.
