123 32 5MB
English Pages 198 [222] Year 2021
ROBIN A ND T HE M A K ING OF A ME RICA N A DOL E S CE NCE
Comics Culture Edited by Corey K. Creekmur Volumes in the Comics Culture series explore the artistic, historical, social, and cultural significance of newspaper comic strips, comic books, and graphic novels, with individual titles devoted to focused studies of key titles, characters, writers, and artists throughout the history of comics; additional books in the series address major themes or topics in comics studies, including prominent genres, national traditions, and significant historical and theoretical issues. The series recognizes comics of all varieties, from mainstream comic books to graphic nonfiction, produced between the late nineteenth century and the present. The books in the series are intended to contribute significantly to the rapidly expanding field of comics studies but are also designed to appeal to comics fans and casual readers who seek smart critical engagement with the best examples of the form. Bart Beaty, Twelve-Cent Archie Noah Berlatsky, Wonder Woman: Bondage and Feminism in the Marston/Peter Comics, 1941–1948 Ian Gordon, Superman: The Persistence of an American Icon Andrew Hoberek, Considering Watchmen: Poetics, Property, Politics Lauren R. O’Connor, Robin and the Making of American Adolescence Qiana Whitted, EC Comics: Race, Shock, and Social Protest Paul Young, Frank Miller’s Daredevil and the Ends of Heroism
ROBIN A ND T HE M A K ING OF A M E RIC A N A DOL E S CE NCE
Lauren R. O’Connor
Rutgers University Press New Brunswick, Camden, and Newark, New Jersey, and London
library of congress cataloging-i n-p ublication data Names: O’Connor, Lauren R., author. Title: Robin and the making of American adolescence / Lauren R. O’Connor. Description: New Brunswick : Rutgers University Press, [2021] | Series: Comics culture | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2020049809 | ISBN 9781978819795 (paperback) | ISBN 9781978819801 (cloth) | ISBN 9781978819818 (epub) | ISBN 9781978819825 (mobi) | ISBN 9781978819832 (pdf) Subjects: LCSH: Robin, the Boy Wonder (Fictitious character) | Adolescence in literature. | Sidekicks in literature. | Superheroes. Classification: LCC PN6728.R576 O36 2021 | DDC 741.5/973—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020049809 A British Cataloging-in-Publication record for this book is available from the British Library. Copyright © 2021 by Lauren R. O’Connor All rights reserved No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. Please contact Rutgers University Press, 106 Somerset Street, New Brunswick, NJ 08901. The only exception to this prohibition is “fair use” as defined by U.S. copyright law. ♾ The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1992. www.rutgersuniversitypress.org Manufactured in the United States of America References to internet websites (URLs) were accurate at the time of writing. Neither the author nor Rutgers University Press is responsible for URLs that may have expired or changed since the manuscript was prepared.
For Brian
CO N T E N T S
Introduction
1
Chapter one
The Secret Origins of Adolescence 17 Chapter two
Robin, Nightwing, Batman: The Shifting Sexuality of Dick Grayson 32 Chapter three
Girls Wonder: Young Female Robins in the Modern Age of Comics 61 Chapter four
Mixed Signals: Adolescence, Race, and Robin 100 Chapter five
The Sidekick on Screen: Images of Robin in Television and Film 123 Conclusion
147
Acknowledgments 155 Notes 157 Bibliography 185 Index 203
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ROBIN A ND T HE M A K ING OF A ME RICA N A DOL E S CE NCE
IN T R O D U C T IO N
Arguably the most widely known adolescent character in American literature is Robin, sidekick to Batman. Even from a very young age, nearly all Americans can finish the phrase “Batman and . . .” Many of those who are perhaps too young to know much about classical literary adolescents, like The Catcher in the Rye’s Holden Caulfield or the titular Huckleberry Finn, or perhaps too old to have been captivated by The Hunger Games’ Katniss Everdeen can likely recall that Robin is a superhero who fights crime in Gotham City alongside Batman, and most of those could probably even describe his costume.1 Yet despite Robin’s ubiquity, very little criticism or analysis exists on the character. What is it about Robin that has resisted critical engagement? I wonder if, subconsciously, Robin reminds those invested in defending comics (and the superhero genre more specifically) of everything by which it was once negatively defined. As Angela Ndalianis notes, “Despite [comics’] immense popularity, the public perception for a long time was that comics were a kid’s medium—or, more specifically, a young boy’s medium. As such, it was generally perceived . . . as the lowliest of popular culture media.”2 In the last few decades, however, comics have more or less come to be regarded as potent sources of artistic, literary, and cultural production. But it is possible that Robin remains, in the larger cultural consciousness, an emblem of everything that makes comics less legitimate. Robin is silly, unserious, childish; Robin is rarely positioned to offer informed critiques of neoliberalism, the war on terror, surveillance capitalism, or sexual politics, as many
H 1
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of the most celebrated superhero stories manage to do. In turn, comics scholarship has, for the most part, left the figure out of its character histories and explorations of grim-and-gritty superhero comics that are “not just for kids anymore,” because Robin is, in fact, just for kids. This book begins from exactly this premise—that Robin is a youthful character meant for consumption by mostly youthful readers—and then considers what creators have communicated through Robin about youth, adulthood, and the process of getting from one to the other. Rejoining Comics and Youth This book is far from the first to reassert the obvious relationship between youth studies and comics studies. The receptivity toward child and adolescent studies in comics has been nearly twenty years in the making. In Charles Hatfield’s “Comic Art, Children’s Literature, and the New Comic Studies,” he effectively argues that comics studies’ prior avoidance of the subject constituted “a profound mistake, for the association between comics and childhood is long, complex, and crucial to understanding comics history.”3 In the past two decades, many scholars have taken up the call to reunite youth and comics in academia, reflecting their lasting partnership in the popular consciousness. The two books that most closely resemble this one in their approach to comics and youth studies bookend these decades: Bradford Wright’s Comic Book Nation: The Transformation of Youth Culture in America (2001) and Lara Saguisag’s Incorrigibles and Innocents: Constructing Childhood and Citizenship in Progressive Era Comics (2019).4 Like this project, Wright’s book covers a broad temporal swath in the history of comics and pays particular attention to the superhero genre. Wright asserts that comic books “have played a crucial explanatory, therapeutic, and commercial function in young lives.”5 However, Wright grants no special attention to the portrayal of youth in comics; rather, he takes the existence of teenagers for granted, arguing that comics have been an integral part of adolescent culture. Wright does not go so far as to question the phenomenon of adolescence itself or argue how comics might reflect or reinforce certain ideas about teenagers. Conversely, I am interested in precisely the way Robin has swung alongside incredibly intricate social and political trends that have,
INTRODUCTION 3
collectively, “made” adolescence throughout the twentieth and into the twenty-first century. Unlike Comic Book Nation, Lara Saguisag’s Incorrigibles and Innocents specifically addresses images of youth in late nineteenth-and early twentieth-century American comics and comic strips. Saguisag is forthright about childhood’s immateriality, pointing to its construction right in her title—as this book does for adolescence. Incorrigibles and Innocents and this book both examine the social construction of supposedly natural life stages, denaturing them and demonstrating their roles in nation building and shoring up the construction of other social identities, like race, gender, and sexuality. Both books likewise use the medium of comics to view and disentangle some of these coconstructions. Saguisag’s work “underscores the centrality of childhood to the development of the comics medium” and explores how early comic creators used the image of the child, at once strange and intimately familiar, to probe other societal boundaries surrounding race, class, and gender.6 Incorrigibles and Innocents is complex and thorough, as detailed in its analyses of Progressive Era comics and conceptions of childhood as the delicate, layered renderings of R. F. Outcault’s Hogan’s Alley; Saguisag delves deep and takes her subject very seriously. This book, on the other hand, strikes a different tone. I do not mean to say that I don’t take my work seriously. I very much do. But this project retains a lightness, of which I am aware and unashamed, for two primary reasons. First, this is the first book- length study of Robin, a character with over eighty years of consistent publication history. Rather than focus on a specific time period or DC Comics title or even a single iteration of Robin (for there have been several), I have chosen to take a broad approach and selected Robin’s most obvious and enduring trait—adolescence—as the primary lens through which I read the character. I am barely scratching the surface of all this figure can tell us in an effort to provide an introduction and an invitation. Second, I have learned by sifting through decades’ worth of Batman, Detective Comics, Robin, and Batman and Robin, among other titles, that Robin simply resists being taken too seriously. The character brings a lightness to Batman comics, and that light carries over into this text as well. Writing about Robin also requires acknowledging
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that there has been significant reluctance to pay much academic attention to the subject, bordering on willful ignorance. Those outside of comics fandom and scholarship tend to think of Robin as a weird blip in Batman’s history, convinced by the likes of Tim Burton, Christopher Nolan, and Zack Snyder that Robin is not central to the Batman mythos. What they do know of Robin is often influenced heavily by perceptions of the 1960s Batman television show and Robin’s “gee golly” nature therein (aided by a conflation of camp and silliness, when the former is far more nuanced). Those within comics studies have for the most part neglected the figure, despite Robin’s incredible longevity. Robin has been a DC Comics feature or title character since his introduction in 1940 and has appeared, in some iteration or another, in scores of films and television programs. Though this is the first book-length work on Robin, Kristen L. Geaman has edited a volume of scholarly essays and creator interviews about the first character to “play” Robin entitled Dick Grayson, Boy Wonder: Scholars and Creators on 75 Years of Robin, Nightwing, and Batman. Like this project, Geaman’s own contribution to that volume highlights the first Robin’s adolescence as a defining trait, comparing Dick Grayson to the protagonist of a traditional bildungsroman.7 Yet the bildungsroman itself positions adulthood as the goal and ending of the story; it renders adolescence as little more than a pathway to the teleological inevitability of maturity rather than a phenomenon worthy of investigation on its own—and therefore misses the opportunity to investigate this phenomenon through Robin. Dick Grayson, Boy Wonder also takes only one of the seven major characters who have “been” Robin as its focus. Whereas Batman has been Bruce Wayne for all but a handful of nonconsecutive years of his long history,8 the role of Robin has been filled in notable fashion by four white boys, one of whom is a poor juvenile delinquent; two white girls; and a young Black boy (though this last one’s Robin status is a bit hazy). I contend that even Robin’s consistent replacement and creators’ experimentation with different social identities for the figure are indicative of something essential about adolescence—namely, its liminality and the way we can envision many potentialities for adolescents, whereas the perception of adult identity is more permanent, fixed, calcified.
Table 1. A summary of all Robins past Character name
First appearance
Final issue as Robin
Other key aliases
Featured titles
Dick Grayson
Detective Comics #38, Bob Kane and Bill Finger (1940)
The New Teen Titans #39, Marv Wolfman and George Pérez (1984); resigns from the role
Nightwing, Batman
Detective Comics, Batman, The New Teen Titans, Nightwing, Batman & Robin
Jason Todd
Batman #408, Max Allan Collins and Chris Warner (1987)*
Batman #428, Jim Starlin and Jim Aparo (1988); murdered by the Joker
Red Hood
Batman, Detective Comics, Red Hood, Red Hood and the Outlaws
Carrie Kelley
The Dark Knight Returns #1, Frank Miller (1986)
The Dark Knight Returns #4, Frank Miller (1986); limited series
Catgirl, Batgirl
The Dark Knight Returns, The Dark Knight Strikes Again
Tim Drake
Batman #436–441, Marv Wolfman, Pat Broderick, and Jim Aparo (1989)**
Red Robin #1, Red Robin Christopher Yost and Ramon Bachs (2009); passed over in favor of Damian Wayne
Detective Comics, Batman, Robin, Red Robin
(continued)
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Table 1. A summary of all Robins past ( continued ) Character name
First appearance
Final issue as Robin
Stephanie Brown
Detective Comics #647, Chuck Dixon and Tom Lyle (1992)
Robin vol. 4 #128, Bill Willingham and Damion Scott (2004); fired
Spoiler, Batgirl
Detective Comics, Batman, Red Robin, Batgirl
Damian Wayne
Batman #655–657, Grant Morrison and Andy Kubert (2006)***
Ongoing as of February 2021
—
Batman, Detective Comics, Batman and Robin
Robin War part 6, Tom King (2016); surrenders role to Damian Wayne
Signal
Batman, We Are Robin, Robin War, All-Star Batman
Duke Thomas Batman vol. 2 #21, Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo (2013)
Other key aliases
Featured titles
* This issue is the more popular and well known of Jason Todd’s two introductions. The first came in 1984, but it was rewritten after the DC Comics “event” story line Crisis on Infinite Earths. ** Though Tim Drake partially appeared in Batman #436, 439, and 440, he was not named and shown in full until issue #441. *** Like Tim Drake, Damian Wayne appeared in shadow and silhouette in Batman #655; he was shown in full in Batman #656 and named in issue #657.
Though Geaman’s edited volume is the only work on library shelves about any Robin figure, several books that essentially serve as character histories about other superheroes exist. By far the most library real estate is taken up by histories of and pontifications about Superman and Batman, though two books published in the last several years
INTRODUCTION 7
begin to give Wonder Woman the attention she merits.9 Conventional wisdom would suggest books about the Dark Knight would contain lots of information about Robin, one of his most constant companions, but conventional wisdom would be mistaken. Mentions of Robin in many such texts often amount to scapegoating, offering Robin as a sacrifice to the gods of staking out Batman’s relevance or as casual asides that position Robin as little more than filler for a pocket on Batman’s utility belt. Take, for example, Will Brooker’s seminal Batman Unmasked: Analyzing a Cultural Icon. In it, he offers a five-sentence, minimalist explanation of who Batman is, including “He is often helped by his sidekick, Robin.”10 But something rather odd happens in Brooker’s discussion of “his sidekick, Robin”: the first subsection of the book ostensibly devoted to Robin becomes focused instead on changes to Batman’s moral code. Brooker details Batman’s shift from early moral ambiguity to a stricter sense of right and wrong, a revision that saw the Dark Knight give up guns and commit to never taking a life. While this shift is no doubt important and did occur simultaneously with Robin’s introduction, it induces a sort of thematic whiplash in readers who assumed the section would be about Batman’s trusty sidekick. Like Brooker, historian Jill Lepore seems invested in ignoring Robin’s place in comic book history: she begins her 2017 bestseller The Secret History of Wonder Woman with these lines: “Wonder Woman is the most popular female comic-book superhero of all time. Aside from Superman and Batman, no other comic-book character has lasted as long.”11 This is objectively false, as Robin was introduced in 1940, several months prior to Wonder Woman’s introduction in 1941, and has never been out of print since. And just as Lepore’s work reveals that Wonder Woman can teach us much about women’s history in the United States, Robin appears to be a similar avatar in the history of American adolescence. In other words, portrayals of Robin offer the opportunity to analyze how producers have represented their young readers better than any other character in the history of the genre. Reading Robin reveals what mainstream culture thought and thinks about the American adolescent—and the adolescent is, I argue, merely what the larger culture thinks it is. Modern American adolescence, as the title of this
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work implies, is not a static state of being or universal biological experience. Instead, it is a social construction: adolescence is “made.” Making Adolescence In my training to become a professional adolescent counselor and several years of work in the field (fun fact: I am still licensed as of this writing), I was taught to rely on models of adolescent development that assume a relatively universal experience, one that is an essential part of growing up and that was only just “discovered” and articulated in America in the first half of the twentieth century. However, I found these models to be lacking nuance, as though enforcing a sameness on young people of different backgrounds and social identities that did not really seem to exist or only existed when it was mapped onto them by educators and parents. The frameworks I was taught to use also do not account for the fact that as little as a century and a half ago, Americans saw adolescents and experienced their own adolescence very differently than today, leading me to question the very foundation of collective knowledge regarding teens. As I learned when I began researching the origins of adolescence, the word “teenager” is fewer than one hundred years old, though I use the terms “teenager” and “adolescent” interchangeably in this book. Despite the linguistic reference “teenager” makes to the years ending in -teen, the term originates as a description of a sociopolitical state of being, not a particular age range. While individuals throughout history have experienced their thirteenth through nineteenth years, there is no record of the word “teenager” in print until the 1940s (though there is some disagreement as to the specific date of the term’s first appearance). Leerom Medovoi, in his Rebels: Youth and the Cold War Origins of Identity (2005), credits historian William Manchester’s work for illuminating an early published record of the term: in a 1945 New York Times Magazine article titled “A Teen-Age Bill of Rights.”12 Though the article did not specify an age range, Medovoi traces the way it responds specifically to the prewar construction and refinement of the adolescent. Medovoi summarizes the construction of the adolescent, noting it was designed as “a dependent whose physical maturity belied the need for adult supervision and instruction.”13 This supervision was achieved
INTRODUCTION 9
primarily through education: schools became a means for the professional middle class to impart its values and ensure its reproduction. In other words, “adolescence represented a condition of—and case for—a lengthening state of dependency.”14 It was this sense of extended dependence, this sort of enforced childhood, against which the “Teen- Age Bill of Rights” protested. The adolescent and the teenager are thus two sides of the same coin, bought and sold by adults for their value in maintaining hegemonic order and opening new markets. The adolescent represents a pseudoscientific construction, used as a means of reproducing middle-class norms; the teenager is the sociopolitical response to the adolescent, intimately linked to youths’ demands for freedom and individuality. These demands were ultimately neutralized by a marketplace that was more than willing to accommodate rebellion and individuality through the consumption of cars, comics, and rock and roll, thus reinforcing the dominance of the adult and bourgeois values yet again. My usage of “adolescent” and “teenager” as relatively interchangeable highlights the ways in which they both function to achieve the same end: casting the younger individual, regardless of actual age, as inherently different and in need of some form of administration and control. Through this lengthened state of dependence, the idea of adolescence was molded into a powerful mechanism by which white heteropatriarchal dominance perpetuates itself, fueled by fin de siècle and Progressive Era American anxieties about citizenship and power in a rapidly industrializing and globalizing world. As I explore in detail in chapter 1, the transition from childhood to adulthood grew from a threshold to be crossed into a long, winding hallway to be navigated under the close watch of schools, play reformers, coaches, and parents. By extending childhood and its requisite supervision, “adolescence” allowed powerful individuals and institutions to define what the process of maturation—and its end goal of an idealized form of maturity— looked like. Successfully completing this process thus became contingent on one’s resemblance to those already holding the most power—namely, white, heterosexual, and male. Those who couldn’t or wouldn’t exit the crucible of adolescence with these traits were considered “waylaid” or arrested in their development, unable to achieve full maturity and the rights and privileges it offers.
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The socially constructed aspects of the “adolescent” are hidden beneath a veneer of medical, pseudomedical, and educational literature that defines adolescence through shared traits like irresponsibility, poor judgment, and overemotionality. These traits combine to make the adolescent more dismissible than the adult—as in, “we don’t have to take teenagers seriously, with their raging hormones and impulsive decisions.” These connotations of “adolescence” cover over the cultural work adolescence performs in maintaining the hegemonic status quo, but reading Robin allows us to witness creators (intentionally or unintentionally) reinforcing the narrow pathway to idealized maturity through this adolescent figure, one who is ostensibly in line to inherit a heroic role and legacy. It is for this reason that four of the seven Robins in DC Comics history rise to the fore of this work. I am most interested in those figures who represent “detours” on the pathway to idealized maturity: Dick Grayson (queer), Carrie Kelley and Stephanie Brown (female), and Duke Thomas (Black). How writers resolve or don’t resolve these characters’ eventual growth into adulthood appears most pressing in this first extended foray into Robin’s history, but my hope is that future work will take up the briefer mentions of Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne in this study to more closely examine their particular expressions of adolescence. Chapter Breakdown The first chapter of this book unveils the “secret origins” of the American adolescent. In it, I roughly outline the formation of the modern American adolescent to illustrate that the way we think of teenagers today is unique to our time and location. The image of the “teenager” was created by a confluence of social and political factors in the first half of the twentieth century, as educators, psychologists, and politicians responded to rapid globalization and anxiety about who would have access to the privileges of maturity (i.e., citizenship, access to education, political power) in the modern era. In short, this chapter addresses how adolescence was “made,” when and why was it made, and by whom. This chapter also highlights the role of popular culture, including comic books, in circulating and crystallizing the idea of adolescence in
INTRODUCTION 11
mainstream America. In particular, the creators of Robin (Bob Kane, Bill Finger, and Jerry Robinson) expressly sought to attract younger readers. When writing Robin, they reinforced some of the attributes that were beginning to be associated with the American adolescent. In this way, Robin is a product of adolescence—he arose because creators thought a burgeoning demographic of young readers would be interested in and identify with a young adolescent boy.15 However, this means Robin is also a producer of adolescence—circulating a particular image of adolescence to youthful readers and reinforcing certain notions about what it means to be a teenager. The following three chapters examine how different Robins communicate different ideas about adolescence. Chapter 2 begins at the beginning, taking the first character to be Robin, Dick Grayson, as its primary case study. Though Dick Grayson’s eighty-odd years of publication history make a thorough close reading of the figure impossible, I have identified the primary issue motivating this character’s long narrative arc— his sexuality— and offer close readings of several key moments in his history related to it. Dick Grayson is the root of the common perception of Robin as silly, childish, and potentially queer, and in accepting and interrogating these perceptions, I contend that creators have in fact used this Robin to knit together the identities of “straight” and “adult.” Adding to the framework laid out in chapter 1, this chapter illustrates that the concept of modern American adolescence has always been a vehicle for anxieties about sex, sexuality, reproduction, and nation building. Writers of Dick Grayson have reified negative (or at best conflicting) cultural feelings toward adolescent sex and sexuality while also positing that maturity is restrictively defined by heterosexual activity. In order for authors to make Robin appear straight, which they were rather desperate to do after midcentury accusations of homoeroticism between Robin and Batman, he would have to engage in heterosexual activity—but to engage in sexual activity would mark him as either maturing (and thus unable to maintain his adolescent identity) or deviant. Writers eventually gave up the unwinnable fight and decided to age Dick Grayson in the 1980s, transforming him into the young adult hero Nightwing. Nudging Dick Grayson even further along the overlapping paths of maturity and straightness, writers
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connected the idea of parenting to Dick Grayson’s ability to step into Batman’s boots; in other words, to become a “real” adult, Robin / Dick Grayson first needed to be a father. I thus situate Damian Wayne, another Robin, as offering Dick Grayson / Batman the opportunity to act as a parent. Dick Grayson’s eventual donning of the Batman identity indicates a line of succession or an inheritance, establishing a pattern that would exclude later Robins who do not embody the same dominant social identities as Dick Grayson (namely, whiteness and masculinity). This restrictiveness has been central to the construction of adolescence since its inception; adolescence was developed from the beginning as a means of maintaining white patriarchal dominance. Depictions of Robin / Dick Grayson thus reinforce the notion that adolescence is what Nancy Lesko terms a time of “becoming” for straight white male readers, while the next two chapters see writers of other Robin figures portray adolescence as a permanent holding pattern for girls and young people of color.16 The third chapter focuses on the only two female characters to be named Robin, Carrie Kelley and Stephanie Brown. As in chapter 2, I introduce these Robin figures by first laying out some essential elements in the development of adolescence, in this case as it relates to teenage girls, walking readers through the cultural construction of young girls as black mirrors to adult men. I argue that these characters’ adolescent femininity renders them doubly marginalized, doubly empty, and thus doubly well suited to reinforcing Batman’s masculine primacy and patriarchal authority. This chapter also provides a potentially controversial contextualization of the so-called Modern Age of comics, during which both Carrie and Stephanie were introduced and their main stories unfolded. I briefly explain the economic and social factors that led to a restricted market by the 1980s, a market composed almost completely of adolescent and young adult male readers. I argue that the commonly held notion that superhero comics “grew up” during this time period should therefore be read as a celebration of white patriarchal authority; the exultation of comics like Alan Moore’s Watchmen (1986) and Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns (1986) as “mature,” quality literature means uplifting virulently negative responses to the gains of
INTRODUCTION 13
second-wave feminism.17 The depiction of young adolescent females within this context provides insight into the teen girl’s role in a world dominated by adult men: doing whatever the men need them to do or being forcibly moved out of the way. Despite Carrie Kelley’s introduction as Robin in Frank Miller’s wildly popular The Dark Knight Returns, she has been discarded as a potential Robin ever since this four-issue miniseries. Carrie’s roles in The Dark Knight Returns and its sequels illustrate the utility of the empty, transmutable teen girl in crafting fantasies of patriarchal control when she is a willing participant. Miller presents the adolescent girl as the perfect foil to the adult male: as a cipher able to fulfill whatever diegetic need arises for Batman. Through Stephanie Brown, the second female character to play Robin, authors graphically illustrate the ways in which adolescent girls who defy patriarchal authority can be useful to it nonetheless. Unlike Carrie, Stephanie does not transform to meet Batman’s every need; instead, she challenges his authority and is severely punished for her intrusions into male spaces and roles. The story arcs of both female Robins reify the conceptual linkages between idealized maturity and masculinity, one through her service to patriarchal order and the other through her punishment for threatening it. Moving into the current era of comics, chapter 4 focuses on the most recently introduced Robin, the young Black character Duke Thomas. In this chapter, I make the case that authors have used Duke to bring diversity to the Batman family through a handful of comic titles featuring Duke, allowing creators to address hot-button political issues such as juvenile gang activity, stop-and-frisk, police brutality, and white privilege. I trace how adolescence has intersected with Blackness in American history—in this case, I illustrate that the construction of these two social identities has rendered them almost mutually exclusive. Duke’s creators ultimately portray him as more of a sidekick to Batman’s sidekicks, lacking agency and without a place in the pseudofamily line from Batman that other male Robins have enjoyed. Though the creators’ intent is at times unclear, this chapter argues that their attempts to raise awareness of the ways Black youth are pushed out of their own adolescence may, in fact, reify this exile by portraying Duke Thomas as merely a convenient reminder of white Robins’ place in Batman / Bruce Wayne’s line of succession.
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As in chapter 3, which connects portrayals of female Robins (and female adolescents more generally) in the Modern Age to the backlash against second-wave feminism, this chapter argues that Robin has again become a site of working out cultural and political anxieties, this time related to race. I situate Duke Thomas and his creators’ handling of the character as a response to contemporary Black liberation movements protesting, among other atrocities, the extrajudicial killings of Black youths. Creators signal their intent to grapple with issues including stop-and-frisk and the murder of seventeen-year-old Trayvon Martin through visual cues such as hoodies and police in riot gear. Though the writers of Duke Thomas are certainly better intentioned than those of Carrie Kelley and Stephanie Brown, whose misogyny surfaces in rather obvious ways, they still seem to reject the notion of a Robin who does not fit into the white masculine lineage of Batman. While Duke’s authors center on the perspective of a young Black character and surround him with a diverse cast of friends, his story turns out to be about Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne in the end—arguably the whitest and most closely linked to Batman of all. This portrayal of Duke Thomas and his relegation to a tertiary role in the Bat-family reflect the construction of adolescence as a time of “becoming” for white youths but that for Black youths, being perceived as an adolescent is oftentimes inaccessible. In the final chapter, I shift my focus from portrayals of Robin in comic books to portrayals of Robin on television and in film. Though a single chapter on Robin’s robust televisual history is hardly adequate to address the myriad iterations of Robin presented to viewers, I aim to offer an overview and identify major trends in cultural producers’ approach to the Boy Wonder. Screen portrayals of Robin in the twentieth century repeat and amplify some of comic books’ most damaging tendencies: privileging white masculine heroes and points of view, condemning femininity, and leaving Black sidekicks on the cutting room floor. Indeed, these portrayals have largely focused on responding to the emblematic ur-portrayal of Robin: Burt Ward’s turn on the 1966–1968 Batman television show.18 The ghost of this oft ridiculed image haunts nearly all television and filmic portrayals of Robin in the twentieth
INTRODUCTION 15
century, as producers work to refute, rehabilitate, or reclaim the technicolor teen of the 1960s. Yet depictions of Robin in more recent years have occasionally taken on a reflexive (and oftentimes refreshing) tone. Twenty-first- century television and film portrayals of Robin still privilege Dick Grayson, the epitome of white masculinity, but they tend to be far more interested in the character’s “teenness” and relationships with other young people than in his service to Batman as a sidekick. Team- oriented television programs starring Robin draw direct connections between the superhero genre and other adolescent media, echoing dramatic shows like The O.C. and Buffy the Vampire Slayer.19 These changes illustrate that producers of popular culture see Robin as a real and important avenue for connection between their products and adolescent consumers. In embracing Robin’s youthfulness, creators in the 2010s have also started to use the figure to critique the darkness of the Dark Knight, as if to argue that it was never Robin who needed rehabilitating but Batman. Creators of Robin(s) indelibly link maturation and heterosexual development, bluntly illustrate the double marginalization of adolescent femininity, and struggle to center on Black adolescence in a society generally unwelcoming of Black teens; these images of Robin all reinforce dominant cultural notions of adolescence and maturation. As Lara Saguisag notes of post–Progressive Era newspaper comics, “Comics series gradually upheld the Anglo-Saxon, middle-class male child as the figure who embodied both exuberance and innocence and was best positioned to be the rightful inheritor of a racial and patriarchal legacy.”20 Robin is all this and more—the ostensible inheritor of an identity, “Batman,” who is the idealized vision of precisely this racial, patriarchal, capitalist legacy. However, the consistent portrayal of a Robin at Batman’s side also speaks to the continued relevance and constant remaking of adolescent identity. Each death or dismissal of a Robin in comics has been followed relatively shortly thereafter by Batman’s adoption of a new Robin—it is axiomatic to many comic book nerds that “Batman needs Robin.” This most enduring adolescent figure thus offers far more than the reader identification (and increased sales) sought by Kane, Finger, and Robinson in 1940. As an adolescent, Robin is a vision of
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the future: future hero, future leader, future citizen. The changes to Robin’s identities and personalities, playing off the comparatively stoic and static Bruce Wayne / Batman, do in fact indicate flexibility in who can inhabit and symbolize American adolescence. Though girl Robins and Black Robins have yet to “stick” in the way characters like Dick Grayson and Tim Drake have done, their presence bears witness to a (perhaps grudging) recognition of a more democratic future.
CH A P T E R 1
THE SECRET ORIGINS OF ADOLESCENCE In 1980, writer Marv Wolfman and artist George Pérez began a new long-running series for DC Comics called The New Teen Titans. The series relays the tales of a team of young superheroes composed of several former sidekicks, including Robin, as well as nonsidekick teens and a couple of new characters. Marked by their team name and the many social anxieties they face, these heroes are almost comically adolescent, though the general tone of the series was meant to be dramatic. They struggle with romantic relationships and whether and when to engage in physical intimacy, they fly off the handle at the slightest provocation, and they feel pressured by their parental figures, even though for much of the series there are very few adults around for comparison. In issue 20 alone, Robin confesses to feeling “like a stupid kid” next to Batman, while Kid Flash struggles mightily with deciding whether to go to college or confess his love for the mysterious Raven. Even the issue’s villain is a young man trying desperately to make his aloof father proud.1 Though the concept of the teenager was barely forty years old in 1980, the adolescent was by then recognizable as its own identity, complete with various markers: self-consciousness, raging hormones, impulsivity, restlessness, and a rather fraught relationship with parents or parental figures. All these traits are constant among Robin and the rest of the Teen Titans, but how did these behaviors, thoughts, and feelings come to be so closely associated with adolescence? The common answer, I found in my years working with teenagers, their parents, and other school staff, is “You know how teenagers are.”
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18 ROBIN AND THE MAKING OF AMERICAN ADOLESCENCE
Figure 1. The Teen Titans are no strangers to angst and anxiety. Credit: Marv Wolfman and George Pérez, “Dear Mom & Dad,” The New Teen Titans #20 (New York: DC Comics, 1982).
It’s true, I do know—we all know—but beneath a veneer of pseudoscientific and psychological theorization about the adolescent experience, it turns out that adolescence is for the most part a socially constructed identity. Look back to American literature from the nineteenth century. You will find the occasional coming-of-age story like Huckleberry Finn, but there are few figures who really resemble the American adolescent as we knew it at the time of The New Teen Titans’ introduction and as we know it today. It wasn’t until the 1940s that a recognizably “young adult” body of literature began to depict stories of adolescence with figures we would likely now recognize as adolescents, though even these midcentury figures would strike many twenty-first-century readers as hokey, equal parts too childish and too mature to read as a typical “teenager.”2 All of this points to the notion of the teenager as not being fixed in any meaningful fashion.
