White privilege weightlifting

Grunting children are pretty funny.  I've taken my boys, age 2 and 7, down to the weight room.  Not as spotters, but just to keep an eye on them while I pound out the day’s stress on some cast iron.  It’s good for them to see a mother lifting weights instead of kitchen pans.

 

They fight over who can use the 5 lbs and who can manage the 10s.  They boast.  They strut.  They drop barbells on their toes and wince and whimper and then pretend it never happened.  Not so different from the grown-ups at the gym: preening in mirrors, absorbed with counting reps, taking themselves very seriously.

They gather around me and marvel at my strength as I bench the equivalent of their bodies.  They smooch my lips and giggle every time I come down from a sit-up.  They play between my legs as I squat and lunge.  Weight-lifting with small children is not for the impatient.  The reward?  I feel like Nike, triumphant and fertile.   The Greek goddess, not the shoe brand. 

Once we land in the kitchen for some ice-water and snacks, my eldest starts complaining that all the other boys in his class have bigger muscles than him.  He vows to catch up.  His classmate, whom I’ll call Jamie, has the biggest, he proclaims.  Jamie, it turns out, can lift “30 times” what he can.  Teasingly, I remark,

“Wow.  Jamie sounds like a superhero.  Are you sure he’s not a superhero?”

My son stares at me incredulously.

“Mum, Jamie can’t be a superhero.  He’s brown.  There’s no brown superheroes.”

Now it’s my turn to stare, shocked.  The ice cracks in my glass.  My son tries to fill in the silence by explaining his seven-year-old interpretation of the world the best he can.

“Mum, you know Jamie.  Jamie’s skin is dark.  You know, his skin is sort of that brown color.  Superheroes don’t look like that.  Batman, Robin, Spiderman, that badguy girl that’s like a cat, Superman, Ironman, they look like us.”

He starts rattling off all the superheroes he can think of.  I’m still in shock.  We don’t really watch superhero movies or play superhero video games at home, so he’s passively absorbed this from school, posters, TV commercials, wherever his little eyes and ears might have been when I wasn’t there to point out the gender biases or racial inequalities, or worse, when I wasn't even paying attention to them.  My librarian brain is on fire trying to name a black or Latino superhero he would recognize and I’m drawing a blank.  I’m ashamed to admit in that moment I can’t think of a single one.  I know they exist, but none of them have the staying power of Batman or Wonder Woman in the flawed storeroom of my mind.

How do I make good on this example of passive racism to my young children without diving into the entire sordid history of our prejudicial Hollywood and comic book culture; without making excuses for white dudes who draw comic heroes that they wish they could look like and comic heroines they wish they could bed?  There is no way I can comfortably explain black exploitation to a child his age.  But this isn't about my comfort.  How do I tell my innocent kids that the world isn’t fair and that even though Jamie has the best muscles in the class the media doesn’t celebrate his likeness?  There may be the occasional minority superhero character that pops up here and there, but they are rarely the star, the hero, the guy all the other little boys want to be when they grow up.  I realize for the first time how hard it must be to be Jamie in a classroom full of white kids.  In a world full of white superheroes.  

The whole episode makes me profoundly sad.  I vow to search out minority superheroes portrayed in a flattering light.  It sounds as daunting as finding well-rounded female supers that aren’t reduced to eye-candy or damsels in distress.  My first stop is to remind him of Frozone in the Incredibles, a movie he loves. 

What are your suggestions of comics and movies with minority heroes for an elementary audience?  What can we do to change this, so Jamie can see himself in the heroes our culture puts on its screens?

Medieval Mice!

Mouse Guard: Fall 1152

Ever wonder how mice travel from place to place without getting eaten or lost?  In David Petersen’s vibrant Eisner Award winning graphic novel, the first in a series based on the comic book with the same name (and fame), we are introduced to the Mouse Guard.  An organized band of fearless warrior mice, the Guard is made up of “escorts, pathfinders, weather watchers, scouts and body guards” intent on protecting their charges from danger.  The detailed endpapers present a map of the Mouse Territories (circa 1150) so that the reader can follow along as the cloaked heroes Kenzie, Saxon, Sadie and Lieam protect the town of Lockhaven from a megalomaniac mouse determined to commit treason.  Along the way they battle the shifting elements, as well as fearsome snakes, carnivorous crabs, and a (mouse) house-destroying fire. 

