At MegaCon 2003 in Florida, I got my first taste of a comic book convention with a strong anime and cosplay attendance. Having never attended DragonCon – which was (and is) arguably the premiere costume convention of the comics and media con circuit – the influx of young girls on the convention floor who had grown up with comics, animation, and imported Japanese manga in chain bookstores fascinated me. They weren’t mythical creatures. They were just kids – as I had been – attending a comics show to have a good time.
I was no longer just seeing a handful of goth girls, cosplayers, and mothers with their children. I was seeing women and girls of all ages wearing Wolverine and Flash T-shirts, there to meet their heroes. Women were no longer in the minority – there was gender parity out there on the floor. They weren’t just fans, either. There were loads of women in Artist’s Alley, and the Indie Publishers’ rows, hawking their wares alongside the boys. The women whose names I’d read on DC’s masthead as a child hadn’t faded away – they had been joined by more female artists, writers, inkers, colorists, and editors. Comics may still be a male-dominated industry, but comics fandom had changed in ways I couldn’t have imagined as a 14-year-old girl getting teased by her classmates.
The culmination for me of this remarkable sea change was the Wizard World 2008 “Women in Comics” panel. It was headed up by Johnny DC editor Jann Jones, and featured Gail Simone and artist Katie Cook. But sitting on the panel was a young colorist named Carly Spade. She was about 20 years old, and was wearing a Supergirl costume.
Something I never once thought I’d see in my lifetime: a comics geek girl just like the one I had been at her age, on a panel. A comics professional. Dressed as Supergirl.
I may have teared up, I was so overcome with joy. Because no-one batted an eye.
Summer 2011 marks my 20th anniversary of attending comic book conventions. I’m not a cute 18-year-old comics geek anymore. I’m a woman in her late thirties, who picks up the odd floppy or trade now and then, but for the most part has left comics behind. Too many changes to beloved characters. Too much continuity to keep track of. Too expensive a habit for someone who now has a mortgage to pay.
But in my heart, I’m still the little girl in Wonder Woman Underoos. I’m still the gawky teen who found refuge, place and purpose in Linda Schein’s Comics For Heroes.
And, I’m proud to say, a former unicorn.
[23] There had been over 7000 direct sales stores during the 1980s. Today, there are barely 3000. Chicago’s original comics retailer giants like Larry’s and Moondog’s were gone by the turn of the millennium.
The Evolution of a Tart
Sheena McNeil has a deep-seated love of reading and writing, as well as an interest in all things Japanese. This combination led her to manga, which in turn led her to write for Sequential Tart (sequentialtart.com). There she found a deeper appreciation for all sequential art, and eventually became the webzine’s editrix-in-chief. She expresses her own art mainly through customizing My Little Ponies, an area she helped pioneer in the Pony-collecting community over a decade ago. She is also a modern-day samurai, learning and instructing the Japanese martial arts of swordsmanship in Satori Ryu Iaido and short staff in Shindo Muso Jodo.
I’m a Tart and proud of it! Sequential Tart (ST) is a webzine created entirely by women, with a focus on women in the comics industry and sequential art in general. Our writers are from many different countries, cultures, and tastes, so our coverage is quite dynamic. The comics we cover are also global. For more than a decade, we have been proclaiming and proving that “chicks dig comics,” and we’re not slowing down.
I was in high school when Sequential Tart found me. Or, rather, when Tart Jen Contino found my website, and sent me an email asking if I would like to write reviews for this all-women, comics-based webzine. It sounded awesome! I have always loved to write, and at the time was becoming heavily immersed in all that is anime and manga.
This happened in Fall 2000, when Sequential Tart was about two years old. The website came about because, in the mid-to-late ’90s, a wonderful and talented group of women found each other through a Garth Ennis fan website run by Steff Osborne. She was also running a private email list – the Garth Ennis Estrogen Brigade – for the women who came to that site. The topic of comics journalism eventually came up in their discussions, at least in part due to a Wizard poll which asked questions such as (and here I’m paraphrasing a bit), “What are the top ten comics pickup lines to use on girls?”