The Secret Origins of Adolescence 19
Robin’s introduction in 1940 hints at the adolescent being not quite known or knowable yet: in Detective Comics #38, he was billed as the “Boy Wonder,” despite at least some sources, including a 1942 issue of Batman, indicating the character was supposed to be about thirteen years old.3 Most of us today would refer to this person as a teenager, or perhaps a preteen or “tween.” Yet the word “teenager” didn’t appear in print until at least a year after Robin’s introduction, and he would not be rebranded as the “Teen Wonder” for almost thirty years.4 Readers in the 1940s understood “boy” or “child,” but the concept of the adolescent as a recognizable identity had not yet taken hold among mainstream Americans. Reading Robin allows us to see this concept being made in real time. The “Deployment” of Adolescence What, precisely, does it mean to say that adolescence is “made”? How are nebulous ideas and concepts like identities created, who makes them, and why? In this book, I am borrowing from Nancy Lesko, who in turn borrows from Michel Foucault, in suggesting that adolescence is a “technology” that was first deployed around the turn of the twentieth century—forty to fifty years prior to the creation of Robin.5 A technology, in the cultural sense, is a set of interwoven social and political strategies that collectively channel bodies and discourses into certain modes of thinking and being. This channeling is the technology’s deployment or the means by which the idea is disseminated. Deployment of a technology or an idea happens through political and economic policy, social institutions, and popular culture, most often to help a certain class of people gain or maintain power.6 In this sense, Robin is both a product of adolescence being deployed (he could not be understood as a teenage character without readers first understanding the notion of “teenager”) and a producer of adolescence (a constructed image meant for consumption by children and teens that communicates particular ideas about adolescence). Robin is implicated in the “making” of adolescence by reflecting what mainstream cultural producers think adolescence looks like back to his primarily youthful fans. Robin is simultaneously a reflection and a refiner. Creators of the character have always drawn on previous notions of adolescence and, through Robin, also helped shape new ones. Most
20 ROBIN AND THE MAKING OF AMERICAN ADOLESCENCE
of this book focuses on the latter—how creators have promoted specific images of adolescence to readers approaching or experiencing their own adolescence. However, Robin and the idea of the teenager would not have existed in the first place without some serious sociopolitical upheavals in the early twentieth century leading to the initial deployment of adolescence. The remainder of this chapter considers these “secret origins” of adolescence and how the creation of the teenager reflected changes in American understandings of human development and maturity. This chapter is not meant to be a thorough overview of youth studies literature; instead, my goal is to offer an introduction to the strains of thought, economic and political conditions, and media imagery that laid the foundation for both Robin and the American teenager’s place in modern American society. Conceptualizing Adolescence Part 1: Recapitulation Theory Early twentieth-century Americans, including the creators of Robin as well as consumers of early Batman and Detective Comics, were influenced heavily by two important frameworks for understanding adolescence: recapitulation theory and life-span development theory. Although the study of adolescence has since become far more nuanced, by closely examining these theories in particular, we can suss out some important motivations for the creation of adolescence as a distinct life stage—in other words, why adolescence was “made” when it was and who benefits from its existence and maintenance. Fin de siècle Americans were fascinated by the theory of evolution and evolution-as-metaphor, and recapitulation theory reads as a by-product of this trend. Sociologists borrowed the idea from the nineteenth-century biological concept of the same name, which posited that embryos “recapitulate” a history of evolution in the womb, growing from single cells to tadpole-like creatures all the way to baby versions of their species (this theory has since been discredited, in part because it does not remotely account for the wide variety of ways in which embryos grow and change). The sociological co-optation of the theory proposed that individual development (beyond the womb) mirrored the development
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of “civilization”; importantly, in these theorists’ definition, “civilization” meant Western civilization. Early child and adolescent psychologists working within this framework around the turn of the twentieth century, most notably G. Stanley Hall, compared children to ancient apelike creatures and contemporary non-Western “primitives.”7 The adolescent was framed as the creature that connected “primitive” children to “civilized” adults. In this theory, adulthood was only achieved when one resembled a white, preferably wealthy, Anglo or Anglo- American male. And if one would never bear such a resemblance? This was considered evidence of being waylaid or “arrested” in some degree of perpetual immaturity. So what does this theory communicate about the beginning of American adolescence? What impact, if any, did this understanding of human development have on how creators portrayed Robin? First, this theory rests upon the fundamental rift between childhood and adulthood—likewise a socially constructed phenomenon, undertaken with gusto in the Victorian era. Often termed the “century of the child,” the nineteenth century saw a revolution in Western notions of childhood. Rather than viewing children as tiny containers of sin and debauchery, as Puritan immigrants had, Americans influenced by the Second Great Awakening instead saw children as innocent, pure, and naturally closer to the light of God. By the turn of the twentieth century, most Americans understood the child to be wholly different from adults.8 In the Progressive Era, activists and legislators alike agitated for a spate of child labor laws and investment in social programming for the specialized political category of children. But this rift between childhood and adulthood complicated the process of maturation—How can one go from being a totally innocent, unknowing “other” to being, well, us? Recapitulation theory provided a pathway, a means of understanding this process, by positioning adolescence as the “missing link,” the key discovery that makes the transformation from one thing to another possible. Second, recapitulation theory pulls the curtain back on some major cultural anxiety roiling the nation around the fin de siècle. The path charted by recapitulation theory reacted to and resisted the rapid globalization of the industrialized (and imperialized) world. Linking maturity with “civilization” meant that those in power in a given
22 ROBIN AND THE MAKING OF AMERICAN ADOLESCENCE
civilization got to define the terms of maturity—helping them keep their power in a world quickly becoming smaller and in a nation with massive influxes of immigrants. “Adolescence” provided a metaphorical holding pattern: the dominant group in American society perpetuated their position by asserting only those who looked like them would become fully mature, and others were portrayed as and perceived to be stuck in a childlike or adolescent phase, not quite fully developed humans regardless of their age. The first gestalt theory of adolescence in America, then, defined “true” maturity as white Western male achievement. When Bob Kane and Bill Finger created Batman, they reflected this image of idealized adulthood— white, male, ostensibly heterosexual—but even in this figure, we can read some residual anxiety over what it meant to be mature. Bruce Wayne, wealthy socialite, toes the line of being too domestic(ated), as though he skipped over the rough and rugged pursuits expected of children in their “primitive” stage. Though successful maturation required children to move beyond those stages, recapitulation theory’s loudest proponents asserted that children should move through them slowly, with some level of wildness remaining in males lest they get stuck in an effeminate stage of development, which would lead to degeneracy and a failure to fully mature. American industrialization meant more men working in factories and service roles and fewer doing things like mining and farming, which created a crisis of masculinity (think of Teddy Roosevelt and his near-hysterical big sticking). If Bruce Wayne almost teeters into effeminate degeneracy, Batman directly represents the requisite deep-seated savagery of an idealized adult man. Kane and Finger, along with other early creators of superheroes, ensured their characters read as properly mature and masculine by pairing a seemingly soft, “civilized” exterior with a secret, stronger, wilder interior. We can also witness the lingering effects of recapitulation theory in Robin. He is initially billed as the “Boy Wonder,” denoting the common understanding of “boy” as totally separate from “man,” the distinction that makes adolescence possible in the first place. As a sidekick and ward, Robin theoretically represents the inheritor of both Batman’s war on crime and Bruce Wayne’s wealthy legacy. Kane,
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Finger, and Robinson created a figure who could also step into the role of idealized adult someday—a young white boy. Finally, like adolescence more broadly, Robin helps clarify Batman’s own maturity. Batman’s pseudoparenting of Robin is evidence of his maturity, giving him a semblance of fatherly gravitas and de-emphasizing the dilettanteish aspect of his alter ego. By 1950 and Robin’s tenth anniversary, a new theory of understanding adolescence had eclipsed recapitulation theory in both popularity and, as time would tell, longevity. This new framework, life-span development theory, took a less overtly racialized view of adolescent development while still privileging the same vision of idealized maturity: white, heterosexual, and masculine. Creators of Robin since the midcentury have largely operated within this framework when designing and scripting teenage figures, characters who are always both products and producers of the adolescent identity. Conceptualizing Adolescence Part 2: Life-S pan Development Theory While it is more aptly described as a set of theories, what I refer to collectively as life-span development theory are those frameworks that posit stages of emotional and cognitive development mapped alongside chronological time, most often in the form of life stages.9 It is difficult to overstate the impact these theories have had on modern Americans’ understandings of ourselves. Any association of particular cognitive or emotional experiences with particular age groups or life stages recalls the life-span development theory. Expecting specific struggles, points of view, or emotional milestones—such as the traits on display by the Teen Titans—by certain ages likewise reveals investment in such frameworks. “You know how teenagers are” because life-span development theories have taught us “how teenagers are.” Two early examples of such frameworks that focused heavily on adolescents include Erik Erikson’s Childhood and Society (1950) and Robert Havighurst’s Development Tasks and Education (1948).10 Although many later psychologists and theorists would build upon and challenge these works, including James E. Marcia and Jeffrey Jensen Arnett, these early theories illuminate some defining features of the “secret origins” of adolescence.11
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Erikson crafted a model of individual development based on eight stages, in which each stage was governed by one major conflict. “Proper” or “successful” maturity, in Erikson’s formulation, resembled a steady job, residence in a single-family home, and heterosexual marriage and parenthood. Erikson’s primary conflict for adolescents was “identity formation”: the Eriksonian teenager is engrossed in determining which aspects of their more youthful self they should keep while also adding to their self-concept by matching with or against peers. In this way, Erikson’s model gently recalls what G. Stanley Hall termed adolescent “storm and stress” in describing the way young folks test their boundaries; only if a stable sense of self is established in the adolescent years can an individual move on to adulthood. Similarly, Robert Havighurst’s stage-based framework described several tasks for adolescents, all of which are designed to prepare them for eventual maturity, such as achieving more mature relations with similarly aged peers, achieving masculine or feminine roles, preparing for marriage and family, and developing their values and sense of social responsibility. With even just this briefest of descriptions, both Erikson’s and Havighurst’s frameworks reveal a key development in the “secret origins” of adolescence: intra-age group affiliation. The sort of give-and-take posited for normative development requires interaction with peers, defined as those in the same age group, but it wasn’t until around the mid-twentieth century that a majority of teenagers were attending high school together or really had much sense of affiliation within their generation at all. Though Sarah E. Chinn observes that immigrant children paved the way for same-generational leisure pursuits by the 1910s, such risqué forms of socialization did not reach the mainstream until several years later.12 Into the early twentieth century, the vast majority of socializing took place within families, and prior to the twentieth century, formal schooling was not particularly prevalent. Often when students did go to school, they were placed in classes based on their knowledge, not on their age. Age-based grading only came into vogue around the turn of the century, as school attendance in general began to increase.13 Building on Progressive Era child labor reform, New Deal legislation further restricted youth labor, in part to prioritize adult males who
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were the heads of their households for the few jobs available at the time.14 In response, more and more states required children and adolescents to stay in school longer, lest they find themselves unoccupied and unsupervised. Alongside the tightened labor market, the concerns of social reformers, educators, and psychologists further motivated these compulsory education laws. Between 1900 and 1940, the percentage of people from the ages of fourteen to seventeen enrolled in secondary school more than quintupled.15 Schools provided means of surveilling and administering young people, encouraging the form of slow and steady development emphasized by recapitulationists, in turn making room for meaningful intra-age group affiliation. While life- span development theory’s emphasis on adolescent peer-to-peer relationships points to shifts in the perceptions and expectations of adolescents since the turn of the century, such frameworks also help maintain one of the earliest features of adolescence: the privileging of normative gender roles, heterosexuality, and middle- to upper-class nuclear family life as the idealized image of maturity. Havighurst mostly said that quiet part out loud, but Erikson’s model also subtly grants the best odds of successful “identity formation” to those young people whose families did not need their part-time income or help with younger siblings and who had access to their school’s accompanying activities—the more sports, clubs, and opportunities to “self-define” within the strictures of bourgeois culture, the better. Such opportunities were (and still are) more accessible to white, suburban, middle-class kids. Thus as Leerom Medovoi claims, “‘Adolescence’ served to pathologize the lives of working-class and immigrant youth, since their participation in ‘street corner societies’ only confirmed the neglect shown by lower-class families and communities toward these vital years of their children’s development.”16 These worrisome street-corner societies were gangs of unsupervised adolescents intimately associated with immigrants, the poor, Black youth, and homosexuality. In short, the “secret origins” of adolescence framed it as a path to idealized maturity that only has room for certain bodies. Both recapitulation theory and early life-span development theories assert that folks who look like the Robin of Detective Comics #38 are already
26 ROBIN AND THE MAKING OF AMERICAN ADOLESCENCE
well on their way to achieving adulthood. But if recapitulation theory points to Robin as a product of the deployment of adolescence, stage- based development models illustrate how the figure is likewise a producer of adolescence. It was precisely the sort of intragroup affiliation both Havighurst and Erikson would soon encourage that led Kane, Finger, and Robinson to introduce Robin: as a character with whom their youthful readers could identify. Adolescent Origins, Popular Culture, and Comics If recapitulation theory and life-span development theory are the “secret origins” of adolescence, then midcentury popular culture’s fascination with teens can be likened to adolescence donning a costume and earning a front-page spread in the Daily Planet. Although pseudoscientific and political institutions seeded ideas about adolescence, popular culture nurtured and grew those ideas into full-blown phenomena in the first half of the twentieth century. Film and children’s literature, including comics, were early avenues by which images of adolescents flowed into the American mainstream. By the 1930s, American media was saturated with images of youth, as anxious Jazz Age interest in flappers and “sheiks” shifted toward a desire to see younger, happier faces that provided a contrast to the depths of the Great Depression. Films starring fresh-faced children and teens like Shirley Temple, Judy Garland, and Mickey Rooney largely aimed to draw in a broad, multigenerational audience; their popularity illustrates increasing interest with American youth without yet making the leap to catering specifically to this new group. During the same time period, however, other (cheaper) media forms began advertising particularly to this new social demographic. Youth literature series grew in popularity, including child-detective lines like The Hardy Boys (debuting in 1927) and Nancy Drew (1930). The Stratemeyer Syndicate, which published these and many other youth literature titles, found an enthusiastic audience—in fact, some scholars and enthusiasts point to The Secret of the Old Clock, Nancy Drew’s first mystery, as the first “YA” novel ever published.17 Though children’s adventure fiction was not particularly new during the height of Stratemeyer’s fame, his publishing house found immense success in the series format, offering multiple books starring the same character
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or group of characters reenacting generic tropes. This youth literature boom was driven by the specialization of adolescence and helped fuel it, giving rise to the new so-called youth market. By 1948, an article from the Journal of Marketing notes that the demographic of youths ages twelve to eighteen “is the market in which almost all mass buying trends originate” and emphasizes that young people “represent new sales potentials for manufacturers.”18 Producers of comic books would take advantage of this burgeoning market, advertising cheap, shareable leisure entertainment to youth. As with the origins of “adolescence,” the development of comic books can, in fact, be traced back to the nineteenth century, though it wasn’t until the mid-1930s that their form coalesced into something we would recognize as a “comic book” today. Early comic books drew on decades of comic publication in newspapers, story lines and conventions from pulp or “dime novels,” and the emerging youth market to create a relatively distinct and lucrative product. Newspapers began printing comics in their Sunday editions in the nineteenth century, and syndicates began publishing reprints of their weekly comics around the turn of the twentieth century. Child characters were a fixture in many of these fin de siècle comics, including the Yellow Kid of Hogan’s Alley and the titular Katzenjammer Kids, attesting to the interest of the American reading public with young folks.19 (These early strips also reflect recapitulationist associations of immigrants with perpetual youthfulness, as both strips featured the humorous antics of non-Anglo-American children who never age, thus aiding in the perception of nonwhiteness as a form of permanent youth.20) Several new publishers began experimenting with booklets of original content in the first half of the 1930s. Many of these comic booklets borrowed themes and conventions from popular pulp novel series such as The Shadow. Pulp novels tended toward detective and adventure stories, and while they were popular with young folks, they were geared toward general audiences, as were early comic books. However, the introduction of Superman in 1938’s Action Comics #1 launched what would become the most successful genre of comics and firmly linked the medium with youthfulness. Superman was an immediate hit, especially among young readers. Sales of Action Comics grew rapidly, and numerous copycat characters
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were created shortly thereafter, including Batman. As comics historian Jean-Paul Gabilliet observes, “[The superhero’s] appearance was the phenomenon needed to turn comic books into a discrete medium”;21 crucially, the youth market is what made the superhero into a phenomenon. Thus the most significant innovation in the history of comics hinged on the nascent youth market, and comic producers quickly pivoted to attract youth specifically. While flashy colors and exciting adventure stories surely appealed to these youths, the concept of the comic superhero also appears primed to touch a nerve with children and adolescents. By the late 1930s, American adolescents were frequently hailed as the best hope for the future, but the framing of adolescence as a time of preparing for adulthood, a time in which many are liable to go astray, created a sense of uncertainty. Would the youth succeed in becoming a contributing member of society? Witnessing the bumbling, drab, or shallow alter egos suddenly transform into powerful, loved, purposeful superheroes gave young readers hope for their own transformation. Importantly, many of these readers were in fact prepubescent. Comic book reading was astonishingly popular among upper-elementary readers, with as many as nine in ten children surveyed saying they read comics regularly.22 Superhero comics manifested the fantasy of growth into an idealized figure for these young readers, for whom maturity was still merely an imagined future.23 In 1940, in a bid to draw ever more grubby nickels and dimes from the pockets of children and adolescents, Detective Comics introduced Batman’s sidekick, Robin—the first youthful recurring character in superhero comics. (Jimmy Olsen, youngish friend of Superman, was first introduced on the radio in 1940 and did not become a regular character in comics until several years later.24) Robin was designed to embody a youthful fantasy of being “in training” to become a superhero— a ten-or twelve- year- old reader may struggle to see themselves as Batman, but Robin? Those are more appropriately sized shoes to daydream about filling. Arguably the most recognizable cognate of Robin’s early characterization is the wildly popular film character Andy Hardy. Part of a sixteen-film franchise that ran from 1937–1943, Andy Hardy was a plucky, endearing adolescent portrayed by the aforementioned Mickey
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Rooney. Hardy was frequently billed as a typical American adolescent, and indeed his identity matched that of both recapitulation theory and life-span development theory’s idealized figure: white, male, middle class, heterosexual. Robin was introduced just a few years after the first Andy Hardy film debuted. Both were baby-faced, curious, good- hearted boys, gently governed by a bodily representation of moral and paternal authority: for Andy, his father, Judge Hardy, and for Robin, Batman. In this regard, both boys likewise demonstrate the proper way to “grow up”—namely, respectful of and aspiring to white male adulthood. The Rebellious, Recognizable Adolescent Although Andy occasionally bent the rules and found himself in a bit of a pickle, few of the traits and behaviors that incessantly marked the Teen Titans as adolescents in 1980 are obvious in figures like Andy Hardy or 1940s Robin. Where was the rebellion? The fraught relationship with adults? That quintessential adolescent angst? Early Robin is agreeable, pliant, and certainly never surly. Yet by the mid-1950s, a recognizably rebellious American teenager started to make appearances in film, spreading later to other media as well. Abetted by increased economic freedom and intragenerational socialization opportunities for many postwar adolescents, the “teen rebel” figure stoked anxieties about adolescent independence in general audience films such as Blackboard Jungle (1955). The film portrays delinquent high schoolers, lacking in adult supervision and reminiscent of early twentieth-century street-corner societies, who are eventually tamed by a wise and patient (white male) teacher. Similar films likewise illustrated tense adult-youth relations, deploying rock and roll soundtracks or melodrama to emphasize the rebelliousness of its young protagonists, including Rock around the Clock (1956) and, most famously, Rebel without a Cause (1955).25 This teen rebel figure performed important cultural work in the context of the Cold War and American opposition to Soviet conformity. Recall that Erik Erikson’s Childhood and Society influenced many Americans’ perceptions of adolescents in the 1950s and that the major task he assigned to adolescents was identity formation. This process in fact required a certain level of rebellion, of trying on new aspects
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of an identity and rejecting older ones (think experimental hairstyles, listening to rock and roll, and professing disdain for older generations and their culture). As Leerom Medovoi succinctly describes, Childhood and Society’s teenager “enacts the requisite dramas of rebellion prior to adulthood. Thus, if an adolescent exhibits a properly rebellious spirit before growing into a conforming suburbanite . . . she has effectively displayed the American self ’s sovereignty without necessarily sacrificing the eventual conformity of the adult.”26 Like the turn of the century, the midcentury presented another crisis of masculinity and maturity—this time the threats were suburbanization, mass consumption, and their muddling of American autonomy—and James Dean’s “teen rebel” supplanted Teddy Roosevelt’s “rough rider” as the folk hero du jour. In both cases, the idea of adolescence proved to be a crucial mechanism for maintaining the status quo: it was a convenient means of limiting “true” or idealized maturity to white males at the fin de siècle and later sanctioned as an embodiment of rugged American individualism. Portrayals of teens in popular culture simultaneously illustrate anxieties about adulthood, adolescence, and the nation and offer suggestions for how to assuage these anxieties. As images of rebellious teens and their long-suffering adult counterparts eased Cold War anxieties, “rebellion,” angst, and fraught relationships with adults came to be understood as essential aspects of adolescence. Even the polite, innocuous Robin was eventually written as restless and angsty, as The New Teen Titans illustrates. In time, cultural products focused on adolescents aimed at broad audiences, like Blackboard Jungle, were eclipsed by cultural products about teenagers for teenagers, and the emphasis on adults in adolescent lives in these narratives faded into the background. The American adolescent identity had crystallized, and by the 1980s, it was routine to see stories about hip, independent teenagers with little adult presence or involvement at all (The New Teen Titans included, as well as John Hughes films such as The Breakfast Club [1985], novels like Francine Pascal’s Sweet Valley High book series [1983], and television programs like Saved by the Bell [1989]27). Yet even as other media largely ditched portrayals of adults in stories meant for adolescents, superhero comic books persisted as a
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medium that often depicted such relationships in stories aimed at children and teens. The adult hero / adolescent sidekick relationship continued in force throughout the midcentury, even gaining some notable pairings, including Kid Flash (sidekick to the Flash; 1959), Aqualad (sidekick to Aquaman; 1960), and Wonder Girl (pseudosidekick to Wonder Woman; 1965).28 Though comics of the 1980s would, like film and television, begin to draw firmer lines between “adult” and “youth” entertainment, the superhero-and-trusty-sidekick trope nonetheless provides a lens to interpret the relationship between adolescents and adults throughout the twentieth and into the twenty-first century. This superhero/sidekick trope has endured especially in Batman and Robin stories, excepting a brief breakup of the Dynamic Duo in the 1970s and early ’80s. Yet because Robin is simultaneously a product and producer of adolescent identity, the character has changed dramatically over time. Alterations to the figure represent real-time reactions to the morphing meaning of adolescence (Robin-as-product), and creators have imbued Robin with new signifiers and attitudes that contribute to and perpetuate shifting notions of what adolescence is and looks like (Robin-as-producer). Authors have also created entirely new Robins that respond to specific cultural issues, including racism and women’s liberation, though these images are always in dialogue with the image of idealized adulthood (read: bourgeois white masculinity) represented by Batman / Bruce Wayne. Through the long and ongoing story arc of the very first Robin, Dick Grayson, decades of creators have addressed culture-war issues surrounding adolescent sex and sexuality. The next chapter reads this Robin as a story of how mainstream cultural producers “make” adolescence in relation to sexuality.
CH A P T E R 2
ROBIN, NIGHTWING, BATMAN The Shifting Sexuality of Dick Grayson
When Robin first appeared in 1940, it was in the form of an orphaned circus performer called Richard (Dick) Grayson. Robin / Dick Grayson was a product of America’s fascination with the newly defined adolescent, and he was created to both reflect and entice superhero comics’ largest and most impressionable demographic—young people. At the time of his introduction, Dick Grayson represented the adolescent in its ideal form: he is white, male, and politely subservient to the powerful and righteous adult in the room (or cave), Batman. Dick Grayson was prime for perception as just the type of person who may someday become a hero or a leader, according to the terms of “proper” maturation laid out in the first half of the twentieth century. By the 2000s, he had become just that—even stepping into the role of Batman himself. Yet Robin / Dick Grayson’s narrative journey to adulthood was not an easy one: his growth and transformation throughout the twentieth century were driven in no small part by severe cultural anxiety surrounding adolescent sexuality. In modern memory, Dick Grayson is not often remembered as being an icon of adolescence and “proper” maturation—instead, he is mostly remembered for the connotations of queerness he brought to stories featuring Robin in the midcentury. A confluence of factors has built up this image of Robin, including a now-famous (albeit methodologically unsound) study by child psychiatrist Fredric Wertham and the campy 1960s television show Batman. Even for those unaware of such studies or who have never
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Robin, Nightwing, Batman 33
seen an episode of the television program, there is often a sense that Robin is just a little bit weird. I myself had this sense for most of my life—though I didn’t pick up a comic book until my midtwenties, Christopher Nolan had taught me that Batman could be badass and cool. But Robin? I had my doubts. (Needless to say, I am at this point fully converted.) The result of this collective memory is that Robin / Dick Grayson is frequently derided and parodied by those outside of comics fandom, and those within comics fandom often find themselves defending the character’s heterosexuality, which many writers have bent over backward to portray. But most conversations about Robin’s sexuality fail to consider what it might mean if young Dick Grayson both is an icon of adolescence and “proper” maturation and carries with him connotations of queerness. I find this to be a much more interesting and pressing question than “Is he or isn’t he?” If we accept such a premise and continue to think about Robin as both a product and a producer of ideas about adolescence, suddenly the persistent uncertainty about his sexuality changes tone. As I described in chapter 1, adolescents are fresh out of innocent, pure childhood, but mainstream cultural ideals likewise set the expectation that they will someday be heterosexual reproducers of society—in other words, the “architects of adolescence” worked themselves into a bit of a conceptual pickle. Caught between innocent childhood and knowing, reproductive adulthood, the notion of adolescent sexuality has been and remains complicated. Robin / Dick Grayson is a product of this rather tenuous situation, and when writers of Dick Grayson give him girlfriends, write those girlfriends out of the story, age him up, and finally grant him long-term sexual relationships and fatherhood, comic creators are actually responding in real time to anxieties about adolescent sexuality. Rather than reductively argue that Robin is gay for this reason or isn’t gay for that one, I am interested in the links writers have established between Dick Grayson’s sexuality and his maturation throughout his eighty-year narrative. I’ve chosen to organize this chapter around Dick Grayson’s three costumed identities: Robin, Nightwing, and Batman. Through Dick Grayson’s transformations from Robin to Nightwing and Nightwing to Batman, we can see creators engaging
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with the socially prescribed maturation process and finding therein a “solution” to Robin’s lingering queerness. Writers lean heavily on heterosexual activity, heteronormative relationships, and parenting to signal Dick Grayson’s growth from adolescent to adult, demarcating each of Dick Grayson’s identity transitions with a shot of straightness right in the arm. In this manner, Robin / Dick Grayson produces an image of adolescence that is escapable only through heterosexual activity. At stake in these analyses is a deeper understanding of how adult writers of adolescent popular media communicate scripts of sexual behavior and maturation to their audiences—how they “make” this aspect of adolescence. Early Robin / Dick Grayson resembled the idealized adolescent by being a polite white boy, but following the trajectory of his character over roughly eight decades of comic history reveals creators’ active resistance to Robin’s potential queerness. In this, creators have perpetuated the harmful notion that being a “grown-up” also requires straightness, slowly approached and strictly defined. “The Sensational Character Find of 1940!”: Dick Grayson as Robin Swinging into the pages of comics in 1940, Dick Grayson’s introduction and origin story are both featured in Detective Comics #38, “Robin: The Boy Wonder.”1 This issue and ensuing story lines featuring Robin connect his youth to a form of queerness, primarily through youthful innocence and absence of knowledge (in general and regarding sex specifically). Not only does the nickname “Boy Wonder” imply immaturity, but the cover art of Robin’s debut issue makes his youthful contrast to Batman unmistakable. The cover shows Batman standing erect wearing all dark colors— gray, black, cobalt blue. He seems to be attempting a smile, but it looks more like a grimace. The majority of Batman’s face is covered by a hooded mask attached to a black cape. In his right hand, he holds a large circus hoop with paper stretched over it, and bursting through the hoop is a smiling Robin. He is drawn to be approximately half the size of Batman and wears a brightly colored costume that leaves his legs and arms bare. He wears a small black eyemask, but most of
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Figure 2. Dick Grayson / Robin, in his debut issue, takes a solemn, candlelit oath to join Batman’s crusade against crime. Credit: Bob Kane, Bill Finger, and Jerry Robinson, “The Sensational Character Find of 1940! Robin: The Boy Wonder,” Detective Comics #38 (New York: DC Comics, 1940).
his face remains visible. His relatively small size, messy hair, and happy expression give the impression that Robin is very different from the large, composed, serious-faced, adult Batman. Dick Grayson is the son of acrobat/trapeze artist duo the Flying Graysons, employed by Haly’s Circus, and already a skilled aerialist himself. When Mr. Haly is shaken down by Boss Zucco’s mob, he refuses to purchase their “protection.” As a result, the mob rigs John and Mary Grayson’s trapeze ropes to snap midperformance, and young Dick watches his parents fall to their deaths. Mr. Haly is forced to make a deal with the mob to prevent further “accidents,” while
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Dick attempts to go to the police. He is stopped in his tracks by Bruce Wayne, who witnessed the accident and is aware that Zucco owns the police. Bruce Wayne takes Grayson in as his ward and eventually as his crime-fighting partner. Together they successfully take down Zucco and his mob, restoring order to the town and avenging the deaths of Dick’s parents. As the cover of Detective Comics #38 proclaims, Robin / Dick Grayson is the “Boy Wonder,” though many sources indicate he was supposed to be about thirteen—an age most Americans today would consider a teenager rather than a child. It would take about thirty years of publishing stories about Robin before he was rebranded as the “Teen Wonder.”2 This linguistic alteration to Robin’s extended nickname makes sense, since Americans’ collective understanding of childhood (“boy”) preceded common recognition of adolescence (“teen”). Though the deployment of adolescence was well underway by 1940, if Robin had been introduced as the “Teen Wonder,” it would have been rather confusing—the word “teenager” was barely in usage yet and far from common, let alone the abbreviated version of the word. The child, on the other hand, had been a recognizable demographic for over half a century. Later understandings of adolescence as a life stage interposing childhood and adulthood, therefore, would not have come about had the child not first been named and described, a process that reached its zenith in the nineteenth century. The construction of childhood also left an important imprint on mainstream beliefs about adolescent sexuality, which would become a relatively major hiccup for writers of Robin / Dick Grayson over the next few decades. Robin’s Lingering Childhood Innocence Like adolescence, the child was not always understood the same way it is in modern America—it, too, was “deployed.” Of course, children have always existed, but interpretations of them have varied dramatically across time and space.3 The notion of the child that dominated the American cultural landscape at the time of Robin’s introduction (and remains recognizable to us in the twenty-first century) was most closely identified with innocence, defined in large part by a lack of knowledge about or access to sexuality.
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The defining features of American childhood coalesced in the nineteenth century, when several strains of thought about children crystallized into a pure, innocent whole. In the colonial era, as Karin Calvert’s analysis of children in early American portraiture illustrates, children were not as distinct a social and political demographic as they are today. For the most part, this body of evidence reveals that “[childhood] had no positive attributes of its own considered worthy of expression. A child was merely an adult in the making, and childhood, as a period of physical and spiritual vulnerability, was a deficiency to be overcome.”4 Yet in the Victorian era, it was this very vulnerability once viewed as a “deficiency” that came to be the attribute most closely associated with and celebrated in children. During the colonial era in America, invading European settlers were influenced by Calvinist doctrine: children were presumed to be tiny containers of debauchery, born with sin, who must be brought to the light of heaven through proper supervision, instruction, and sacrament (the “spiritual vulnerability” Calvert describes). In time, and tracking alongside such religious movements as the Second Great Awakening, childhood vulnerability transformed into childhood innocence. The dominant image of the child in the nineteenth century drew on this lack of defining or positive features of children to promote a perception of children as “purified of any stains (or any substance),” in the words of literary scholar James Kincaid.5 By the second half of the nineteenth century, children were idealized as innocent and pure, utterly without sin, unknowing of sex, and actually closer to God than wicked adults.6 Crucial to our discussion of Robin’s sexuality (or lack thereof), childhood innocence and its distance from sexuality make room for alternatives to “normative” sexuality. Kathryn Bond Stockton argues that this absence of sexuality can result in the child being “queered by innocence.”7 In other words, the forced innocence of childhood makes room for queerness in that delaying all sexuality means also delaying heterosexuality: “Despite our culture’s assuming every child’s straightness, the child can only be ‘not-yet-straight,’ since it, too, is not allowed to be sexual.”8 It is within this detachment from straightness that queerness abides, and the simultaneous delay of sexuality and approach toward it happens during adolescence. In trying to
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avoid accusations of glamorizing adolescent sex, comic book creators unwittingly made room for queer readings of their texts. The young Dick Grayson carries the potential to be read as “queered by innocence” due to his youth, but his backstory as an orphaned circus performer communicates yet additional layers of strangeness. As a trapeze artist, he was introduced with a costumed identity somewhat separate from his real self already in place that connoted a form of softness and fluidity.9 Unlike Batman, whose alter ego of billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne exudes masculinity through a long family history of wealth and power in Gotham (and having his pick of the city’s bachelorettes), Robin was coded from the beginning as feminine, flexible, and nomadic. Dick Grayson’s colorful acrobat costume, collapsible home, and movable life all contrast sharply with the groundedness and seriousness of the Wayne family’s legacy and contribute to a reading of Grayson as already queer. In the first half of the twentieth century, children and adolescents fending for themselves likewise denoted a form of precocity that was increasingly considered a sign of degeneracy—as with youthful innocence, youthful deviance was inextricable from ideas about sexuality. Adolescence had been “deployed” through various social and political mechanisms, and despite adolescence being separated from childhood, these mechanisms generally involved increased surveillance and administration. As Elisabeth Young-Bruehl writes, “By raising the working age, raising the mandatory schooling age, protecting children from controversies, and making sure that they had no sex education or knowledge of birth control, educators were hoping to create homogeneity where there was none.”10 This lengthy preparation for adulthood meant that adolescent social and sexual maturation was closely monitored to ensure slow development. Though eventual independence and vigor were ideal, early twentieth-century recapitulationists asserted that precocity in youth led to profligacy, promiscuity, and exploration of nonprocreative sexuality. The term “streetwise” is rather informative here: it implies a form of wisdom or knowledge available to orphans or children who spend time unsupervised on the streets; it was fear of this knowledge, which would corrupt innocence, that connected early twentieth-century anxieties surrounding hooliganism and sexual deviance.
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In order to short-circuit fears of “streetwiseness” in their character, writers had Dick Grayson / Robin rescued from orphanhood by Bruce Wayne, like many otherwise angelic orphans who found themselves couched in comfortable domesticity by the end of their stories (think of Little Orphan Annie or Oliver Twist). Writers also worked hard to illustrate Robin’s innocence and lack of knowledge in his early story lines. Too much knowledge or experience would indicate either that Robin is a deviant youth or that he is no longer a youth at all. Authors penned the Boy Wonder with wide-eyed curiosity and reverence of Batman’s own smarts, reinforcing the “rightness” of Batman while ensuring readers saw Robin as an innocent. Though Batman trusted Robin as his partner in crimefighting, early Robin stories depict him as rather endearingly clueless. Historian J. L. Bell notes that “Robin was just as important as someone Batman does not tell everything to. A thrilling adventure or puzzling mystery depends on readers not knowing just how things will turn out. . . . Robin functions as the readers’ baffled but curious stand-in.”11 These moments typically play out similar to the panel in Batman #2 (1940), in which Robin asks, “What’s your plan, Batman?” Batman responds with a very lengthy explanation of how he will capture, subdue, and transport the villainous Joker, where he will be treated by psychiatrists and hopefully “cured.”12 In all, Batman’s response is a whopping forty-eight words in one speech bubble, all thanks to Robin’s initial four-word question. Robin also gives Batman the opportunity to explain various scientific, historical, and mythological happenings. In World’s Finest Comics #30 (1947), Batman and Robin are both trapped in a windowless room as carbon monoxide pours in. Batman asks Robin for some salt water as Robin cries, “I hope you know what you’re doing—’cause I don’t!” Robin somehow manages to find the salt water, and Batman uses blotting paper, telephone wire, “one old copper penny . . . one new zinc-coated penny, of the type issued during the war,” and the salinized water to make a battery, to enliven the telephone wires, to send an SOS message (whew!).13 Similarly complicated situations occurred regularly, leaving readers to conclude that Robin knows very little, whereas Batman knows very much. While these moves counteracted indications of streetwiseness or deviance, they reinforced the potential to perceive Robin as “queered
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by innocence.” Robin’s innocence and unknowingness contrasted sharply with Batman’s wisdom, his impulsiveness and reckless risk- taking make Batman appear capable and professional in comparison, and his distractingly bright costume and demeanor cast Batman’s relative reserve into high relief. In short, Robin normalizes Batman’s otherwise odd enterprise at the expense of his own normativity. (What’s weirder than a nonsuperpowered thirty- year- old guy in a black cape fighting crime at night? You guessed it—a nonsuperpowered thirteen-year-old boy in a yellow cape and green hot pants fighting crime at night.) As Neil Shyminsky summarizes, “Although ostensibly growing into full-fledged heterosexual and hero status, [sidekicks] are presently too weak, too innocent, and in need of a particular sort of guidance: at once both like and unlike the heteronormative hero” (emphasis mine).14 Accordingly, Robin absorbs any latent homoeroticism in Batman stories, clearing the way for Batman / Bruce Wayne to be perceived as fully heterosexual. Robin’s adolescent recklessness is likewise a feminizing force, offering Batman the opportunity to assert his traditional heterosexual masculinity. In Batman #11 (1942), for instance, Robin is captured by a gaggle of villains in a sewer after chasing them alone, where he is held underwater and almost drowned. Batman, of course, is able to rescue Robin, but the text of the comic makes clear that Robin is an “impatient, foolhardy, young daredevil.”15 In fact, Robin disobeys Batman’s orders to stay home and is captured by villains in his very second appearance.16 Again and again in Batman and Detective Comics of the Golden Age, authors describe Robin as “reckless,” “impulsive,” “impatient,” “impetuous,” or some variation thereof.17 Like his innocence, Robin’s impulsivity helped code him as a youthful character, but it also resulted in Robin appearing as a damsel in distress on more than one occasion. This feminization of Robin remains a recurring theme, as he is captured time and again in comics, on television, and in film—often by a female villain.18 “His Young Friend Robin”: The Anticomics Crusade While young Robin’s queerness may have freed Batman to be read as traditionally masculine, heterosexual, and mature, some anticomics crusaders of the midcentury saw Robin instead as an object of affection
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for Batman. The anticomics crusade was an outgrowth of culture wars in which comic books became a scapegoat for anxiety about juvenile delinquency (of which homosexual behavior was considered an aspect), as the pendulum of American beliefs about teenagers swung hard away from fresh-faced Andy Hardy types. Post–World War II teens armed with spending money and free time spurred moral panic over juvenile delinquency, while films such as Blackboard Jungle (1955) and Rebel without a Cause (1955) vividly portrayed the dangers of youth indulged or unsupervised.19 The anticomics movement began almost as early as comics themselves, though it did not garner much national attention until the 1950s. Parents, religious leaders, literary critics, and others agitated for—and sometimes won, at a local level—restricted sales of comics.20 During a series of widely publicized Senate hearings on juvenile delinquency in 1954, comic books were identified as a catalyst of dangerous behavior, and their censorship was presented as an obvious solution to rid the nation of this scourge. By this time, superhero comic books took up a significantly smaller share of newsstand real estate than they had shortly after Superman and Batman’s introductions; crime and horror comics, often accompanied by violent and gory images, had also become popular in the 1940s, with increasing publication late in the decade. While these latter narratives were considered particularly dangerous, superhero comics were by no means immune to criticism. Though he was far from the only voice raising the alarm about comics, child psychiatrist and author Fredric Wertham remain the most well known of these critics.21 Wertham was highly critical of all genres of comic books, and while his views were rather progressive in terms of racial injustice, the same cannot be said of his stance on sexuality.22 In his 1954 book Seduction of the Innocent, Wertham identifies Batman and Robin as promoting homosexual desire in youths—a form of degeneracy and a precursor to other delinquent behavior, according to Wertham. He describes Batman and Robin comics as “like a wish dream of two homosexuals living together,” assuring readers that “only someone ignorant of the fundamentals of psychiatry and of the psychopathology of sex can fail to realize a subtle atmosphere of homoeroticism which pervades the adventure of the mature ‘Batman’ and his young friend ‘Robin.’”23 Andy Medhurst, who wittily
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embraces queer readings of both Robin and Batman in his “Batman, Deviance and Camp,” states that “the child, for Wertham, seems an unusually innocent, blank slate waiting to be written on.”24 Yet it was not unusual at all for Wertham to assume the innocence and blankness of children. On the contrary, by the mid-twentieth century, children had been conceptually hollowed out for decades, and their innocence was a key unspoken assumption of the moral crusaders’ arguments. The anticomics crusade was defined largely by fears that comics and other media were corrupting these inherently innocent youths, and such corruption would lead to delinquency and degeneracy—in short, the anticomics crusade was motivated in part by anxiety over adolescent sexuality. It follows, then, that the response to the anticomics crusade gave similar credence to concerns about teen sexuality. The Senate hearings on juvenile delinquency in 1954 did impel major publishing houses in the comics industry to begin heavily censoring their own products (those that survived, that is: many titles from a variety of presses were canceled outright), eventually implementing a formal censorship mechanism called the Comics Code Authority. The Code’s seal of approval ensured grocers and newsstand operators that a comic’s content was acceptable for children, and thus it could be sold with little fear of parental retribution. For writers whose titles featured Robin / Dick Grayson, the Code translated to forceful attempts to heteronormalize Robin (i.e., make him appear more heterosexual). Comic creators shoehorned Robin into a series of awkward “relationships” in the late 1950s and early 1960s. In Batman #107 (1957), for example, Robin finds himself entranced by the beautiful young figure skater Vera Lovely. They even go on a soda shop date, but Vera’s manager interferes before they can have a second date—worried about her public image, he tells each of them separately that the other broke the date. Even though the manager realizes the error of his ways and helps Dick and Vera “patch up their misunderstanding” by the end of the issue, Robin still tells Batman, “From now on, I’m keeping my mind on criminals, not girls!”25 The introduction of the first Bat-Girl in 1961 saw Dick Grayson similarly reject romantic interest. At the end of her first issue, Bat-Girl (also known as Betty Kane) expresses her excitement for the next adventure: “Oh I can hardly wait! And perhaps
Figure 3. Bat-Girl’s debut provided further evidence that Robin had zero chill. Credit: Bill Finger and Sheldon Moldoff, “Bat-Girl!,” Batman #139 (New York: DC Comics, 1961).
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Robin and I can work on a case together too! Well Robin—is it a date?” she asks, to which Robin, aghast, simply replies, “Ulp!”26 Writers in both instances (and many others) were coming up against the impossibility of portraying socially appropriate adolescent sexuality. Robin serving as the “Boy” Wonder or Batman’s adolescent sidekick precluded any consistent portrayal of him as sexual at all. Were Robin to engage in sexual activity, his status as normatively adolescent would be compromised: he would read either as maturing, perhaps a little too quickly, or as deviant. Consider how Gayle Rubin’s seminal 1984 essay “Thinking Sex” indirectly asserts the impossibility of “normal” adolescent sexuality in Western culture. Rubin contrasts traits of socially acceptable, “normal” sex (heterosexual, married, procreative, in private, vanilla/non-BDSM, etc.) with those of “abnormal” sex (homosexual, unmarried, nonprocreative, in public, sadomasochistic, etc.).27 “Same generation” and “cross-generational” appear on the “normal” and “abnormal” sides, respectively, which might imply that sex between two sixteen-year-olds would land primarily in the “normal” set. However, the other descriptors all indicate that “same generation” also means “mature” (sex within marriage and in private, for instance, most often involves a collection of more than sixteen years to accomplish). In this sense, youthful sex is always abnormal, always unnatural, even when it meets other criteria describing “normal” sex. This always-already-abnormalness of youthful sexuality is evidenced still today by the pathologization of adolescent sex (in the United States, only eighteen states require schools to teach contraceptive education, whereas thirty-seven require information encouraging abstinence28) and the sensationalizing of irrefutably sexually active teens in myriad popular culture artifacts, such as MTV’s hit reality show Teen Mom.29 Despite the stars of this program having engaged in heterosexual, procreative, otherwise “normal” sex, they are framed as deviant and exotic for their sexual irresponsibility and excess—their youth makes their otherwise normal sexuality strange. In an effort to ward off accusations of glamorizing adolescent sex, comic book writers generally avoided portraying Robin with any semblance of sexuality for the first several years of his existence. Yet the avoidance of sexuality writers had relied on up until now had been
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called out—decades prior to Kathryn Bond Stockton’s work, Wertham and other moral crusaders seemingly identified the absence of heterosexuality as a form of queerness on its own. For the newly defined adolescent, too little sexuality or too much sexuality seemed to be the only two options: someone like Robin was meant to be, paradoxically, simultaneously not sexual and heterosexual, innocent like a child but well on their way to becoming a reproducer of society. Following the anticomics crusade, writers abutted this rather impossible situation. They hinted at Robin’s heterosexuality in an attempt to ward off accusations of homosexuality, but because they worked within the confines of the always-already abnormal nature of adolescent sexuality, actual sexual activity involving Robin remained something they could not comfortably portray. As an adolescent character, heterosexual activity for Robin would not have made Robin appear more normal; it would have merely made his sexuality appear deviant in a different way. In order for heterosexual activity to appear normal for Robin, writers would have to age him, a tactic they eventually turned to in the 1970s. Aging Robin Up Prior attempts to heteronormalize Robin had consisted of introducing female characters in order to hint at Robin’s heterosexuality and then quickly writing them off so as to maintain his youthful innocence. Beginning with 1969’s Batman #217, creators began to instead depict Dick Grayson / Robin’s maturation and give him actual girlfriends, reinforcing the notion that maturity and heterosexuality go hand in hand, while youth will always connote a form of queerness. This editorial decision implies that creators perceived a lack of other options for Robin, as it marks a significant deviation from normal patterns in comic book publishing—because individual development, which indicates the passage of time, is incredibly rare in comics. In his well- known essay “The Myth of the Superman,” Umberto Eco describes superhero comics’ serialized monthly release as “aesthetically and commercially deprived of the possibility of narrative development.”30 In order to prevent a sense of characters’ progression toward death, Eco notes that in Superman (and other superhero) stories, “the notion of time which ties one episode to another” breaks down, because “a
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confused notion of time is the only condition which makes the story credible.”31 The serialized comic narrative itself thus rhetoricizes an embrace of what Jack Halberstam terms “queer time,” or a general rejection of “temporal frames of bourgeois reproduction and family.”32 It seems that DC Comics creators understood that defying comic books’ “queer time” nature, granting Robin more knowledge and experience, and embracing a notion of time connected to heterosexual reproduction were the key to affirming his heterosexuality. Writers ventured into Dick Grayson’s maturation with much trepidation, beginning with 1969’s Batman #217, in which Robin is depicted as leaving for college. His typical chipper attitude is on display as he consoles Bruce Wayne and Alfred: “Aw, c’mon fellas—we’re all grown up now! Stop acting like you’re attending my—funeral!” He hedges a bit when next asserting his maturity: “I’m a man now! ’Least—that’s what my draft card says . . . Plus my acceptance at Hudson University!”33 Even in this moment, writer Frank Robbins imbues Dick Grayson with uncertainty about his maturity level; though he has attained some markers of adulthood, he is unsure whether or not he is truly a “man.” In the early 1970s, Robin was finally rebranded from “Boy Wonder” to “Teen Wonder,” though as a college freshman, he had probably been a teen for some time already. Efforts to make Robin appear more mature in these comics again relied on heterosexual relationships as an obvious marker of adulthood, but these efforts still fell relatively flat due to constant reminders of Robin’s adolescence and the difficulty of perceiving adolescents as normatively heterosexual. Robin was given a college sweetheart named Lori Elton, who appeared in the titles Batman Family and Detective Comics. In their detailed exploration of the Batman Family series, Fernando Gabriel Pagnoni Berns and Cesar Alfonso Marino note that Lori was introduced as already being Robin’s girlfriend, with no real backstory or even a meet-cute, which they argue “indicated that the editors and writers were anxious to sexualize Grayson.”34 Things between Robin and Lori don’t work out, and he later declares his love for Barbara Gordon, who is in this series significantly older than he is (she is an elected U.S. congressperson, meaning she is at least twenty-five years old, whereas Robin is an eighteen-or nineteen-year-old college freshman).
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Even in this heterosexually charged conversation with Barbara, however, Robin again reveals a rather slippery grasp of maturity: he begins his proclamation of love with “I’m a big boy now and I have to say something you might not want to hear.”35 Barbara does not reciprocate Robin’s feelings, and the two costumed crimefighters go their separate ways, leaving Robin romantically single, professionally partnerless, and looking like not quite as big of a boy as he thought. Writers appear to have struggled with granting Robin an aura of heteronormativity without committing to heterosexuality, as his lingering adolescence (“Teen Wonder”) implied sexual activity for him could still read as deviant. Beginning in Batman Family #6, Robin the Teen Wonder battles with a female villain who calls herself the “daughter” of various Batman nemeses—Joker’s Daughter, Scarecrow’s Daughter, and so on.36 While Batman’s liaisons with female villains like Catwoman and Poison Ivy have almost always had sexual undertones (or overtones, especially in the case of Ivy’s debut as a seductress in 196637), Robin’s tangles with this villainous girl are not presented as a temptation for Robin and do little to amplify his heterosexuality. Instead, they serve to feminize him, just as his frequent capture and rescue had in earlier comics. This “daughter” is not in any way a major criminal or a dangerous maniac; she commits small crimes such as larceny, allowing Robin to display little more superheroism than an average beat cop. In the end, the villain is not even really a villain (though she is in fact the daughter of one: Duela Dent, child of Harvey Dent / Two-Face38) but merely trying to catch Robin’s attention so she can become a hero herself. Antagonistic female characters such as Huntress only began to provide sexual tension after Dick Grayson was rebranded as the adult Nightwing, a shift that began with Dick Grayson joining the Teen Titans in 1980. Nightwing: Dick Grayson Becomes a (Straight) Man By 1980, Robin had been mostly separated from Batman for eleven real-time years in the comics. In seeking to capitalize on the popularity of Marvel superhero teams such as the X-Men, DC Comics enlisted Robin in a revamping of the Teen Titans, an all-adolescent superhero team. Written by Marv Wolfman and illustrated by George Pérez, The New Teen Titans comic followed the adventures of a youthful team
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of superheroes, all roughly eighteen to twenty-one years old, some of whom were former sidekicks, including Dick Grayson / Robin. This move would prove pivotal in Dick Grayson’s maturation. Though The New Teen Titans echoed Batman Family in relying on heterosexual relationships as a signifier of adulthood, the 1980s title sincerely committed to aging Dick Grayson and illustrating a believable— and physical—heterosexual relationship. Dick Grayson’s first canonical sexual relationship is with fellow Titan Starfire, a busty, long-legged alien princess (who would eventually pick up a side gig as a fashion model). Writer Marv Wolfman perfectly aligns the trajectory of this relationship—and when sexual activity enters into it—with Dick Grayson’s separation from Batman, abandonment of his youthful Robin identity, and adoption of his mature alter ego, Nightwing. The first issue of The New Teen Titans, dated December 1980, introduced Starfire, and in the second issue, Starfire and Robin share their first kiss. As it turns out, Starfire’s alien species can acquire language via any form of physical contact, though she chooses mouth-to-mouth because she found Robin “really cute” and felt that the contact would be “more enjoyable this way.”39 Despite Starfire’s clear interest in Dick Grayson / Robin, author Marv Wolfman maintained a “will they / won’t they” romantic tension until 1982’s issue #26. Even then, Robin’s confession is less than convincing: “I know I love you,” Starfire tells him, to which Robin responds, “I only think I may love you.”40 The slow burn of Robin and Starfire’s relationship recalls the gradual progression toward adulthood that had been sentimentalized since the early twentieth century, demonstrating Wolfman’s understanding of cultural expectations regarding adolescent sexuality even as he worked to portray a mature romantic relationship between the two young characters. Creators of The New Teen Titans emphasized the romantic relationship between Dick Grayson and Starfire as both catalyst for and evidence of his maturation. In issue #39, Dick proclaims, “I’m giving up being Robin.” When Starfire asks if he is leaving her too, he describes his decision to give up being Robin as “the opposite” of leaving Starfire. Up until now, he claims, he still thought of himself as “swinging alongside the Batman, still his kid partner.” But he assures his teammates,
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“I’m not the same kid . . . I simply can’t be Robin anymore. I have to become someone—an adult. Whoever Dick Grayson decides to be.” Later, as he takes off the last of his Robin costume, Starfire reaches out to assist: “Let me help, honey.” Dick replies, “You already have. More than you know.”41 In this scene, Wolfman and Pérez intimately link Dick Grayson’s maturation and heterosexuality: the final jettisoning of his Robin identity becomes a moment of sexually charged disrobing. It is Starfire who removes the last vestiges of “Robin” from Dick Grayson’s body, as he notes the importance their relationship has had in his personal growth. Within five real-time months of shedding his Robin identity, Wolfman and Pérez debuted Dick Grayson as the adult hero Nightwing.42 In the issue following this debut, he is shown in bed with Starfire, the first mainstream comic book characters to be depicted as such.43 It is of note that Dick Grayson and Starfire are only depicted as sexually active after Dick Grayson becomes Nightwing; as Robin, Dick Grayson was still connected to adolescent identity and its inherent estrangement from heterosexuality. Though cultural attitudes toward adolescent sexuality were changing, it was still considered exotic and
Figure 4. Dick Grayson, at this point known as Nightwing, is evidently sleeping with fellow Titan Starfire. Credit: Marv Wolfman and George Pérez, “Shadows in the Dark!,” The New Teen Titans vol. 2 #1 (New York: DC Comics, 1984).