A variety of exciting extras follow the story, including histories of the main towns and a list of common mouse trades.  Appealing to any child or adult with an interest in history (Medieval or otherwise), anthropomorphic animals, fantasy role-playing games or comic books, this beautifully illustrated hardcover is an essential addition to any graphic novel or contemporary book-art collection. 

Mouse Guard’s only drawback is that Petersen’s intaglio and relief prints, highlighted with fantastic autumnal colors, tend to overshadow the sometimes awkward storyline.  The reader feels as if Petersen spent much more time developing the meticulous images and Mouse Guard world and less time on formulating a plot that does his imaginings justice.  Mouse Guard is so visually compelling that it is required to be presented in a graphic format (it would also make a terrific movie).  Very young readers might find the physically almost-indistinguishable multiple characters and limited dialogue difficult to follow and would be advised to pay close attention to the fur and cape colors of the mice, so as to not get them confused.  The text’s “old-timey” vocabulary may alienate some juvenile readers: “The axe itself was forged into being by the blacksmith Farrer.  His family having been slain by predators whilst weaponless.”  Most unfamiliar terms, such as “parapets” and “portcullis,” are discernible through their visual representations, if one knows where to look.  For these reasons, as well as the violent nature of the storyline, recommended for ages 9 and up. 

Moving Pictures

Moving Pictures is a fun little historical graphic novel with a Canadian background I picked up on a whim at the Kennebecasis Public Library this week.  It's written by a husband and wife team.  And by fun, I mean fun in a plodding, ominous, can-you-solve-the-riddle sort of way. 

Set during the Second World War, Ila is a Canadian curator in France who has been assigned to label the value and importance of works of art so that they can be "catalogued" (i.e. stolen) by the Third Reich.  A quiet, tense commentary on the nature of loss, betrayal, and war; the beauty of art becomes Ila's only self-granted permission to feel, in a time when feeling too much can lead only to heartache.  We are left to solve the mysterious emotions and motivations between her and a high-ranking German official and their art-filled love affair.

Not recommended for a newcomer to graphic novels or those without a serious crush on art or historical fiction.  For those who appreciate the 5 minutes and 2 seconds they get to spend with a favourite painting, it will haunt you.

Lola: A Ghost Story

Jessie is a young Filipino Canadian returning to his family's hometown for his grandmother Lola's funeral.  Although he feels a strong spiritual connection to Lola, he secretly believes she once tried to drown him, and that her "visions" were perhaps the workings of a dark, evil mind.  The reason Jessie feels this way is because he too sees ghosts and demons, including his dead cousin JonJon.

While the premise of a boy who sees ghosts is nothing new, the interesting Filipino cultural lore makes up for any originality the story is lacking.  Readers get to learn about different (but equally scary!) stories about The Kapre (cigar smoking ogre who eats children), The Manananggal (vampire woman who sticks her tongue in a pregnant woman's bellybutton to suck the heart of the baby out of her womb), and The Tiyanak (an evil baby that hides in the woods and seduces people with its pitiful cries).

Although not for everyone, and liable to give some young readers nightmares due to the storyline, the cheerfully drawn pictures are cartoonish enough not to leave a lasting impression on sensitive minds (this isn't exactly The Sandman).  Worth a borrow at the library for a fun Sunday afternoon read.