The comics pros and fans who comprised the Ennis mailing list were frustrated by such things, because they enjoyed “non-girly” comics like Johnny the Homicidal Maniac and Preacher. They loved the sequential art medium, but felt ostracized by the “boys only” mentality. They were tired of seeing a continual bombardment of large-breasted women in comics, and were over being told what, as women, they should or shouldn’t like to read. They knew they couldn’t be alone in this; after all, they had found each other.
As a magazine didn’t exist that catered to their tastes or ways of thinking, they decided to make their own. In 1998, after creating the building blocks for a website, they conducted their first interviews at San Diego Comic-Con. The first issue of ST was launched in September.
Creating Sequential Tart has always been a labor of love – so many of the women who have written for the webzine have done so because they have something to say and very much want to contribute. We give of our time, money, and energy – sometimes to the point of causing struggles in our personal lives – to bring new articles, interviews, and reviews to our readers, and to show the world that women are an important force in and around the comics industry.
At first ST was published every two months, but it quickly progressed to being monthly. I joined at this point – everything that was produced would go live on the first day of the month, which made for a lot of content all at once. It was a little daunting at first, and I’m sure if I looked back on my earliest reviews, I would wish they had never seen print. However, I quickly fell into the camaraderie, support, and loving friendship these women provided.
Before long, working on Sequential Tart expanded my horizons where comics were concerned – I had already been engrossed in manga, but slowly became reacquainted with American comics, both mainstream and indie. I found myself hunting down copies of Poison Elves and Tank Girl, and digging through the dollar bins at the only comic book store I was able to visit. I gained an appreciation for comics such as Spawn and Vampirella, and also fell in love with darker, yet humorous stories from two very talented comic creators: Jhonen Vasquez and Roman Dirge. Vasquez’s Johnny the Homicidal Maniac and I Feel Sick were instant favorites that I would read over and over. Dirge’s The Monsters in My Tummy led me to Lenore, which made me laugh harder than I had since the first time I played “Frog in a Blender” by Joe Cartoon (it never gets old). Lenore became one of the first comics I later shared with the man who became my husband – he loves it just as much as I do, so it continues to be a special comic in my life.
Sequential Tart as it exists today is broken up into sections such as Features (which focuses on comics), Culture Vultures (pop culture), and Report Card (reviews). Other sections have come and gone – during the height of the anime and manga craze in America, we had a section called Atsukamashii Onna (which roughly translates to “tarty woman”) that focused entirely on these art forms from Japan. I was, of course, heavily involved with this section.
Then, the summer of 2002 brought an exciting opportunity for me... the current editor of Atsukamashii Onna, Dani Fletcher, was moving to Japan and would be unable to continue her work with ST. When Dani and the other editors approached me to take on her role as editor of the section, I was ecstatic! I had a couple months of working hand-in-hand with Dani to learn the ropes before she left me in charge – though I would have loved to have been in her shoes as well, going to Japan. It was around this time that the Friends of Lulu (a non-profit organization promoting women reading comics and fema
le participation in the industry) presented Sequential Tart with a Lulu of the Year Award. We were all excited by the recognition of our work.
The Atsukamashii Onna section lasted through the end of 2003 – the American manga market was changing by then, and the slow descent from its peak had begun. We as a group decided to simplify and streamline the webzine, which included doing away with the Atsukamashii Onna section. Coverage on manga (along with comics from anywhere else in the world) was incorporated into Features, and anime was rolled into Culture Vultures.
Meanwhile, ST helped me to become acquainted with – and even a fan of – the more adult forms of sequential art. Two artists in particular captured my interest: Toshio Maeda and Sen’no Knife. Both of them worked in the horror genre, which is a favorite of mine, so it’s really no wonder why I would be drawn to their works. Maeda’s titles include Urotsukidoji: Legend of the Overfiend, La Blue Girl, Demon Beast Invasion, and Adventure Kid. (The last title is one of my personal favorites, because there’s some great humor here as well; it’s more fun and light-hearted than Maeda’s other works.) Maeda is known as the master and creator of the “erotic-grotesque” style, while Knife is at the other end of the spectrum – with beautiful art, and sex scenes that aren’t depicted in the same stark and graphic way as Maeda’s work. Knife does cover a myriad of fetishes, and that makes his stunning artwork even more erotic.