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deviant (it still is today—consider again the statistics on the teaching of contraception versus abstinence-only education). DC Comics’ depiction of Dick Grayson as a grown-up thus relies on heterosexual activity, and this heterosexual activity is likewise admissible and acceptable now that he has matured. Replacement Robins and Nightwing’s Relative Maturity Though Starfire and Nightwing’s relationship is the clearest indicator of Dick Grayson’s maturation, the introduction of a new Robin likewise shored up Grayson’s own claim to adulthood. Dick Grayson is ultimately freed from serving as Batman’s support by Bruce Wayne’s adoption of a new Robin, Jason Todd. Jason’s introduction was the result of DC Comics editors “want[ing] Robin back,” according to Marv Wolfman.44 Unwilling to separate him from the Titans, Wolfman suggested DC Comics design a new character to pair with Batman, so they introduced Jason as a new young partner for Bruce Wayne. Jason’s first origin story was a virtual copy of Dick Grayson’s, but his more well-known and popular backstory comes from Batman #409 and casts him as a streetwise hooligan, ripping off car parts to survive on his own, since his mother died of a drug overdose.45 Despite this origin story being published over forty years after Dick Grayson’s introduction, American anxiety over juvenile delinquency and kids living on the street ran just as hot as it did in 1940. Jason’s exposure to “street wisdom” and precocity left a lasting hardness to Jason, who curses, smokes, and disobeys (and would much later be reintroduced as an antagonistic gun-toting adult character). Importantly, Jason’s rough-and-tumble nature and improper early development also helped emphasize Dick Grayson’s achievement of many markers of maturity: attending college, being in a serious relationship, abandoning his youthful identity. The contrast between the two Robins helped position Dick Grayson closer to Batman, the avatar of idealized maturity. Jason’s death and the subsequent story line, “A Lonely Place of Dying,” strengthen Dick Grayson / Nightwing’s access to both heterosexuality and maturity. A 1988 call-in campaign gave readers the chance to decide Jason’s fate: fans could call one of two 1-900 numbers to cast a vote for Jason’s survival or call the other to cast a vote for his
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death.46 As a result, Jason was brutally murdered by the Joker. Just a handful of issues later, another young boy was introduced: Tim Drake, who has cleverly deduced the identities of Batman and both former Robins. In The New Teen Titans #60 (1989), Tim seeks Dick Grayson out when Batman’s grief over Jason’s death drives him to act violently.47 Tim believes “Robin” tempers Batman, softening his hard edges and mitigating his internal darkness. Tim first visits the apartment Dick Grayson shares with his paramour, Starfire. She answers the door in a short, low-cut bathrobe and tells Tim that Dick has left the Titans (and, ostensibly, her).48 She is, of course, also eager to find him and bring him back, and Tim turns out to be the key to reconnecting Dick and Starfire. Tim finds Dick Grayson at the old circus where he grew up and tells him, “It’s important. I need you. Batman needs you.”49 Dick Grayson is reluctant to return, having fallen out with Batman recently, but Tim eventually convinces Dick Grayson to return to Gotham City. However, he is dismayed when Dick goes out to help Batman in his new Nightwing costume: “No, not Nightwing, Dick, don’t you understand? Batman needs Robin! Doesn’t anyone understand?” Against Tim’s protestations, Dick refuses to identify with his adolescent self and insists on retaining his adult identity as Nightwing. Alfred, the trusted family butler, replies, “Perhaps, young man, perhaps Master Dick understands profoundly—perhaps that is why he brought you here.”50 Following Alfred’s interpretation of Dick’s implicit approval, Tim becomes the next Robin. In having Dick Grayson essentially name the next Robin, creators indicate he has attained a level of maturity far closer to that of Batman’s own. Finally, by including Starfire and a visit to her and Dick’s shared apartment, writers highlight this heterosexual relationship as a crucial aspect of Dick Grayson / Nightwing’s mature identity. Writers continued Dick Grayson / Nightwing and Starfire’s relationship for roughly ten real-time years, and the pair have been written on again and off again since that time. However, Dick Grayson has been given plenty of opportunities to flex his heterosexuality, even when he was not depicted in a relationship with Starfire. In his own title, launched in 1996, Nightwing has a brief fling with his building super, Bridget Clancy.51 These comics also hinted at a romantic past between Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon, which didn’t necessarily
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exist before and is therefore what comic readers would call a “retcon,” short for “retroactive change in continuity.” Later, Nightwing has a steamy one-night stand with Huntress, and though he wished to pursue the relationship further, she did not reciprocate his feelings.52 In the 2000s, he was depicted falling into a relationship with a character called Tarantula (which turned abusive and featured a now infamous scene of nonconsensual sex, in which Tarantula forces herself onto an exhausted and mentally unstable Dick Grayson).53 DC Comics’ New 52 reboot in 2011 brought Dick Grayson and the daughter of his parents’ killer, Sonia Zucco, into a romantic relationship,54 while his side gig as a secret agent for the organization known as Spyral saw him flirt excessively with Huntress (again) and sleep with fellow agent Alia.55 Beginning in 2017, Nightwing was depicted in a long-term relationship with villain-turned-superheroine Shawn Tsang.56 As if these relationships (and more) were not enough evidence that the Boy Wonder’s formerly absent sexuality is now fully present and accounted for, Dick Grayson / Nightwing was also listed as the number one “Sexiest Male Comic Book Character” by popular fansite Comics Alliance.57 Most indicative of writers’ interest in portraying Dick Grayson as fully mature (and producing an image of maturity that is inextricable from heterosexuality), though, are his two stints as the Batman himself. Idealized Adulthood: Dick Grayson as Batman Though Dick Grayson / Nightwing approached maturity and heterosexuality through mentorship of younger figures and physical relationships with female characters, Batman remains the ultimate avatar of idealized maturity. In the so-called Bat-family of comics, Batman is the patriarch. However, Dick Grayson’s whiteness and masculinity indicated that he would eventually ascend to idealized maturity. Recall Neil Shyminsky’s assertion that Robin and other sidekicks were “ostensibly growing into full-fledged heterosexual and hero status.”58 The acknowledgment of time passing in Dick Grayson’s life meant that this status, epitomized by the figure of Batman, would be available to Dick Grayson once the key supporting trait of heterosexuality fell into place. In two separate instances of Bruce Wayne’s absence, writers cast Dick as Batman to explore his approach toward idealized adulthood.
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What these two stories reveal is that full idealized maturity relies on not only heterosexual activity but (as Rubin highlights) heterosexual activity with parenthood in mind. The first instance of Dick Grayson taking on the mantle of the Bat illustrates an as yet incomplete maturation process for the original Robin. This story line, Batman: Prodigal, ran in just twelve issues from 1994 to 1995.59 As Bruce departs on a special project far away from Gotham City, he tells Dick, “Take care of them . . . in my stead . . . I know you will.”60 It’s clear from this exchange that writers meant for Dick Grayson to act as a steward of the Batman identity, trying it on, testing it out, but not fully claiming it. Dick Grayson thinks to himself, “I’m the Batman, but the Batman is not me. Dick Grayson, Robin, Nightwing, Batman—all the same, all different, all me . . . but not quite. Robin’s skin, shed long ago, is now worn by another—and being Batman is only temporary.”61 The authors here hint at the fact that Dick Grayson is rather isolated since he has left the Teen Titans after he and Starfire broke up. In turn, the writers put Dick Grayson back in touch with some of his other allies, like Jim Gordon, though these characters do significantly less to shore up his heterosexuality than Starfire and the other Titans did. Gotham City police officer-turned-commissioner Jim Gordon was introduced in the same issue as Batman / Bruce Wayne, even earlier than Robin. Though Gordon is generally depicted as unaware of Batman’s secret identity, he has nonetheless known and trusted Batman throughout their relationship, advocating for Batman even when the police force has periodically tried to arrest the vigilante. In Batman: Prodigal, Gordon immediately realizes that he is facing a new and different Batman; he “no longer knows the man in the costume,” and he struggles throughout to trust this figure.62 The comic’s creators show Jim Gordon, another avatar of mature heterosexual masculinity, rejecting Dick Grayson’s claim to the Batman identity. Writers had already given Dick Grayson many of the accoutrements of idealized adulthood by Prodigal’s release, but they withheld key evidence of maturity writers had granted to Bruce Wayne again and again: fatherhood. Importantly, Dick Grayson does work with a Robin in Prodigal, teen genius Tim Drake, but this relationship is portrayed as far from fatherly. Unlike Dick Grayson, Tim Drake is not an orphan and is depicted as somewhat distant from Bruce Wayne throughout his tenure as Robin.
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Writers gave Tim a complex personal life of his own: he lives in his own home with his father, Jack; attends public high school; and spends time with his girlfriend, Ariana Dzerchenko. By Tim’s introduction, writers had a lexicon of teenage behavior from which to draw, unlike when Dick Grayson was introduced and the concept of the teenager was still nascent. They wisely mobilized the expected adolescent behaviors of parental conflict, hormonal urges, and identity formation to give Tim emotional depth and complexity, making him a relatable character with boundaries between his two selves. Tim’s long-term relationship with his girlfriend also demonstrates that by the 1990s, there was more room for adolescents to engage in forms of intimacy without reading as deviant, though Tim is decidedly not sexually active. Creators offer in Tim an updated estrangement from sex with which writers of the 1950s and ’60s cast Dick Grayson: he can hold, kiss, and caress Ariana, but when she comes on to him in sexy lingerie, he confesses he is “not ready” and gently rebuffs her advances.63 Though writers gave Bruce Wayne somewhat restricted opportunities to parent Tim, in Batman: Prodigal, Dick and Tim are presented with zero connotations of parenthood at all. Instead, they are portrayed fraternally. They both jokingly refer to Bruce Wayne as “Dad,” implying their status as brothers, and they playfully bicker with each other about who will drive various Bat-vehicles. Dick retains his chipper and sunny personality enough that Tim even calls them “two Robins playing Batman and Robin.”64 Detracting further from Dick Grayson’s ability to appear as a father figure to Tim Drake is Tim’s actual father making several appearances in Prodigal. Jack Drake takes his son to a tennis match, checks up on him while he studies, and asks if it’s “a girl or homework” that’s got Tim talking on the phone late one night.65 Dick Grayson plays at being the patriarch in Batman: Prodigal, but writers withheld full realization of the identity via an inability to read as mature enough to parent Tim and in Tim’s positioning of Dick as his equal instead of his superior. Batman Needs Robin: Dick Grayson’s Parenting of Damian Wayne The second instance of Dick Grayson taking over as Batman deftly mobilizes parenthood to indicate Grayson’s achievement of idealized
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maturity and patriarch status.66 Batman: Prodigal did not need Grayson to truly be Batman, just to pretend for a while, but in Battle for the Cowl (2009) and Batman and Robin (2011), writers Tony S. Daniel and Grant Morrison grant durable Bat-status—and idealized adulthood with it—to Dick Grayson.67 Battle for the Cowl takes place after the events of DC Comics’ Final Crisis, a major crossover that involved numerous comic titles and resulted in the deaths of many heroes, including Batman.68 Though a later retcon would, of course, bring him back, for the time being, there is no more Batman in Gotham City. In his absence, crime skyrockets, and false Bat-men sully the original’s legacy. Nightwing / Dick Grayson has become the de facto foster parent of Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne’s arrogant, violent, biological son (Damian’s mother is alive, but she is a power-mad supervillain and thus not an ideal caretaker for the boy). Although Battle for the Cowl is on the surface a story about Dick Grayson disposing of pretenders and claiming the mantle of the Bat, it is also the story of him stepping into his role as father figure for Damian. Just as creators used Dick’s relationship with Starfire to signify his transition from the youthful Robin to the more mature Nightwing in the 1980s, in the 2000s, creators relied on Dick’s relationship with Damian to help him truly become Batman, the symbol of idealized adulthood and the archetypal father figure. Both instances reflect the writers’ perpetuation of the cultural script of maturation, reinforcing that heterosexual parenting is a key marker of adulthood. The first issue of the miniseries Battle for the Cowl sees the ten-year-old Damian steal the Batmobile for a joyride with a rather well-developed teenage girl he has picked up. Damian is busted by cybersuperhero Oracle, who encourages him to apologize to Nightwing. Damian hints at a parental relationship when he assures her that “he’ll try to ground me either way.”69 After Dick / Nightwing and Damian / Robin (who has co-opted the Robin identity against Bruce Wayne’s wishes) take down some minor villains and Damian is severely injured, Dick realizes the importance of his guidance in Damian’s life: “Damian . . . this child . . . I could’ve gotten him killed tonight. I have a responsibility to him now.”70 Immediately following this admission, Dick accepts the Batman costume and steps into the identity; author Tony S. Daniel makes becoming Batman—and the idealized
Figure 5. Alfred, the trusted Wayne family butler, directly compares Dick Grayson to Bruce Wayne as a father figure. Credit: Tony S. Daniel, “Part Two: Army of One,” Batman: Battle for the Cowl #2 (New York: DC Comics, 2009).
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maturity the cape and cowl represent—contingent on one’s ability to serve as a father figure. Although Damian is not, in fact, evidence of heterosexual reproduction on Dick Grayson’s part, their relationship does indicate generativity and a level of maturity only granted to heterosexual parents. Dick Grayson also formally grants the Robin identity to Damian, affirming that without Robin (as his pseudoson), Dick wouldn’t really be Batman at all. The next issue in continuity after the end of Battle for the Cowl begins Grant Morrison’s run entitled Batman and Robin. The cover of this issue introduces Dick and Damian as an updated version of the original Batman and Robin via visual callbacks to Detective Comics #38, emphasizing Dick’s newfound status as an idealized adult. Writing of the cover design, author Grant Morrison said, “The image had to be simple and iconic—the modern equivalent of Batman holding up the ringmaster’s hoop on the cover of DETECTIVE COMICS #38—which introduced Robin as ‘The sensational character find of 1940!’”71 This new cover, featured on Batman and Robin #1 (originally published as a single issue in 2009), similarly shows Batman and Robin in front of a plain background. Dick is positioned on the left, like he was as Robin in the cover of Detective Comics #38, but he seems to casually embody his new identity as Batman, glancing down approvingly at Damian. Wearing a smirk rather than a genuine smile, Damian appears on the right, fist in hand and sporting a redesigned Robin costume.72 Dick and Damian’s relationship is not without its difficulties, as to be expected of any parent-child relationship, though being Batman and Robin certainly brings unique challenges to the dynamics of this duo. Unlike the mostly agreeable earlier Robins, Damian is defiant at every turn. Dick laments to Alfred, the Wayne family’s trusted butler, about his failure to get Damian to listen to him: “Get back here, Damian! That’s an order! . . . ‘That’s an order!’ I sounded so fake, like a kid trying to do Batman’s voice.” Alfred serves as the voice of reason cutting through Dick’s sense of failure: “Try to think of your Batman not as a memorial—you and I know he’d hate that—but as a performance. Think of Batman as a great role, like a Hamlet, or Willie Loman . . . or even James Bond. And play it to suit your strengths.”73 Alfred thus joins another Butler (Judith) in addressing the overall performativity of social identities—in this case, adulthood: being the symbol of
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idealized maturity, Batman, is just a series of expressions and choices that Dick can make, especially as he already embodies the requisite whiteness, masculinity, and heterosexuality. Eventually Dick earns Damian’s respect and their relationship begins to more closely resemble the original relationship between young Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne. Damian asks, “If my father returns . . . we can’t be Batman and Robin anymore, can we?” signaling that at this point, Damian may indeed feel more like Dick’s son than Bruce’s.74 In his discussion of paternal authority in comics, Jeffrey A. Brown identifies Damian Wayne and Batman as a striking example of hero/father-sidekick/son relationships, noting that “though Damian is at first extremely violent, arrogant, and out of control . . . he gradually learns the value of crime-fighting and protecting lives under the tutelage of Batman.”75 What Brown leaves out is that this Batman, under whom Damian first learns all of these lessons, is not, in fact, Bruce Wayne but Dick Grayson. It would appear the sidekick has truly become the hero. Morrison smartly enlists Batman’s other allies to show support for Dick Grayson taking on the cape and cowl, reversing the ways in which other writers used these same characters in Prodigal to undermine Dick’s status. He writes Commissioner Gordon, who was intensely skeptical of Dick/Batman in Prodigal, telling Dick, “Whatever happened these last few months—and I don’t want to know what happened—you can count on my support.”76 In fact, Gordon tells him that most of the Gotham City Police Department (GCPD) prefers this new Batman to the old one, though he cannot say the same for their collective feelings on the prickly new Robin. Teaming up with another ally, Batwoman, in an issue of Batman and Robin, Morrison’s portrayal of Dick Grayson continues to emphasize the connectivity between maturity and heterosexuality. Dick hits on Batwoman in earnest: “I have something I should confess up front . . . I have this thing for crimefighting redheads. If you want to do this again . . .”77 Batwoman was originally introduced in 1956’s Detective Comics #233 as a love interest for Bruce Wayne, and she was significantly older than Dick Grayson.78 Although newer comics portray Batwoman as only slightly older than Dick Grayson, his romantic interest in her (as opposed to the more youthful Batgirl) further
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confirms his ascension to idealized maturity and, collaterally, heterosexuality. (By this point in Batman and Robin, Batwoman had in other titles begun to be written as sexually attracted to women. It appears Dick Grayson had not gotten the memo; she politely tells him not to get his hopes up.) While Batman: Prodigal portrayed Dick Grayson and Tim Drake as contemporaries with a fraternal relationship, Batman and Robin sees Dick claiming brotherhood with Bruce instead: “He was my brother, my best friend.”79 Though the age gaps between Bruce, Dick, and Tim are theoretically unchanged, Morrison portrays Dick Grayson as conceptually and developmentally now closer to Batman than any of the Robins—he is Batman’s brother now that he has a Robin to parent. Although Bruce Wayne does, of course, return to being Batman and parenting Damian himself, Dick Grayson as Nightwing retains a special relationship with Damian. Dick Grayson’s second stint as Batman in comics represented a turning point in his maturation. In order to level him up to Nightwing in the 1980s, creators confirmed his heterosexuality in no uncertain terms, and his fostering of Damian in the early 2010s proved he was mature enough to parent and thus mature enough to wear the mantle of idealized adulthood. As of this writing, no author has depicted Dick Grayson as an actual father, but in 2017, Tim Seeley penned an arc of Nightwing in which Dick’s girlfriend, Shawn Tsang, believed for a time that she might be pregnant.80 Tellingly, this same arc reintroduced Damian Wayne into Nightwing’s orbit and features many visual reprisals of Morrison’s Batman and Robin run, connecting the potential for Dick Grayson’s biological fatherhood with his foster parenting of Damian. When Dick Grayson was himself the youthful Robin, creators struggled to portray him as someone who would someday be heterosexual without being perceived as precocious—or worse, deviant. They regularly failed in these endeavors, because adolescent sexuality always appears as too little or too much. Creators in the 1980s aged Dick Grayson and gave him a new adult identity, abetted by a canonical sexual relationship with Starfire (and many other women thereafter). The aggressively straight and overtly sexual Nightwing represented the beginning of Dick Grayson’s maturation and access to
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normative heterosexuality, but his ultimate achievement of idealized maturity and straightness came in the 2000s with his transformation into Batman and his pseudofatherhood of Damian Wayne / Robin. This final transformation indicates the preparatory nature of both the sidekick and the adolescent, in the sense that the adolescent prepares for adulthood and the sidekick prepares to be an adult hero. Writers used Dick Grayson’s sexuality to signal the completion of this preparation, tapping him to step into the role of Batman and father to a new young Robin. In so doing, they perpetuated the harmful notion that queerness indicates a sort of permanent immaturity, knitting together the concepts of “adult” and “straight” for a primarily youthful base of readers and potentially alienating queer children who saw themselves in Robin. However, Robin / Dick Grayson’s television and film history complicates these efforts, as I will explore in chapter 5, helping Robin remain a queer icon despite comic book authors’ maniacal attempts to heterosexualize him. Importantly, heterosexuality is prized and idealized in maturity as a means of perpetuating systems of power and privilege tied to both gender and race. Dick Grayson was able to become Batman once writers “straightened out” his sexuality, but what happens if a sidekick character does not and will not embody the social identities that make up idealized maturity? Writers of Dick Grayson responded to midcentury cultural concerns about adolescent sexuality by simultaneously aging the first Robin and granting him better access to straight sexual relationships, but later in the century, another threat to the primacy of white male adults arose: the political and economic gains of women in the 1960s and 1970s. Comic book writers likewise mobilized Robin(s) to address this cultural anxiety. Through teen-girl Robins Carrie Kelley and Stephanie Brown, subjects of the next chapter, authors in the so-called Modern Age of comics doubled down on the masculinity of maturity. These characters’ stories illustrate the intersection of adolescence and femininity—which is in fact a layering of marginalizations—and reveal what critics and fans alike really mean when they say that comics “grew up” in the 1980s and 1990s.
CH A P T E R 3
GIRLS WONDER Young Female Robins in the Modern Age of Comics In the eighty-plus year history of Batman comics, there have been two girl Robins, Carrie Kelley and Stephanie Brown. Combined, these two characters served as Robin for less than one year in terms of publication time.1 In this reticence to assign Batman a female Robin, comic creators yet again referenced and reproduced cultural anxieties toward teenagers—this time, specifically toward female adolescents. The eight- decade history of Dick Grayson / Robin produced an image of adolescence that framed heterosexuality as a checkpoint on the pathway to maturity; the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it history of Carrie Kelley and Stephanie Brown as Robin produces an image of adolescence that bars the pathway to maturity entirely for young girls, denigrates female autonomy, and shores up male claims to maturity and “proper” adulthood. These characters’ introductions in the 1980s and early 1990s may appear on the surface as a progressive movement toward more inclusion in comics, but closely reading their stories instead reveals mounting male anger and anxiety in the wake of the women’s liberation movement. Carrie Kelley is especially more canary than Robin—her casting as the first female Robin is occasionally pointed to as an example of female representation and empowerment in comics, but her portrayal is really an indicator of just how little respect comic creators would give women characters and fans in the era known as the
H 61
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Modern Age. These Robins are a product of a cultural environment in which male writers and readers felt their privilege threatened, much like the early twentieth-century sociologists who first “discovered” adolescence and used it to idealize white male adulthood nearly a century prior. Unlike Dick Grayson, female Robins were never meant to be understood as “heroes in training” or as the heir apparent to Batman’s crusade. Rather, their stories depict fantasies of patriarchal control in which idealized maturity and masculinity are linked through the requisition or punishment of teen girls’ bodies. These fantasies play out in two key ways. First, the case of Carrie Kelley in Frank Miller’s Dark Knight series presents the adolescent girl as the perfect foil to the adult male—a cipher able to fulfill whatever diegetic need arises for Batman. She is a “thing” Batman has acquired: a soldier, weapon, damsel in distress, daughter, lover—and in her transmutability, she makes the adult male Batman appear firm, material, and real. Second, through the character Stephanie Brown, creators enact a vicious morality play of what happens to adolescent girls who do not function as perfect foils, who challenge patriarchal order and move “out of their lane.” Stephanie’s characterization as independent and headstrong coupled with her violent, sexualized torture sends the message that adolescent girls who buck the traditional expectation of deference to male authority ought to be punished. This chapter closely reads the main story arcs of Carrie Kelley and Stephanie Brown, first framing their introductions within the important context of the so- called Modern Age of comics and then detailing the ways in which writers diminish, objectify, or dispose of these adolescent girl Robins in service to affirming the “rightness” of adult men. Youth and Femininity in the Modern Age of Comics As the case of Dick Grayson illustrates, comic creators have largely communicated that idealized adulthood is well within reach of young white boys once they can perform socially appropriate heterosexuality. Writers used Dick Grayson’s transition from Robin to Nightwing to decisively and durably establish Grayson’s maturation through heterosexual activity. With this last piece in place, Dick Grayson was able to project an image of idealized maturity and even serve as Batman
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himself. But what of adolescent girls like Carrie Kelley and Stephanie Brown? Comic creators did not write these characters to illustrate that “girls can become grown-ups/heroes, too”—instead, they used girl Robins to remind their mostly male audience of masculine might and maturity. In this, their creators drew on a long history of connecting femininity and childishness. Portrayals of Robin throughout the twentieth century represent an avenue for the “deployment” of adolescence— the process by which the idea of adolescence came to be widely recognizable. As I discussed in chapter 1, this deployment affirmed an image of adulthood that required traits already evident in those who held the most power, thus ensuring they would be the most likely to be perceived as mature in future generations. In other words, the concept of adolescence was defined and refined in such a way as to make adulthood not a guarantee—any individuals who did not adequately perform heterosexuality, whiteness, and maleness were in some way or another barred from fully adult status. As Ilana Nash succinctly describes, the “unnamed but implicit ‘self ’” from whose point of view stories were told, policies were written, and life was lived was (and continues to be) the straight, white, adult male.2 Connections between childishness and femininity affirm that adulthood is for the men—recall from chapter 2 that writers often put the youthful Robin / Dick Grayson in feminized positions, which allowed the adult male Batman to rescue him. These moments draw on a societal understanding of needing to be helped or rescued as a supposedly natural state of being for both children and women. Within a patriarchal society, women are positioned as “others,” much like children have been since the late nineteenth century; though women are perhaps not as blank of slates as children, they are imagined as certainly more impressionable than their male counterparts. For example, in the United States, states debated women’s rights to property ownership and management well into the twentieth century, and it wasn’t until 1920 that women gained the right to vote in federal elections. Women continue to be discouraged from certain kinds of work through both policy and cultural norms. These prohibitions from public life represent a form of infantilization, further establishing the connection between youth and femininity.
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Popular culture artifacts such as movies, television, and comic books help reinforce these connections. In her book Where the Girls Are: Growing Up Female with the Mass Media, Susan J. Douglas identifies mass media as a common purveyor of this view of women: analyzing film and television of her youthful years in the midcentury, she sees repetitive images of women as “pliant, cute, sexually available, thin . . . and deferential to men.”3 Furthermore, she notes that most retrospectives of this time period’s mass culture laud male figures as “serious, lasting, and authentic”; “thoughtful, dedicated rebels”; and “the ones who made history,” while women “appear as mindless, out-of-control bimbos . . . Idiots, hysterics, dumbos—empty vessels” (emphasis mine).4 Such portrayals recentered and shored up traditional American masculinity, which had been unsettled by corporatization and suburbanization. The empty, innocent child and the empty, deferential woman share many traits in their support of this mature masculinity: that which is juvenile is feminine and that which is feminine is juvenile. These two identities are combined in the figure of the female adolescent—doubly “other,” doubly marginalized, marked twice over by their difference from the idealized adult male. If readers are to perceive Robin as someday stepping into Batman’s legacy and continuing his fight against Gotham’s underworld, it follows that writers would cast a young boy in the role. Although Nancy Drew had been solving mysteries for a decade already and female crimefighters such as Miss Fury appeared in newspaper comic strips around the time of Robin’s introduction,5 Robin carries the notion of inheritance of status and identity (as well as Bruce Wayne’s substantial material wealth). As we have seen, by 1940, only boys were consistently envisioned stepping into the role of “serious” future contributors to society. Despite his occasional capture-and-rescue routine, Robin indeed embodied the identity markers associated with idealized maturity. Female characters, on the rare occasions they did appear in early issues of Batman and Detective Comics, were presented as love interests for Batman or—especially after the 1950s uproar over potential homoeroticism between the Dynamic Duo—rather awkward attempts at love interests for Robin. Female superheroes in general were (and continue to be) fewer and further between than males,
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and those that do exist are often belittled or hypersexualized (or both simultaneously). Consider the diminutive suffix -girl frequently tacked onto the nicknames of heroic adult females for much of comics history: Batgirl (the alias of many adult women, including U.S. congresswoman Barbara Gordon), Hawkgirl (Shiera Hall, who in 1981 did change her name to Hawkwoman), Bulletgirl (Susan Barr, wife of Bulletman), the Doom Patrol’s Elasti-Girl (Rita Farr), and Disney’s similarly named Elastigirl of The Incredibles (Helen Parr). For comparison, very few male superheroes are named -boy, and those who do carry this moniker are typically actual young characters: Superboy (Connor Kent), Beast Boy (Garfield Logan), and Klarion the Witch Boy (no alter ego) are all depicted most often as teenagers. Carolyn Cocca writes that in the few instances “when female comic characters were made central and made powerful, their power was counterbalanced with exaggerated sexualization, priming the reader to associate female-ness with being a sex object.”6 Made smaller or younger by their name or turned into an object by their appearance, female characters have generally not been granted much value. Even Wonder Woman originally had to join the Justice Society as their secretary and was depicted as “honored” by the offer.7 The eventual assignation of a female Robin as Batman’s sidekick in the 1980s could thus be perceived as movement in the right direction. Yet the subcultural milieu into which these girl characters were introduced prompts a different interpretation. The Modern Age of comics, lasting from roughly the mid-1980s through the early 2010s, is marked by sharp departures in themes, images, and characterizations from most mainstream superhero comics written before and the majority of which have been written since. As I discussed in chapter 2, the comic book industry had been forced into self-censorship in the 1950s after accusations that comics were contributing to juvenile delinquency. The resultant Comics Code Authority put forth strict standards within which creators had to write and draw, or else their comic might not receive Code approval. Most grocers and newsstand operators would not sell a comic without Code approval, so comics became even more closely associated with youth due to the absence of any adult themes, including sex, drug use, and overt violence.
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Though comic creators managed to find transformative means of storytelling within the code, leading to several years of recurring experimental themes and artwork that have since been dubbed the Silver Age of comics, many comic book writers and scholars look back upon this time period with frustration and embarrassment. Comic book author Alan Moore, in his introduction to Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns (1986), writes that by the 1980s, audiences had gained a newfound “sophistication,” requiring updated and less childish heroes. He continues, The fields of cinema and literature have to some extent been able to tackle the problem in a mature and intelligent fashion. . . . The field of comic books, seen since its inception as a juvenile medium in which any interjection of adult themes and subject matter are likely to be met with howls of outrage and the threat or actuality of censorship, has not been so fortunate. Whereas in novels and movies we have been presented with such concepts as the anti-hero or the classical hero reinterpreted in a contemporary manner, comic books have largely had to plod along with the same old muscle-bound oafs spouting the same old muscle- bound platitudes while attempting to dismember each other.8 Comic book author Grant Morrison likewise describes the pre–Modern Age superhero comic as “moribund,” a “dry husk,” and lacking “relevance and vitality.”9 Scholar Joseph Witek similarly sees the limitation of comics to a strictly youth medium via the Code as “quell[ing] the vitality of comics.”10 That which is juvenile (and, collaterally, feminine) is bad, all these voices and others seem to say, or at best indicates a sort of unrealized potential. However, Moore identifies The Dark Knight Returns as a key moment in which comics finally come into their full potential—finding a way to become mature and reach a mature, “sophisticated” audience. The work helped launch a decades-long trend of “grown-up” superhero comics—but what is it about these stories that make them mature? This maturity is indelibly linked to masculinity, hypermasculinity, the objectification of female characters, and doubling down on the supposedly natural immaturity of women. Frank Miller himself
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succinctly (albeit crudely) draws this connection in his introduction to the thirtieth-anniversary edition of The Dark Knight Returns, released in 2016: “DARK KNIGHT has been so successful, publishers have realized they have to publish this kind of stuff without putting a condom on it.”11 Miller thus likens the success of The Dark Knight Returns to a hypermasculine expression of penetration without protection. The allegory of sex without a condom surely implies a more pleasurable experience for the primarily male audience of The Dark Knight Returns, indicating that Miller saw an audience of males and sought to both express his own masculinity and appease his audience with his “unsheathed” version of the Batman. This broad assumption of a male audience on Miller’s part is rather spot on. By 1986 and the introduction of Carrie Kelley as Robin, several factors contributed to an almost exclusively adolescent and young adult male audience (though there was certainly still a small but significant population of female readers, who are discussed in this chapter’s conclusion). This constriction of the market was abetted by the economically driven shift to direct-market sales. Comic books were formerly sold at groceries and newsstands, which could return unsold issues, but in the 1970s, major producers cut deals with small independent shops in which the shops could order issues at a steep discount but would not be able to return them.12 These shops, typically owned by male fans, enabled social gatekeeping and other mechanisms of exclusion, constricting readership further and further as the direct market came to account for the vast majority of comic book sales by the 1980s. Carolyn Cocca notes that “the growth of the direct market intersected with the broader conservative backlash against the gains of the Second Wave of feminism, civil rights movements, and gay rights movements. Most mainstream superhero comics began to display very particular and very binary representations of gender: hypermuscular men and hypersexualized women.”13 Any investigation of female characters in the Modern Age of comics requires the understanding that these texts were not intended for young women; instead, they sought to appeal to young male audiences with stories of masculine power, intelligence, and athleticism. Collectively, these themes evolved into a refutation of anything feminine or youthful about comics—and in rejecting both femininity and
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adolescence, Modern Age superhero comics perpetuated the production of adolescence as inherently feminine and vice versa. A study of teen-girl characters in comics of the 1980s through the 2000s thus needs to be considered with its intended audience of young men in mind. Rather than producing an image of the “teen girl” to real-life teen girls (or even a broad audience including teen girls, soon-to-be teen girls, and former teen girls), the characters and narratives in superhero stories of the Modern Age produced an image of “teen girls” primarily aimed at adolescent and young adult males. In the narratives studied here, adolescent girl Robins are presented as mechanisms for the restoration or maintenance of patriarchal order. They are either supportive of patriarchal control or punished by male characters and male authors for their threatening of it. Much is at stake in understanding the ways adolescence and femininity intersect in texts aimed at their male peers—the stories of girl Robins of the late twentieth and early twenty-first century reify perception of girls as infantilized corollaries, crutches, or cautionary asides to the real story, which seemingly belongs to the men. Perhaps more significantly, this reading indicts the oft celebrated Modern Age of comics as little more than an affirmation of hypermasculinity and misogyny in the face of women’s increasing political power. The Amazing, Transforming Carrie Kelley The Dark Knight Returns, as evidenced by author Frank Miller’s rather crude condom comment, is focused in large part on what it means to “be a man.” The Dark Knight Returns is about an aging hero reclaiming his virile masculinity, a reclamation that is achieved in part through his relationship with teen-girl sidekick Carrie Kelley. Robin has always, to some extent, existed to shore up aspects of Batman’s own maturity, but in The Dark Knight Returns, Robin is less of a character than a utility belt. Miller casts Carrie Kelley in the role of competent soldier, helpless child, damsel in distress, and grieving, servile wife; she is a convenient solution to whatever the unchanging Batman’s needs are at a given point in the story. Carrie is part of a long tradition of teen girls in popular culture that Ilana Nash describes as “a nonperson constructed as a foil for adult men, the people around whose needs and desires a patriarchal
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society caters to.”14 Because Carrie Kelley is in fact nothing, she can be anything and everything to Batman (and Miller) in a way that a male Robin never could, at least not without directly undermining Batman’s heterosexuality and traditional masculinity. On the contrary, the amorphousness of Carrie’s young female characterization reifies the connective tissue between maturity and straight masculinity. Though Miller’s work has long been celebrated as “quality” literature and an example of comics as a legitimate art form, closely examining his treatment of Carrie Kelley reveals that for all Miller’s innovations, he did little to challenge the second-class status of female characters in superhero comics or portrayals of teen girls in media more broadly. Rather, the figure of Carrie operates as a clever (but nonetheless dangerous) metanarrative cover, allowing Miller to double down on the link between maturity and masculinity while also perpetuating cultural notions of teen girls as impressionable servants of the patriarchy. Carrie Kelley makes her debut in the first book of Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns (TDKR).15 Long hailed as a virtual savior of the flagging comics industry, TDKR remains one of the earliest and strongest examples of the “mature” superhero comic. Covered in press and critiqued in scholarship as a “graphic novel,” TDKR is often described as a “realistic” take on Batman.16 Miller’s Gotham City resembles in many ways any major American city of the 1980s: it is crowded, dirty, crime ridden, governed by President Ronald Reagan, and saturated with television news. Batman hasn’t been seen in ten years. Bruce Wayne whiles away his days drinking alone in Wayne Manor, and Alfred tut-tuts to himself as he refills Master Bruce’s tumbler. A combination of factors, including a government crackdown on superhero activity and the death of Batman’s second Robin, Jason Todd, led to Batman’s retirement, yet Bruce Wayne is unsatisfied.17 He takes up the mantle of the Bat again to crush a gang of slice-and- dicers known as the Mutants but in so doing awakens the Joker from a catatonic state at the Arkham Home for the Emotionally Troubled and attracts the ire of President Reagan, who dispatches Superman to coax (or force) Batman back to retirement. Batman also picks up a new Robin along the way, Carrie Kelley, a thirteen-year-old girl with neglectful parents who tracks down Batman herself and takes up his cause. The story ends with Batman finally killing the Joker and faking
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his own death in a fight with Superman, only to be dug up after his funeral by Carrie Kelley and begin training an army of former Mutants to serve him in his solipsistic quest to “right” the world. “What It Means to Be a Man” Before examining the fungibility of Carrie Kelley and the ways Miller transforms her into whatever tool Batman needs, it is crucial to understand how TDKR’s focus on Batman “being a man” is achieved: through the denigration of female or feminized characters. Carrie herself appears rather androgynous, which seems to save her from some of Miller’s worst slights. She is white; has short, pixie-style orange hair; wears jeans and sweatshirts when not dressed as Robin; and sports square, green-tinted glasses. Throughout TDKR, she is mistaken by Gotham City civilians and police for “the Boy Wonder” several times.
Figure 6. Carrie Kelley dons her own homemade Robin costume and sneaks out to look for Batman. Credit: Frank Miller, “Book II: The Dark Knight Triumphant,” The Dark Knight Returns #2 (New York: DC Comics, 1986).
