i can’t speak for the whole non-white thing (i know it’s true but i can’t personally make a good rant about it) but it is definitely hard being a chick. we hysterical egg-dropping ladies can’t possibly appreciate the complexities of plot and character development because we are all too busy fangirling over our favorite spandex-clad antihero. comic books aren’t written for us. or even with the idea that we exist in mind. or that’s how it seems anyway. and forget the whole experience of being the only girl in the local comics shop, getting suspicious stares from twelve year old boys looking at trading cards while you flip self-consciously through back issues of X-Men and the various permutations thereof. you can almost hear them thinking, ‘what on earth could she possibly be doing here? is she buying those for her boyfriend or something?’
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i can’t speak for the whole non-white thing (i know it’s true but i can’t personally make a good rant about it) but it is definitely hard being a chick. we hysterical egg-dropping ladies can’t possibly appreciate the complexities of plot and character development because we are all too busy fangirling over our favorite spandex-clad antihero. comic books aren’t written for us. or even with the idea that we exist in mind. or that’s how it seems anyway. and forget the whole experience of being the only girl in the local comics shop, getting suspicious stares from twelve year old boys looking at trading cards while you flip self-consciously through back issues of X-Men and the various permutations thereof. you can almost hear them thinking, ‘what on earth could she possibly be doing here? is she buying those for her boyfriend or something?’