Another genre I’ve been able to indulge in is yaoi (and boys’ love). It all started with Kizuna – one of the most well-done yaoi, a classic. It’s not too hard or soft, so it’s a perfect introduction to see if you like this type of comic.
I’m not the only Tart that loves adult reading material – every February, we have a “pr0n” issue. Everything from romance to hardcore sex is covered – there’s homo and heterosexual material, and even mixed species love or love with robots and androids. You name it! You have no idea how awesome it feels to not only say we read and enjoy these works, but to converse intelligently on them and even provide suggestions for would-be readers. Guys are typically shocked to discover that women like porn too, but they generally accept the fact pretty quickly. It brought a smile to my face when I got an email from a male ST reader about my review of Cool Devices, and asking if I had any reading suggestions along those lines.
When the Atsukamashii Onna section was dissolved, I took over the editing of the Culture Vultures section. From there, I switched to being the senior Editrix for Report Card, a job that entailed my handling all review copies, being the liaison with company reps, etc. – most of which I was doing already.
My association with ST continued pretty well in those days, even as I finished college and began vet school (though I soon learned it wasn’t the path for me) – it required some crazy organization of my time, but through it all, I wasn’t willing to give up my involvement with ST. I adored the webzine, even when it seemed almost overwhelming to be spending that much time and energy on something that was entirely on a volunteer basis. However, the more I did with/for ST, the more I learned about and came to appreciate the comics (and manga) industry.
In 2006, I had the perfect trifecta: enough frequent flier miles to warrant a free flight, fellow Tarts I could room with, and time off from my summer job to travel. I was going to my first convention: the behemoth that is the San Diego Comic-Con! It was one of my best experiences in life, as well as with ST. I met and got signatures from some of my favorite creators, including Peter S. Beagle (The Last Unicorn), fantasy illustrator Brian Froud, and John Lustig (Last Kiss). I was also able to find some new favorites, such as Michel Gagné (Insanely Twisted Rabbits) and David Peterson (Mouse Guard). I even met up with a husband and wife comics duo I’d interviewed – Tavisha Wolfgarth Simons and Rikki Simons – which was exciting on both a personal and professional level. Plus, they surprised me with a signed print of an art piece they did for Sequential Tart, from a time when we used virtual “cover” images.
I went to an amazing assortment of panels at the con, spent hours wandering the aisles in the dealers’ room, and basked in the wonder that is comic nerdom at its finest. My cousin Tara Platt and her husband Yuri Lowenthal were there as guests, as they’re voice actors on Naruto and other anime. It’s always exciting to see family – especially when they’re being trailed by rabid Naruto fans who scream at them from halfway across the dealers’ room – but the icing on the cake was being introduced to, and getting an impromptu interview with, voice actor Dan Woren. One of the characters he voiced was Roy Fokker, veritech pilot from Robotech – and yes, I wanted a veritech of my very own. Robotech, among other foreign and domestic cartoons, was a huge part of my childhood, and while I didn’t know the names of voice actors at that time (who did?), I was bubbling over with fangirlish glee that I somehow kept restrained inside.
And yet, all of that paled next to the shining grail of my Press Pass experience: Thanks to the aforementioned Jen Contino and the wonderful guys of Boom! Studios, I conducted an in-person interview with the legendary Yoshitaka Amano (Vampire Hunter D, Final Fantasy, Sandman: The Dream Hunters, etc.). I planned for this meeting for weeks – I borrowed a hand-held recorder, created a set of questions, and dreamed about what it would be like. I was even willing to be a stand-in “booth babe” for Boom! for a couple hours, if it guaranteed this once-in-a-lifetime experience. Both Amano and his translator liked my unusual questions, some of which Amano had never been asked before. Some pictures and two signed books later, and I was the happiest person on the planet. I did not want to leave that booth – but sadly everyone, including me, had a schedule to keep.