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Miller thus frames a young girl who is masculinized or boyish as at least aiming for the proper target; reading the other female and feminized characters of TDKR reveals that Miller does not associate femininity with much good. Miller’s Joker is undeniably feminized: the villain frequently dons lipstick (his own signature shade, of course), refers to Batman as “darling,” and arranges their final showdown in the carnival’s Tunnel of Love.18 Catwoman (a.k.a. Selina Kyle), a former foil, love interest, and near match for Batman in every way, appears only a few times in The Dark Knight Returns. First, her voice is heard in a message left on Bruce’s answering machine informing him she is “lonely,” and later she is Joker’s victim: he sexually assaults her, beats her, dresses her up like Wonder Woman, and leaves her hog-tied for Bruce to find. Despite her apparent business acumen (Kyle is now the proprietor of an escort service), this version of Selina Kyle seems far less independent and clever than she had been written in the past. Newly appointed police commissioner Ellen Yindel is likewise portrayed as an ill-prepared and ineffectual “diversity hire.” Finally, Miller’s depiction of Superman highlights the obsessive hypermasculinity of the text and its denigration of anything deemed feminine. Superman is positioned in TDKR as a government lackey, having signed away his freedom to the president in order to continue helping people under the radar (he is also occasionally called on to do the president’s bidding). Miller’s Batman interprets Superman’s surrender of control to the government as feminizing. In case Superman’s emasculation was unclear, an iconic image of Superman from TDKR portrays him looking remarkably like a Disney princess: sparklingly clean in a crisp white shirt, surrounded by flowers, butterflies, and sunlight—a sharp contrast in color and tone to nearly every other page in the text.19 The final fight of The Dark Knight Returns is between these two heroes and finds Miller (through Batman) framing knowledge, reality, and a life worth living as the sole provenance of men: punching Superman after weakening him with a sonic blast, Batman asserts, “It’s way past time you learned—what it means—to be a man.”20 (It is possible that Miller’s Batman refers here to mortality, of which Superman gets a taste in the scene. Yet another reading is that Batman is not giving Superman the experience of humanity but instead is showing him what manhood looks like: physical domination, violence,
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and control.) Collectively, these infantilizing, diminished images of femininity communicate that only masculinity is right and mature. In light of Miller’s apparent distaste for anything feminine in his Batman story, readers may rightly ask why he has given Batman a female sidekick at all, even as she is somewhat defeminized. It would appear Miller intuited the utility of a doubly marginalized teen girl in making Batman appear masculine, heterosexual, and not quite yet off the deep end.21 As Ilana Nash describes it, “Traditions in Western culture construct both children and women as exotic and erotic Others. The discourses surrounding these populations often function by establishing a precondition of emptiness . . . a lack of the qualities by which the dominant culture defines itself. That emptiness renders the subject of discussion less of a full person than are members of the dominant population.”22 Teen girls are thus emptied twice over, inviting all manner of penetration and inroads for mechanisms of patriarchal control. Batman’s exhibition of this form of control is exactly what Miller is after—speaking of his time writing TDKR, Miller notes, “I was very, very angry, just watching Clint Eastwood movies back to back, getting absolutely paranoid. I figured if Batman was a grown-up, he’d take care of things.”23 Carrie makes Batman appear more “grown up” by representing the doubly empty Other to the full, solid, masculine adult. However, Batman had always, up until TDKR, been partnered with a teen boy. Miller nods to this history, as he nods to all of Batman’s history, but makes clear he does not see such relationships fitting into his hypermasculine portrayal. When Robin / Dick Grayson was first introduced in 1940, his creators saw the character as a means of humanizing Batman—in this sense, Dick Grayson was merely a tool to shape the perception of Batman as well, but in seeking to make the caped crusader more relatable, Grayson himself was written as gentle and humanistic. As I traced in chapter 2, it was also presumed that someday, a character such as Dick Grayson would likewise be an adult male, benefiting from patriarchal structures that diminish and exoticize teen girls. Miller’s Batman hasn’t spoken to Dick Grayson for several years, acknowledging some sort of falling out between the two; more likely, Miller preferred not to countenance a potential challenge to the white, heterosexual, masculine primacy of his Batman.
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The presence of Robin / Dick Grayson in Batman’s orbit is inseparable from connotations of homoeroticism thanks to Wertham, the Batman television series, and myriad other cultural touchstones. Rather than reintroduce and wrestle with this dynamic, in TDKR, Miller chose to avoid it entirely. Miller’s Batman has also witnessed the death of his second Robin, Jason Todd, who at the time of TDKR’s release was very much alive and well in continuity. It would seem Miller was deeply invested in creating a new character, despite his mission to synthesize all of Batman’s history and his primary use of well-established and recognizable characters. Carrie Kelley’s emptiness and transmutability provide Bruce Wayne / Batman with a similar sense of generativity as Dick and Jason did, but through her adolescent girlhood, she is further able to believably appear as whatever character type Miller needs her to be. Dick and Jason could act as pseudochildren of Batman but could never fill as many roles as Carrie Kelley because they are not “emptied” out as much as teen girls. With this context in mind, even Carrie’s most heroic moments in TDKR are merely utilitarian for Miller, evidence of her useful transmutability rather than the formulation of a character with any real personality. Carrie Kelley as a Smart Sidekick Though Miller’s Robin is amoebic and constantly transforming, some of the roles Carrie Kelley occupies do appear on the surface as a generally positive representation of adolescent “girl power.” Carrie Kelley is afforded an unusual amount of agency compared to the villainous, sidelined, or incompetent feminized characters. Compared to previous Robins Dick Grayson and Jason Todd, Carrie appears decisive and active. For example, she purchases her own Robin costume and tracks down Batman herself, saving him from near defeat at the hands of the Mutant gang leader. It is implied that Carrie has largely fended for herself for some time: she has two parents, but they are never pictured, and their off-panel discussions center on reminiscing about their favorite acid trips and making sure neither one monopolizes the bong (“Hey . . . didn’t we have a kid?”24). Carrie has also taught herself to work with computers, a skill she puts to use when Batman needs her to act as a competent sidekick.
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When attempting to prevent a Joker attack at a television studio, Bruce Wayne tells her, “This is strictly an observation mission for you, Robin. You will stay in the copter. You are not to touch the controls . . . Computers. You wouldn’t understand.” “Figure I wouldn’t,” Carrie replies, which in her slang means she believes she absolutely would understand.25 Batman tells her that if she disobeys him, she will be fired. Of course, Carrie does disobey Batman and ends up saving both of their lives from the Gotham City Police Department, who are mobilized against Batman since the retirement of his longtime collaborator, former commissioner Jim Gordon. Through her sass and cleverness, she is thus positioned as both a good sidekick and an occasionally disobedient child, but one whose actions ultimately prove to have been the right decisions. Importantly, though Carrie occasionally breaks the rules, she only does it to help support the man in her life. As I discussed at length in chapter 2, a key function of Robin is to make Batman appear mature enough to parent a child, to provide a sense of generativity and future focus. In many ways, Carrie Kelley serves this purpose in TDKR. She describes Batman to a local news station as “a man—about—twelve feet tall.”26 Carrie’s words and eager face are superimposed on a full-page splash of Batman, who fills the entire frame, leaping down onto a villain’s car and thinking to himself, “This should be agony. I should be a mass of aching muscle . . . and, were I an older man, I surely would . . . but I’m a man of thirty—of twenty again.” Through this image and Batman’s internal monologue, Miller shows us how Carrie sees Batman—young, virile, manly, twelve feet tall. She is filled with childlike wonder at his presence and in this way serves to remasculinize and resexualize the aging Bruce Wayne and show readers how Miller wants us to see Batman. It is indeed through Carrie that “Batman” is able to fully make his return. Throughout TDKR, Miller writes Bruce Wayne hearing “Batman” as a voice in his own head, as though Batman were a dissociated persona inhabiting Bruce Wayne’s mind, itching to get out and express himself. Bruce thinks to himself, “He laughs at me, curses me. Calls me a fool . . . Brings me here when the night is long and my will is weak. He struggles relentlessly, hatefully, to be free.”27 The Batman persona is stronger, meaner, more aggressive, but Bruce Wayne made a promise to Robin not to let Batman take over again: “I will not let him. I gave
Figure 7. This splash image shows Batman as Carrie Kelley sees him—massive, masculine, revitalized. Credit: Frank Miller, “Book I: The Dark Knight Returns,” The Dark Knight Returns #1 (New York: DC Comics, 1986).
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my word. For Jason. Never. Never again.”28 Robin/Jason buried Batman, but Robin/Carrie digs him up, both figuratively (they meet on Bruce Wayne’s first night out as Batman again) and literally (at the end of the book after he has faked his own death). We can read “Batman’s” release as particularly abetted by a female Robin’s presence. Robin/ Carrie unburies the “real man” in Bruce by amplifying the voice of the monstrous, aggressive figure of Batman and quieting the aging, emasculated billionaire. If we as readers understand Batman’s return as heroic and necessary, which seems to be the reading Miller intended, then Carrie has done all of Gotham a service by bringing him back. From Child to Lover: Carrie’s Heterosexualization of Batman Importantly, it is through not only Carrie’s youth that this unburying is made possible but also her femininity. Carrie is able to restore Batman to his masculine, heterosexual self in large part because of her own nascent female sexuality. Carrie is often portrayed as supporting Batman in a physical and emotional position akin to that of a grieving romantic partner. When she first returns with Batman to the Batcave after a brutal fight with the Mutant leader, she sits near the hospital bed: “A young girl waiting with anxiety to discover if her hero will live, she is placed in the role of concerned wife or lover,” as comics scholar Geoff Klock observes.29 Later, at Bruce Wayne’s funeral, Carrie is drawn wearing traditional widow’s garb (the most feminine clothing she wears throughout the entire book), complete with black birdcage veil, black hat, and black gloves. Abetted by the liminality of adolescence, Carrie is portrayed as both an awestruck child and a mature, possibly romantic partner to Batman. She is, in fact, neither of these relations to Batman, but the malleability of her character’s appearance and the multiple positions she is able to fill reflect the emptiness with which cultural producers imbue young girls. In turn, Carrie’s malleability into a potential romantic partner for Batman also disrupts potential readings of Batman and Robin as homoerotic, allowing Miller to indirectly address the charges of homoeroticism endured by Batman since at least the publication of Seduction of the Innocent. According to Nathan G. Tipton, Miller specifically inserts femininity into TDKR when the scales threaten to
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tip toward homosexual readings of Bruce Wayne / Batman: “Indeed, Miller suggests, women are able to break the always problematic male bond through a simple expression of female heteroerotic desire and, thus, reveal the ‘real man’ lurking underneath. Put more simply, all Bruce/Batman really needs is a ‘real woman’ to turn him away from the worrisome imprimatur of homosexuality.”30 For example, Selina Kyle’s voice on Bruce’s answering machine at Wayne Manor disrupts an all-male space and state of mind to force the accommodation of heterosexual desire. Yet Selina Kyle, in her maturity, cannot fulfill Batman’s shifting needs as effectively as Carrie. Selina doesn’t appear in person until “Book Three”—and she appears mightily worse for wear. No longer the sexy, fit cat burglar of her youth, Selina is portrayed as old, fat, possibly drunk, and definitely tired. Miller implies that a woman who has seen the world and been a victim of it, a woman of Bruce’s age—Bruce, who retains his muscle mass and his chiseled jaw, who feels like “a man of thirty—of twenty again”—cannot be an adequate support for his reclamation of masculinity. Carrie, on the other hand, sees Bruce Wayne exactly as he wants to be seen: big, powerful, adult, and in control. Her youth makes her far more available to being “penetrated” by masculine ideals than the grown, jaded Selina. Miller thus calls up Carrie instead at key moments in the text when a reader could ostensibly detect homoerotic tension, as is the case during the fight with the Mutant leader, which involves several frames of the two men rolling around in a mud pit. It is Carrie who reveals the “‘real man’ lurking underneath” Bruce’s facade. It is Robin who helps define Batman, as it has been since Dick Grayson’s introduction in 1940. Sometimes the malleability of Carrie results in her appearing as a clever and capable sidekick, but the ways in which Miller calls her up to heterosexualize Batman as a male Robin never could indicate that Miller is more interested in her for her “emptiness” than the power of such a character to challenge regressive portrayals of women in mainstream superhero comics. It is Carrie’s transmutability and the openness to penetration represented by the doubly emptied teen girl that make her useful to Batman (and to Miller), allowing him to assert his masculinity and have it appear fixed and solid in comparison.
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This apparent utility of an adolescent female Robin begs the question as to why a young female Robin didn’t stick. Miller himself reveals the answer in his follow-up to TDKR, The Dark Knight Strikes Again (2002): because unlike traditional male sidekicks, who often eventually take up the mantle of their partners (Dick Grayson becomes Batman, Wally West becomes the Flash, Bucky Barnes becomes Captain America, etc.31), when adolescent girls age, especially adolescent girls designed and written by adult men, they often become mere sexual objects, wholly unfit for independent heroism. If any lingering suspicions remain that Miller was constructing a positive or even nuanced representation of a female sidekick in TDKR, one who could someday become a hero in her own right, then his over-the-top sexualization and objectification of Carrie in The Dark Knight Strikes Again dispel any doubt about the place of young women in Miller’s world—that is, to affirm and assure the primacy of adult men. Catgirl and the Limits of Girl Robins Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Strikes Again, referred to colloquially as DK2, harbors even more misogynistic themes and images than The Dark Knight Returns, and it transforms Carrie Kelley yet again, this time to a sexual object as the rechristened Catgirl. The new nickname goes unexplained, though an exchange in “Book Two” implies Carrie chose the moniker for herself (Batman refers to her as Robin, to which she replies, “That’s Catgirl. Get a clue.”32). Catgirl, unlike Robin, is coded as extremely feminine and hypersexualized. She is drawn wearing a suit that may as well be body paint and a small, eye-framing mask—Carrie seems to have ditched her square tinted glasses in favor of showing off her skill in applying liquid eyeliner. She is introduced in “parts”: first, her full, parted lips fill three entire frames and a whole page. At the bottom of the adjacent page, readers finally see all but Carrie’s lower legs and feet—but she is pictured in a modified version of what is known in the comics world as a “broke-back” pose. This pose, endemic in the Modern Age comics of the 1990s and 2000s, draws women as “unnaturally twisted and arched to display all of their curves in the front and back simultaneously.”33 A woman’s back would have to be literally broken to appear in this way, hence the name.
Figure 8. Carrie is reintroduced as Catgirl, sixteen and sexualized. Credit: Frank Miller, “Book One,” The Dark Knight Strikes Again (New York: DC Comics, 2002).
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Immediately after this image, the next panel portrays a close-up of both the curve of her backside and a neat v where her legs meet in the front. The very round, very pronounced halves of her backside make no fewer than twelve appearances in the following nine pages, culminating with her confessing, “Gross. I swallowed.”34 She is referring to accidentally ingesting the entirety of Ray Palmer, a superhero also known as the Atom, who had shrunk down to bite-size proportions in order to break out of his prison, but the connotation is clear: Miller is making a reference to the sixteen-year-old Carrie giving oral sex. The dramatic alterations to Carrie’s character rely on her adolescent femininity and its connotations of emptiness, amorphousness, and penetrability; however, in some ways, this exponential increase in Robin’s visible sexualization follows in the tradition of Dick Grayson, the first and longest-running partner to Batman. Comic book creators transformed Dick Grayson into the idealized adult hero Nightwing in part through his romantic and sexual relationship with alien princess Starfire. Once Dick Grayson’s mature heterosexuality was ensured, idealized adulthood and lone hero status became available to him. Nightwing, in the hands of several creators, has gone on to defeat many foes, hook up with many women, and sell many comics. Like Marv Wolfman, Chuck Dixon, and Grant Morrison, all of whom associated Dick Grayson’s maturity with his heterosexuality, Frank Miller mobilizes Carrie Kelley’s sexuality to indicate her maturation. However, as Frank Miller endows Carrie Kelley with more years of experience and burgeoning sexuality, she actually becomes less independent and more emotionally fragile—as well as more objectified and, in many ways, less mature. Her transformation and transformability here do not indicate movement toward adulthood, as Dick Grayson’s transition to Nightwing did. Instead, it is merely another example of the empty, penetrable Carrie fulfilling a need for the static and solid Batman (and Miller). Several moments in the text refute the potential interpretation that Carrie’s sexualization is a by-product of her achievement of maturity. Late in “Book One” of DK2, she huddles behind the Batmobile, crying after disciplining a member of the Batboys (reformed Mutant gang members now in the service of Batman). She is their leader, but her power is undermined by her seeming inability to handle it: she cries
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alone, “lets herself feel it,” according to Batman’s internal monologue. He rests his hand on her shuddering shoulder and intones, “Good girl. Good soldier.”35 Despite Carrie’s obvious and intense discomfort with her recent interactions, Batman praises her for it. Her childish need for Batman’s approval is illustrated even more distinctly after a mission to intimidate the villainous Lex Luthor, when Carrie flies the Bat-copter and thinks to herself, “I squeeze tight on the steering mechanism so he won’t see my hands shake. I didn’t screw up. Not once.”36 She is fearful and unsettled, but she puts her own feelings aside in order to live up to her interpretation of Batman’s expectations. Carrie’s thoughts and behaviors hint at increased dependence on, love of, and fear of Batman. It appears the occasionally disobedient child has been replaced by an obedient one, the grieving wife or lover now a codependent one. The “Fridging” of Carrie Kelley Though many authors have used sexual activity to signal Dick Grayson’s achievement of maturity, Miller’s interpretation of his post-Robin career in DK2 differs dramatically from those canonical representations. DK2’s juxtaposition of Dick Grayson and Carrie Kelley also illustrates the limit of roles a male Robin can play in Batman’s life, at least not without disrupting his heterosexual masculinity, whereas Carrie is recast into yet another role as a damsel in distress. Miller’s Dick Grayson has been absent for some time, and upon his return to Batman’s life in The Dark Knight Strikes Again, he has become a crazed assassin, having undergone gene therapy in order to alter his appearance at will.37 Much like Carrie Kelley, Dick Grayson can now appear as anything or anyone; he has undertaken violent and villainous means to achieve the sort of transmutability that makes Carrie so valuable. What he most wants to be, it appears, is Batman’s partner, the Boy Wonder: Dick Grayson still wears his Robin costume from his childhood, and it would seem his “default” appearance is that of his young adolescent self (though if Miller’s timeline is consistent for all characters, Dick Grayson would be around forty years old). Throughout most of DK2, evil Dick Grayson tracks and kills any and every former member of the Justice League he can get his hands on, but he is most interested in murdering Carrie Kelley, who has taken his place as Robin and remains the most important relationship
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in Batman’s life. Carrie Kelley is abducted by this volatile and cruel Dick Grayson, who tortures and beats her. “He loves you,” the first Robin croons. “The daughter he never had. So pretty. Sweet sixteen. I’m going to skin you alive.”38 Grayson also makes it clear to Batman that he is harming Carrie purely to upset their shared mentor: “I’ll rip your heart out and shove it down your throat, Bruce. And you’ll thank me for it, after you see what I do to your little piece of jailbait here.”39 Hinting at the many roles Carrie is able to fill in Batman’s life, evil Dick Grayson refers to her as both Batman’s “daughter” and his “piece of jailbait.” The many small panels depicting Carrie’s torture recall the “Women in Refrigerators” phenomenon, a term coined by writer Gail Simone. In classic “fridging,” a female character is violently harmed, sexually assaulted, and/or murdered merely to further a male hero’s story line.40 Here, Carrie Kelley’s abuse not only motivates Batman to action; it also provides a comment on Miller’s interpretation of homosexuality as grotesque and immature, indirectly reinforcing the normalcy of Batman and Carrie’s sometimes heteroerotic relationship. Miller takes the accusations of the homoerotic subtext from 1940s and ’50s Batman and Robin stories and crafts a version of Dick Grayson who was completely in love with and subservient to Batman but whose love was unrequited and may have led to his firing from the role of Robin. “I loved you!” Grayson tells him. “I would have done anything for you!” Batman replies, “So what? You were useless.”41 Unlike Carrie, who is quite useful in many ways, Batman could find no utilitarian purpose for Grayson, and so he was let go. In their unhappy reunion, Batman cruelly reminds Grayson of his “unsuitability” for the role of Robin: “I fired your sorry butt. For incompetence. For cowardice. You couldn’t cut the mustard . . . And did you bawl like a baby or what? . . . You were always pathetic.”42 Batman taunts him with lovers’ nicknames, like “peach” and “plum,” sharply contrasting the sincerity with which he refers to Carrie as “darling” and “dear” throughout The Dark Knight Strikes Again. Dick Grayson’s obsessive love for and dependence on Batman are painted as “pathetic” and “babyish”; Miller’s hypermasculine Batman cannot have had any part in such a relationship, so this retcon casts Grayson as a spurned potential lover whose unmet homosexual desire has stunted his development and turned him into a supervillain.
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Whereas for Carrie Kelley, dependence on Batman and a sexualized (if not actually sexual) relationship with him appear ideal, for Dick Grayson, they are portrayed as monstrous. As opposed to Carrie Kelley, whose empty adolescent femininity and hollow identity Miller portrays as desirable for Batman / Bruce Wayne, the homosexual implications of Dick Grayson’s love for the patriarch are a threat to Batman’s traditional masculinity, and the relationship is thus rendered intolerable. Yet this interaction between both Robins once again reinforces the idealized image of adulthood as straight and male. Batman’s rescue of Carrie provides him with the opportunity to restore patriarchal control over her female body, which needs saving, and over Dick Grayson’s homosexual body, which he ultimately destroys. Even in Carrie’s failure to fight Grayson—her own inability to “cut the mustard,” as it were—she is still incredibly useful to Batman as a damsel in distress, allowing him to assert his own capability and heroism. The diegetic and symbolic use of teen girls’ bodies under siege as a means of reinforcing straight male dominance returns to the fore in the story of Stephanie Brown’s stint as Robin. Stephanie Brown Spoils the Fun Carrie Kelley’s story reflects the notion that adolescent girls are useful when they are malleable objects, shoring up the firmness and materiality of masculine adults. The demise of Stephanie Brown produces an image of adolescent girlhood in which independent action is immature and misguided at best and disastrous at worst, thus indirectly supporting the idealized maturity and “rightness” of adult men. Unlike Carrie, Stephanie is not cast as a convenient and flexible foil for Batman; instead, she is written as a challenge to his authority and then punished severely for her intrusions. Differing from Carrie Kelley yet again, Stephanie Brown was a character in several long-running comics titles, including Detective Comics and Robin of the 1990s and 2000s, and she plays a pivotal role in the massive DC Comics crossover event “War Games.” Closely reading her depictions in these titles reveals Stephanie’s consistent defiance of patriarchal order and the ways in which the predominantly male creative teams make a cruel example of her through her torture and death.
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Stephanie Brown is portrayed from the get-go as largely defined by the impact of male characters on her life, including Robin, Batman, and her father. Stephanie’s first appearance is in Detective Comics #647 (1992), in which Batman and Robin / Tim Drake begin tracking a villain called Cluemaster, who recently escaped from prison and claims to no longer rely on his old gambit of leaving (rather hokey) clues to his crimes. However, the GCPD is receiving clues nonetheless related to a large heist Cluemaster and his gang are planning. Readers see that he and his new gang are being spied on by a hooded figure dressed in purple with a blue mask and gloves. Later, readers are introduced to a pretty blonde girl seated at a kitchen table, placing pieces of a photograph in an envelope with gloved fingers, leading readers to believe she is the spy and the one sending messages to the GCPD. Her mother inquires as to her school attendance and homework, indicating her youth. Their home is in utter disrepair, with peeling walls and dishes piled up in the sink, and her mother wears a bathrobe and lank hair in the middle of the day. Their conversation implies the mother is addicted to some prescription drug. The young girl and the hooded spy are the same person: Stephanie Brown, the daughter of Cluemaster, Arthur Brown. Stephanie is angry at her father for being a criminal and for abandoning his family when he went to prison, and she is now determined to “spoil” all of his plans, going by the masked moniker Spoiler.43 Stephanie resembles the second Robin, Jason Todd, in that she is the daughter of a criminal father and a drug-addicted mother. Also like Jason, Stephanie challenges Batman’s authority more regularly than most other Robins. When Robin / Tim Drake brings her to Batman so she can tell him everything she’s overheard through her spying, Stephanie says she desperately wants to stop her father, to get him back for all he has put her through. However, Batman forbids her from coming with them, telling her, “This is more than some private vendetta you have against your father.” “Say what?” Stephanie reacts. “I’m going to get my payback and there’s no way you can stop me.” Batman replies, “I’m not arguing with you about this and I’m not negotiating. If you truly want your father caught, then you’ll do as I say.”44 Unlike Jason, then, whom Batman treated kindly and patiently, Stephanie’s experience of Batman as a father figure is that of a strict, overprotective
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paternal authority figure. This pattern of Batman speaking harshly to and about Stephanie continues; a full real-time decade later and under completely different authorship, Batman still refers to her as “a foolish and reckless young woman who doesn’t know when to quit.”45 (In the interim, he has attempted to train her, only to decide she isn’t worth the trouble and give up.) In Stephanie’s second appearance, a three-issue arc in the Robin title, she again resurfaces only after her father escapes from prison in order to oppose him. Robin’s internal monologue questions, “Where the Cluemaster goes, can the Spoiler be far behind?”46 The final issue in the arc sees Spoiler coming around to the idea of being a vigilante more regularly—but only to pursue her romantic interest in Tim, to go from directly challenging one man in her life to aggressively chasing another. “I guess this means you go back to being a civilian, right?” he asks after they see Cluemaster arrested. “Maybe not. I mean, not if I can see you again,” Stephanie replies. Despite Tim having kissed Spoiler moments before, he mumbles a noncommittal reply and bails, pinning precocity and sexual desire largely on Stephanie.47 This exchange and the appearance of a keen interest in sex on Stephanie’s part foreshadow Stephanie’s forthright sexual activities in her later appearances. Sex and Stephanie Brown: Spoiler Spoiled Stephanie’s adolescent female challenge of patriarchal authority comes not only through her commitment to locking up her father or arguing with her father figure, Batman, but also through her precocity and overt sexuality. Stephanie is not depicted as particularly intelligent or a good detective, indirectly reminding readers of how smart both Tim and Batman are, and is generally unremarkable—except for her conventional Western beauty. Stephanie is drawn to be hyperfeminine and attractive. She is shapely, with long blonde hair, large breasts, and full lips; in short, Stephanie is sexually precocious, a quality long demonized in the making of adolescence as a means of limiting women’s attainment of idealized maturity. Dominant social and cultural institutions around the turn of the twentieth century mobilized adolescence to police sexuality and gender expression through the looming specter of precocity. Stage-based life- span development theories tended to share a deep investment in delaying
Figure 9. Stephanie Brown, looking like a long-lost Sweet Valley High Wakefield triplet, daydreams about Robin’s age and romantic attachments. Credit: Chuck Dixon and Tom Grummett, “Last Gasps,” Robin vol. 2 #5 (New York: DC Comics, 1994).
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sexual activity until adulthood, lest one’s emotional wires get crossed in some way and endanger their ability to achieve and maintain a bourgeois nuclear family lifestyle (which was posited as the ultimate ideal). However, the wires have crossed from the beginning for adolescent girls. Even as Erik Erikson and other developmental theorists were encouraging delayed sexuality, girls have almost always been taught that their literal sexual ability to reproduce was what mattered most. Though much of this education happened casually at home and through cultural consumption, schools piled it on in a more formal manner. In the early twentieth century, distaff curricula emerged that promoted a separate-sphere mentality for boys and girls. As David Tyack and Elisabeth Hansot note, a key goal of these curricular changes was to “attract back those women who had fled the home for outside careers, and stem the drop in the birthrate of native-born [white] women.”48 These changes sought to return women to the privacy of the home, where they would be married to men and raise children and would not participate in mature, professional society. Into the midcentury, girls (and indirectly boys as well) were thus taught that a young woman’s ultimate role in society was tied to her sexuality (the ability to produce and raise children), but at the same time, sex itself was taboo and largely her responsibility to withhold. The 1960s and ’70s saw some significant progress in terms of girls’ education and attitudes toward sexuality, most notably through the passage of Title IX in 1972. Girls seemed to be looking toward a future with more options as well: the women’s liberation movement won better access to employment and higher education, while the introduction of “the pill” and the Roe v. Wade decision affirmed women’s rights to bodily and reproductive self-determination (it is important to note, however, that most of these gains benefited white women and were far less accessible for Black women and other women of color). Even popular culture shifted to allow for more serious and wide-ranging explorations of adolescent girlhood, including novels like Judy Blume’s Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret (1970).49 Yet as Gabrielle Moss observes, the Reaganite cultural backlash of the 1980s combined with the HIV epidemic brought “traditional” values back to the fore, and popular culture for young people began to skip “narratives about teen trauma in favor of innocent romances that harkened back to the malt
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shop days, when girls were virgins, families were nuclear,” and pretty, sexually active girls like Stephanie Brown were more likely to be the villain of a story than its protagonist.50 In short, dear Stephanie was playing a rigged game—writers literally drew her sexuality as unavoidable, condemning her to the perception as precocious and therefore in need of discipline in texts generally aimed at young men and boys. Though the Modern Age of comics is known for sexualized images of women, Stephanie’s youth complicates the meaning of her appearance. She is a “fast” girl, the type of girl you don’t want to be but that boys probably like to hang out with, only to be unceremoniously dropped by them—or worse, abused. She is rather immediately and consistently sexualized within the images and story lines of the comics, inciting pleasure for young male readers and providing cover for her many abuses—what else should “fast” girls expect? In the second issue of Detective Comics featuring Spoiler, Robin leaps from a tree onto the back of her moped, wrapping his legs and arms around her from behind. Shortly thereafter, Spoiler is depicted thinking about Robin in a romantic way, musing to herself, “Wonder if he’s seeing anyone? What kind of girl would be Robin’s type?”51 Eventually they begin a capes-with-benefits sort of relationship, in which Tim Drake plans to continue seeing his girlfriend, Ariana, but as Robin, he acts on his physical attraction to Spoiler—all the while continuing to keep his real name and identity a secret from Stephanie, made easier by her established lack of intelligence and apparent sexual willingness.52 The differences between Stephanie Brown and early Carrie Kelley are legion, but they share their framing as empty and awaiting male action, awaiting some form of “penetration.” For Carrie, this appears as responsiveness to Batman’s needs, following his orders and waging his war without challenging him. For Stephanie, her “penetration” is much more literal. She reveals that a male associate of her father’s attempted to rape her when she was a child, and she thinks her father may have killed her abuser after she told him about the incident.53 At sixteen, she is sexually active and becomes pregnant by her boyfriend, Dean.54 This activity separates her from all other Robins past in that no adolescent sidekick to Batman had ever been depicted as “going all the way.” One story line featuring Tim Drake shows his girlfriend expressing interest in having sex with him, which he strongly resists.55
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Likewise, Dick Grayson was portrayed as able to stave off the attention of alluring female characters, saving him from precocity and preserving his innocence until he had shed the Robin identity and become the young adult hero Nightwing. Stephanie’s pregnancy thus marks her as lacking self-control; the visual of her growing belly in these issues is a manifestation of her foolishness. Her abandonment by Dean shows readers the folly of her waywardness, a potential punishment that teen girls who have sex can expect to receive. When Tim arrives to take Stephanie to “baby class,” Stephanie appears disheveled, in oversized sweatpants and a T-shirt, leaning casually in her doorway, already large and apparently uncomfortable.56 Tim is portrayed as the savior of Stephanie’s pregnancy, helping her prepare for the baby, taking her to Lamaze classes, and providing her with the emotional support her own mother is incapable of providing. In this way, Stephanie’s pregnancy treads familiar paths of comic books rejecting the maternal in favor of the paternal and diminishing her heroism due to her “penetrated” body while emphasizing Tim’s heroism in his stepping up to care for her and the baby. As comics scholar Jeffrey A. Brown writes, the “rejection of the maternal in superhero comic books contributes to a greater emphasis on the stability of fatherhood and by extension reaffirms the cultural and legal conceptions of paternal authority.”57 Most often, Brown notes, this comic book paternity is figurative rather than literal and can be read clearly in sidekick-hero partnerships, wherein adult heroes foster and mentor youthful sidekicks. However, Tim/Robin acting as a father to Stephanie’s unborn child places the sidekick in the parenting role, emphasizing his own ability to someday be viewed as an idealized adult with paternal authority, similar to Dick Grayson’s assumption of foster fatherhood for Damian Wayne discussed in chapter 2. Though Stephanie’s pregnancy aligns with typical depictions of maternity in women superheroes, a common trope of teen pregnancies in broader popular culture raises the specter of a wasted life, in which a young woman with academic, artistic, athletic, or other potential is forced to give it up to be a mom, or she is emotionally destroyed by terminating the pregnancy or giving the baby up for adoption, or (at best) she must work incredibly hard to overcome her emotional distress in order to achieve a meaningful life.58 To the writers’ credit,
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Stephanie’s pregnancy and the baby she gives up for adoption do not come to define her young life in the years following that story line. However, between her childhood abuse, pregnancy by a deadbeat boyfriend, and consuming hatred of her lowlife father, writers still do not depict her as much more than a target of male-inflicted trauma for the sake of moving the story along. Indeed, aside from her hyperfeminine appearance and obvious sexuality, Stephanie’s second most remarkable trait seems to be her ability to create drama for Robin / Tim Drake by being fridged by scummy men in order to further the story of a less scummy man.59 She was kidnapped and held hostage by a gang of robbers and nearly killed in Robin #15 and kidnapped again in Robin #43, this time specifically as a lure for Tim Drake.60 Stephanie’s rescue at the end of each instance by Robin / Tim Drake affirms his future access to idealized maturity while diminishing her own capability. (Stephanie does help rescue Tim from suffocation in an armored truck buried under cement in Robin #5, but she claims to have done it mostly by accident and happenstance, not even realizing that Robin was in the truck—the writers seemingly very reluctant to acknowledge any actual sleuthing on Stephanie’s part.61) These moments reinforce the idea that Stephanie is less important as a character in her own right than as a figure who moves the plot for Tim Drake. Tim represents a break from former Robin figures in that his personal life is fully realized and portrayed within the texts, enough so that he was the first Robin to be given his own title. Much of the dramatic tension in Tim Drake stories comes from this double life, and Stephanie’s presence is a deep well of precisely that sort of tension. She throws off the delicate balance Tim has struck between his two lives, creating stories and conflicts that help sustain a monthly ongoing series. By the early 2000s, DC Comics seems to have concluded that Stephanie’s utility in this regard had run its course, but through her time as Robin and its immediate aftermath, they nonetheless found ways to deliver again the message that adult men are the real and proper source of order and control. Stephanie Brown, Girl Wonder? In discussing Stephanie Brown’s stint as Robin, it is crucial to understand at the outset that the role was never meant to be permanent.
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While Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, and Tim Drake have all gone on to become independent adult heroes in their own right after serving as Robin, when they were first written to be Robin, the authors and editors did not have a specific end in sight for them.62 Their time as Robin and what came after developed organically over several years of storytelling by multiple writers and negotiations with fans and editors. For Stephanie Brown, such development was never the intent. Her time as Robin was much hyped, with an extremely flashy first cover showing her diving through the night in a redesigned Robin costume (complete with red headband for her flowing blonde hair), but according to Batgirl writer Dylan Horrocks, all this hoopla was cynical artifice. At a panel presentation for the Auckland Writers and Readers Fest in 2011, Horrocks said, “The whole way through, it was planned purely as a trick to play on the readers, that we would fool them into thinking that the big event was that Stephanie Brown would become Robin, but we knew all along it was a temporary thing, and she was then going to die at the end of this crossover story.”63 In this same panel presentation, Horrocks expressed shame and regret about the way Stephanie’s story unfolded, but the bottom line remains the same—the writers put her in a Robin costume as nothing but a sexy diversion. Her challenge of Batman’s authority to name the next Robin and her consistent disobedience of patriarchal order are brutally punished, illustrating that even if adolescent girls do not serve as near-perfect foils for adult male characters, they can still be useful through being made an example. When Stephanie takes up the role of Robin, Tim Drake has retired from being Robin at the behest of his father, who found out about Tim’s extracurricular activity and forbade it. Not wanting to destroy his relationship with his father, Tim hangs up his cape and attempts to live a normal life. He visits Stephanie as she works out at a local track, where he finds her running in booty shorts and a crop top. She sprints over to him and kisses him in a full-page splash, simultaneously passionate and ridiculous, surrounded by bubble-gum pink hearts and little stars. From the start of this arc, Stephanie is portrayed as immature and childlike, despite having carried and delivered a baby herself. Stephanie tells Tim she is still acting as Spoiler, though she has also been strongly discouraged from vigilante activism by Batman, so she patrols during the day instead of at night. One afternoon, she
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witnesses Tim and another girl kissing. Of course, the other girl surprised Tim with the kiss, and he politely explains to this other girl that he is in a relationship, but this context is lost on Stephanie, who flees the scene in rage. She is already formulating a plan to get back at Tim, which she believes will impress Batman at the same time as a bonus: she will become Robin.64 This “plan,” as mentioned, involves Stephanie forcing herself into the role of Robin, directly challenging Batman’s orders to refrain from vigilantism: in Robin #126, Stephanie breaks into the Batcave wearing a homemade costume—complete with the ever-practical crop top—and insists Batman train her as the new Robin. Surprisingly, Batman agrees, and Stephanie exclaims, “This is so totally COOL!” while leaping into the air, her crop top revealing skin almost all the way up to her massively drawn chest. Alfred reminds Bruce of his former concerns about Spoiler; “I did everything I could to make her quit. She wouldn’t” is all the answer Alfred gets from him. “But sir,” the butler continues, “promise me one thing. This isn’t some scheme to lure Tim back, is it?” Batman does not respond, leaving readers to conclude that it very well may be just such a scheme.65 It would seem Stephanie has become Robin to attract Tim’s attention, and Batman only allows her to do it because he sees her as a tool to get the real Robin back. She is a pawn for Batman to get Tim back just as she is a pawn for DC Comics to hype their upcoming event. In this way, even Stephanie’s defiance of Batman is used as a means to further his designs. Even in asserting her own self-determination, Stephanie’s desires are manipulated into serving Batman’s (and the writers’) patriarchal order. By Robin #128, after appearing as Robin in just five issues across the DC Comics universe in three months’ time, Stephanie Brown is fired. She has been subject to haranguing (disguised as “training”) from Batman in which he constantly compares her to former male Robins and finds her wanting. She disobeys an order from Batman, leaving the Bat-copter to rescue him from a fight he was losing to an assassin called Scarab. Though Stephanie insists that she was just trying to help, Batman summarily dismisses her: “I gave you a fair shot. You didn’t measure up, but there’s no shame in that. And Stephanie? Let this be the end to all of it. From now on, I don’t expect to see Spoiler out there either.”66 Batman’s demand that she refrain from all
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vigilantism in the future implies that he did allow her to be Robin as a ruse—if not to get Tim back, then perhaps to finally show Stephanie just how unfit he thinks she is for the job. Stephanie’s firing and discouragement from vigilantism stand in stark contrast to the treatment male Robins have received in similar situations, both before and after Stephanie’s turn in the role. In Batman #424 (1987), writers strongly imply that Jason Todd murdered a suspected serial rapist by pushing him off a balcony and claiming “he slipped.”67 Even if the suspect did really slip, Jason had egregiously disobeyed Batman by getting himself into the situation, yet he was not fired. Perhaps the most defiant Robin in history is Damian Wayne, who is abrasive and murderous and disobeys orders regularly. On one of his first outings as Robin (partnered with Dick Grayson / Batman), Damian directly disobeys an order, then when confronted about his behavior, he rips the R off his vest and tosses it unceremoniously to the ground before storming out.68 By the end of the following issue, Batman saves Damian’s life and gently returns the patch to him as a symbol of forgiveness and partnership.69 Damian is framed as a prodigal son, welcomed back to the role time and again despite his disobedience. Damian can be taught, can be trained; he is worthy of Bruce Wayne’s and Dick Grayson’s time and attention, whereas Stephanie is framed as hopeless and forever doomed to incapability. This stark difference between Stephanie’s treatment and that of male Robins echoes the notion that adolescent boys are in preparation for meaningful adulthood and citizenship, while adolescent girls are merely in their way. “War Games”: To the Victor the Spoiler Stephanie’s next story arc after being fired from the role of Robin illustrates the danger for adolescent girls who step out of their lane and defy the primacy of adult men. Stephanie has stolen one of Batman’s “war games,” scenario plans for if and when things really go south, and she puts it into play in hopes of getting Batman (and Tim) to take her back by showing them she can manage it herself: “I still don’t accept why Batman fired me, I still haven’t given up on proving myself to him,” she thinks to herself.70 However, she is unable to intervene in the opening act of the scenario plan and ignites a gang war involving
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every crime family and neighborhood in Gotham City, and Batman is framed as the only one truly able to clean up the mess. This story line juxtaposes the wild, emotional, reactionary girl ex-Robin with the methodical, thoughtful, and ultimately successful Batman—who even gets Tim back as Robin as part of the deal. Stephanie’s feminine defiance is turned into a means of highlighting the “rightness” of the idealized adult male, Batman, and his rightful inheritor, the young male Tim Drake. Stephanie is on the run throughout most of “War Games,” doing her level best to minimize the damage she has wrought. However, she is depicted as incompetent and incapable of solving the problem, which only Batman knows how to handle. If Carrie Kelley’s fridging was a means for Frank Miller to spur Batman into reckoning with and defeating a demon from his past, Stephanie Brown’s “War Games” fridging frames her as the demon finally meeting her well-deserved reckoning. As described earlier, Carrie is a perfect complement to Batman—everything he needs her to be throughout TDKR and DK2. She is an innocent. Stephanie, on the other hand, is rarely what Batman needs her to be and is far from innocent, in the sense that she is guilty of starting the crime war and that she was formerly spoiled by sex and pregnancy. She insisted on taking on roles she was strongly discouraged from taking: she left the house when she was told to stay home and, like evil Dick Grayson of DK2, obsessively sought both Batman’s and Robin’s attention. All these past “sins” catch up to Stephanie, sins that amount to little more than seeking independence and self-fulfillment in two worlds built by men, for men: the diegetic world of Gotham City and the metaworld of Modern Age superhero comics. Her punishment comes in the form of her capture and torture at the hands of Black Mask, a witty but vicious villain seeking to leverage the crime war to his own advantage. He ostensibly wants information from Stephanie, but the foundation of his belief that she knows something is flimsy, his reasoning for torturing her is ill defined, and Stephanie’s resultant death at the end of the arc does little to move either Batman or Tim Drake in any meaningful plot direction. If a typical fridging happens to spur men to action and Stephanie’s does not, we can safely conclude this punishment is actually more
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about Stephanie than any other character. Rather than merely communicating that teen girls are disposable, it communicates to readers that teen girls who defy the patriarchal order are deserving of their punishment, that this is the result of young feminine insolence. Black Mask’s abuse of Stephanie specifically mobilizes her gender and age. Though the Modern Age of comics is known for gendered exploitation and violence, writers play up Spoiler’s adolescent identity to charge her ordeal with even more lopsided power dynamics. Referring to Stephanie several times as “little girl,” Black Mask brings her to an abandoned building and strings her up by the wrists; pencillers use this and other poses throughout the torture scenes to highlight her perky chest and long legs. Black Mask’s torment of her is riddled with sexual innuendo and comments on her appearance: “I mean, you’re pretty as a peach, but not exactly one of Batman’s smarter minions, are you? Maybe he used you for other, more obvious advantages, eh? Keep up morale? Keep the troops happy?”71 Though Black Mask is merely provoking Stephanie, he is not too far off: these lines recall Spoiler’s introductory arcs in the 1990s when she was consistently portrayed as unintelligent but beautiful—her “use” to Batman and Robin being the way she makes Robin feel both smart and aroused. While Black Mask is away consolidating his power, Stephanie manages to break her own wrist and escape, but she is hurt too badly to get far. When her captor returns, he again leans into the sexual nature of Stephanie’s torture, asking as he searches for her if the sixteen-year- old “crawled to find a more attentive suitor” and suggesting she gets “off on the pain.”72 Each visual return to Spoiler and Black Mask shows her more and more damaged—bleeding from her mouth and multiple gashes on her body, crying throughout, and eventually shot by Black Mask. Stephanie’s torture lasts for two full issues of Robin, and her death in the hospital appears in another two issues.73 She served as Robin for just three issues of that title and for only five issues across all DC Comics titles. Her ultimate punishment thus lasts about as long as her biggest transgression—disobeying the expectations of adolescent girlhood by not deferring to the adult male in her life. Interestingly, Stephanie’s torture occurs primarily in the Robin title, as though specifically portraying it as a result of Stephanie’s attempted usurpation
Figure 10. This panel is just one of the many images of Stephanie’s hypersexualized torture at the hands of Black Mask. Credit: Ed Brubaker and Paul Gulacy, “War Games, Act 2 Part 7: Betrayal,” Catwoman vol. 3 #35 (New York: DC Comics, 2004).