The Quitter

Anyone who reads a lot of comics or graphic novels is familiar with Harvey Pekar, of American Splendor fame.  For those who don't, I'll bring you up to speed: Pekar is a now late-middle age Jewish guy of Polish immigrants who has lived in Cleveland, Ohio his whole life.  He became famous through his friendship with Robert Crumb, illustrator-king of underground comics, who at the time they met was just a 19 year-old-kid with a similar obsession for Jazz records.  Pekar was a regular reader of comics but saw a distinct gap between the traditional storyline of the genre at the time (i.e.: mostly superhero comics) and wished there was something more for the "everyman."  So he crudely drew some storyboards that he thought were funny and honest and appealing.  Crumb, who at this time was already an obsessive pen-and-ink man and worked for the American Greeting Card Company, agreed to illustrate them.  That was the beginning of American Splendor, which went on to great success.  In 2003 a movie with the same title, starring Paul Giamatti as Pekar, came out to great critical acclaim and shot Pekar and his curmudgeon ways even farther into the limelight.  It also delved into his marriage to wife Joyce, his adopted daughter, and his long career as a federal file clerk.

Quitter tells us the back story.  For the first time we get a focused look into the anxiety and loneliness and distinctly immigrant experience of Pekar's background.  We meet his uptight, depressive mother and hardworking, unemotional father.  He explores the feelings of isolation he had, being the only Polish Jew in a distinctly poor, Black neighbourhood.  He tells us his history of street fighting and remarkable talent for sports (that you would never guess from his later work).  His shyness around girls.  His self-loathing.  His obsessional interests in whatever had taken his fancy: sport statistics, comic books, boxing, Jazz music.  We also get to see his young friendships and his failures at day jobs (including a one-week stint in the Navy) while he triumphed as an unpaid Jazz writer.

Most importantly, we can see how his intelligence, talent and struggle to be a writer was greatly thwarted by his family's lack of faith in his non-traditional interests; and his undiagnosed mental illness caused him severe self-doubt, depression, and self-sabotage.

For all the truth of the title, we can see why Pekar would consider himself a "quitter," he gives up on himself far more often then he follows through with any of his ideas or dreams or vocations.  But the reality is that on the surface he may be a "quitter" but in the long run of his life he has stuck by a difficult marriage and unplanned fatherhood, survived fame and cancer, and maintained his file clerk job for 30 years.  So his rocky beginning does not necessarily belie his true nature.  As usual, Pekar always sees the short end of the stick.

Unlovable

I have an enduring, delicious predilection for badly-drawn-on-purpose comics that are both hilarious and awkward.  See also:  www.toothpastefordinner.com

The strip Tammy Pierce is Unlovable has been a regular back-page companion to Bust Magazine for years, and always the first thing I turn to.  So I was more than a little pleased when Fantagraphics came out with a 2 volume collection of Esther Pearl Watson's T.P chronicle, complete with glitter clouds that say "Turd Alert!" and "Do you like breasts?"

See, the best part is: the entire thing is based on the REAL 1988-1989 school year diary of a Texas teenager that Watson found in a gas station bathroom in 1995.  The reason it is so funny is that Watson perfectly captures the humiliation and desperation of adolescence using Tammy's own words.  For example:

Anyone who had the pain and pleasure of growing up in the 1980s will cackle with delight (or groan with embarrassment) at Watson's scratchy renderings of shoulder pads, MacGyver, break dancing, and New Wave posturing.  Obviously not to everyone's tastes, Unlovable is for the discerning comic collector, the purveyor of sweaty awkwardness, the betrayer of tact.  In other words: mine.

Binky to the Rescue

Binky is a regular house cat.  He has delusions of grandeur.  He thinks he is a space kitty.  His house is a space station.  Insects are aliens.  You get the picture. 

What could be a boring premise actually turns out to be a pretty fun read thanks to Spires adorable drawings and "sound" effects.  Benji had a good giggle at the cat-farts and insults: "Fuzzbutt!"   But he's four. 

This is part of Spires' ongoing Binky series, and this time our flatulent hero has been called to rescue his beloved pet mouse from deep space (the yard) and the evil destroyers (some wasps).  While not exactly riveting, it was a good time, and definitely was requested a second evening before bed.  A nice edition to a YA graphic novel collection at your school/public library but I wouldn't shell out any coin for the hardback at home, unless you've got a series Binky fan on your hands.