Sequential Tart continued to grow and change over the next year, and in 2007, we revamped the webzine with a major facelift. Our internal deadlines functioned largely the same, but content was no longer released as one big hurrah on the first of the month. Instead, content began going live every Monday, to keep readers coming back more often. Reviews went live once a week as well, and were written, submitted, edited, and published weekly rather than monthly. But if the deadlines were more frequent, I was pleased that – as the senior editor of Report Card – I got to learn about new potential reads every week. There are so many comics and manga that I’ve tried out – or gotten hooked on and had to track down every volume of – simply because a Tart did an interesting review of them, or I read a random issue or volume from a pile of comics that we bought, borrowed, or were given as press copies. Part of my job for the majority of the time I’ve been with ST, in fact, has been to liaison with companies and creators so we could acquire review copies. It’s been interesting to interact with the comics industry on that level – I’ve seen whole companies come and go, and I’ve helped to support new hopefuls as they brandished their first published comic. It’s literally been an eye-opening experience, introducing me to so many things I would never have picked up in a bookstore.
Sequential Tart celebrated its tenth anniversary in 2008. In Summer 2010, talks began concerning change for ST – which included me becoming the new editrix-in-chief. While this has been in addition to my still being the senior editrix for Report Card, and so has meant even more work, I’m loving my new role – which shortly preceded my own tenth anniversary with ST.
As I write this, another face-lift for the webzine is in progress. Sequential Tart and the group of women that work on it is always evolving – even the core group that’s been involved with the zine for years continues to grow. As we learn and share with each other and the readers, our love and knowledge of comics also expands.
One thing’s for certain: With amazing women like these continuing to spread the word about a medium they love, more chicks will begin to dig comics, and the industry will continue to acknowledge the importance of women in all aspects of comics. I look forward to what new story I’ll enjoy next, but I also look forward to more time spent sharing my love and knowledge for this powerful medium with women who feel the same.
Kitty Queer
Sigrid Ellis is a writer of fiction, non-fict
ion, and comics; an editor; a parent of two homeschooled children; and an air traffic controller. She lives in Saint Paul, Minnesota, with her partner, their kids, her partner’s other partner, and a host of pets both vertebrate and invertebrate. Her work can be found in the online speculative fiction magazine Strange Horizons and in Mad Norwegian’s Whedonistas: A Celebration of the Worlds of Joss Whedon by the Women Who Love Them.
I was sitting on the top bunk when I told Rogue I was gay. This was in the spring of my sophomore year of college, so that meant the bunk bed was in Bigelow Hall on the Macalester College campus. I was in the dorm room by myself, it was nighttime, and the fluorescent gleam of the overhead light reflected off of the Jim Lee X-Men triptych poster stuck to the opposite wall with duct tape. I was crying in horrified humiliation, but the look in Rogue’s eye told me I was going to be okay.
To say I probably ought to have figured out my complete lack of heterosexuality a little bit sooner in life is... a vast understatement. I blame Chris Claremont. Chris Claremont – writer of the various X-Men comic book titles during my impressionable adolescence – and the editorial policies of Marvel Comics at the time. You see, I was raised by liberal parents in a middle-class household, and in my household we did not subscribe to stereotypes. One could not judge a character by their looks or mannerisms or skin color or speech. This meant that I got into a fight with a classmate in sixth grade over the sexuality of pop star Boy George. Just because he looked gay and sounded gay and dressed gay didn’t mean he was gay, I said. When presented with the cases that justified and reinforced cultural stereotypes, I insisted that the presumption could not be true.
I had the Boy George conversation in 1985. By 1992, I went to a college where people wore Act-Up T-shirts, sported Queer Nation pins and buttons, and the GLBU quarterly dances were the best party around. In Marvel Comics, Northstar had just come out as gay. Being queer, in real life and comics, was an act imbued with anger and frustration. Even Northstar was angry. But whatever concern I had for social justice issues was abstract and impersonal. I still didn’t connect gayness, or queerness, with my life. I didn’t want to protest the President or march for reproductive rights; I wanted to spend all of my time in moon-eyed devotion to my best friends and/or dorm-mates. In the same way that Kitty Pryde was devoted to Rachel Summers and Illyana Rasputin.
Chicks Dig Comics: A Celebration of Comic Books by the Women Who Love Them Page 12