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of the role. Readers of Robin who did not pick up the other titles of the “War Games” storyline were thus taken directly from Stephanie’s insistence on becoming Robin to her firing and then her torture. Writers even admit through Stephanie within the text that their “girl Robin” gambit was just that—a gambit, never intended to truly diversify the Robin roster in any meaningful way. As Stephanie approaches death in the hospital, she tells Batman, “You were so right to fire me. I’m such an idiot.”74 Having a busty blonde girl on the cover of a few issues of Robin and selling her as the “Girl Wonder” was at best a marketing ploy and at worst a harsh reminder of adolescent girls’ proper place in the world: doing what they are told by adult men and staying home and out of public affairs. These stories reinforce the notion that teenage girls cannot occupy the role of future idealized adult hero because their futures do not allow access to idealized maturity. Instead, adolescent girls are constructed as convenient foils to adult men, a bit softer and more impressionable than adult women and less worthy of actual investment of time and energy than adolescent boys. Writing Stephanie to admit that she was never right for the role also appears to be an effort on the part of creators to absolve themselves and their star hero of their treatment of the character. If Stephanie is the one who ultimately decides she wasn’t meant to be Robin, then the whole sordid affair becomes her fault and not the fault of Batman or a reflection of the writers’ (and many readers’) desires to see her diminished, bound, and beaten. Though some of the authors involved in “War Games” portray Stephanie/Spoiler as somewhat deserving of her punishments, having her acknowledge she was never a good crimefighter and should have stayed out of things, at least two of them have since expressed discomfort with the way the story played out. Dylan Horrocks, who was writing Batgirl during “War Games,” admits that both he and Nightwing author Devin Grayson were opposed to the directives from DC Comics editors. Horrocks said, “It was one of the most depressing weeks of my life, because we basically spent the whole week in this horrible office planning how to kill this poor teenage girl.”75 The rest of the team “planned this big, long torture scene”; Horrocks said he didn’t “want to really have anything to do with that” and so chose not to include any images of Stephanie’s torture in his corresponding issues of Batgirl.76 According
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to Horrocks, Devin Grayson also voiced concern that the only heroes who die in “War Games” are a young girl and a Black man, noting that characters like these are routinely harmed or killed in various forms of media. These authors seem to have understood the power that Stephanie’s story had to reinforce or disavow aspects of the dominant ideology and were ultimately uncomfortable with the messages it sent. Girl (Robins), Interrupted The question of whether or not Batman ever really wanted Stephanie to be Robin haunts her tenure in the role, but what the writers really seem to be questioning is whether they and their audience ever truly wanted a girl Robin. Their answer? A resounding no. After Stephanie’s death, producers made it clear that they did not see her claim as legitimate, at least not in the way that male Robins had “really” been Robin. They also seem to have assumed most of their audience was likewise not invested in a girl Robin based on their responses to feedback from the small but vocal contingent of fans who did feel “slapped in the face” by Stephanie’s treatment.77 These fans organized and protested around the apparent erasure of Stephanie’s stint as Robin in DC Comics continuity. In TDKR, Frank Miller predicts the death of Robin / Jason Todd, showing a glass case with a Robin costume inside it in the Batcave as a memorial. This visual theme was picked up after Jason’s death in continuity and has been a permanent fixture of the Batcave, in some form or another, for decades. However, after Stephanie’s death, no such memorial was made. Female fans created an online group called Project Girl Wonder and conducted letter-writing campaigns requesting a memorial case for Stephanie’s costume, but DC Comics continued to eschew any recognition of Stephanie’s time as Robin.78 In fact, one of the “War Games” authors who later took over the Batgirl title painfully dismissed the claims of these marginalized fans: Andersen Gabrych wrote a story line in which a decaying Stephanie Brown appears to an unconscious Batgirl / Cassandra Cain and says, “I screwed up. I paid the price. Simple.”79 This acknowledgment places the blame for Stephanie’s torture on Stephanie herself, recalling common misconceptions of women’s experiences of abuse and sexual assault in which they are held responsible for the behavior of others.
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These responses from DC Comics demonstrate that their dismissal of young female characters is mirrored by a dismissal of young females in real life. Young female fans clamored for attention and for recognition, but the producers’ responses, from lackluster ambivalence to outright victim blaming, indicate a determination to maintain patriarchal control even stronger than the desire to sell comics to a historically undertapped market. A sort of détente was reached between fans and producers, and Stephanie Brown eventually made a triumphant and popular return in 2009—this time not as Robin but as Batgirl.80 Though Batgirl has never been a true sidekick to Batman, she has hovered around the periphery of the Batcave since her introduction in comics as Betty Kane in 1961 and Yvonne Craig’s television portrayal of Barbara Gordon on the 1960s Batman series.81 In addition to Betty Kane and Barbara Gordon, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, and even Carrie Kelley have also filled the role of Batgirl in comics.82 Unlike the inherently youthful sidekick role of Robin, many of the women who have been Batgirl were adults. In having girls age into the role of Batgirl, as was the case with former Robins Stephanie Brown and Carrie Kelley, comic book producers send the message that this role, the diminutive -girl, is where female Robins are relegated when their youth begins to expire. Their femininity places them outside the line of succession to the cape and cowl and unable to achieve maturity. These characters are the products of adolescence being constructed as a preparatory stage for boys and a confounding trap for girls. Carrie and Stephanie’s unfortunate fates produce an image of adolescence as a never- ending -girl-hood, in which females continue the cultural work of reaffirming masculinity-as-maturity. The first and only Black Robin, Duke Thomas, subject of the next chapter, is similarly sidelined as tertiary character the Signal and produces a further restricted image of adolescence and the pathway to maturity as glaringly white.
CH A P T E R 4
MIXED SIGNALS Adolescence, Race, and Robin
As I described in chapter 2, a recurring plot convention of Golden Age Batman and Detective Comics stories was the first Robin, Dick Grayson, needing to be rescued by his partner. These story lines allowed Batman to appear strong, mature, and capable while reminding readers of Robin’s own youthful recklessness and lack of skill. They also indicated Robin’s importance to Batman—villains knew capturing the Boy Wonder would be a perfect distraction for Batman because saving Robin would be his priority. In 2015, author Lee Bermejo flipped this script: a young Gotham crimefighter found himself utterly abandoned by Batman. “Can’t keep waiting for Batman to swoop down and save the day,” this boy, Duke Thomas, thinks to himself. “Another adult who bailed. Gotta do all the swooping myself.”1 He is on the run from his new foster family, into whose care he has been placed after his previous foster father decided he wasn’t worth the effort. Though Duke Thomas, like Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne, is young, vulnerable, and in need of guidance, he differs from these characters in that he is Black. Duke Thomas knows at this moment that he is not going to be rescued by Batman, and while he joins a movement of helpful teens who call themselves “We Are Robin,” he is later denied the official title and partnership with Batman that earlier Robins enjoyed. Like Carrie Kelley and Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas’s story is a response to broader social and political trends regarding the role
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of adolescents. The creators of Carrie Kelley and Stephanie Brown responded to the gains of 1970s second-wave feminism by laying out two paths for adolescent girls: conform to whatever the authority figures need them to be or be punished for their disobedience (disobedience that, in Stephanie’s case, included sexual freedom and self- determination). These story lines reassured their mostly male readers that teen girls were not a threat to their dominance. But by Duke Thomas’s introduction in 2013, the comic-consuming audience had expanded and become significantly more diverse.2 Digital sales had made comics far more accessible than the direct-market shops of the 1980s and ’90s, and the popularity of the Marvel Cinematic Universe had made superheroes cool and mainstream again. Rather than reassuring a particularly narrow audience of their privilege, the DC Comics titles starring Duke Thomas respond positively to fan demands for increased diversity.3 These story lines also produce a specific image of Black adolescence as precarious at best. Writing in the wake of the highly publicized extrajudicial killing of Mike Brown and subsequent protests against police brutality and lack of police accountability, creators of Duke Thomas reflect real issues a boy who looks like him might face in 2010s America, including stop-and-frisk, overpolicing and police brutality, and the intractability of white privilege. In some ways, Lee Bermejo’s We Are Robin (2015) and Tom King’s Robin War (2016) do the opposite of Carrie Kelley’s and Stephanie Brown’s stories: We Are Robin in particular encourages readers to think about the lived experience of many Black adolescents instead of using them as a prop to move plots for other characters.4 Though these authorial efforts are not sustained throughout all of Robin War, in which white characters begin to eclipse Duke’s story, the Black protagonist and his friends, many of whom are also not white, are undeniably smart, compassionate, and heroic, while the Gotham City Police Department is depicted as corrupt, fearful, and inept. These titles directly respond to Black liberation movements’ calls for contemporary Americans to actually see Black youth as youth. The creators use Duke’s story to highlight the harsh reality that being a teenager is not the same thing as being perceived as one. Understanding this difference in who is perceived as a youth is crucial: it creates the conditions in which Trayvon Martin, a
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seventeen-year-old boy carrying a bag of Skittles, and Tamir Rice, a twelve-year-old boy playing in a park, can be perceived as dangerous threats and robbed of their lives because of it instead of being treated like the kids they were. It creates the conditions in which Black children are overpoliced in their communities and schools, leading to grossly disproportionate suspensions and expulsions for Black students as compared to white students or worse. Monique Morris’s Pushout: The Criminalization of Black Girls in Schools (2015) offers an analysis of how young Black girls are “pushed out” of academic achievement through such overadministration and also offers a helpful metaphor: Black youths are, broadly, “pushed out” of adolescence, while white youths are generously offered its behavioral latitudes. Trayvon Martin, Mike Brown, Tamir Rice, and far too many others were viewed as mature and dangerous, but Brock Turner and Brett Kavanaugh were just “boys being boys.” The creators of We Are Robin and Robin War seem to be both aware and critical of the ways in which Black youth are “pushed out” of their own adolescence, emphasizing Duke’s own adolescence by centering on his perspective and calling him “Robin,” the most emblematic and recognizable teenage name in comics. Yet the authors of Robin War and Duke’s next story arc in Batman comics ultimately withhold the official title and partnership with Batman from him. If “Robin” produces an image of adolescence, Duke Thomas’s eventual exclusion from the role reinforces an image of adolescence that is available only to white youths. Even Carrie Kelley and Stephanie Brown were officially granted the title of Robin, though their later relegations to the role of Batgirl imply a perpetual immaturity earlier male Robins evaded. Hesitance to make a Black character an official sidekick is understandable: the history of nonwhite sidekicks to white heroes, like the Lone Ranger’s Tonto, is fraught with notions of white saviorism and nonwhite subservience. The independence of Duke’s ultimately nonsidekick identity could read as positive—as a sort of self-determination and unwillingness to be merely a support to a white character. At the same time, the writers’ withholding of the role of Robin from Duke means he is left out of any lines of inheritance implied by a sidekick- hero relationship.
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This pseudo-Robin is a product of fan activity calling for more diverse representation in comics and sociopolitical activism calling for an expansion of collective imaginings of “adolescence.” But Duke’s story is an example of how even well-intentioned efforts at highlighting the precarity of Black adolescence can end up reinforcing the notion that the pathway to adulthood is most easily accessible to white children and teens. A Robin of a Different Color The first story to star Duke Thomas and center on his perspective is Lee Bermejo’s miniseries We Are Robin. In the story, after an attack on Gotham City, Duke has been left temporarily orphaned and Batman has disappeared and is presumed dead. In the aftermath of the attack and while he searches for his missing parents, Duke teams up with a group of loosely connected Gotham City teenagers who take on the title “We Are Robin” for themselves. Their goal is simple: keep the city and its residents safe. The teens of We Are Robin communicate with each other using internet messaging and employing themed handles like “Dre- B- Robbin,” “Sidekicker,” and “YellowCape.” They are guided from time to time by a mysterious user called the Nest, but otherwise, they have no central leadership. Wearing hoodies or motorcycle jackets and cargo pants or leggings instead of spandex superhero costumes, these teens patrol their neighborhoods in the absence of the real Batman (the only “Batman” in Gotham at the time this story takes place is the state-sanctioned Police Commissioner Jim Gordon in a robotic Bat- suit, largely unintended to combat low-level street crime). They have little to no “Bat-” technology for much of their story, relying instead on what teen mechanic Dax can scrape together or what the Nest occasionally provides. In a departure from Robins past, these self-proclaimed Robins are primarily composed of nonwhite and lower-class adolescents. Of the five We Are Robins with the most lines and appearances, only two are white. One of these white characters is depicted as working class (Dax, the aforementioned mechanic), son of the street thug who murdered Bruce Wayne’s parents. The second white Robin, Dre, is the son of Italian mobsters—wealthy but trashy, evidenced by his mother’s
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gaudy clothing, Jersey Shore dialect, and choice of romantic companions. The other important We Are Robins include Riko, a shy Japanese American girl; Izzy, a Puerto Rican girl who works nights at her family’s restaurant and whose brother is a Latin King; and Duke. A featured review from Newsarama appearing on the back of We Are Robin vol. 2 (2016) reads, “WE ARE ROBIN is a great example of how comics should bring more diversity into the mix.”5 These reviewers hint at the overbearing whiteness of comics, especially in regards to adolescent figures. Although there have been adolescent heroes in comics since 1940, and both Marvel and DC Comics have put out titles featuring Black adult superheroes since the late 1960s (e.g., Marvel’s T’Challa / Black Panther and Sam Wilson / Falcon) and early 1970s (e.g., DC’s John Stewart / Green Lantern), there is a relative dearth of Black teenage heroes originating from either major publishing house.6 DC Comics’ Cyborg / Victor Stone, introduced in 1980, stands out for being an original Black adolescent figure, but like Duke Thomas, many of the most notable Black adolescent characters in mainstream comics are merely recast version of sidekicks or heroes who were originally white: Miles Morales (an alternate-universe Spider-Man), Riri Williams (Ironheart, a revamped Iron Man), Elijah Bradley (Patriot, a revamped version of two white characters, Patriot and Captain America), Jackson Hyde (the second Aqualad), and Wally West II (Kid Flash, to whom creators couldn’t even be bothered to give a new name when redesigning the original Wally West).7 It wasn’t until 2018 that a Black adolescent figure from comics was granted his own film: Miles Morales, central character of Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse.8 These limited and derivative images of Black adolescence in superhero comics have their roots in the early twentieth-century construction of adolescence. As I explored in detail in chapter 1, modern American adolescence is largely a social identity dating back to the turn of the twentieth century, when it was crafted as a time of “becoming” during which one prepares to be an adult and a productive citizen. However, the meaning of “adult” was closely linked to white Western masculinity, so adolescence was not really a time of becoming for those who would not achieve this “idealized” maturity—including nonwhite people, women, and queer people. The dominant cultural,
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Figure 11. Duke Thomas (on the far right) and the rest of the main We Are Robin group receive assistance from the Nest. Credit: Lee Bermejo and Jorge Corona, “Sibling Rivalry,” We Are Robin #5 (Burbank, Calif.: DC Comics, 2015).
scientific, and legal institutions in twentieth-century America have made the concept of adolescence difficult to attribute to Black bodies. Instead, media portrayals and codified policies have worked to ensure actual Black teenagers are oftentimes either viewed as mature, dangerous threats or are infantilized and subjected to heavy supervision. In other words, Black teens are frequently pushed out of their own adolescence. In nudging Duke to the margins of the Bat-family and denying him the quintessential teenage role of Robin, the authors neatly, if unintentionally, illustrate the difficulty of attributing “adolescence” to Black bodies for twenty-first-century white Americans. Duke Thomas: Mature Menace? In We Are Robin and Robin War, authors Lee Bermejo and Tom King use Duke Thomas to depict the double bind many Black adolescents experience: they are either perceived as mature and potentially dan-
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gerous or infantilized and treated like dependent children. Both scenarios rob Black youth of their adolescence, and the former in particular denies them access to the behavioral latitudes of adolescence enjoyed by white youths. At the beginning of Duke’s story, he is picked up by the GCPD for fighting (though he did not start the fight and certainly did not look like he would be able to finish it). He is remanded to his new foster family, but his caseworker informs him that he might not be so lucky if he gets brought in by the GCPD again. “It’s going to take a miracle from me to keep you out of juvie,” she tells him.9 Duke is already suffering, having lost track of his parents in a violent attack by the Joker and been shuffled from foster family to foster family while the police keep telling him to sit tight as they consistently push the search for his parents lower on their list of priorities. Yet instead of seeing Duke’s adolescent anger as a manifestation of the difficulty young people sometimes have checking their emotions (or even better, helping alleviate some of the stressors in his life), they threaten him with jail time. This exchange reflects the real-world truism that Black youths’ interactions with law enforcement almost always lead to further involvement in the criminal justice system. The American juvenile justice system has consistently worked to shape white adolescents into adults while preventing access to mature citizenship for nonwhite youths. As Geoff K. Ward notes, “The white-dominated parental state engaged for generations in racially selective citizen-and state- building initiatives through juvenile justice and practice.”10 Since the 1970s, after significant activism demanding a more equitable system, juvenile justice has functioned in a “formally race-neutral scheme” that supposedly separates youths based on whether they are “‘normal’ and malleable” or “criminally responsible, ‘serious’ delinquents.”11 Like many so-called race-neutral policies, this system still manages to routinely classify nonwhite and Black youths as “‘serious’ delinquents.” These classifications mean criminal records, harsher sentences, and a higher likelihood of future interactions with law enforcement. As a result, at every juncture in the modern criminal justice system, Black youths are more likely than white youths to be punished, subjected to increased surveillance, and treated as adults. At one point in Robin War, King even uses Duke’s internal monologue to highlight
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these disparities in the criminal justice system: “One out of nine Black men will be incarcerated between the ages of twenty and thirty-four,” Duke thinks to himself, sarcastically noting that he would be ahead of that curve at his young age.12 The creators of Duke Thomas show that although various Robins have interacted off and on with the GCPD throughout the characters’ eighty- year history, those interactions would likely have a markedly different tone if and when that Robin is Black. King and others illustrate this phenomenon most clearly in the criminalization of the We Are Robin group. After a robbery gone wrong, there is evidence a member of We Are Robin accidentally shot both the robber and a police officer (a later issue reveals this was a setup meant to foment anger toward the We Are Robin movement). Gotham City Council declares any and all Robin activity illegal, and a two-page spread of images from Gotham television news shows angry citizens criticizing the movement: “They call themselves Robin after Batman’s partner, that child partner he has. He’s their role model. Obviously not a good one . . . Gotham needs to say no! No to the Robins! No to masked teenagers!”13 A Gotham City councilwoman appears in the final frame, claiming that “City Council is looking into the matter. We are reviewing all options in dealing with this Robin situation. Nothing is off the table.”14 The comic portrays the city of Gotham as afraid of these teens and comfortable with (if not preferring) violent means of restraining them. Artist Khary Randolph illustrates that the reactions on Gotham news are in fact overreactions, using many small, repetitive panels; giving the sense of an overwhelming response; and pasting scowls on the faces of the movement’s critics as if to show on the outside the ugliness of their internal biases. Earlier creators generally ignored the city’s interpretation of Robin, focusing instead on the relationship between Batman and his partner—but a singular, white Robin under the guidance and supervision of Batman represents an entirely different image of adolescence than a group of Black and brown lower-class teens without adult supervision. Gotham City’s criminalization of We Are Robin reflects the cultural assumption that adolescents are unremarkable, appropriate, and “normal” when they are white and under the close watch of an adult male but are otherwise an inherent danger. Such assumptions
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are rooted in the early twentieth-century fear of street-corner societies, groups of unsupervised adolescents who were primarily children of poor Southern and Eastern European immigrants and Black families fleeing the Jim Crow South. As noted in previous chapters, this anxiety about troublesome, unsupervised juveniles is also shaped by beliefs about childhood innocence and fear of precocity. Being “streetwise” implies a knowing, a wisdom that youths ought not to have, for it ages them prematurely. Importantly, childhood innocence has always been a trait applicable to white children at the expense of Black youths. The presumed danger of youths of color was and is connected to the underlying belief that youths of color are not, in fact, youths at all. Cultural historian Robin Bernstein locates a specific erasure of Black childhood in the “insensate pickaninny” figure, which she describes as “an imagined dehumanized Black juvenile” who appeared in a wide variety of popular and material culture aimed at children and adults alike.15 Oftentimes the figure had violence inflicted upon them or engaged in acts that would result in self-inflicted injury in a way that implied humor and made light of the physical pain that child would experience. The figure looked like a child but lacked the characteristics that had been connected to white children—namely, innocence and emotional sentimentality. Bernstein writes that because “pickaninnies were juvenile yet excluded from the exalted status of ‘child,’ they seemed not to matter.”16 Black children were not understood or depicted with the characteristics of “children” and thus could not access the privileged protection that white children experienced. Such beliefs about Black children and youths not really being youths persist into the twenty-first century, with Black children often being presumed to be significantly older than they actually are. A 2014 study led by psychologist Philip Atiba Goff found that “Black boys can be misperceived as older than they actually are and prematurely perceived as responsible for their actions during a developmental period when their peers receive the beneficial assumption of childlike innocence.”17 The same study additionally suggested Black youths may actually be perceived as adults as early as age thirteen. In other words, for Black teens, the rebellion and angst associated with adolescents since the mid-1950s can instead appear as aggression; the
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impulsivity that rather playfully marked early Dick Grayson / Robin as a youth can instead be slandered as a lack of self-control. While comics’ poor, orphaned, white Dick Grayson appeared deserving of the attention and care bestowed upon him by Bruce Wayne since 1940, Bermejo and King point out that entrenched and institutionalized racism affects the way residents of Gotham City (and potentially some readers of the comic) feel about poor, orphaned, Black Duke Thomas and his compatriots. In Robin War, Tom King draws on the imagery of racist stop-and- frisk policing to illustrate one way in which Black youth are often perceived as threatening. Duke walks along the street chatting amiably on the phone with Riko, a fellow member of We Are Robin. A police cruiser pulls up alongside him, and a white officer demands that Duke tell him about the shoes he is wearing. Duke describes his shoes (“they have laces, a sole, stuff in between”) and what he uses them for: “walking. Never running. I don’t run . . . because running obviously means you’ve done something wrong.”18 Here, King’s Duke is all too aware of the danger he faces when stopped by a police officer. His insistence on only walking, never running, implies this is not Duke’s first interaction with stop-and-frisk, hinting at the overpolicing of Black neighborhoods and young Black males in particular.19 Despite his polite responses to the officer’s questions, his overall compliance, and the fact that he was doing nothing but walking down the street, the officer slams Duke face-forward onto the cruiser and puts him under arrest for wearing red shoes, since “red means Robin.”20 Notably, in the comic, wearing Robin colors has recently been made illegal in Gotham City, so Duke is technically breaking the law. However, the sheer ridiculousness of making certain colored shoes illegal allows the comic’s creators to illustrate that just because a behavior is illegal does not make it dangerous, nor does it mean that individuals engaging in that behavior are deserving of violent restraint. Indeed, certain behaviors have been made illegal for the express purpose of targeting certain types of people, most often Black Americans, in an effort to frighten and punish them—see the war on drugs for one glaring example. All these scenes advance the depressing reality that “adolescence” is not really something a boy who looks like Duke Thomas would have
Figure 12. Duke Thomas is violently arrested by the GCPD for the crime of wearing red shoes. Credit: Tom King, Khary Randolph, Alain Mauricet, Jorge Corona, Andres Gunaldo, and Walden Wong, “Robin War Part One: With the Greatest of Ease,” Robin War #1 (Burbank, Calif.: DC Comics, 2016).
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the same access to as white kids; as legal scholar Vesla Mae Weaver succinctly puts it, “Police and the general public do not see Black kids as kids.”21 The authors of We Are Robin and Robin War seem attuned to this restrictive perception of adolescence and work to expand it by centering on Duke’s perspective and internal monologue. Duke clearly considers himself a youth, one who is perhaps asked a bit too much of by the adults in his life (“Gotta do all the swooping myself ”). At the same time, he feels that all the adults around him are dismissive of his needs—he is desperate to find his parents (again, because he is in fact just a teenager who cannot yet take care of himself), but his social worker and the police keep telling him to wait and let them handle it. Arrested Development: Duke Thomas and the Forced Dependence of Black Americans While the GCPD officer who violently apprehends Duke appears to perceive him as a dangerous criminal, King also uses Duke’s interaction with the officer to highlight the other direction from which Black youths are pushed out of adolescence—by framing them as infantile, childish, or otherwise incapable of actually attaining maturity. Before the GCPD officer slams Duke face-first onto the cruiser, he yells, “Put the phone down . . . Keep your hands where I can see them . . . Now, boy!” Duke complies but thinks to himself, “‘Boy?’ Well, guess we’re doing this now.”22 Here the white officer mobilizes descriptions of age to diminish Duke’s autonomy and self-authority, which Duke picks up on in his note of the officer’s use of the term “boy.” The term has been used by white Americans to belittle Black American adults for generations, dating back to slavery and continuing through the Jim Crow era and into the present day. Civil rights marchers in the 1960s frequently bore signs with the words “I AM a Man,” pushing back against the term and its infantilizing connotations. Perception of age has been weaponized to prohibit Black adults’ access to the privileges of maturity (or even basic freedoms). Although Duke is indeed younger than the officer who mobilizes the term, he correctly recognizes it as a loaded term indicating disrespect. The infantilization of Black individuals on the part of white Americans is older than the founding of the United States, as paternalistic views of “savages” and “Negroes” frequently provided cover for the
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subjugation of nonwhite people by Europeans and their descendants. Thomas Jefferson drew such parallels in a letter to Edward Bancroft in 1789, writing, “As far as I can judge from the experiments which have been made, to give liberty to, or rather, to abandon persons whose habits have been formed in slavery is like abandoning children.”23 Jefferson perceived Black people as dependent on white slave owners and cited this dependence as the reason for slavery’s perpetuation. In having the GCPD officer refer to Duke as “boy” while also treating him like a dangerous criminal offender, Tom King reflects the competing notions of Black American adults as childish and dependent even as dependence and innocence are not ascribed to actual Black children. This conflicting perception has been nurtured throughout the twentieth century in both political and popular culture, captured most famously in the figure of Sambo. The Sambo character, a grown male figure who appeared in print culture, song, vaudeville, and later film and television, epitomized the shuffling, smiling, “childlike Negro.” Historian Joseph Boskin describes Sambo as “an overgrown child at heart” and notes that “as children are given to impetuous play, humorous antics, docile energies, and uninhibited expressiveness, so too could one locate in Sambo identical traits.”24 This stereotype provided rhetorical ammunition for Lost Cause revisionism, promoting a grotesquely false image of Black slavery and dehumanization as harmless, kindly, even “humorous.” It also further distanced Black Americans from the normative process of maturation: whereas white children were expected to progress from innocent, dependent children to capable, contributing adults, Black Americans were often framed as going from hard, threatening adultlike figures to dependent, childish simpletons—with little sign of adolescence in between. The cruel and damaging connection between Black American adults and childishness has not been limited to popular culture; an immature and incapable figure of Black adulthood has also been reflected in public policy and political rhetoric. However, unlike Sambo, this figure is typically framed as dependent on the state—an economic rather than social relationship—and is rooted in the stage-based life- span development theories detailed in chapter 1. These theories, most notably sketched by Erik Erikson in his 1950 Childhood and Society, crafted a Eurocentric ideal of maturation.25 Leaving one’s parents’
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home, marrying a heterosexual partner, and creating a nuclear family headed by a man were all part of “proper” maturation, according to the most popular stage-based development theories. Deviations from these supposedly universal patterns, such as preferences for multigenerational homes or matriarchal family structures, came to represent improper or arrested development instead of equally valid cultural differences. The famous Moynihan report, officially titled The Negro Family: The Case for National Action (1965), drew on such conceptions of “proper” maturation. The report painted a rather dire picture of Black families as headed by single mothers, dysfunctional for that reason among others, and in need of heavy state intervention.26 The image was certainly a far cry from the idealized midcentury nuclear family. The Moynihan report’s legacy still had traction twenty-odd years later, evidenced in President Ronald Reagan’s racist dog-whistle descriptions of “welfare queens,” mythical figures who are simultaneously dependent on the system but still savvy enough to exploit it.27 Reagan- era approaches to criminal justice administration and the war on drugs also led to an exponential increase in mass incarceration, which disproportionately affects Black Americans and creates another twisted form of dependence. Michelle Alexander aptly terms mass incarceration as a “system of control” in which the label of felon means one is prevented from self-sufficiency through restrictions on jobs and housing access upon release.28 The carceral system is designed so that those who have supposedly served their time are still denied public services and protection from employment discrimination; due to the irrational structure of court and jail fees, many people who have been released from prison find themselves back in court and prison due to their inability to pay back said fees. In short, when those who have served their time are denied housing, food, and jobs, the state’s rejection of their cries for help leads to a perverse entrapment in the criminal justice system—its own form of coerced dependence on the state. This coerced dependence, in which even those who don’t return to prison may have to “beg their grandmother for a place to sleep at night,”29 contributes to the infantilization of adult Black Americans and misperceptions of them as immature or uninterested in self-sufficiency.
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As Black youth are often perceived to be older than they truly are, actual Black adults have often been portrayed in popular culture as childish or infantile, and various mechanisms in the real world have forced a disproportionate number of Black adults into a cruel dependence on the state. This coerced dependence is then used as evidence for their childishness, which is reified in popular culture, and the cycle continues. These conflicting notions contribute to the invisibility of Black adolescents in that their bodies are visible but the dominant white gaze often does not attribute “adolescence” to those bodies. Adolescence as an idea, a set of expected behaviors, a socially constructed identity appears most easily attributable to white bodies. In light of the multiple angles from which Black adolescence is squeezed out of existence, Duke Thomas’s eventual relegation to non-Robin status makes a sort of cold, uncomfortable sense. Since 1940, Robin has been the most visible and well-known adolescent figure in comics, but how could a body that in the real world would rarely be perceived as an adolescent fully inhabit this role? In telling the tale of Duke Thomas, the creators of Robin War directly contrast his story and point of view with that of the “original” white male Robins; the outcome of the “Robin War” produces an image of adolescence that still caters to and idealizes the experience of white teens like Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne. The Robin War’s Two Fronts King’s title, Robin War, carries two meanings: first, there is a “War on Robins,” launched by the Gotham City Council immediately following the formation and media sensationalizing of the We Are Robin group. King and the other authors of this crossover series portray the people of Gotham as fearing the We Are Robins, as though these teens are mature, dangerous threats. The authors also demonstrate the ways in which Black and brown youth are restrictively supervised and administered by adults—not with the goal of helping them develop into functioning adults but with the goal of controlling them. Second, there is a war among Robins, which pits the white male scions of billionaire Bruce Wayne (Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne), called the “Originals” in the story, against the lower-class and nonwhite Robins of We Are Robin. Both iterations
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of the “war” reflect ways in which youth of color, specifically Black youth, are doubly marginalized; it is in this latter “war” that readers can clearly see the privileges enjoyed by white youth, stark against the backdrop of nonwhite youths’ many disadvantages. The authors of We Are Robin and Robin War mostly succeed in centering on a Black youth’s story and raising awareness of how systemic racism functions to push Black teens out of their own adolescence, but these efforts begin to break down when they position Duke alongside the legacies of Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne. It appears the creators were willing to diversify their comic only to an extent—Duke is still subservient to these white characters, still holds a weaker claim to the title of Robin, and though both Damian and Dick arguably exhibit racial bias against Duke, they come out in the same positions in which they started, while Duke is funneled into a less important, less prestigious role. Although all of the other previous Robins are markedly white, Damian Wayne carries an additional standard of whiteness and the potential to attain idealized maturity by being the biological son of Bruce Wayne. There is a sense of continuation embedded in Damian’s DNA: he is the future image of Batman’s mature white masculinity, the descendant that ensures the preservation of whiteness.30 Damian is adamant about his difference from the poor, nonwhite We Are Robins, and he frames this difference in terms of maturity: he tells Jim Gordon (wearing the mecha-Batman suit), “I am doing your work. I am trying to get these children to stop.”31 He yells at the GCPD, “I’m not a child. I’m not them!”32 Yet Damian is one of the biologically youngest people in the room—meaning his insistence that he is not a child while the other We Are Robins are is based less on actual age than it is on a sort of performative maturity tangled up with race, class, and privilege. While jailed, Duke appeals to the others to stay calm and not escalate tensions with the GCPD, and Damian calls him a coward.33 Damian appears confident in his belief that he should not and will not be punished for his actions. Through his contrasting portrayals of Duke and Damian, King reflects that not only are Black youth like Duke targeted by police but also white youth are often benevolently ignored by authorities. White adolescents experience what Vesla Mae Weaver has termed “a kind of super freedom—the rational expectation of no
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adjudication even when they commit serious, violent, assaultive behavior.”34 Damian’s slander of “coward” directed at Duke indicates he does not recognize his own privilege, which, though consistent with Damian’s character as rather selfish and defiant, could be read as a form of racial violence and trivialization of Duke’s experience. Damian is not the only white Robin famous for thumbing his nose at the law either: in Robin War, King draws on a long history of white Robins going unpunished for dangerous behavior. Mentioned briefly in the two previous chapters, Jason Todd was introduced in Batman comics of the mid-1980s as a teen character with a drug-addicted mother and absent father. He was quickly turning to a life of street crime and social antagonism prior to Batman / Bruce Wayne’s intervention.35 However, this character refracted the specter of urban squalor described by Moynihan and condemned by the Reagan administration through a key sympathizing trait: whiteness. Jason Todd was taken in by Bruce Wayne and trained as the second Robin, though their relationship was not without strife. Jason’s criminal history haunted him, but again and again, Bruce Wayne and the GCPD gave him the benefit of the doubt. In Batman #424 (1987), writers strongly imply that Jason murdered a suspected serial rapist by pushing him off a balcony and claiming “he slipped.”36 When Jason returned in 2005 as the gun-toting antihero Red Hood, writer Judd Winick depicted him as a literal criminal and murderer, yet he remains a sympathetic and popular character.37 Jason’s role in Robin War also calls up his outlaw past: in hoping to work with rather than against the We Are Robins, Jason’s training regimen involves them learning to steal the wheels off some mobsters’ cars.38 Whereas the solipsistic lawbreaking of white Robins—to say nothing of Batman!—has been portrayed as a character flaw at worst, Bermejo and King demonstrate that for a nonwhite character, such attitudes and actions take on different meanings. Jason murders and steals, and Damian assaults the police (and in other story lines has also killed criminals), while Duke Thomas is assaulted by a police officer and violently arrested for the crime of . . . wearing red shoes. The creators of Robin War juxtapose Duke and Damian to reflect how the behavioral latitudes of adolescence favor white teens and how the frequent misperception of Black youths as mature endangers them.
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On the other hand, they juxtapose Duke and Dick Grayson to illuminate the ways in which paternalistic attitudes toward Black youths diminish them and put them at risk of overadministration and strict surveillance. Like Damian, the character Dick Grayson carries with him connotations of white racial preservation. Although he is not the biological son of Bruce Wayne, he was named Batman’s successor and inheritor of the Wayne legacy by multiple authors and on more than one occasion. Dick is also a pseudoparent of Damian Wayne. In this manner, he represents a link in the chain between Bruce and Damian. As I chronicled in chapter 2, Dick Grayson has been depicted in comics as fully grown and matured since the 1980s. Dick’s whiteness, masculinity, and heterosexuality mark him as an idealized adult. However, rather than treat Duke Thomas with the sort of care and guidance he provided for Damian, Robin War sees Dick Grayson lie to Duke and perceive him as one who will never achieve true Robin-hood. In the same issue of Robin War in which Jason’s criminal tendencies resurface, Dick Grayson takes Duke Thomas under his wing due to the leadership potential Duke shows. It is thus that Duke Thomas finds himself on a rooftop, watching all of his We Are Robin friends get arrested by the GCPD while Dick narrates what had been his plan all along: “I control the arrests, make sure they’re safe. Then I put my best men in there with them, make sure they’re all safe. And all ready to break out, when I figure this out.”39 In this exchange, King depicts Dick Grayson as a purveyor of paternalistic racism, believing that he is doing the right thing by forcing the We Are Robins into state supervision, despite his earlier promise to train and help them. Dick Grayson has also orchestrated the arrest of the other original Robins but refers to them as his “best men,” secure in the knowledge that those (white male) Robins will be able to free the (nonwhite and/or female) others when he has determined the time is right. Duke Thomas is understandably frustrated; as Dick Grayson prepares to leap off the rooftop, leaving Duke to his own arrest, Duke shouts, “You—you manipulated all of us! Just to put us away! Tuck us in safe, like we were all your damn kids!”40 Yet the comics’ creators do not go so far as to have Duke point out Dick’s implicit racial bias, even as Duke connects Dick’s actions to his unwillingness to attribute maturity and capability to Duke and the We Are Robins. The moment only partially succeeds
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in critiquing the infantilization of nonwhite people—Duke’s anger is portrayed as justified, but King undermines what could have been a powerful statement about paternalistic racism when the remainder of the story line proves Dick Grayson “right” in his reading of the situation in Gotham City. While many generic conventions of superhero comics are fantastical, the story of Duke Thomas reflects harsh realities faced by Black adolescents in contemporary America. Duke Thomas simply cannot follow the same path as Dick, Damian, and the other white Robins who are in preparation for idealized adulthood. Duke’s Blackness means that he may not be perceived as an adolescent at all by the wider (and whiter) community. He will be presumed to be older and more dangerous than he truly is, or he will be deemed too immature and in need of excessive surveillance and supervision. In turn, the role of adolescent sidekick is not fully available to him—indeed, his star turn ends with him declaring, “I’m not Robin,” surrendering the title to Damian Wayne.41 Damian, for his part, had abandoned the title to join the evil Court of Owls. Originally after Dick Grayson, the Owls agree to accept Damian as their new assassin instead when Dick refuses. Despite Damian’s willingness to sell out his compatriots (and the entire city of Gotham), Duke relinquishes the title of Robin to appease Damian and coax him back to the side of good. In the war among the Robins, the creators portray a clear winning side: the white descendants of Bruce Wayne, the inheritors of his name, his legacy, his privilege. Bermejo and King succeed in critiquing the unequal treatment Black youths face at the hands of law enforcement, and they illustrate the frustration of Black youth at their infantilization rather eloquently, but at the end of Duke’s first starring story line, King has Duke surrender his claim to the Robin identity to save all the others. It is a heroic act, no doubt, but one that only reifies Duke’s exile from any inheritance of power or privilege he may have obtained by serving as a partner to Batman. Though Duke may appear more heroic and the creators most likely did not intentionally subsume Duke in this manner, the effect is the same: a Black character sacrifices his identity to preserve that of the white characters, recalling another racist trope in the expectation that Black characters will be self-sacrificing and do anything to help
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their white friends or mentors. Like Andersen Gabrych’s story line in which Stephanie Brown takes all the blame for her own torture and murder, having Duke Thomas willingly surrender the role of Robin also provides cover for creators who perhaps want to prominently feature a Black teen character but not make him important enough to preclude the white boys’ access of the Robin title. Bermejo’s and King’s portrayals of Duke Thomas consistently and quietly challenge the ways in which popular media often ignores Black adolescents: they tell stories from Duke’s perspective, center on his internal monologue as the primary narration, and call out many of the dangers Black youth face due to white institutions’ and individuals’ unwillingness to chalk up their behaviors and motivations to “adolescence.” Yet in subsuming Duke Thomas’s story into one that turns out to have been about Dick and Damian all along, the creators rhetorically perform the centering of white adolescent experience endemic in media, contributing to the dearth of visible Black adolescence in contemporary culture, especially comics. After Robin War: A Signal in the Batcave Although one could theoretically argue that King meant to highlight the ways in which Black adolescents’ stories are co-opted by the white (adult) gaze in having Dick and Damian be the real heroes of Duke’s story, Tom King’s and Scott Snyder’s subsequent denial of the official sidekick role in Batman comics reveals a lingering reticence to assign Duke a prominent place in the Bat-family. What Duke Thomas is allowed and does achieve is a sort of tertiary position—a sidekick to the sidekicks, doubly marginalized by his age and race, more akin to a Batgirl than any of the “original” Robins. Perhaps the most obvious indicator of the difference between Duke Thomas and the original Robins is the nature of their personal relationships with Batman / Bruce Wayne. As noted earlier, for most of Duke’s story, he is in foster care (his parents are not confirmed dead but have been missing for a long time). Bruce Wayne is aware of Duke’s situation, and though he has no memory of being Batman, he still interacts with Duke regularly through volunteer work at the youth community center. This sort of relationship is a break with tradition in that other vulnerable boys with whom Bruce Wayne came
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into contact were almost immediately welcomed into his home. Dick Grayson became Bruce Wayne’s ward the night of his parents’ murder; Jason Todd, though Batman at first arranged for him to stay in a group home, found himself at Wayne Manor by the end of his second issue; and Bruce Wayne offered to adopt Tim Drake shortly after his father’s death, telling Tim, “I do know that I could never replace your real father, but I’d try” to be a good parent.42 Yet author Scott Snyder does not depict Bruce Wayne taking Duke Thomas in, at least not right away. Duke Thomas is finally taken in by Bruce Wayne after several years and dozens of appearances in a variety of titles. His parents have been found, but they are poisoned by Joker toxin, leaving them far from sanity and in need of intensive care. Even Bruce’s invitation to take care of Duke’s parents and house him at Wayne Manor is framed as a job offer for Duke, not the domestic, fatherly relationship previous Robins enjoyed.43 It’s unclear if the authors simply wanted to build dramatic tension or were actively resisting the normal pattern of Batman- Robin relationships, but the optics of the decades-long narrative read as though Bruce Wayne is very interested in adopting young white orphans and significantly less eager to adopt a young Black orphan. Ultimately, writers Scott Snyder and Tom King insist on Batman not naming Duke Thomas his next Robin in 2017’s Batman: Rebirth. Instead, when Duke asks Batman if he will be the next official Robin, Batman demurs: “I’m not training you to be Robin. I’m trying . . . something new,” he tells Duke.44 Batman does not make it clear why he believes something different is in order, but he presents Duke, whose hero name eventually becomes the Signal, with a new and decidedly non-Robin-esque costume. Likely referencing the “Bat-Signal,” a floodlight used to call Batman to the GCPD’s aid, the new nickname implies Duke’s service to Batman. However, the name coupled with the shape and cut of the jacket Batman gives Duke unfortunately also recalls the outstretched arm of lawn jockeys “signaling” guests where to go, reinforcing the subservient nature of his role. This effect was likely unintended, but it does demonstrate the clumsiness with which the nearly all-white staffs at major comics publishing houses sometimes handle characters of color. Despite his prohibition from the role of Robin, Scott Snyder and Declan Shalvey helmed an arc showing Duke Thomas undergoing the
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Figure 13. Batman presents Duke with a new crime-fighting costume—one with unfortunate visual connotations. Credit: Scott Snyder, Tom King, and Mikel Janín, Batman: Rebirth #1 (Burbank, Calif.: DC Comics, 2017).
same training as all the previous Robins. Batman tells Duke this program, the Cursed Wheel, is “a condensed version of all my training, all my years abroad.”45 Duke is at this point actively resisting becoming Batman’s sidekick because he worries Batman only took him in because he “feels guilty,” but Batman tells him this program is “not the training to be a sidekick. It’s the training that comes next. Every ally who’s trained with me has gone through it.”46 Of all the allies Batman mentions who have undergone this training, the only other character to have not officially been Robin is another person who falls outside of white masculinity—Barbara Gordon, also known as Batgirl and Oracle.47 As the Signal, Duke Thomas is eventually tasked with protecting Gotham during the day and handing the city off to Batman at dusk.48 It’s further revealed that unlike other members of the Bat-family,
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Duke Thomas is a metahuman—meaning he has actual superpowers. Duke’s powers include photokinetic vision, allowing him to take in the recent history of light in a space and “see” what has happened there, see through obstructions like walls, and occasionally even glimpse other dimensions. Yet the story line starring the newly powered Duke, “Batman and the Signal,” only ran for three issues. Duke’s most recent assignment, ongoing at this writing, is as a member of the Outsiders, a loosely Bat-affiliated band of superheroes historically populated by less mainstream (read: nonwhite, disabled, otherwise nonnormative, etc.) heroes. While Nightwing and Batman have both served as leaders of the team, this current iteration is led by Black adult hero Black Lightning and includes Duke and two Asian heroes, Tatsu Yamashiro / Katana and Cassandra Cain / Orphan (yet another former Batgirl).49 The relegation of Duke Thomas to not quite a sidekick (and an eventual Outsider) neatly epitomizes the ways in which Black teens are often pushed out of their own adolescence. Rather than serving as a partner to Batman, working alongside him as other Robins have, Duke is assigned to work opposite Batman, operating at completely different hours of the day. A daylight Gotham City hero is certainly innovative, but it also pushes Duke even further from traditional sources of power and prestige in the Bat-family, while the central roles of Batman and Robin continue to be preserved for white males like Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne. Duke Thomas is Robin, but he is not Robin; he is part of the Bat-family, but he is not part of the Bat-family. As calls for diversification in comics intersect with calls for Black teenagers to be viewed as teenagers, Duke Thomas has more power both inside and outside his stories than any Robin thus far. He has the power to see the past, the power to see beyond obstacles. His character gives readers the power to see how our collective past creates obstacles for kids who look like Duke. He has the power to help expand collective imaginings of American adolescence—if creators would only choose to broadcast the signal.
CH A P T E R 5
THE SIDEKICK ON SCREEN Images of Robin in Television and Film
While waiting out a classic Midwest blizzard several Februaries ago, I came across a marathon of the television program Teen Titans Go! (2013–present) on the Cartoon Network. The program is loosely based on an earlier television show, Teen Titans (2003–2006), which itself was loosely based on Marv Wolfman and George Pérez’s New Teen Titans comics. One of the first episodes I watched was entitled “Staring at the Future”; it sees the characters Cyborg and Beast Boy magically transported twenty years into the future after an epic staring contest to determine who gets the last slice of pizza. They encounter the adult selves of their friends, including Robin / Dick Grayson—who is no longer Robin but Nightwing, married to Batgirl and loving father of three children. Desperate to avoid adult responsibility, Beast Boy screams at him, “Dude your family’s horrible!”1 Another episode, “The Best Robin,” sees the regular cast interact with Robin’s “other team,” a group composed of other iterations of Robin recognizable to any nerdy comic book fans: a female Robin with orange hair and green- tinted glasses (Carrie Kelley); a brooding, red-costumed Robin with superior tech (Tim Drake); and a perky, high-voiced Robin with an affinity for the word “golly” and designing skimpy costumes (an old- timey, queerer Dick Grayson than the one regularly featured on Go!).2 Despite the program’s reputation as a childish comedy series, derided by many as a ridiculous, infantilized version of their beloved
H 123
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characters, these two episodes seemed to be engaging in a rather sophisticated metacommentary on both growing up and the complicated relationship such maturation creates between consumers and cultural products. A character like Robin gets revised again and again in order to appeal to new young audiences, but subsets of reading and viewing audiences are often put off by these moves, just as Beast Boy is by Robin—ahem, Nightwing—and his settled family life. Likewise, Robin’s “other team” reflexively acknowledges that all Robins exist in a sort of covert dialogue with each other and humorously plays with this reality by pitting them against each other (spoiler: the actual “best Robin” at the end of the episode turns out to be a literal robin, accidentally given superpowers in a prior episode). All the while, the program seems to be engaging in a reclamation of the silliness over which a vocal contingent of post–Modern Age Bat-fans have slandered the infamous 1960s Batman television show. In other words, Teen Titans Go! seemed to be exploring the history of Robin, albeit humorously, in a way few comic books have. Lots of comics are interested in the history of Batman, retelling his origin story or attempting to synthesize his entire publication history (and many a pop cultural debate centers on which Batman is the “real” Batman), but few interrogate the history of Robin the same way, though Robin is arguably a far more dynamic, malleable, and reactionary figure.3 As I investigated some other twenty-first-century televisual depictions of Robin, I found a similar winking inventiveness injected into the figure even as filmic portrayals of Batman grew ever darker and more serious. It is in part because of this schism that I want to detour from the rest of this book, which has thus far focused on comics, and briefly explore some of the ways the character has translated to the screen. The other motivating factor is, of course, scale. Television and filmic portrayals of Robin represent a broader avenue through which the character is implicated in the making of adolescence. After all, adolescence is continually being “made” right before our eyes, and film and television capture many, many more eyes than comics. Since Robin’s televisual history is almost as robust as his comics history, my goal with this chapter is not to provide an exhaustive or even thorough dissection of these portrayals but rather to introduce some recurring themes and assess them for their bearing on
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Figure 14. Robin’s “other team” arrives to help him and clearly reference historical iterations of Robin (Carrie Kelley on the left, 1940s Dick Grayson second from left, and Tim Drake on the far right). Credit: Teen Titans Go!, season 2, episode 24, “The Best Robin,” directed by Jeff Mednikow and Peter Rida Michail, written by Ben Joseph, aired December 4, 2014, Cartoon Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2015), DVD.
mainstream America’s visualization of adolescence. I have chosen to focus on those films and television series that reached a wide audience and remained culturally relevant in the 2010s. For films, I am only including those that had a theatrical release (though direct-to-video or streaming DC Universe Animated Original Movies are often excellent, and many feature top-notch voice acting). I am likewise focusing on television programs aired on broadcast television, save a mention at the end of the chapter of the streaming-only Titans. These products span over fifty years of entertainment history, allowing another longitudinal consideration of how cultural producers have thought and continue to think about adolescence. These products use Robin to project an image of adolescence to a much broader audience than comics. For example, each issue of Batman comics published in 2015 generally sold between 100,000 and 150,000, and issues in the Batman and Robin title sold at a significantly lower rate, between 40,000 and 90,000.4 Even accounting for digital sales and readers trading or sharing these comics, the television
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show reached a much, much larger audience: over two million viewers watched Teen Titans Go! in the week of November 25, 2015—and Teen Titans Go! is one of the artifacts I discuss in this chapter with the smallest viewing demographic.5 Joel Schumacher’s first Batman film made $184 million in North America.6 At a generous overestimation of $10 per ticket (it was 1995, after all), that still means about eighteen million North Americans saw this movie in theaters—let alone on home video. These types of statistics are one of the key reasons I am not drawing a wide distinction between the intended audiences of television and film products I discuss in this chapter. Though Cartoon Network programs such as Teen Titans Go! and Teen Titans are marketed toward younger people than Joel Schumacher’s 1990s films were, the consuming audience is so vast that the overall cultural reach and relevance of these products are not really in dispute.7 Some television and film portrayals of Batman and Robin are purposefully aimed at youth and adults alike, including the 1960s television series and Batman: The Animated Series (1992–1997). Even programs intended for a younger audience, such as Teen Titans Go! and The Lego Batman Movie (2017), often end up pulling in an all-ages audience of millions through either pure interest or the desire to share pop culture consumption among a family. In other words, plenty of people who have never picked up a comic in their lives know who Robin is and can describe the general contours of his character, in part because they may have seen the character on screen or consumed licensed merchandise often related to a film or television spot. If the Robin of comics is both a product of adolescence being made and a producer of it, the Robin of television and film is more of a reproducer, as screenwriters, casting directors, actors, and directors draw on comic source material (and, frequently, other televisual material) to distill an image of Robin to the figure’s least common denominator in order to reach vast audiences of children and adults alike. The images of Robin we see on screen represent a sublimation of the figures described in chapters 2–4 to what mainstream producers think are the most important aspects of the character’s identity. It should come as little surprise then that the Robin of big-budget films and television has, almost without fail, been Dick Grayson.
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None have drawn on comic source material that featured either of the female Robins, Carrie Kelley and Stephanie Brown, or Duke Thomas, the only Black Robin. The only broadcast television series to feature another Robin, Tim Drake, was the final season of Batman: The Animated Series. Tim Drake has also appeared as Robin on the streaming-only series Young Justice, and the streaming-only series Titans introduced Jason Todd as a second-fiddle Robin contrasting with star Dick Grayson halfway through its first season. No theatrical release films have featured anyone but Dick Grayson in the role of Robin. The vast majority of televisual Robins have been a polite white Dick Grayson who fits right in at Wayne Manor, even if his birth parents were working class; the others chose to portray similarly white and male Robins. Continued reliance on this figure reifies the notion that “good” adolescence prepares one to be a grown white man, preferably one with a fair amount of money who conforms to the norms of bourgeois society. If Robin is himself a hero or will someday be a hero, producers are giving us yet another image of idealized adulthood that resembles Batman (and Superman, and the Flash, and Captain America, and Iron Man, and Green Arrow, and, and, and . . .). Yet even these hegemonic images of Robin reveal a deep anxiety about the process of maturation, haunted as they are by accusations of homoeroticism in comics from the 1950s and the glittery, Technicolor specter of the 1960s television show. In many ways, that program set the tone for all subsequent depictions of Robin on screen, and it is the source of many a Robin naysayer’s perception of the figure as a laughable aberration from “real” Batman stories and characters. Batman and Robin: Small Screen, Big Impact Much has been written about the Batman television series, covering a wide variety of approaches and aspects. In his essay “Batman, Deviance and Camp,” Andy Medhurst explores the program and its role in bringing the notion of “camp” to the mainstream. On the show, both Batman and Robin (played by Adam West and Burt Ward, respectively) are meant to appear as serious straight men (in both senses of “straight”), despite the all-around absurdity of the program. In Medhurst’s words, they are “screamingly camp,” a concept that is difficult
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to define but in regards to Batman involves “a playful, knowing, self- reflexive theatricality.”8 The television show costumes were brightly colored and shiny, the villains were over the top, and the jokes were ridiculous—in one episode, a bicycle courier approaches Batman and several police officers and asks, “Someone here called Batman?” to which Batman responds, “Yes, I’m Batman,” as though the man wearing a cowl with bat ears and a bat-emblem sewn onto his tight-fitting shirt might not be Batman.9 Cultural critic Glen Weldon analyzes the show from a fandom studies perspective, arguing its mass appeal—“Batmania”—brought ardent comic book fans (“nerds”) and regular people looking for entertaining television (“normals”) into a sort of terse conversation about Batman. He writes that the producers of the program engaged in an “unprecedented publicity blitz” accompanied by a veritable revolution in licensed merchandising, “from puppets to puzzles to pocket combs, action figures to Aurora model kits, bubble blowers to Bat-candy cigarettes,” and average consumers gobbled it up.10 Fans of the comics, Weldon writes, were less enthusiastic, and he chronicles the disappointment voiced by devotees in zines and letter pages. Though Batman made Batman incredibly popular among the general public, it upset many comic book readers and thus fundamentally altered the trajectory of comics, leading to Robin’s ouster from the main comic’s title in 1969. While camp and consumerism are two of Batman’s lasting legacies, the show also made an important statement about adolescence: Burt Ward’s turn as Robin is unmistakably an effort to revive the halcyon days of happy-go-lucky teens eager to please the adults in their lives. The Robin of TV’s Batman is a pop-art-shrouded anachronism. By the mid-1960s, the concept of the American teenager was well known: Erikson’s model of understanding adolescent behavior had permeated mainstream culture, and images of rebellious young people flooded not only narrative cinema but also the evening news. Yet images of hippie culture, protests against the Vietnam War, and global accounts of youthful unrest transformed the teen rebel from a fetishized version of rugged American individualism into a cause for concern. In her study of mainstream media products featuring adolescent girls, Ilana Nash notes that “a sustained reading of teen-centered
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Figure 15. Adam West appears here as a confident Batman, and Burt Ward looks like an eager, possibly confused Robin. Credit: Batman, season 2, episode 12, “The Clock King Gets Crowned,” directed by James Neilson, written by Bill Finger and Charles Sinclair, aired October 13, 1966, American Broadcasting Company (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2015), DVD.
texts, both in the news media and narrative forms, reveals a deep and persistent fear of teens’ potential to disrupt the patriarchal status quo.”11 Viewed from this angle, the earnest, anodyne, embarrassingly square Robin of 1966’s Batman seems like an intentional reprieve from images of adolescent angst-turned-anger. Burt Ward’s Robin softened the image of the American adolescent and assuaged adult anxiety about the teen rebel’s newfound seriousness by disregarding the figure or mocking it. This Robin asks Batman a lot of questions, just like the 1940s comic version of Dick Grayson, but never questions Batman. He never curses, instead spouting the now famous “Holy [insert random noun here], Batman!” The series as a whole likewise muzzled many of the contemporary cultural phenomena associated with restless adolescents. One episode depicts a
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group of Gotham City’s “flower children” as harmless, ineffective, and easy targets for a C-list villain while simultaneously acknowledging that such young people will eventually run the world (hence the villain’s desire to control them with his aromatic chemical “flower power”). Adam West strikes an uncanny balance of admiration and condescension when he declares that the flower children are “doing what they can to correct the world’s woes with love and flowers.” In stripping what often amounted to peaceful protest movements of any real political message, Batman and Robin water down youth unrest into an aesthetic, one that is very admiring of Robin himself: the Boy Wonder tells Commissioner Gordon that the flower children think he and Batman “are cool, man. Like, we turn ’em on, you know?”12 Yikes. In other words, this Robin is 1940s Dick Grayson. This Robin is innocence personified. This Robin is Andy Hardy in hot pants—and therein lies the rub. While Batman’s Robin certainly contrasted images of youth unrest, it also reawakened the ghost of the moral panic over juvenile delinquency and homosexuality. The childlike unknowingness of early Robin’s characterization translated rather oddly to the embodiment by an actor who had clearly reached sexual maturity. Ward could not believably project youthful innocence; instead, having obviously surpassed puberty, he reads more like a naive but nonetheless viable sexual partner or fantasy for viewers, villains, or even Batman. Like early Dick Grayson, he was frequently feminized through capture—indeed, the very first story arc of the series sees Robin apprehended and then impersonated by a girl.13 The result was an unmistakably queer image of Robin (and, in turn, Batman). The show’s campiness turned the specter of a gay Robin into an object of ridicule rather than one that adults legitimately feared would influence their children, but witnessing how later writers, directors, and actors would portray the figure nonetheless reveals conflicting notions about how to handle a Robin plagued by homophobic ire. As I detailed in chapter 2, comic book creators dealt with the issue of Robin’s sexuality by aging him up, revamping Dick Grayson’s character into the adult hero Nightwing, and giving him a string of girlfriends, one-night stands, and heaps of (hetero)sexual tension. Later Robins and their authors followed similar playbooks: Jason Todd grew
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up and became the Red Hood, and Tim Drake transformed into the young adult hero Red Robin. But television and film producers have been reluctant to give up the character “Robin” when providing a partner for Batman. Instead, their products respond to the queer, campy, 1960s iteration in one of three ways: through the total refutation of the character, the rehabilitation of the character’s image, or a reclamation of the queer version of Robin conjured by Seduction of the Innocent and mockingly embraced by TV’s Batman. In these responses, producers are in effect trying to reshape Robin’s identity in the cultural consciousness, and they are relying on a very similar process to that which Erik Erikson theorizes individual teenagers use to form their own identities. As I noted in chapter 1, Erikson claims that teenagers craft their identities by refuting past aspects of their childhood identity; experimenting with new traits, styles, and attitudes; matching with or against their peers; and melding the facets they choose to keep into a recognizable self. Though adolescents pursue this end mostly subconsciously, cultural producers are actively engaged in the same task with Robin. A property as well known and long lasting as Robin means that portraying the character in film or television requires maintaining enough of the figure’s history to keep that figure recognizable while updating the character to reach new audiences, respond to current events, or specifically dispute a historical facet of the figure. Producers of television and film artifacts featuring Robin contribute to what Roberta Pearson and William Uricchio describe as the “cereal-box” version of the character. Citing a description of Batman featured on a cereal box amid late 1980s Bat-mania, they assert that the few sentences that could fit on the box communicate the most “salient characteristics” of Batman, those that are generally consistent across all retellings over the preceding fifty-odd years.14 These essentials include Batman’s identity (Bruce Wayne, wealthy playboy); the murder of his parents; his vow to protect Gotham City from criminals; being a “dark, mysterious character of the night”; and his powers: superior intelligence, athletic ability, and technological equipment. However, even all of these most “salient” traits have not been constant. Batman’s first several comic issues did not mention his parents at all, and many midcentury comics (and the 1960s television show)
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depicted a colorful, friendly Batman—a far cry from the “dark, mysterious character” described on the cereal box. The character is thus re- created with each iteration, and the additions that subsequent authors consistently choose to keep (like Batman’s parents being murdered) as opposed to reject (the campy nature of the sitcom) reinforce particularities that over time become relatively undisputed traits. For Robin, this process of curating the figure’s cereal-box description has been dominated by addressing the 1960s television version of the character. A casual survey of adult Americans would still likely turn up a cereal box description of Robin as Batman’s teen sidekick, who is definitely silly and quite possibly gay. The televisual cultural products that will be discussed later are in conversation with collective mainstream understandings of the figure and either reinforce his ridiculousness (by limiting his appearances in “serious” Batman stories), work to change popular notions about him, or playfully acknowledge the silliness as part the character’s identity. Yet this chronological overview ends with a twist: by the 2010s, producers seem to acknowledge the real figure in need of reshaping might not be Robin at all but Batman. Resurrecting Robin on Screen The cereal box described by Pearson and Uricchio was no doubt a form of advertising for Tim Burton’s 1989 film Batman,15 the first Batman screen spot aimed at a general audience in over twenty years.16 The film is cast in dark tones and sensibilities and, tellingly, does not feature Batman’s colorful sidekick at all. This wholesale refutation of Robin’s history and his fundamentality to the Bat-mythos tracks alongside Modern Age comic creators’ insistence on telling grim and gritty stories more suitable for adult consumers than youthful ones. It also elides engagement with Robin’s previous screen portrayal, freeing the production team from any uncertainty about the relationship between Bruce Wayne and his young partner. Unlike the 1960s, which were saturated with images of youthful unrest, the 1980s saw the rise of the adolescent comedy. Teens like Ferris Bueller and Molly Ringwald’s numerous suburban heroines communicated an image of adolescence that was prone to hijinks but overall fairly harmless. Whereas Burt Ward’s Robin offered a contrast and release for viewers
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concerned about where contemporary youth were leading the world, 1989’s Batman took place in a world in which youth had been rendered utterly inconsequential. The second Batman film by Burton, Batman Returns (1992), likewise scrubs the Dark Knight’s record of any hint of partnership.17 However, Batman Returns came very close to having a Robin, one who more closely resembled Jason Todd than Dick Grayson in background and attitude. According to Glen Weldon, this Robin was set to be a tough, “streetwise mechanic.”18 What’s more, this Robin almost preceded Duke Thomas by over twenty years as the first Black Robin: Marlon Wayans had been cast as the character and signed a contract for two films. He was even fitted for a costume, but shortly before principal photography began, the character was cut from the script. It is rather curious that when the production team decided to make cuts, Robin was left out: Robin was a far more central character in the comics than Catwoman or the Penguin, the film’s two antagonists, had ever been. Leaving Robin on the cutting-room floor for yet another film points to investment in honing Batman’s identity as a serious, solitary hero (it also indicates producers were more enthusiastic to give viewers Michelle Pfeiffer in a vacuum-sealed, BDSM-inspired leather bodysuit than the Boy Wonder, which I suppose is entirely fair: her Catwoman is an iconic image and performance). While these movies succeeded in rebranding live-action Batman from pop-art glamp to dark avenger of the night, they essentially preserved Robin’s 1960s identity untouched. The figure was undergoing a significant change in the comics, as writers created not one but two completely new characters to take on the role of Robin in the 1980s, but for many mainstream consumers, “Robin” was still a bare-legged, silken-caped Burt Ward.19 In other words, even as these films reached millions more viewers than had ever picked up a comic book, they did little to update Robin’s identity in the cultural consciousness. In this light, it comes as little surprise that when the franchise did manage to work Robin into a final script, it thawed the frozen-in- time image of a queer Robin that producers of the first two films were likely trying to avoid (this Robin was also decidedly not Marlon Wayans). The third film, Batman Forever (1995), featured both a new director, Joel Schumacher, and a new Batman, Val Kilmer. This film
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introduced Robin / Dick Grayson with twenty-four-year-old actor Chris O’Donnell.20 Though O’Donnell was clearly not a teenager, both Batman Forever and its follow-up, Batman and Robin (1997), in which George Clooney dons the cape and cowl,21 appear to be at pains to remind us that Robin is a youth: in the first film, he expresses gratitude to Bruce Wayne for keeping him out of “the system,” ostensibly foster care, and in both films, the villains constantly refer to him as “boy,” “kid,” and “bird boy.” These insinuations of childishness indicate a desire to retain the adolescent aspect of Robin’s identity, but the bodily appearance of the actor is even more dissonant than in Burt Ward’s turn (he was almost as old as O’Donnell by the end of the television series, but he was much smaller and had a higher-pitched voice). Schumacher also retained the hegemonic appearance of Dick Grayson when he recast a conventionally attractive white actor in the role originally meant for Marlon Wayans, but he leaned heavily and intentionally into the hints of homoeroticism carried by the figure. These two films reclaim Robin’s on-screen history. Not so much winking as waving frantically at the 1960s television series, Schumacher enthusiastically embraced its garish aesthetic, and returning Robin to the live-action screen provided an excellent opportunity to amp the camp. By casting a visibly mature actor to play Robin, Schumacher was able to purposefully play on the homoerotic connotations of Batman and Robin’s relationship without veering into jailbait territory. The camera lingers over both characters’ backsides, codpieces, and chests (clad in costumes with now infamous nipples). Both films also grant Bruce Wayne multiple love interests, but the closest Robin comes to heterosexual activity is a kiss with Poison Ivy, during which he wears some sort of protective coating over his lips—his only clear heterosexual act in either film thus blunted by a sheet of plastic. In this, both films demonstrate that while aging Robin up can be a tactic to solidify his heterosexuality, it also makes room for a continuance and exaggeration of the figure’s queer undertones. O’Donnell’s Dick Grayson retains some of the “streetwiseness” intended for Wayans’s portrayal, but only superficially: he sports an earring, wears tight T-shirts, and has an affinity for motorcycles. His origin story, depicted in Batman Forever, shows his trapeze-artist
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parents falling to their deaths, as in Detective Comics #38. He is no mechanic or street urchin; this Robin’s toughness is style rather than substance, and before long, the writers reveal the hokey Dick Grayson underneath the layers of nineties angst. “Holey rusted metal, Batman!” Robin proclaims, pointing at some old grating on which the two find themselves standing late in Batman Forever. This Robin yet again subsumes adolescent rebellion into a somewhat silly aesthetic and thereby neutralizes it. At the same time that Schumacher was reclaiming Robin’s identity, portraying him as an only slightly tougher clone of the 1960s television version, a concurrent portrayal sought to change Robin’s core self. Premiering in the same year as Burton’s Batman Returns and running for several years, Batman: The Animated Series represents the first televisual attempt at rehabilitating Robin’s character. By rehabilitation, I mean that creators of the program give viewers a Robin but appear to have made a concerted effort to downplay his on-screen history and avoid any visual or thematic recollection of Burt Ward’s Boy Wonder. Whether this is a rehabilitation in the dictionary definition of the term—that is, a restoration of something to its “original” image or reputation—is up for debate, but it’s clear that animators, script writers, directors, and actors were all actively working against cultural connotations of Robin as silly. Indeed, although the program was theoretically aimed at children and aired on the Fox Kids network, it drew a large, multiage audience; earned critical praise; and garnered several Emmy Awards. It is unrelentingly dark, animated on a black background instead of white, and rarely comedic. The show’s operatic, instrumental theme song and realistic sound effects enhance its somber tone. Even Tim Burton’s films were dippier (see Jack Nicholson as the Joker dancing in an art gallery to Prince). Unlike Schumacher’s movies, Batman: The Animated Series managed to maintain its weightiness while also featuring Robin. Yet in an effort to alter Robin’s image, creators of Batman: The Animated Series skirted the issue of Robin’s adolescent silliness entirely by also portraying him as older. Unlike Schumacher, who borrowed the same playbook but ran a very different scheme, the show closely followed Dick Grayson’s trajectory in comics. Dick Grayson from The
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Animated Series is familiar to readers of 1970s and ’80s comics featuring the character: he is already in college by his introduction on the show; he lives on his own, not at Wayne Manor; and his voice, appearance, and behavior indicate he is a young adult, not a teenager. While he was eventually rechristened as Nightwing on the show, Dick Grayson retained the title Robin for most of its run.22 In choosing to portray a quintessentially youthful character as one who is not so youthful anymore on their dark, serious program, producers of the animated series affirm the notion that seriousness requires maturity and in turn that adolescence is not worthy of being taken seriously. Creators of Batman: The Animated Series changed one of the two most important aspects of Robin’s character (“teen” and “sidekick”) by refuting his adolescence and reinventing him as a young adult in order to maintain Batman’s image as a sober, grim figure. Yet Robin’s original purpose was not merely to help define Batman; Kane, Finger, and Robinson sought to create a character who would also attract youthful consumers, and comics had long drawn on the figure’s ability to do just that in titles like The New Teen Titans. Producers of Robin’s next on-screen feature would capitalize on this aspect of his identity, emphasizing Robin’s teenness and diminishing his role as a sidekick.23 From Teen Sidekick to Team Leader Like Batman: The Animated Series, the next television program to feature Robin was a rehabilitative one. This show, Teen Titans, also marked a fundamental shift in televisual portrayals of the figure: not only did the program work hard to alter the mainstream notions of Robin as silly and queer; it also separated Robin from Batman for the first time in screen history and specifically emphasized his adolescence. Teen Titans debuted in 2003 on the Cartoon Network as a loose adaptation of Wolfman and Pérez’s New Teen Titans comics. The show trimmed the cast of that comic to five central characters whose leader is a respected, effective, decidedly straight Robin / Dick Grayson. (The characters on this show are never out of costume and always call each other by their superhero names, but this Robin’s future as Nightwing, glimpsed in the episode “How Long Is Forever?,” indicates he is Dick Grayson.24) Like their comic book counterparts, these adolescent superheroes split their time between fighting villains and
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going through puberty—sometimes literally, as in the episode “Transformation,” when alien princess Starfire is enrobed in a chrysalis and emerges an even more powerful warrior.25 In this regard, Teen Titans illustrates that producers of the show saw Robin not just as a sidekick to Batman but as an adolescent figure well suited to attracting tween and teen viewers all by himself. An interview with show producer Glen Murakami reveals his investment in and strategies for attracting just such a fanbase: “I wanted to make Robin cool. . . . I didn’t want Robin to be just the little kid who gets in trouble. . . . So when we talked about him, we talked about how we could make him look really cool. And I made everyone to look sort of awkward, like teenagers.”26 Murakami claims he specifically wanted the characters, Robin included, to “have a clumsy quality about them” in addition to their coolness—to appeal to young viewers approaching and amid the throes of puberty. In many ways, Teen Titans is akin to the live-action teen-oriented dramas that blossomed in and around the 2000s, such as Fox’s The O.C. and the WB’s Gossip Girl and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, all of which centered on the adolescent upheavals of a handful of mixed-gender characters under very little parental supervision.27 Its closest relative is arguably the WB’s Smallville, which likewise transformed the superhero genre into a dramatic teen television. It portrayed a young Clark Kent just coming into his powers as Superman while dealing with crushes and bullies at high school.28 The Cartoon Network program skewed a bit younger than these live-action soapy dramas, which often featured teen sexuality and substance use, but it similarly addressed mature themes, including grief, survivor’s guilt, homelessness, and domestic abuse. Murakami also makes the case that Teen Titans was directly responding to the 1960s television program. He notes, “When I was growing up, I didn’t like the old Adam West Batman. . . . I didn’t want to make fun of the characters. Because I think as a kid, the Superfriends [sic] and the Adam West Batman drove me nuts.” While Batman had been Robin-less on screen in multiple formats since 1989, Teen Titans is the first program to consistently portray the Boy Wonder sans Batman. Murakami admits that this was a challenge: “Robin always has that ‘and’ attached to the front of his name all the time. So whenever you show anyone a picture of Robin they always say ‘Well, when is Batman
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going to show up?’”29 By shifting the focus of the superhero narrative from one dominated by saving the world to one in which teenagers only occasionally save the world but constantly navigate growing up, Teen Titans rehabilitates Robin’s image from that of a proleptic joke into a recognizably angsty adolescent. Producers of Teen Titans leaned into Robin’s adolescence as a means of attracting youthful viewers. His tough steel-toed boots, spiky hair, overall independence, and flirtation with Starfire all indicate youthfulness. The episode “Date with Destiny” even sees Robin attend a high school prom when the villain Killer Moth’s list of demands include “the city will declare me ruler, the Titans will surrender, and Robin will take this lovely young lady [his daughter, Kitten] to her junior prom.” The episode is bursting with signifiers of teen comedies, including the moment Starfire reveals her dolled-up self to Robin, an argument over a boy, and awkward slow dancing. After defeating Kitten and Killer Moth, Robin and Starfire are even named prom king and queen.30 For the first time on screen, Teen Titans treated viewers to a Robin who was definitely a teenager but could still be capable, smart, and effective. He was portrayed as more than a sounding board or plot mover for Batman—he was the show’s main character and romantic lead. In this, Teen Titans takes up Kane and Finger’s original goal of delivering a character to whom young viewers could relate. As Murakami notes, they felt in order to do this, they had to untether Robin from Batman, as most teen-oriented television and films since the 1980s had focused on adolescent characters with little adult presence. Teen Titans asserts that the most salient aspect of Robin’s identity is his adolescence; by the 2000s, his partnership with Batman is expendable. In deepening the schism between the two figures, producers of the program made room for a more thorough exploration (and exploitation) of Robin’s adolescence. Yet it seemed that Hollywood was not ready to resurrect Robin just yet. Christopher Nolan’s 2005 film Batman Begins, which premiered during the height of Teen Titans’ popularity, once again refuted Robin altogether, as did its two sequels, The Dark Knight (2008) and The Dark Knight Rises (2012).31 This trilogy offered an even darker take on Batman than Burton’s films. Breaking from the four films led by Burton and Schumacher as well as the
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Figure 16. Robin and Starfire attend the prom. Credit: Teen Titans, season 2, episode 6, “Date with Destiny,” directed by Ciro Nieli, written by Rick Copp, aired February 14, 2004, Cartoon Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2006), DVD.
animated series, all of which began with a solo Batman and eventually caved (no pun intended) and added a Robin, these films rewrite the history of Batman as entirely without Robin. We see Bruce Wayne begin his crusade in the first film, and by the end of the last film, he appears to have “retired” from being Batman with no hint of a sidekick in between.32 Robin, it would seem, had been fully relegated to “kids’ stuff ” by the 2000s. Teen Titans’ home on the Cartoon Network meant it was branded as youth programming, despite its mature thematic elements. Robin’s absence in Christopher Nolan’s films deepened the rift between cultural understandings of Batman and Robin, giving new and casual consumers a sense that a depressed and violently dark Batman has existed and should exist without his sidekick, even though that has very rarely been the case in comic book history. Batman was
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important, serious, and capable of providing commentary on the post-9/11 world of terrorist threats and increased surveillance. Robin, his absence implies, could never keep up. Some producers, it seems, decided to lean into the idea that Robin was unfit for the grim and gritty, adult-oriented Batman stories Nolan had immortalized.33 Extending Robin’s stay on the Cartoon Network, a new creative team rebooted the characters of Teen Titans (but retained the original voice actors) with a manic, neon twist: the aforementioned Teen Titans Go! Unlike the previous iteration, these Titans were anything but serious. In fact, several episodes of the program mock the seriousness of its predecessor. “The Cape,” for example, is a dubbed-over collection of scenes from the original Teen Titans episode “Divide and Conquer,” in which the characters from Teen Titans Go!, appearing as their Teen Titans counterparts, get into a fight about whether or not capes are awesome.34 The episode arc “Teen Titans Go! vs. Teen Titans,” which was first released as a direct-to-video movie, pits the two teams against each other until they must work together and get silly to defeat their shared villain.35 This program represents yet another reclamation of Robin as a figure marked by ridiculousness, including the connotations of queerness played up in “The Best Robin.”36 Many of the character’s decisions appear to be guided by a combination of hormones (manifested in his unrequited attraction to Starfire) and his unrelenting fear of letting Batman down. The creators illustrate this latter motivation best in the episode “Sidekick,” in which Robin informs the team he has been assigned an important mission by Batman himself. The team secretly follows him on the “mission,” which turns out to be house-sitting the Batcave: watering plants, feeding fish, and other mundane tasks. When villains attack Gotham City, the team takes the Batmobile and various Bat-gear out for a spin. Instead of fighting the villains, Robin worries over retrieving Batman’s things to the point of letting all his friends get captured. Robin’s fear of losing Batman’s stuff weighs more heavily on him than does the defeat or loss of his teammates.37 In short, Teen Titans Go! offers a thorough survey of Robin’s history, both on screen and in comics. The show responds directly to the 1960s Batman, Teen Titans, and Schumacher’s two films (there is even a glimpse of the nippled Bat-suit in a dumpster in the episode “Mo’
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Money Mo’ Problems”38). The creators weigh Robin down with this history and portray him as emotionally crippled by it—his paranoia of not being taken seriously is a recurring theme.39 The creators of Teen Titans Go! envision a Robin whose identity has been formed, re- formed, refuted, rehabilitated, and reclaimed for over half a century. Perhaps more importantly, however, the creators embrace “silly Robin” as the most salient version of the character while also making the case that all superheroes are inherently a little bit silly. Teen Titans Go! takes the trend of grim, somber superhero stories to task in the episode “Let’s Get Serious.” The episode begins with the Young Justice characters Aqualad, Superboy, and Miss Martian criticizing the Teen Titans for their silliness: “You are a mockery of everything the world holds sacred about heroes,” Aqualad tells Robin. “Come on,” Robin replies, “what is so bad about being a little silly from time to time?” Later, Robin commits to getting serious, telling his friends in a gravelly voice that he was thinking about his dead parents. After convincing the team to get serious with him, the characters’ animation style changes drastically to appear more “grown-up,” with bulging muscles and overly chiseled jawlines. In a bit directly commenting on the dark cinematography of both Tim Burton’s Batman and Christopher Nolan’s Batman Begins (and possibly even The Animated Series), the Titans go to stop a team of villains in the middle of the night, and Starfire observes that it is very dark. Robin says, “Of course it’s dark. Nighttime is the most serious time to fight crime.” Raven replies, “Yeah . . . but I can’t see anything either.”40 Episodes like this one comment less on Robin’s own long history and more on Batman’s more recent past and are a harbinger of late 2010s products that similarly mobilize Robin to critique past portrayals of Batman. The Great Batward Turn Lots of creators have used (or not used) Robin in ways that comment negatively on Batman and Robin’s 1960s portrayal—painting it as misguided and silly at best, embarrassing and false at worst. Hiding Robin, changing him, or making him even more outlandish as an intentional joke has created space for Batman to be successfully rebranded as a dark, frightening figure. But some 2010s portrayals of Robin identify this Batman as the one we should actually be reconsid-
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ering and critiquing. Some of these products seem to look at the 1960s television show and see nothing to be afraid of, while some illustrate the logical conclusions of a Batman who continues his grim path without Robin along to lighten the mood. Importantly, these portrayals are in conversation with not only past adaptations but also DC’s latest film franchise, in which Hollywood has doubled down on the bleak, Boy Wonder–less Batman. The yet again rebooted DC film universe still resists Robin, though his refutation in director Zack Snyder’s Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice (2015) morbidly acknowledges Robin’s presence in Batman’s history. He is already dead when viewers are introduced to Batman, thus taking the rejection of Robin a step further by essentially killing him off-screen. The film borrows imagery from Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns (and nearly all Batman comics after the death of Jason Todd in 1988) in showing a Robin costume encased in glass in the Batcave.41 This filmic adaptation refuses to actually portray Robin but nonetheless mines his violent death to give Ben Affleck’s Batman depth and complexity—a sort of “adolescents in refrigerators” phenomenon. As of this writing, the next Bat-installment in the franchise is in production; it is set to star Robert Pattinson as the caped crusader, and there is no indication of Robin being featured in the film. Though an off-screen death seems to be the closest Robin can get to a twenty-first-century live-action portrayal in films, Robin did return to the silver screen after twenty years in the animated The Lego Batman Movie.42 In a unique and cheeky turn, The Lego Batman Movie delivers a child Robin. Voiced in a near falsetto by Michael Cera, this Dick Grayson is intended to appear younger than any screen iteration thus far (or any long-running comic versions, for that matter). In a movie based on children’s toys as much as it is based on comic books, the characterization makes sense. This Robin is wide eyed and innocent, functioning as an audience stand-in much as early Dick Grayson did: “Batman lives in Bruce Wayne’s basement!?” Lego Robin exclaims upon discovering the Batcave. The film humorously reclaims both Burt Ward’s square, campy Robin and Schumacher’s outlandish, markedly queer Robin. When first meeting Lego Bruce Wayne (voiced by Will Arnett), Lego Dick Grayson tells him, “My name is Richard Grayson, but the other kids
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Figure 17. Lego Robin is undoubtedly the sparkliest Robin. Credit: The Lego Batman Movie, directed by Chris McKay (2017; Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2017), Blu-ray.
call me ‘Dick,’” to which Batman responds, “Yeah, kids can be really mean sometimes.” Here the film establishes that this Robin is in fact Dick Grayson and also acknowledges that Dick’s very name is a crude term for a phallus (though Robin himself seems adorably unaware of this fact). Lego Bruce Wayne rather accidentally adopts the child and reluctantly takes him on as a sidekick. When selecting his costume in the film (in a fashion show montage scene), Lego Robin is attracted to a sparkly, flamboyant costume, which he adjusts by enthusiastically ripping the pants off it, leaving him with only tiny bright-green briefs. When Robin learns that not only did Bruce Wayne adopt him but Batman did as well, he breaks into a rendition of the gay anthem “It’s Raining Men,” which he changes to “It’s Raining Dads.” The creators winkingly embrace Robin’s on-screen history, turning it into a joke for the parents and other adults in the audience. Yet the film essentially reverses the roles of Batman and Robin from the television show and early comics: Lego Batman is ultimately less mature even than Lego Robin, who, despite his unknowingness, still teaches his adoptive father(s?) the meaning of love and importance of relationships by the end of the film. As in Teen Titans Go!, The Lego Batman Movie intentionally moves away from celebrating the grim, solitary, vigilante Batman. In the beginning of the film, Batman is all
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of those things, but he also appears to be a sad, lonely person. By the end, Batman actually becomes more mature by accepting help from a child, a woman (Rosario Dawson’s Barbara Gordon / Batgirl), and even his rogues’ gallery. Lego Robin’s ultimate wisdom is that Batman’s real strength lies in his relationships with others. Though the film is aimed at a much younger audience than other 2000s and 2010s films, it still manages a noticeable critique of their obsessive, solipsistic Batman while reclaiming a version of Batman who is the beloved if flawed patriarch of an extended found family. The Lego Batman Movie is also a rare instance in modern cinema and television of Batman and Robin sharing the screen, as creators had spent two decades writing stories of one without the other. The newest iteration of Robin on screen is no such aberration: Titans premiered on the DC Universe streaming service in 2018, starring twenty-nine-year-old actor Brenton Thwaites as a Batman-less Robin / Dick Grayson. The first episode of the program leans hard on the notion of an independent Robin, aging Dick Grayson into full adulthood and giving him a job as a detective. It also hints at an angry falling-out between the Dynamic Duo (“Fuck Batman,” Robin snarls while taking out some thugs who jeeringly asked when Batman was going to arrive).43 Yet as the first season unfolds, viewers learn that Robin is trying to control his anger, work alongside the police, and minimize the physical harm he inflicts on his adversaries. Several flashbacks and a meeting with Batman’s new Robin, the boozing, murderous teenager Jason Todd, reveal that Thwaites’s Robin is well and truly traumatized by his years as the Dark Knight’s sidekick. The dark, dirty cityscapes and fair amount of gore depicted in Titans seem at first blush to be channeling Nolan’s films and Miller’s comics, but these conventions are a Trojan horse. Beneath the grim veneer, Titans (and Dick Grayson’s characterization in particular) subtly critiques these other iterations, emphasizing instead interdependence, compassion, the notion of found families, and the need to dismantle toxic cultures of silence surrounding child and adolescent abuse.44 In the episode “Jason Todd,” Dick Grayson meets the titular new Robin, played by Curran Walters, who found his predecessor in trouble and helped him get out of it. Dick Grayson asks Jason how he found him and comes to realize that Batman had implanted a tracker in his arm
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years ago without his knowledge (though Jason is well aware of his own tracker and willingly agreed to it). Jason’s general enthusiasm over working with Batman frustrates Dick, who asks, “Why do you do this? Why do you even want to be Robin?” After Jason severely beats several police officers, the elder Robin tells the younger, “You’re going to wake up one day and have no idea who you are,” seemingly from experience.45 Titans thus rehabilitates Robin / Dick Grayson’s image as one who is tough and self-sufficient but also rather elegantly critiques the legacy of a grim and gritty, hyperviolent Batman. This Robin has had any youthful enthusiasm or silliness frightened out of him; he is working hard to overcome the brutal past with which a Frank Miller–esque Batman yoked him. It is as though the creators imagined a world in which Batman did in fact have a Robin throughout the darkest film and comic story lines of the Modern Age and beyond—and as a result, the adult version of that teenage boy is still coping with his trauma. Importantly, this Robin and his story are aimed at teenage and adult audiences, unlike The Lego Batman Movie; in other words, there is no using “it’s for children” as an excuse to write off its criticism of a grim and gritty Batman.
Figure 18. Jason Todd (left) and Dick Grayson share a tense elevator ride. Credit: Titans, season 1, episode 6, “Jason Todd,” directed by Carol Banker, written by Richard Hatem and Jeffrey David Thomas, aired November 16, 2018, https://www.dcuniverse.com/videos/watch/jason-todd/ea0a59a2-bf57-4953-823f -b49069ebe441.
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Whereas dark iterations of Batman refute the colorful, bright Robin, Titans flips this script and instead refutes what many contemporary consumers know about Batman. The adult Robin of Titans, Lego Robin, and the Robin of Teen Titans Go! all purposefully reject the legacy of Modern Age comics and their hyperviolent, hypermasculine Batman stories as well as the films that mirror these trends. These products signal a level of comfort with Robin’s identity as “soft,” relationship oriented, and perhaps even a little silly. Robin’s on-screen history has been hamstrung by homophobia and service to Modern Age fans of Batman, who revere a lone, grim, obsessive, and often violent hero. However, portrayals of Robin in the last decade seem to be using the character to reorient consumers to Batman and Robin’s original purpose and intent: the entertainment and casual education of young people.
CO N CL U S IO N
This book makes the case that Robin offers one source of understanding mainstream ideas about adolescence. The figure was introduced almost exactly when the notion of the “American teenager” began to take hold in the American popular consciousness, and creators have expressed and wrestled with changing anxieties about adolescents through the character ever since. Even as most of the comic creators cited in this book embodied/embody white masculinity, their efforts to occasionally portray Robins of different social identities imply a recognition that the adolescent experience is fluid and conditional and that different adolescent identities manifest different social anxieties, particularly in relation to sexuality, gender, and race. Though Robin is easily the most famous teen sidekick and one of the most understudied characters in comics studies by nearly any measure, creators have mobilized other sidekicks to communicate similar messages about adolescence and adulthood since the midcentury. In particular Speedy, sidekick to the Green Arrow, provides a clear analog to Robin. The first Speedy, also known as Roy Harper, was introduced alongside Oliver Queen / Green Arrow in 1941’s More Fun Comics #73, but the most famous story of Roy Harper was published thirty years later, beginning with the Green Arrow issue “Snowbirds Don’t Fly.”1 Here, Speedy has become addicted to heroin, which he shoots up in the company of several nonwhite teens in a seedy part of town. This story recalls the street-corner societies of the early twentieth century, which reformers claimed were populated by ne’er-do-wells just waiting
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to waylay respectable white boys from their path to idealized adulthood. Green Arrow rescues Speedy from what is framed as certain death (the second title in the arc is called “They Say It’ll Kill Me . . . but They Won’t Say When!,” and the cover proclaims, “More Deadly Than the Atom Bomb!”2), and, like Dick Grayson, Speedy eventually grows up and becomes a solo, mature, adult hero, called Arsenal. The second teen to take on the mantle of Speedy, Mia Dearden, was portrayed as even more in need of proper (read: white male) guidance. Mia was first introduced in 2001, though she would not officially be named Speedy until 2004.3 Her backstory centers on anxieties about adolescent sexuality, but unlike Dick Grayson, whose youthful queerness manifested through an uncanny absence of sexuality, Mia presents an overabundance of sexuality and precocity—even more so than Stephanie Brown. Readers first meet fifteen-year-old Mia on a “job” at a party, where she is contracted to please a city councilman with a teen-girl fetish. When the Green Arrow breaks up the party, he exhorts Mia to “not grow up before [she has] to,” echoing the prohibitions against adolescent precocity and sexuality.4 Throughout Oliver and Mia’s relationship, he is consistently framed as a redeemer, showing Mia what “normal” looks like through his simulation of heteronormative family life with his girlfriend, Dinah Lance. Though Mia had engaged in heterosexual activity with her boyfriend and clients, this behavior reads as doubly strange due to her youth and its (sometimes) commercial nature. The Green Arrow story line “City Walls” (2004) reinforces the bond between heterosexuality and maturity through Mia’s own inability to access either. Oliver reveals to Mia that he recently cheated on Dinah. He connects the very bravery that makes him a hero to his inability to remain faithful: “It’s the same instinct that has me running into burning buildings, shooting arrows at guys who shoot guns . . . It seems to be the same instinct that has me hopping into bed with any woman who will accept my company.”5 The writers cast Oliver’s promiscuity as part of what makes him a hero and emphasize his traditional heterosexual masculinity. However, Mia’s promiscuity is framed as a liability due to her femininity and youth: in the following story arc, Mia tests positive for HIV. Oliver appears ignorant of Mia’s sexual history, asking, “How . . . how did this happen . . . ?” Mia responds sarcastically at
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first, then angrily: “Ollie, I was living on the streets since I was eleven, and I survived by hooking. There’s not a lot of safe sex in prostitution. I either got it from sex . . . or maybe from the drugs.”6 Unlike Oliver’s promiscuity, which writer Judd Winick connects to the instincts that make him a hero, Mia’s history of forced promiscuity is punished by her contraction of HIV. Mia’s admission of drug use also mirrors behavior undertaken by Roy Harper / Arsenal. Despite both Arsenal and Green Arrow having engaged in risky behaviors similar to Mia, neither of them is punished the same way she is. Like the case of Stephanie Brown, this story line highlights that young female sexuality threatens patriarchal control of girls’ bodies, so it appears deserving of the worst punishment. Mia’s story reads as a warning to any girls who might want to “grow up before [they] have to,” encouraging them to remain young and innocent. Speedy, Green Arrow, Robin, Batman—all fictional characters have the power to reinforce or challenge ideas about people who look like them (though the assumed universality of white male experiences means this power is more potent when the character in question is female or nonwhite). In this sense, they are all producers of certain identities, reflecting or reshaping how those of us in the “real world” perceive ourselves and those with whom we come into contact. Importantly, Robin’s development and the development of our understanding of “adolescence” parallel each other—he is both product and producer of ideas about adolescence. Unlike femininity or Blackness, which have both been “under construction” for several hundred years, the American teenager is barely a century old. Robin was created with the express purpose of reflecting and therefore attracting the nascent demographic of consumers whom he resembled; stories about the adolescent sidekick Robin are and have always been intended for the child and adolescent reader. These stories map onto the deployment of adolescence at its zenith in the midcentury, affirming the recapitulationist idealization of white male adulthood and enshrining adolescence as a time of preparation for it. Yet reading Robin through the decades also offers insight into the fracturing (or more accurately, the inherent instability) of a singular prized image of adolescence. The case of Dick Grayson illustrates anxieties about teenage sexuality, fueled by the construction of idealized
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adolescence as simultaneously retaining childhood innocence and approaching eventual heterosexual reproduction. Girl Robins Carrie Kelley and Stephanie Brown allow a window into the cultural backlash against women gaining social and political power in the 1970s; creators of these two characters used their stories to diminish and denigrate them, perhaps fearing future challenges to white patriarchal dominance from a generation raised postpill and post–Title IX. Taking a more progressive tack, the authors of Duke Thomas struggle to portray a Black Robin in a cultural milieu littered with evidence that Black teenagers are rarely afforded the behavioral latitudes granted to white teens and, indeed, are rarely viewed as teenagers at all. Alterations to Robin’s identity function as evidence that mainstream American attitudes toward adolescents are in constant flux, that the “making” of adolescence is an ongoing project—a project that, until recently, was largely undertaken by adults. As I described in chapter 1, adolescence was deployed by adults in psychological, educational, and pseudoscientific establishments in response to globalization and industrialization. These reformers lengthened the dependency and innocence associated with childhood in an effort to ensure the image of idealized maturity remained tied to white heterosexual masculinity. Just a few decades earlier, people in their mid- to late teens were viewed as capable of independence, often working full-time careers already, but by the mid-twentieth century, they were held hostage in “adolescence.” Capitalist markets quickly adjusted to provide supposed antidotes to adolescent urges to self-define through consumption of rock and roll, cars, comics, and more, shaping adolescence from the outside yet again. However, recent trends in Robin’s portrayal reflect a significant shift in who is responsible for “making” adolescence what it is. Robin has been largely separated from Batman in popular televisual adaptations like Teen Titans and Teen Titans Go!, as creators focus on relationships between teenagers instead of on Robin’s supporting role as a sidekick. Comic creators have portrayed a youth-driven movement in We Are Robin, in which teens take up the call to protect their city instead of “waiting for Batman to swoop down and save the day.”7 These examples are indicative of the reality that twenty- first- century adolescents are more vocal, visible, and organized than in
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past decades. Rather than a top-down construction of adolescence motivated by social reformers and psychologists or even a top-down refinement focused on consumption and catering to or managing the “youth market,” social media and adolescent interconnectivity are driving youth culture and political movements from the bottom up. Some obvious examples are the students of Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School advocating for gun control legislation in the wake of a shooting at their school in Florida and the youth-driven environmental activist group Sunrise Movement. Individual teen activists now regularly amass followings as large as many pop culture celebrities, such as Flint resident and environmental justice activist Mari Copeny and Swedish climate activist Greta Thunberg, who traverses the globe (often via catamaran) in an effort to convince willfully ignorant adults of the very real climate emergency we are facing. The attention garnered by these young activists and others seems to be pointing toward a rethinking of American adolescence, in which teens have social agency and political clout alongside their ability to drive pop culture. For instance, there appears to be a genuine interest in lowering the minimum age for voting in the United States for the first time since 1971, when the age to vote in federal elections was lowered from twenty-one to eighteen in order to align with the minimum draft age at the height of the Vietnam War. Andrew Yang, a 2020 Democratic presidential candidate, advocated for reducing the voting age to sixteen, and teenagers from Maryland to California have been lobbying their municipalities to reduce the minimum voting age even as they cannot participate in such ballot measures.8 According to polls from Morning Consult and the Pew Research Center, Americans in Generation Z, today’s adolescents and young adults, are skeptical of current institutions and power structures, have been significantly impacted by the #BlackLivesMatter movement, and are far more open to nonbinary gender identification than most other generations (millennials, the next youngest generation, are a very close second).9 Images of Robin are specifically reflecting some of these more political and progressive tendencies of modern young people. In the character of Duke Thomas and the other teenagers featured in We Are Robin and Robin War, creators honor the impact of Black liberation movements on young lives. Though Gotham City often faces supernatural
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or science fiction threats, the “big bad” in Robin War turns out to be the Court of Owls. The Owls are tinged with creepy otherworldliness, but they nonetheless symbolize precisely the traditional sources of power twenty-first-century adolescents increasingly find suspicious: whiteness, colonialism, generational wealth, and capitalism. Despite the writers’ emphasis on Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne as white saviors at the end of the story, most of Duke Thomas’s initial arcs offer images of youth engaged in collective resistance to adult supervision and control. The teens’ use of text and internet messaging highlights the digital connectivity allowing young people to communicate and organize outside of supervised, adult-structured environments like schools. Cartoon Network’s Teen Titans aired while the oldest members of Generation Z were eight to twelve years old, and it similarly illustrates a mistrust of adults rarely present in earlier stories featuring Robin. In fact, the only adults portrayed in Teen Titans are villains. Though many of the team’s adversaries are of a similar age to our heroes, a significant portion of their worst enemies are grown men. Two of these, Slade Wilson and Trigon (who is technically a demon but still definitely a mature male), are enabled in their power by control of the adolescent characters. Trigon is a world destroyer who needs his Titan daughter Raven to open a portal for him so he can conquer Earth.10 Slade Wilson blackmails Robin into serving as his sidekick and emotionally manipulates a young girl called Terra, forcing her to infiltrate the Titans.11 Tellingly, Terra’s victimization is a retcon: in the 1980s comic story line on which this television arc is based, she is a Lolitaesque consort to Slade and a willing participant in his crimes.12 The alteration to Terra’s backstory recenters the blame on the individual holding the power, portraying the adolescent Terra far more sympathetically. In both Trigon’s and Slade’s story lines, creators show adolescents in defiance of the adult male social order; both are also overlaid with imagery hinting at the sexual exploitation of teen girls by adult fathers or father figures. The politicization of Robin includes our most current Boy Wonder as well, Damian Wayne, who stakes out an ethical claim to vegetarianism. In Grant Morrison’s Batman Incorporated, Damian gives
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up meat consumption after seeing the inside of a slaughterhouse (he also adopts a cow whose facial markings make it appear as though she is wearing a Bat-mask: “As of now I’m a vegetarian. And this is Bat- cow,” he asserts).13 Although this consumption choice reflects Grant Morrison’s own beliefs, it also acknowledges that young people in the twenty-first century are increasingly conscious of the environment and related questions of ethics and morality.14 Such an overtly political stance in Robin would have been unthinkable for most of the previous century, as earlier Robins generally did whatever Batman told them to do, looking to older, more traditional authority figures for guidance (save Stephanie Brown, but by this point in the book, we all know that things did not end well for her). Importantly, superheroes like Batman and Superman rarely take outward political stances at all, operating instead to uphold the status quo. Robin, on the other hand, consistently provides creators with opportunities for exploring continued anxieties and tensions between adolescents and adults. As environmental destruction, wealth inequality, and other side effects of late capitalism threaten the world that children and teenagers will soon inherit, creators of Robin seem to be less interested in having our young hero stop bank robbers or alien invasions and more interested in reimagining teamwork, battling corrupt institutions, and critiquing grimdark narratives devoid of hope through compassion and care. Outside these stories, the “making” of adolescence remains an ongoing project, and as young people demand more agency and technology enables better organization around political issues, it is adolescents themselves who are doing the “making.” Perhaps the adolescent Robin, who is a vision of the future, who is allowed to grow and change, and whose identity has been made and remade throughout their eighty-year comic tenure, will in time come to be understood as the opposite of silly, unserious, and childish. Perhaps it is actually Robin through whom the most potent critiques of (adult) society are yet to come.
ACK NOWLEDGMENT S
I am eternally grateful to the many, many people who helped me in bringing this book to life. It began as a project at Bowling Green State University, and I am indebted to my BGSU mentors and advisors, in particular Jeffrey A. Brown and Jolie A. Sheffer. Jeff Brown guided my journey into the academic study of comics; Jolie Sheffer showed me how to write a book. Both of them channeled my enthusiasm and curiosity into legible ideas—a wrestling match for the ages, I assure you. Much of the research for this project was done under the aegis of a Dissertation Writing Fellowship from BGSU’s American Culture Studies department, and I thank Andrew M. Schocket and Rebekah Patterson for that opportunity among all the others they helped me navigate. My friends Steven Bellavia, Tessa Pyles, and Bob and Megan Joseph likewise made living in Ohio and studying at BGSU a time I will always treasure. I am incredibly fortunate to have befriended Elena Aponte, a gifted writer and editor, and cannot thank her enough for her feedback on my work or her generosity of spirit. My friends Mike and Katie Carty- Trainor asked thoughtful questions about my writing; I am grateful for their hip nerd interest in the project. My interest in adolescent culture stems from working as a school counselor, an oft misunderstood and undersupported role in twenty-first-century American schools. I must thank my comrades in the teenage trenches, in particular Alexa Charsha and April Ponte, for the incredible work they do with students and for the ways they
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have supported me through this process. Thanks are due as well to Oswego High School, York Community High School, and Westmont High School for showing me in real life and real time what the making of American adolescence hath wrought. I want to thank my parents, Bob and Gina, who never let me go a day without at least one book in my hand and have always encouraged me to speak my mind. My sister and best friend, Meaghan, has kept my spirits up, made me laugh, and been a total inspiration throughout this process. Mom, Dad, Meaghan—thank you always for your love and support. I also want to thank my godfather, Jinx, for giving me my first comic book ever and several of my former teachers, Bill and Colleen Hiles, Jason Moralee, and Chuck Springwood, without whose encouragement I would never have begun this adventure. If Robin has taught me anything throughout this process, it is that relationships are often our real superpowers—and my relationship with my spouse and best friend, Brian Trainor, is certainly the source of my energy and accomplishment. Brian, this book would never have crossed my mind had you not said to me one summer, “No, really, Robin is cool” (thanks are also due here to Marv Wolfman, Grant Morrison, and Glen Murakami, whom I do not personally know but who definitely helped you prove your argument). Many years and hundreds of pages of reading and writing later, I hope I have done your message justice. Your love, your patience, and your endless, endless encouragement have made this and everything I do in the future possible. You and I are the real Dynamic Duo.
NOTES
Introduction 1 Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1884; repr., New York: Dover, 1994); J. D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye (New York: Little, Brown, 1951); Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (New York: Scholastic, 2008). 2 Angela Ndalianis, “Why Comics Studies?,” Cinema Journal 50, no. 3 (2011): 113. 3 Charles Hatfield, “Comic Art, Children’s Literature, and the New Comic Studies,” The Lion and the Unicorn 30, no. 3 (2006): 376. 4 Bradford Wright, Comic Book Nation: The Transformation of Youth Culture in America (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2001); Lara Saguisag, Incorrigibles and Innocents: Constructing Childhood and Citizenship in Progressive Era Comics (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2019). 5 Wright, Comic Book Nation, xii. 6 Saguisag, Incorrigibles and Innocents, 16. 7 Kristen L. Geaman, “Boy Wonder to Man Wonder: Dick Grayson’s Transition to Nightwing and the Bildungsroman,” in Dick Grayson, Boy Wonder: Scholars and Creators on 75 Years of Robin, Nightwing, and Batman, ed. Kristen L. Geaman (Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland, 2015). 8 The role of “Batman” has been filled in comics by someone other than Bruce Wayne a handful of times, usually for short stints or in miniseries/ nonrecurring titles. For example, in the “Knightfall” and “Prodigal” story lines of the 1990s, the characters Jean-Paul Valley and Dick Grayson wore the cape and cowl while Bruce Wayne recovered from a broken back and went on an extended international mission, respectively. In 2009, Bruce Wayne was thrown back in time and had to claw his way through several centuries back to the present (standard-issue Grant Morrison wackiness), and Dick Grayson
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158 NOTES TO PAGES 7–11 again took over the role. In the mid-2010s, Bruce Wayne suffered amnesia and lost all recollection of being Batman; ally and Gotham City police commissioner Jim Gordon acted as Batman in his stead. In the 2021 event miniseries “Future State,” the role of Batman was taken up by Jace Fox, with Batman’s subtle blessing; as of this writing, it remains to be seen if Fox will become a new Batman like Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne have been Robins or if Bruce Wayne will be relatively immediately returned to the role. It is worth noting that until 2021, all characters who had taken up the cape and cowl were well-off straight white men, reflecting less diversity than those who have filled the role of Robin. Doug Moench et al., Knightfall (New York: DC Comics, 1993–1994); Chuck Dixon et al., Batman: Prodigal (New York: DC Comics, 1998); Grant Morrison et al., Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne (New York: DC Comics, 2010); Scott Snyder et al., Batman: Superheavy (Burbank, Calif.: DC Comics, 2016); Mariko Tamaki and Dan Mora, “Games,” Future State: Dark Detective #3 (Burbank, Calif.: DC Comics, 2021). 9 On Superman and Batman, see, for example, Roberta Pearson and William Uricchio, eds., The Many Lives of the Batman: Critical Approaches to a Superhero and His Media (New York: Routledge, 1991); Travis Langley, Batman and Psychology: A Dark and Stormy Knight (DeKalb, Ill.: Wiley & Sons, 2012); Ian Gordon, Superman: The Persistence of an American Icon (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2017); and Larry Tye, Superman: The High-Flying History of America’s Most Enduring Hero (London: Random House, 2015). On Wonder Woman, see Noah Berlatsky, Wonder Woman: Bondage and Feminism in the Marston/Peter Comics, 1941–1948 (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2017); and Jill Lepore, The Secret History of Wonder Woman (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2014). 10 Will Brooker, Batman Unmasked: Analyzing a Cultural Icon (London: Continuum, 2000), 56. 11 Lepore, Secret History, xi. 12 Elliot E. Cohen, “A Teen-Age Bill of Rights,” New York Times, January 7, 1945, https://www.nytimes.com/1945/01/07/archives/a-teenage-bill-of-rights-here -is-a-tenpoint-charter-framed-to-meet.html. 13 Leerom Medovoi, Rebels: Youth and the Cold War Origins of Identity (Durham: Duke University Press, 2005), 25. 14 Medovoi, 25. 15 Although Robin’s age is not stated at the time of his introduction, some interpretations place him as young as eight. A birthday cake given to Robin in 1942’s Batman #10 does show fourteen candles on it, indicating Dick Grayson was turning fourteen on that birthday. By the mid-1940s, Robin was portrayed as a high school student, indicating he was in all likelihood a young
NOTES TO PAGES 12–19 159 teenager. Joseph Greene, Bob Kane, and Jerry Robinson, “The Isle That Time Forgot,” Batman #10 (New York: DC Comics, 1942). 16 Nancy Lesko, Act Your Age! A Cultural Construction of Adolescence (London: Taylor & Francis, 2012), 63. 17 Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons, Watchmen (New York: DC Comics, 1986); Frank Miller, The Dark Knight Returns (New York: DC Comics, 1986). 18 Though Robin appeared in a series of short films produced in the 1940s and shown at movie theaters, this portrayal did not have nearly the viewership of Batman. Batman’s longevity has likewise been aided by syndication, making Burt Ward’s turn as the Boy Wonder far “stickier.” 19 The O.C., created by Josh Schwartz, aired August 5, 2003–February 22, 2007, on Fox (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2008), DVD; Buffy the Vampire Slayer, created by Joss Whedon, aired March 10, 1997–May 20, 2003, WB Television Network, UPN (Beverly Hills: 20th Century Fox Home Entertainment, 2010), DVD. 20 Saguisag, Incorrigibles and Innocents, 6. Chapter one 1 Marv Wolfman and George Pérez, “Dear Mom and Dad,” The New Teen Titans vol. 1 #20 (New York: DC Comics, 1982). 2 For a thorough exploration of adolescent literature and adolescent representation therein, see Michael Cart, Young Adult Literature: From Romance to Realism, 3rd ed. (Chicago: Neal-Schuman, 2016). 3 See introduction, note 15. 4 Although there is some debate about the date the term “teenager” first appeared in print, journalist Thomas Hine notes that 1941 seems to be the earliest definitive printing of the term in extant sources. Thomas Hine, The Rise and Fall of the American Teenager: A New History of the American Adolescent Experience (New York: HarperCollins, 1999), 7. 5 Lesko, Act Your Age! 6 Foucault, for instance, argues in The History of Sexuality that the idea of “sexuality” was deployed over many decades, primarily during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, through new regimes of hygiene and the concept of the medical case file. Foucault reads this deployment of sexuality as a means of solidifying bourgeois identity, caring for the middle-class body, and ensuring bourgeois descent in the form of children. He writes that the deployment of sexuality should be considered the “self-affirmation of one class . . . a defense, a protection, a strengthening, and an exaltation” (123). Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality, vol. 1, An Introduction, Vintage Books Edition, trans. Robert Hurley (1978; repr., New York: Vintage, 1990).
160 NOTES TO PAGES 21–24 7 In 1904, G. Stanley Hall published Adolescence, a work whose ponderous title was matched by its voluminous pages. In this text, Hall offered the clearest, most thorough explanation of the adolescent to date. While at best many of his assertions were not empirically supported and at worst were outright racist, his work nonetheless altered scientific, educational, and popular understandings of young people, and many of his interpretations linger in our national imagination to this day (for instance, he applied the phrase “storm and stress” to describe the adolescent psyche, which may sound familiar to any parents of teenagers who happen to be reading this book). G. Stanley Hall, Adolescence: Its Psychology and Its Relations to Physiology, Anthropology, Sociology, Sex, Crime, Religion, and Education (New York: D. Appleton, 1904), https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=mdp.39015011716779;view=1up;seq=9. 8 The so-called discovery of the child in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries was illuminated by Philippe Ariès in 1960 in his Centuries of Childhood: A Social History of Family Life, trans. Robert Baldick (London: Jonathan Cape, 1962). I discuss this work and some of the pertinent scholarly responses to it in the following chapter. 9 Beginning with Sigmund Freud’s Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality, other psychologists and social workers eagerly took up the stage-based model of life-span development. Though these later works focused on different aspects of the self than Freud’s interest in sexuality, they all assert that most people should act/feel/think a certain way in infancy, childhood, adolescence, young adulthood, and adulthood, give or take a stage here and there. In addition to Freud’s stage-based approach to sexuality, the cognitive and moral development models of Jean Piaget and Lawrence Kohlberg, respectively, are examples still well known today. Sigmund Freud, Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality (1905; repr., London: Hogarth, 1962); Jean Piaget and Bärbel Inhelder, The Psychology of the Child, 2nd ed., trans. Helen Weaver (New York: Basic Books, 1969); Lawrence Kohlberg, The Philosophy of Moral Development: Moral Stages and the Idea of Justice (New York: Harper & Row, 1981). 10 Erik Erikson, Childhood and Society (1950; repr., New York: W. W. Norton, 1985); Robert Havighurst, Developmental Tasks in Education (1948; repr., New York: D. McKay, 1972). 11 See James E. Marcia, “Ego Identity Status: Relationship to Change in Self- Esteem, ‘General Maladjustment,’ and Authoritarianism,” Journal of Personality 35, no. 1 (1967): 118–133; and Jeffrey Jensen Arnett, Emerging Adulthood: The Winding Road from the Late Teens through the Twenties (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004). 12 Sarah E. Chinn, Inventing Modern Adolescence: The Children of Immigrants in Turn-of-the-Century America (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2008).
NOTES TO PAGES 24–27 161 13 Howard P. Chudacoff, How Old Are You? Age Consciousness in American Culture (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1989). 14 Joseph Kett identifies the ouster of children and teens from the labor market as a driving force for increasing school attendance. Young men unable to find work (and young women unable to find work, restricted from working in male-dominated fields or unable to marry due to the dearth of economically independent males) instead went to school; Kett writes, “Confronted by a declining demand for their labor, especially during the Depression, boys as well as girls prolonged their education” (245). Joseph Kett, Rites of Passage: Adolescence in America 1790 to the Present (New York: Basic Books, 1976). 15 National Center for Education Statistics, 120 Years of American Education: A Statistical Portrait, U.S. Department of Education, Office of Educational Research and Improvement, 1993, https://nces.ed.gov/pubs93/93442.pdf. 16 Medovoi, Rebels, 25. 17 While The Secret of the Old Clock was published in 1930, some researchers instead point to Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House in the Big Woods (1932) as the progenitor of YA fiction, and Michael Cart and many others identify Seventeenth Summer (1942) by Maureen Daly as such. Suffice it to say, YA fiction came of age in the 1930s. Cart, Young Adult Literature. 18 Eugene Gilbert, “The Youth Market,” Journal of Marketing 13, no. 1 (1948): 79, 80. 19 As mentioned in the introduction of this book, for an excellent and thorough exploration of these and other Progressive Era comic strips featuring children, see Saguisag’s Incorrigibles and Innocents. 20 Though the Yellow Kid is an Irish immigrant and the Katzenjammer Kids are German, these constituencies were still considered less-than compared to Anglo-Americans in the late 1800s. Prior to the interwar years, whiteness was not in and of itself a unified category; instead, various “races” existed within the 1790 restriction of U.S. naturalization to “free white persons.” These races included such now outdated terms as “Teutonic,” “Celt,” “Nordic,” and “Slavic,” among myriad others. However, several distinct forces worked together in the 1920s and 1930s to ease or erase some of these distinctions. Measures like the 1924 National Origins Act (commonly referred to as the Johnson Amendment) affirmed the Americanness of previous waves of immigrants from Northern European nations, like Germany and Ireland, while serving to reduce the ostensible threat posed by (heavily Jewish, Catholic, and Eastern Orthodox) immigrants from Eastern and Southern European localities and the Middle East by limiting the number of these latter immigrants admissible to the United States. Additionally, the mass migration of African Americans fleeing Jim Crow laws and violence in the South made defining whiteness a
162 NOTES TO PAGES 28–31 more pressing concern for many urban Northerners. It wasn’t until this time period that the lesser divisions between members of the “white race[s]” were ironed out, blurred, forgiven. For a detailed exploration of this subject, see Matthew Frye Jacobson, Whiteness of a Different Color: European Immigrants and the Alchemy of Race (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1998). 21 Jean-Paul Gabilliet, Of Comics and Men: A Cultural History of American Comic Books, trans. Bart Beaty and Nick Nguyen (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2010), 19. 22 Amy Kiste Nyberg, Seal of Approval: The History of the Comics Code (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 1998), 1. 23 Many nonsuperhero comics also picked up on the potency of preadolescent audience imaginations. Comic books like Archie played on what might be retroactively termed the “teenage dream”: a vision of a low-stakes adolescence marked by independence, fun, and a budding romance with none of the frightening realities of changing bodies, looming expectations of adult responsibility, or the difficulty of growing up as a member of a marginalized community. 24 Jimmy Olsen’s official debut came on The Adventures of Superman radio show in 1940. Though some point to an unnamed character appearing in a 1938 comic as Olsen, this is best described as a retcon. “Donelli’s Protection Racket,” The Adventures of Superman, episode 28, aired April 15, 1940, posted on YouTube, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VPhXbx45U5w&t=315s; Jerry Siegel and Joe Schuster, “The Man Who Sold Superman,” Action Comics #6 (New York: DC Comics, 1938). 25 Rock around the Clock, directed by Fred F. Sears (1956; Culver City: Sony Pictures Home Entertainment, 2006), DVD; Rebel without a Cause, directed by Nicholas Ray (1955; Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2010), DVD. For an in-depth discussion of the evolution of “teenpics,” see Thomas Doherty, Teenagers and Teenpics: The Juvenilization of American Movies in the 1950s (1988; repr., Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 2002). 26 Medovoi, Rebels, 23. 27 The Breakfast Club, directed by John Hughes (1985; New York: Criterion Collection, 2018), Blu-ray; Francine Pascal, Double Love, Sweet Valley High 1 (New York: Random House, 1983); Saved by the Bell, created by Sam Bobrick, aired 1989–1992, National Broadcasting Company (Los Angeles: Shout! Factory, 2018), DVD. 28 John Broome and Carmine Infantino, “Meet Kid Flash!,” The Flash vol. 1 #110 (New York: DC Comics, 1959); Robert Bernstein and Ramona Fradon, “The Kid From Atlantis!,” Adventure Comics #269 (New York: DC Comics, 1960); Bob Haney and Bruno Premiani, “The Astounding Separated Man!,” The Brave and the Bold vol. 1 #60 (New York: DC Comics, 1965).
NOTES TO PAGES 34–38 163 Chapter two 1 Bob Kane, Bill Finger, and Jerry Robinson, “Robin: The Boy Wonder,” Detective Comics #38 (New York: DC Comics, 1940). 2 Frank Robbins, Gil Kane, and Vince Colletta, “Moon Struck,” Detective Comics #398 (New York: DC Comics, 1970). 3 In the mid-twentieth century, French historian Philippe Ariès led the charge in investigating prior understandings of children and childhood. His 1960 L’enfant et la vie familiale sous l’ancien régime, translated as Centuries of Childhood: A Social History of Family Life, traces the formation of the modern family. He studied grave adornments, family portraiture, poetry, and funerary art and found that up until the seventeenth century, there were very few “children” recognizable to us as such in extant sources. Ariès writes, “No doubt the discovery of childhood began in the thirteenth century, and its progress can be traced in the history of art in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. But the evidence of its development became more plentiful and significant from the end of the sixteenth century and throughout the seventeenth” (47). Though this passage confusingly implies that our modern version of the child was always there, merely waiting to be “discovered” and represented properly, Centuries of Childhood nonetheless performs important work in demonstrating that regardless of whether modern understandings of childhood are “accurate” or “true” and older ones were not, what childhood is depends largely on the time and location of the observer. For an in-depth discussion of Ariès’s impact on the field of childhood studies and exploration of how later scholars have expanded on and challenged his work, see Hugh Cunningham, “Histories of Childhood,” American Historical Review 103, no. 4 (1998): 1195–1208. 4 Karin Calvert, “Children in American Family Portraiture, 1670–1810,” William and Mary Quarterly 39, no. 1 (1982): 97. Both Calvert’s and Ariès’s analyses are limited to children born to wealthy families, as portraiture was costly and time consuming. Cunningham’s article, as mentioned earlier, deals with some critiques of Ariès’s work in this regard. 5 James Kincaid, Child-Loving: The Erotic Child and Victorian Culture (London: Routledge, 1992), 175. 6 Importantly, this image of the idealized child was also always a white child. As I discuss in detail in chapter 4, Black children and youths have long been exiled from “normative” patterns of development. 7 Kathryn Bond Stockton, The Queer Child, or Growing Sideways in the Twentieth Century (Durham: Duke University Press, 2009), 30. 8 Stockton, 7. 9 In discussing the bodies of aerialists, Peta Tait notes a consistent challenging of hegemonic gender boundaries in early trapeze artistry: “Male bodies in
164 NOTES TO PAGES 38–40
10 11 12 13 14 15 16
17
graceful flight displayed contradicting manliness and muscular females went completely against prevailing social patterns of bodily restraint” (3). However, Tait continues, “by the twentieth century aerial performance had become associated with femininity in popular perception” (4). Peta Tait, Circus Bodies: Cultural Identity in Aerial Performance (New York: Routledge, 2005). Elisabeth Young-Bruehl, The Anatomy of Prejudices (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1998), 36. J. L. Bell, “Success in Stasis: Dick Grayson’s Thirty Years as Boy Wonder,” in Geaman, Dick Grayson, 11. Bob Kane and Bill Finger, “The Joker Meets the Catwoman,” Batman #2 (New York: DC Comics, 1940). Don Cameron and Win Mortimer, “The Penny Plunderers!,” World’s Finest Comics #30 (New York: DC Comics, 1947). Neil Shyminsky, “‘Gay’ Sidekicks: Queer Anxiety and the Narrative Straightening of the Superhero,” Men and Masculinities 14, no. 3 (2011): 291. Bill Finger and Bob Kane, “The Joker’s Advertising Campaign,” Batman #11 (New York: DC Comics, 1942). Bob Kane, Bill Finger, and Jerry Robinson, “The Horde of the Green Dragon,” Detective Comics #39 (New York: DC Comics, 1940). If you’re concerned the title of this story might indicate anti-Asian racism therein, you would be correct. The so-called ages of comics are informal classifications based on loose time frames and overarching trends and conventions in both form and content. To most comic readers and writers, the Golden Age began with the introduction of Superman and lasted through the late 1950s, with simple themes of good versus evil; stories taking place on a recognizable Earth; bright, primary-color artwork; and heroes with few character flaws. The beginning of the Silver Age is often marked specifically by 1961’s The Flash #123, “Flash of Two Worlds,” which introduced the multiverse concept. The Silver Age saw wacky stories of body switching, planet hopping, and even gender bending. The Bronze Age followed, marked by another tonal shift toward social and political awareness. The Modern or Dark Age of comics lasted from roughly the mid- 1980s through the late 2000s. It is marked by considerable violence, mature themes, hypersexualized artwork, and deeply flawed heroic figures. Chapter 3 of this book offers a more detailed analysis of the Modern Age. Adrienne Resha theorizes that since around 2010, we have been in a new age of comics she terms the Blue Age, in which digital accessibility of superhero comics is changing their form and content rapidly, reflecting a broader audience’s greater diversity in terms of race, gender, and sexuality. For more detail on these loose “ages,” see Chris Gavaler, Superhero Comics (London: Bloomsbury, 2017); Adrienne Resha, “The Blue Age of Comic Books,” INKS: The Journal of
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18
19 20 21
22
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the Comics Studies Society 4, no. 1 (2020); and Gerard Jones and Will Jacobs, The Comic Book Heroes: From the Silver Age to the Present (Rocklin, Calif.: Prima, 1997). Carmine Infantino, John Broome, and Gardner Fox, “Flash of Two Worlds,” The Flash #123 (New York: DC Comics, 1961). For example, see Paul Dini, Ty Templeton, and Rick Burchett, “Harley and Ivy and . . . Robin?,” Batman and Robin Adventures #8 (New York: DC Comics, 1996); Batman: The Animated Series, season 1, episode 53, “Robin’s Reckoning, Part II,” directed by Dick Sebast, written by Randy Rogel and Laren Bright, aired February 14, 1993, Fox Kids Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2004), DVD; and Batman and Robin, directed by Joel Schumacher (1997; Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2008), DVD. Blackboard Jungle, directed by Richard Brooks (1955; Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2005), DVD; Rebel without a Cause. For a detailed and thorough history of comics censorship, see Nyberg, Seal of Approval. For an exploration of the long shadow Wertham’s work cast on the comics industry and a sharp critique of his “research” methods, see Carol L. Tilley, “Seducing the Innocent: Fredric Wertham and the Falsifications That Helped Condemn Comics,” Information & Culture 47, no. 4 (2012): 383–413. According to Nyberg’s research, Wertham was critical of “jungle” comics that portrayed nonwhite people as unintelligent and in need of rescue by a white person, fearing such stories perpetuated racist beliefs and the white- savior mythology. Research he had conducted for a prior court case was even submitted as evidence in the landmark desegregation case Brown v. Board of Education. Nyberg, Seal of Approval, 93. Fredric Wertham, Seduction of the Innocent (London: Museum, 1955). Strangely (or perhaps instructive regarding the level of fear inspired by homosexuality in the midcentury), Wertham seems more concerned with “homoeroticism” than child abuse, arguing that these stories inspired homosexuality but not that they might also normalize adult-youth sexual relationships. Andy Medhurst, “Batman, Deviance and Camp,” in The Many Lives of the Batman: Critical Approaches to a Superhero and His Media, ed. Roberta Pearson and William Uricchio (London: Routledge, 1991), 150. Bill Finger and Sheldon Moldoff, “Robin Falls in Love,” Batman #107 (New York: DC Comics, 1957). Bill Finger and Sheldon Moldoff, “Bat-Girl!,” Batman #139 (New York: DC Comics, 1961). This version of Bat-Girl was denoted with the hyphenated name, but later iterations of the character would use the simplified “Batgirl.”
166 NOTES TO PAGES 44–48 27 Gayle Rubin, “Thinking Sex: Notes for a Radical Theory of the Politics of Sexuality,” in Pleasure and Danger: Exploring Female Sexuality, ed. Carole S. Vance (Boston: Routledge, 1984), 279. 28 “Sex and HIV Education,” Guttmacher Institute, last modified October 1, 2018, accessed January 7, 2020, https://www.guttmacher.org/state-policy/ explore/sex-and-hiv-education. 29 Teen Mom, produced by Morgan J. Freeman et al., aired 2009–2012, MTV (New York: MTV Networks, 2013), DVD. 30 Umberto Eco, “The Myth of the Superman,” in The Role of the Reader: Explorations in the Semiotics of Texts (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1979), 110. 31 Eco, 115, 116. 32 Judith Halberstam, In a Queer Time and Place: Transgender Bodies, Subcultural Lives (New York: New York University Press, 2005). It is worth noting, however, that the comic book’s embrace of nonlinear or nonrational time is, in fact, a marketing tool, a means of maintaining sales of an already beloved character. The superhero comic’s rejection of traditional modes and perceptions of time is born not of resistance toward bourgeois/ capitalistic chronological restrictions but precisely to operate successfully within them. 33 Frank Robbins, Irv Norvick, and Dick Giordano, “One Bullet Too Many!,” Batman #217 (New York: DC Comics, 1969). 34 Fernando Gabriel Pagnoni Berns and César Alfonso Marino, “Outlining the Future Robin: The Seventies in the Batman Family,” in Geaman, Dick Grayson, 39n34. 35 Bob Rozakis and Don Newton, “The Man Who Melted Manhattan!,” Batman Family #13 (New York: DC Comics, 1977). 36 Bob Rozakis and Irv Norvick, “Robin: The Joker’s Daughter!,” Batman Family #6 (New York: DC Comics, 1976). 37 Robert Kanigher and Sheldon Moldoff, “Beware of—Poison Ivy!,” Batman #181 (New York: DC Comics, 1966). 38 Robin learns of Duela Dent’s identity in Batman Family #9. Bob Rozakis and Irv Norvick, “Batgirl and Robin: The Startling Secret of the Devilish Daughters!,” Batman Family #9 (New York: DC Comics, 1977). 39 Marv Wolfman and George Pérez, “The New Teen Titans!,” The New Teen Titans vol. 1 #1 (New York: DC Comics, 1980); Marv Wolfman and George Pérez, “Today . . . the Terminator!,” The New Teen Titans vol. 1 #2 (New York: DC Comics, 1980). 40 Marv Wolfman and George Pérez, “Runaways,” The New Teen Titans vol. 1 #26 (New York: DC Comics, 1982).
NOTES TO PAGES 49–52 167 41 Marv Wolfman and George Pérez, “Crossroads,” The New Teen Titans vol. 1 #39 (New York: DC Comics, 1984). 42 Marv Wolfman and George Pérez, “The Judas Contract Book Three: There Shall Come a Titan!,” Tales of the Teen Titans vol. 1 #44 (New York: DC Comics, 1984). 43 Marv Wolfman and George Pérez, “Shadows in the Dark!,” The New Teen Titans vol. 2 #1 (New York: DC Comics, 1984). 44 Marv Wolfman, afterword to Batman: A Death in the Family, by Jim Starlin et al., ed. Robin Wildman (New York: DC Comics, 2011), 145. 45 Max Allan Collins, Ross Andru, and Dick Giordano, “Just Another Kid on Crime Alley,” Batman #409 (New York: DC Comics, 1987). Jason’s story was retconned after the DC Comics crossover event Crisis on Infinite Earths, penned by New Teen Titans author Marv Wolfman. 46 Jim Starlin and Jim Aparo, “A Death in the Family: Chapters Three and Four,” Batman #427 (New York: DC Comics, 1988). 47 Marv Wolfman, George Pérez, and Tom Grummett, “A Lonely Place of Dying Chapter Two: Roots,” The New Teen Titans vol. 1 #60 (New York: DC Comics, 1989). 48 Marv Wolfman, George Pérez, Jim Aparo, and Mike DeCarlo, “A Lonely Place of Dying Chapter One: Suspects,” Batman #440 (New York: DC Comics, 1989). 49 Wolfman, Pérez, and Grummett, “Lonely Place of Dying Chapter Two.” 50 Marv Wolfman and Jim Aparo, “A Lonely Place of Dying Chapter Three: Parallel Lines,” Batman #441 (New York: DC Comics, 1989). 51 Chuck Dixon and Scott McDaniel, Nightwing, vol. 1, A Knight in Bludhaven (New York: DC Comics, 1996). 52 Devin Grayson and Greg Land, Nightwing/Huntress, vol. 1 (New York: DC Comics, 1998). 53 Devin Grayson and Patrick Zircher, “Slow Burn,” Nightwing vol. 2 #93 (New York: DC Comics, 2004). This instance recalls Dick Grayson / Robin’s frequent feminizing capture and attempted seduction by villains like Poison Ivy, though certainly takes it to a more extreme level. Author Devin Grayson likewise links Dick’s relationship with Tarantula to a sort of age regression, claiming he was “in sidekick mode” while attached to her. Through this admission, Dick Grayson’s feminization and youth are once again connected, preserving the masculine heterosexuality of the adult Nightwing. Devin Grayson had planned to show Nightwing processing the assault in subsequent issues, but this effort was cut short by the editorial decision to launch “War Games,” a major crossover that I discuss in detail in chapter 3. Kristen L. Geaman, “Grayson on Grayson,” in Geaman, Dick Grayson, 305.
168 NOTES TO PAGES 52–55 54 Kyle Higgins and Eddy Barrows, Nightwing, vol. 3, Death of the Family (New York: DC Comics, 2012). 55 Tim Seeley, Tom King, and Mikel Janín, Grayson, vol. 1, Agents of Spyral (New York: DC Comics, 2014). 56 Tim Seeley and Javier Fernandez, Nightwing, vol. 3, Nightwing Must Die! (Burbank, Calif.: DC Comics, 2017). 57 Andrew Wheeler, “Comics Alliance Presents the 50 Sexiest Male Characters in Comics,” Comics Alliance, last modified February 14, 2013, http:// comicsalliance.com/comics-sexiest-male-characters/. 58 Shyminsky, “‘Gay’ Sidekicks,” 291. 59 Dixon et al., Batman: Prodigal. 60 Doug Moench and Mike Gustovich, “Prodigal: Robin and Batman,” Batman #512 (New York: DC Comics, 1994). 61 Doug Moench and Ron Wagner, “Prodigal: One Night in the War Zone,” Batman #514 (New York: DC Comics, 1995). 62 Alan Grant and Bret Blevins, “Prodigal: Two,” Batman: Shadow of the Bat #32 (New York: DC Comics, 1994). Gordon’s uncertainty is also linked to the fact that he is, in Prodigal, actually facing a third Batman. Prior to naming Dick Grayson his steward, Bruce Wayne granted the role to the character Jean-Paul Valley, who turned out to be mentally unstable and violent. 63 Chuck Dixon and Staz Johnson, “Nowhere Fast,” Robin vol. 4 #40 (New York: DC Comics, 1997). 64 Moench and Gustovich, “Prodigal.” 65 Chuck Dixon, Graham Nolan, and Lee Weeks, “Prodigal: A Twice Told Tale,” Detective Comics #680 (New York: DC Comics, 1994). The answer to Jack Drake’s question: “both,” according to Tim. Tim has called Oracle, a member of the Bat-family who specializes in information, data analysis, and computer-assisted locating and tracking. At this time, Oracle is the secret identity of Barbara Gordon. 66 Jeffrey A. Brown explores the embrace of paternal authority in superhero comics as an important component of the hegemonic code they communicate and reproduce: “The long-standing rationale for sidekicks is that they allow a point of identification for young readers, but more importantly they facilitate narratives that portray very specific ideas about right and wrong” (149). These ideas are “tantamount to an acceptance of patriarchal authority, of the Law and the word of the Father” (149). Dick Grayson was the first character cast in the submissive position of teen sidekick. His ascent to mature hero status and the perception of him as the true authority and representation of the rule of law would therefore not be complete until he, like Batman, became a father. Jeffrey A. Brown, Beyond Bombshells: The New
NOTES TO PAGES 55–61 169 Action Heroine in Popular Culture (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2015). 67 Tony S. Daniel, Battle for the Cowl (New York: DC Comics, 2009); Grant Morrison, Frank Quitely, and Philip Tan, Batman and Robin: Batman Reborn (New York: DC Comics, 2011); Grant Morrison, Cameron Stewart, and Andy Clarke, Batman and Robin: Batman vs. Robin (New York: DC Comics, 2011); Grant Morrison, Frazer Irving, and David Finch, Batman and Robin: Batman & Robin Must Die! (New York: DC Comics, 2012). 68 Grant Morrison, J. G. Jones, and Doug Mahnke, Final Crisis (New York: DC Comics, 2009). 69 Tony S. Daniel, “Part One: A Hostile Takeover,” Battle for the Cowl (New York: DC Comics, 2009). 70 Tony S. Daniel, “Part Two: Army of One,” Battle for the Cowl (New York: DC Comics, 2009). 71 Morrison, Frank Quitely, and Philip Tan, “Sketchbook,” Batman and Robin: Batman Reborn (New York: DC Comics, 2011). 72 Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely, “Batman Reborn Part One: Domino Effect,” Batman and Robin vol. 1 #1 (New York: DC Comics, 2011). 73 Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely, “Batman Reborn Part Two: Circus of Strange,” Batman and Robin vol. 1 #2 (New York: DC Comics, 2011). 74 Grant Morrison and Andy Clarke, “Batman vs. Robin Part One: The Haunting of Wayne Manor,” Batman and Robin vol. 1 #10 (New York: DC Comics 2011), 94. 75 Brown, Beyond Bombshells, 150. 76 Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely, “Batman Reborn Part Three: Mommy Made of Nails,” Batman and Robin vol. 1 #3 (New York: DC Comics, 2011). 77 Grant Morrison and Cameron Stewart, “Blackest Knight Part Three: Broken,” Batman and Robin vol. 1 #9 (New York: DC Comics, 2011). 78 Edmond Hamilton and Sheldon Moldoff, “The Batwoman,” Detective Comics #233 (New York: DC Comics, 1956). 79 Morrison and Stewart, “Blackest Knight Part Three.” 80 Seeley and Fernandez, Nightwing. Chapter three 1 Importantly, Carrie Kelley has also not served as Robin in “continuity”— The Dark Knight Returns was a stand-alone miniseries. I have not addressed many of the miniseries and “elseworlds” stories that featured Dick Grayson or other male Robins, but I am including Carrie here due to the dearth of female Robin representation in DC Comics continuity and the outsize impact of The Dark Knight Returns on Batman (and other) comics.
170 NOTES TO PAGES 63–69 2 Ilana Nash, American Sweethearts: Teenage Girls in Twentieth-Century Popular Culture (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2006), 2. 3 Susan J. Douglas, Where the Girls Are: Growing Up Female with the Mass Media (New York: Random House, 1994), 9. 4 Douglas, 5. 5 Miss Fury (created by June Tarpé Mills and originally entitled Black Fury) debuted in 1941, about a year after Robin’s introduction. 6 Carolyn Cocca, Superwomen: Gender, Power, and Representation (New York: Bloomsbury, 2016), 221. 7 Gardner Fox, Jack Burnley, and Sheldon Moldoff, “Justice Society of America: Shanghaied into Space,” All-Star Comics #13 (New York: DC Comics, 1942). 8 Alan Moore, introduction to The Dark Knight Returns, by Frank Miller (New York: DC Comics, 1986). 9 Grant Morrison, Supergods (New York: Spiegel & Grau, 2011). 10 Joseph Witek, Comic Books as History: The Narrative Art of Jack Jackson, Art Spiegelman, and Harvey Pekar (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 1989), 49. 11 Frank Miller, introduction to The Dark Knight Strikes Again (New York: DC Comics, 2002). 12 For a more detailed and straightforward discussion of the transition to direct- market sales, see Randy Duncan and Matthew J. Smith, The Power of Comics: History, Form, and Culture (New York: Continuum, 2009). 13 Cocca, Superwomen, 11. 14 Nash, American Sweethearts, 3. 15 Carrie Kelley’s last name is also spelled “Kelly” in one instance in book 3 of The Dark Knight Returns. Various scholars have utilized both spellings; I choose here to rely on the first mention of Carrie’s last name in the text and include the additional e. Though not mentioned in TDKR, Miller writes in his sequel, The Dark Knight Strikes Again, that Carrie’s full name is “Caroline Keene Kelley,” perhaps a reference to girl detective Nancy Drew, whose myriad authors have written under the pseudonym Carolyn Keene. 16 For a well-sourced summary of the reception of TDKR upon its release in 1985–1986, see Wright, Comic Book Nation, 267. 17 Though Jason Todd would become the first Robin to die on the job, this death was not written into continuity until 1988’s Batman #427. Even then, it was dictated by a call-in campaign, a gimmick meant to gin up enthusiasm for the title but one whose outcome may have led to Jason Todd’s survival. Miller seems to have predicted the character’s death two years in advance. Starlin and Aparo, “A Death in the Family: Chapters Three and Four.”
NOTES TO PAGES 71–81 171 18 Later portrayals of the Joker would push this characterization further, including a notable representation of the Joker in a dress and heels in Grant Morrison and Dave McKean’s Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth (New York: DC Comics, 1989). According to that book’s original script, Morrison wanted the Joker in full Madonna costume, but this racier version did not make it into the final draft. 19 Frank Miller, “Book III: Hunt the Dark Knight,” The Dark Knight Returns #3 (New York: DC Comics, 1986). 20 Frank Miller, “Book IV: The Dark Knight Falls,” The Dark Knight Returns #4 (New York: DC Comics, 1986). 21 Nash, American Sweethearts, 19. 22 Nash, 19. 23 Miller, introduction to Dark Knight Strikes Again. 24 Frank Miller, “Book II: The Dark Knight Triumphant,” The Dark Knight Returns #2 (New York: DC Comics, 1986). 25 Frank Miller, “Hunt the Dark Knight.” 26 Frank Miller, “Book I: The Dark Knight Returns,” The Dark Knight Returns #1 (New York: DC Comics, 1986). 27 Miller. 28 Miller. 29 Geoff Klock, “The Revisionary Superhero Narrative,” in The Superhero Reader, ed. Charles Hatfield, Jeet Heer, and Kent Worcester (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2013), 121. 30 Nathan G. Tipton, “Gender Trouble: Frank Miller’s Revision of Robin in the Batman: Dark Knight Series,” Journal of Popular Culture 41, no. 2 (2008): 329. 31 Dixon et al., Batman: Prodigal; Daniel, Battle for the Cowl; Marv Wolfman and George Pérez, “Final Crisis,” Crisis on Infinite Earths vol. 1 #12 (New York: DC Comics, 1986); Ed Brubaker and Steven Epting, “The Burden of Dreams (Part 4),” Captain America #34 (New York: Marvel Comics, 2008). 32 Frank Miller, “Book Two,” The Dark Knight Strikes Again #2 (New York: DC Comics, 2002). 33 Cocca, Superwomen, 12. 34 Frank Miller, “Book One,” The Dark Knight Strikes Again #1 (New York: DC Comics, 2002). 35 Miller. 36 Miller, “Book Two.” 37 Though Dick Grayson does not appear at all in The Dark Knight Returns, Miller later wrote a revision of the first Robin’s origin story in his All-Star Batman and Robin, the Boy Wonder, which ran in single issues from 2005 to 2008. This text presents an undeniably abusive relationship, in which Batman
172 NOTES TO PAGES 82–88 / Bruce Wayne kidnaps Dick Grayson on the night of his parents’ murder; drugs him; locks him in a dark, cold cave; and leaves him with nothing to eat but any rats he manages to catch and kill (though Alfred takes pity on the boy and provides him with real food when possible). Perplexingly, the story sees Dick Grayson still aligning himself with Batman, even after this trauma and abuse. All-Star Batman and Robin, the Boy Wonder makes what happens to Carrie Kelley in DK2 appear almost quaint; one has to wonder if Miller just really dislikes kids. Frank Miller and Jim Lee, All-Star Batman and Robin, the Boy Wonder (New York: DC Comics, 2008). 38 Frank Miller, “Book Three,” The Dark Knight Strikes Again #3 (New York: DC Comics, 2002). 39 Miller. 40 Gail Simone, “Women in Refrigerators,” March 1999, accessed February 2, 2019, https://www.lby3.com/wir/. Simone envisioned the site as a place to list instances of “superheroines who have been either depowered, raped, or cut up and stuck in the refrigerator.” The name “Women in Refrigerators” is a reference to a story line in which the girlfriend of Green Lantern / Kyle Rayner is murdered, cut to pieces, and stuffed in a refrigerator for Rayner to find. Her death motivates him to seek revenge on her killer but otherwise has little impact on the story or Rayner’s personal life. Ron Marz et al., “Forced Entry,” Green Lantern vol. 3 #54 (New York: DC Comics, 1994). 41 Miller, “Book Three.” 42 Miller. 43 Chuck Dixon and Tom Lyle, “Inquiring Minds,” Detective Comics #647 (New York: DC Comics, 1992); Chuck Dixon and Tom Lyle, “Let the Puzzlement Fit the Crime,” Detective Comics #648 (New York: DC Comics, 1992). 44 Chuck Dixon and Tom Lyle, “Malled,” Detective Comics #649 (New York: DC Comics, 1992). 45 Andersen Gabrych and Pete Woods, “Scarification,” Detective Comics #790 (New York: DC Comics, 2004). 46 Chuck Dixon and Tom Grummett, “Clueless,” Robin vol. 2 #3 (New York: DC Comics, 1994). 47 Chuck Dixon and Tom Grummett, “Last Gasps,” Robin vol. 2 #5 (New York: DC Comics, 1994). 48 David Tyack and Elizabeth Hansot, Learning Together: A History of Coeducation in American Public Schools (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 1992), 217. 49 Judy Blume, Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret (New York: Macmillan, 1970). 50 Gabrielle Moss, Paperback Crush: The Totally Radical History of ’80s and ’90s Teen Fiction (Philadelphia: Quirk Books, 2018), 8.
NOTES TO PAGES 88–92 173 51 Dixon and Grummett, “Last Gasps.” 52 Chuck Dixon and Staz Johnson, “Love Stinks,” Robin vol. 2 #56 (New York: DC Comics, 1998). Tim has a guilty conscience about this arrangement and considers breaking up with Ariana, but she actually breaks up with Tim before it can last for very long. 53 Jon Lewis and Pete Woods, “Dating for the Clueless,” Robin vol. 2 #111 (New York: DC Comics, 2003). 54 Chuck Dixon and Staz Johnson, “Date Night,” Robin vol. 2 #57 (New York: DC Comics, 1998). 55 Chuck Dixon and Staz Johnson, “Nowhere Fast,” Robin vol. 2 #40 (New York: DC Comics, 1997). 56 Chuck Dixon and Staz Johnson, “The Ugly Truth,” Robin vol. 2 #60 (New York: DC Comics, 1999). 57 Brown, Beyond Bombshells, 137. 58 See, for example, television’s Gilmore Girls: The Complete Series, created by Amy Sherman-Palladino (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Bros. Home Entertainment, 2007), DVD; Billie Letts’s novel Where the Heart Is (London: Sceptre, 1995); or even Ben Folds Five’s hit song “Brick,” written by Ben Folds and Darren Jesse, recorded October 1996, Epic Records, Whatever and Ever Amen, 1997, CD. 59 Reader, feel free to disagree, but I would argue that Tim is indeed still a little bit scummy—see his attempt to date both Ariana and Stephanie without telling either of them about the arrangement. 60 Chuck Dixon and Tom Grummett, “Looking for Clues,” Robin vol. 2 #15 (New York: DC Comics, 1995); Chuck Dixon and Staz Johnson, “The Quarry,” Robin vol. 2 #43 (New York: DC Comics, 1997). 61 Dixon and Grummett, “Last Gasps.” 62 The fourth male Robin, Damian Wayne, is still serving in the role as of this project’s writing. Carrie Kelley is excluded from this discussion due to her not being written “in continuity” or as part of a serialized monthly title. Miller’s Dark Knight saga was always meant to stand alone and tell a complete story, with a beginning, middle, and end. 63 Rich Johnston, “‘Spoiler Was Gonna Die’—Inside the DC Writers’ Meeting That Killed Stephanie Brown,” Bleeding Cool, last modified July 15, 2011, accessed January 10, 2020, https://bleedingcool.com/pop-culture/video/%e2 %80%9csome-kind-of-gang-war-in-gotham%e2%80%9d-and-%e2%80 %9cspoiler-was-gonna-die%e2%80%9d/. 64 Bill Willingham and Damion Scott, “A Life More Ordinary,” Robin vol. 2 #126 (New York: DC Comics, 2004). 65 Willingham and Scott.
174 NOTES TO PAGES 92–101 66 Bill Willingham and Damion Scott, “Fired!,” Robin vol. 2 #128 (New York: DC Comics, 2004). 67 Jim Starlin and Mark Bright, “The Diplomat’s Son,” Batman #424 (New York: DC Comics, 1987). 68 Morrison and Quitely, “Batman Reborn Part Two.” 69 Morrison and Quitely, “Batman Reborn Part Three.” 70 Devin Grayson and Ramon Bachs, “War Games, Prelude: No Help,” The Batman 12¢ Adventure vol. 1 #1 (New York: DC Comics, 2004). 71 Bill Willingham and Jon Proctor, “War Games, Act 2 Part 5: The Only Light in Gotham,” Robin vol. 2 #130 (New York: DC Comics, 2004). 72 Bill Willingham and Thomas Derenick, “War Games, Act 3 Part 4: Too Many Ghosts,” Robin vol. 2 #131 (New York: DC Comics, 2004). 73 A. J. Lieberman and Al Barrionuevo, “War Games Act 3, Part 5: Flight Risk,” Batman: Gotham Knights #57 (New York: DC Comics, 2004); Bill Willingham and Kinsun Loh, “War Games Act 3 Part 8: No Going Back,” Batman #633 (New York: DC Comics, 2004). 74 Willingham and Loh, “War Games Act 3.” 75 Johnston, “Inside the DC.” 76 Johnston. 77 Jennifer K. Stuller, Ink-Stained Amazons and Cinematic Warriors: Superwomen in Modern Mythology (London: I. B. Tauris, 2010), 143. 78 Stuller, 143. 79 Andersen Gabrych and Alé Garza, “The Hood Part 3: Dead Weight,” Batgirl vol. 1 #62 (New York: DC Comics, 2005). 80 Bryan Q. Miller and Lee Garbett, “Batgirl Rising: Point of New Origin, Part One,” Batgirl vol. 3 #1 (New York: DC Comics, 2009). 81 Finger and Moldoff, “Bat-Girl!” 82 In Frank Miller’s third book in the Dark Knight series, The Dark Knight III: The Master Race, Carrie Kelley has shed her Catgirl identity and become an iteration of Batgirl. Frank Miller, Brian Azzarello, Andy Kubert, and Klaus Janson, The Dark Knight III: The Master Race (Burbank, Calif.: DC Comics, 2017). Chapter four 1 Lee Bermejo and Jorge Corona, “We Are Robin Part One,” in We Are Robin, vol. 1, The Vigilante Business (Burbank, Calif.: DC Comics, 2016). 2 Scott Snyder and Rafael Albuquerque, “Zero Year Secret City: Part One,” Batman vol. 2 #21 (New York: DC Comics, 2013). Duke Thomas appears in this story line as a young child, as it is set in the “past,” during the beginning of Bruce Wayne’s adventures as Batman.
NOTES TO PAGES 101–107 175 3 As Carolyn Cocca notes, the digital distribution of comics is changing the superhero audience, and as a result, “more creators and more fans, some of whom are older fans who want to share the medium with their children, have pushed for the inclusion of more character diversity in terms of gender, race, ethnicity, sexuality, and ability.” Cocca, Superwomen, 216. 4 Bermejo and Corona, We Are Robin, vol. 1; Tom King et al., Robin War (Burbank, Calif.: DC Comics, 2016). Robin War was originally published as single-issue comics across multiple titles in 2016 and later as a collected trade paperback; throughout this chapter, I have provided full citations for initial citations of the single issues. As there are over twenty-five authors and artists represented in the crossover title “Robin War,” I will be using the abbreviation “Tom King et al.” when citing Robin War as a whole. 5 Lee Bermejo and Jorge Corona, We Are Robin, vol. 2, Jokers (Burbank, Calif.: DC Comics, 2016). 6 Though DC Comics published comics from Milestone Media, a comic book imprint and media company that focused on Black characters and was founded in 1993 by Black Americans, Milestone retained editorial rights and copyright of their characters. These characters included two notable Black adolescents, Static (an independent teen hero) and Rocket (an adolescent sidekick). For a thorough history and exploration of Milestone Media, see Jeffrey A. Brown, Black Superheroes, Milestone Comics, and Their Fans (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2000). 7 Marv Wolfman and George Pérez, “New Teen Titans: Where Nightmares Begin!,” DC Comics Presents vol. 1 #26 (New York: DC Comics, 1980); Brian Michael Bendis and Sarah Pichelli, “Chapter Four: Spider-Man,” Ultimate Fallout #4 (New York: Marvel Comics, 2011); Brian Michael Bendis and Mike Deodato Jr., Invincible Iron Man vol. 3 #9 (New York: Marvel Comics, 2016); Allan Heinberg and Jim Cheung, Young Avengers #1 (New York: Marvel Comics, 2005); Geoff Johns et al., Brightest Day #4 (New York: DC Comics, 2010). 8 Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, directed by Peter Ramsey, Robert Persichetti Jr., and Rodney Rothman (Culver City, Calif.: Sony Pictures Home Entertainment, 2018), Blu-ray. 9 Bermejo and Corona, “We Are Robin Part One.” 10 Geoff K. Ward, The Black Child-Savers: Racial Democracy and Juvenile Justice (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2012), 3. 11 Ward, 14. 12 Lee Bermejo and Carmine Di Giandomenico, “Robin War Part Four: Jail Birds,” We Are Robin vol. 1 #7 (Burbank, Calif.: DC Comics, 2016). 13 Tom King et al., “Robin War Part One: With the Greatest of Ease,” Robin War #1 (Burbank, Calif.: DC Comics, 2016).
176 NOTES TO PAGES 107–115 14 King et al. 15 Robin Bernstein, Racial Innocence: Performing American Childhood from Slavery to Civil Rights (New York: New York University Press, 2011), 16. 16 Bernstein, 35. 17 Philip Atiba Goff et al., “The Essence of Innocence: Consequences of Dehumanizing Black Children,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 106, no. 4 (2014): 540, http://www.apa.org/pubs/journals/releases/psp-a0035663 .pdf. 18 King et al., “Robin War Part One.” 19 Duke’s awareness of the danger he is in while interacting with the GCPD officer is becoming a recurring (and unfortunate) theme in YA literature about Black children and teens. The second chapter of Angie Thomas’s The Hate U Give and its filmic adaptation lead with the protagonist’s father giving her “the talk”—which is about how to comport herself if she is ever pulled over or addressed by a police officer in order to minimize the likelihood of being harassed or shot. Angie Thomas, The Hate U Give (New York: HarperCollins, 2017); The Hate U Give, directed by George Tillman Jr. (2018; Beverly Hills, Calif.: Twentieth Century Fox Entertainment, 2019), DVD. 20 King et al., “Robin War Part One.” 21 Vesla Mae Weaver, “The Kavanaugh Hearings Show Who We Afford a Second Chance and Who We Don’t,” Vox, last modified September 28, 2018, https:// www.vox.com/first-person/2018/9/28/17913708/brett-kavanaugh-hearing -police-race-teens. 22 King et al., “Robin War Part One.” 23 Thomas Jefferson, letter to Edward Bancroft, January 26, 1789, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C., http://tjrs.monticello.org/letter/119. 24 Joseph Boskin, Sambo: The Rise & Demise of an American Jester (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986), 13. 25 Erikson, Childhood and Society. 26 Daniel Patrick Moynihan, The Negro Family: The Case for National Action (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Department of Labor, Office of Policy Planning and Research, 1965). 27 “‘Welfare Queen’ Becomes Issue in Reagan Campaign,” New York Times, February 15, 1976, https://nyti.ms./2us4Xdx. 28 Michelle Alexander, The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness (New York: New Press, 2010), 154. 29 Alexander, 162. 30 At the same time, tracing Damian’s lineage through his estranged mother, Talia Al-Ghul, reveals uncertainty as to Damian’s racial identity. The Al- Ghuls have been variously depicted in decades of Batman comics as central
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Asian, Middle Eastern, or hailing from the Himalayas and are an example of the orientalizing trope of the mystical Asian. Yet their appearance has been primarily read as white; they are most often depicted with very light skin and brown or gray hair. Damian’s maternal grandfather, for example, was played in film by Irish actor Liam Neeson. Damian is thus potentially a product of miscegenation, but it would appear most writers prefer to simply portray him as white, looking like a clone of a young Bruce Wayne with bright blue eyes and very pale skin. King et al., “Robin War Part One.” King et al. Ray Fawkes and Steve Pugh, “Robin War Part Three: Getting Dirty,” Detective Comics #47 (Burbank, Calif.: DC Comics, 2016). Weaver, “Kavanaugh Hearings.” Collins, Andru, and Giorano, “Just Another Kid.” Starlin and Bright, “Diplomat’s Son.” Judd Winick and Doug Mahnke, Batman: Under the Red Hood (New York: DC Comics, 2011). Originally published in single issues from 2005 to 2006. Tom King, Tim Seeley, and Mikel Janín, “Robin War Part Two: The Originals,” Grayson #15 (Burbank, Calif.: DC Comics, 2016). King, Seeley, and Janín. King, Seeley, and Janín. Tom King et al., “Robin War Part Six: The Daring Young Man,” Robin War #2 (Burbank, Calif.: DC Comics, 2016). Bob Kane and Bill Finger, “Robin: The Boy Wonder,” Detective Comics #38 (New York: DC Comics, 1940); Collins, Andru, and Giorano, “Just Another Kid”; James Robinson and Don Kramer, “Face the Face: Conclusion,” Batman #654 (New York: DC Comics, 2006). Scott Snyder, Tom King, and Mikel Janín, “Batman: Rebirth,” Batman: Rebirth #1 (Burbank, Calif.: DC Comics, 2016). Snyder, King, and Janín. Scott Snyder and Declan Shalvey, “The Cursed Wheel Part One,” All-Star Batman, vol. 1, My Own Worst Enemy (Burbank, Calif.: DC Comics, 2016). Snyder and Shalvey. For an excellent breakdown of Barbara Gordon’s transitions from the role of Batgirl to Oracle and back to Batgirl, see José Alaniz, “Standing Orders: Oracle, Disability, and Retconning,” in Disability in Comic Books and Graphic Narratives, edited by Chris Foss, Jonathan Gray, and Zach Whalen, 59–75 (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016). Scott Snyder, Tony Patrick, and Cully Hammer, Batman and the Signal: Gotham by Day (Burbank, Calif.: DC Comics, 2018).
178 NOTES TO PAGES 122–126 49 Bryan Edward Hill and Dexter Soy, “Lesser Gods: Part 1,” Batman and the Outsiders vol. 3 #1 (Burbank, Calif.: DC Comics, 2019). Chapter five 1 Teen Titans Go!, season 1, episode 31, “Staring at the Future,” directed by Scott O’Brien, written by John Loy, aired October 30, 2013, Cartoon Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2014), DVD. 2 Teen Titans Go!, season 2, episode 24, “The Best Robin,” directed by Jeff Mednikow and Peter Rida Michail, written by Ben Joseph, aired December 4, 2014, Cartoon Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2015), DVD. 3 Many authors have retold Batman’s origin story, including Bill Finger in 1956 (an expansion of Batman’s actual origin, which he wrote in 1939), Frank Miller in 1987, and Scott Snyder in 2013–2014. Grant Morrison’s seven-year Batman run is likewise invested in Batman history, borrowing obscure characters and story lines from deep in Batman’s back catalog, such as Dr. Simon Hurt and Bat-Mite, in an attempt to make all of Batman’s past a part of his present. A notable retelling of Dick Grayson’s origin story appears in Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale’s Batman: Dark Victory, an early exception to the focus on Batman’s history over Robin’s. It is worth noting, however, that Dark Victory and its prequel, The Long Halloween, are not exclusively interested in synthesizing or updating Robin’s origin: they likewise attempt a synthesis of Batman’s history by including nearly every major Gotham villain in one sprawling story line. Bill Finger and Sheldon Moldoff, “Batman: The First Batman,” Detective Comics #235 (New York: DC Comics, 1956); Frank Miller and Dave Mazzucchelli, Batman: Year One (New York: DC Comics, 1987); Scott Snyder, Greg Capullo, and Rafael Albuquerque, Batman: Zero Year (New York: DC Comics, 2014); Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale, Batman: Dark Victory (New York: DC Comics, 2000); Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale, Batman: The Long Halloween (New York: DC Comics, 1997). 4 “2015 Comic Book Sales to Comics Shops,” ComiChron, accessed July 2, 2020, https://www.comichron.com/monthlycomicssales/2015.html. 5 “Showbuzz Daily’s Top 150 Wednesday Cable Originals & Network Update,” Showbuzz Daily, updated November 25, 2015, accessed January 3, 2020, http:// www.showbuzzdaily.com/articles/showbuzzdailys-top-150-wednesday-cable -originals-network-update-11-25-2015.html. 6 “Batman Forever,” Box Office Mojo, accessed January 3, 2020, https://www .boxofficemojo.com/release/rl3494217217/. 7 Teen Titans and Teen Titans Go! both aired during daytime programming on the Cartoon Network, meaning they were aimed specifically at children and tweens. While Schumacher’s films are also in many ways childish, they were
NOTES TO PAGES 128–132 179 not marketed as “children’s entertainment” prior to or at the time of their release. 8 Medhurst, “Batman, Deviance and Camp,” 155, 156. 9 Batman, season 2, episode 46, “A Riddling Controversy,” directed by James B. Clark, written by William P. D’Angelo, aired February 9, 1967, American Broadcasting Company (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2015), DVD. 10 Glen Weldon, The Caped Crusade: Batman and the Rise of Nerd Culture (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2016), 90. 11 Nash, American Sweethearts, 11. 12 Batman, season 3, episode 7, “Louie, the Lilac,” directed by George Waggner, written by Dwight Taylor, aired October 26, 1967, American Broadcasting Company (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2015), DVD. 13 Batman, season 1, episode 1, “Hi Diddle Riddle,” directed by Robert Butler, written by Lorenzo Semple Jr., aired January 12, 1966, American Broadcasting Company (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2015), DVD; Batman, season 1, episode 2, “Smack in the Middle,” directed by Robert Butler, written by Lorenzo Semple Jr., aired January 12, 1966, American Broadcasting Company (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2015), DVD. Robin is impersonated by a Riddler henchperson called Molly. She dons a plaster-cast mask of Robin’s face (and from that point on is actually played by Burt Ward), though how she accurately mimics his voice goes unexplained. 14 William Uricchio and Roberta E. Pearson, “I’m Not Fooled by That Cheap Disguise,” in The Many Lives of the Batman: Critical Approaches to a Superhero and His Media, ed. Roberta Pearson and William Uricchio (London: Routledge, 1991), 182. 15 Batman, directed by Tim Burton (1989; Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2005), DVD. 16 One program that seems to have escaped Ward and West’s long shadow and came in between TV’s Batman and Tim Burton’s Batman is Super Friends. Throughout much of the 1970s and early 1980s, this relatively successful children’s Saturday-morning cartoon program followed the adventures of a Justice League that included Batman and Robin. The show diverged from the comics in that Batman and Robin stuck together on screen in all but a handful of episodes. As I described in chapter 2, beginning in 1969, Robin and Batman did not appear together in comics for over a decade—a sort of gloaming before the dark themes of the Modern Age truly transformed comics’ content and audiences. Super Friends countered the increasing adult orientation of comics by retaining a version of Batman and Robin meant for kids, as though trying to hold on just a little longer to Kane and Finger’s original belief that Robin would speak to young consumers. In this, it appears to be responding
180 NOTES TO PAGES 133–136 more to trends in the comic book world than to the previous decade’s television program—as though working to fill a gap left by an all-ages television show and comics increasingly aimed at grown-ups. As direct-market sales and mature themes discouraged comic consumption by children, Super Friends allowed parent companies and toy makers to continue profiting off kids and their connection to both Batman and Robin. Super Friends serves as a reminder that superheroes writ large—and Robin, in particular—were to a large extent created as children’s entertainment. Super Friends, created by Lewis Marshall and Iwao Takamoto, produced by Hanna-Barbera, aired 1973–1986, American Broadcasting Company (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2007). 17 Batman Returns, directed by Tim Burton (1992; Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2005), DVD. 18 Weldon, Caped Crusade, 200. 19 Two and a half new characters, if we include Jason Todd’s pre-Crisis introduction as well as his post-Crisis reboot (see chapter 2). 20 Batman Forever, directed by Joel Schumacher (1995; Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2005), DVD. 21 Batman and Robin, directed by Joel Schumacher (1997; Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2005), DVD. 22 Although Batman: The Animated Series featured Dick Grayson as Robin for three seasons, this version of Dick eventually used the identity Nightwing in the show’s fourth season. The fourth season originally aired under the title The New Batman Adventures and primarily featured Tim Drake as Robin. In the second episode of The New Batman Adventures, “Sins of the Father,” Tim is introduced as a streetwise son of a criminal (more like the comics’ Jason than Tim). Dick Grayson appears occasionally throughout that season as Nightwing, and his falling-out with Batman is revealed in the episode “Old Wounds.” The New Batman Adventures, season 1, episode 2, “Sins of the Father,” directed by Curt Geda, written by Richard Fogel and Stan Berkowitz, aired September 20, 1997, Kids’ WB Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2005), DVD; The New Batman Adventures, season 1, episode 17, “Old Wounds,” directed by Curt Geda, written by Richard Fogel and Stan Berkowitz, aired October 3, 1998, Kids’ WB Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2005), DVD. 23 The next two television series featuring Batman seemed to recoil from the backlash against Schumacher’s Robin by once again refuting the character. Batman Beyond (1999–2001) focused on an elderly Bruce Wayne training a new young person in the role of Batman. Though the program hints at a prior relationship and falling out between Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson,
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the introduction of a teenage character who bypasses the preparatory role of Robin altogether indicates intense and intentional forgetting in the wake of Schumacher’s films. Batman also appeared on the 2001–2004 series Justice League, voiced by the same actor from The Animated Series, but there was no Robin in sight. Batman Beyond, created by Bruce Timm, Paul Dini, and Alan Burnett, aired 1999–2001, Kids’ WB Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2019), Blu-ray; Justice League, created by Bruce Timm, aired 2001–2004, Cartoon Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2006), DVD. Teen Titans, season 2, episode 1, “How Long Is Forever?,” directed by Alex Soto, written by David Slack, aired January 10, 2004, Cartoon Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2006), DVD. Teen Titans, season 2, episode 7, “Transformation,” directed by Alex Soto, written by Rob Hoegee, aired February 21, 2004, Cartoon Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2006), DVD. Bill Walko, “Drawing Inspiration: An Interview with Glen Murakami,” TitansTower, June 30, 2012, http://www.titanstower.com/drawing-inspiration/. The O.C.; Gossip Girl, created by Stephanie Savage and Josh Schwartz, aired 2007–2012, WB Television Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2013), DVD; Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Smallville, created by Alfred Gough and Miles Millar, aired 2001–2011, WB Television Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2003–2011), DVD. Walko, “Drawing Inspiration.” Teen Titans, season 2, episode 6, “Date with Destiny,” directed by Ciro Nieli, written by Rick Copp, aired February 14, 2004, Cartoon Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2006), DVD. Batman Begins, directed by Christopher Nolan (2005; Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2008), Blu-ray; The Dark Knight, directed by Christopher Nolan (2008; Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2008), Blu-ray; The Dark Knight Rises, directed by Christopher Nolan (2012; Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2012), Blu-ray. At the end of the final film, The Dark Knight Rises, a character called John Blake (played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt) tells someone his childhood nickname was Robin. John Blake is depicted as taking up Batman’s legacy after discovering the Batcave, but this figure is not and was not meant to be “Robin” in any recognizable sense. Some, but not all. Premiering in 2010, the Cartoon Network program Young Justice features Dick Grayson as Robin in its first season, after which he takes on the identity Nightwing. However, the series was plagued by low viewership and canceled after only two seasons, though it has since been revived on the
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DC Universe streaming service. Young Justice, created by Brandon Vietti and Greg Weisman, aired 2010–2012, Cartoon Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2014), Blu-ray. Teen Titans Go!, season 1, episode 53, “The Cape,” directed by Aaron Horvath and Michael Jelenic, written by Aaron Horvath and Michael Jelenic, aired October 13, 2013, Cartoon Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2014), DVD; Teen Titans, season 1, episode 3, “Divide and Conquer,” directed by Ciro Nieli, written by David Slack, aired August 2, 2003, Cartoon Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2017), Blu-ray. Teen Titans Go vs. Teen Titans, directed by Jeff Mednikow (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2019), DVD. Along with “The Best Robin,” the show’s creators play with Robin’s queer history in several other episodes. “Puppets, Whaaaaat?” sees him play with marionettes of the team as an anger management tool, including having the Beast Boy puppet hug and tickle his own. In “The Teen Titans Go! Easter Holiday Classic,” Robin, Cyborg, and Beast Boy are struck by love arrows from Cupid. Robin scoffs, “Please. Do you really think your love arrows will have an effect on us? I mean, look at Cyborg. He’s so big and so strong.” All three characters embrace each other with heart-shaped eyes as a romantic song begins to play. Teen Titans Go!, season 1, episode 52, “Puppets, Whaaaaat?,” directed by Luke Cormican, written by John Loy, aired June 5, 2014, Cartoon Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2014), DVD; Teen Titans Go!, season 3, episode 27, “The Teen Titans Go Easter Holiday Classic,” directed by Luke Cormican and Peter Rida Michail, written by Ben Gruber, aired March 25, 2016, Cartoon Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2016), DVD. Teen Titans Go!, season 1, episode 31, “Sidekick,” directed by Scott O’Brien, written by Amy Wolfram, aired November 13, 2013, Cartoon Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2014), DVD. Teen Titans Go!, season 4, episode 51, “Mo’ Money Mo’ Problems,” directed by Ken McIntyre, written by Christopher J. Gentile, aired June 25, 2018, Cartoon Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2018), DVD. Some of the best examples of Robin’s paranoia on Teen Titans Go! include season 2, episode 12, “Baby Hands,” directed by Luke Cormican and Peter Rida Michail, written by Amy Wolfram, aired September 11, 2014; season 2, episode 27, “Robin Backwards,” directed by Luke Cormican and Peter Rida Michail, written by Caldwell Tanner, aired January 22, 2015; and season 2, episode 52, “Some of Their Parts,” directed by Peter Rida Michail, written by Adam Tierney, aired July 30, 2015, Cartoon Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2015), DVD.
NOTES TO PAGES 141–148 183 40 Teen Titans Go!, season 2, episode 32, “Let’s Get Serious,” directed by Peter Rida Michail, written by Aaron Horvath and Michael Jelenic, aired February 26, 2015, Cartoon Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2015), DVD. 41 Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, directed by Zack Snyder (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2016), DVD. 42 The Lego Batman Movie, directed by Chris McKay (2017; Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2017), Blu-ray. 43 Titans, season 1, episode 1, “Titans,” directed by Brad Anderson, written by Greg Berlanti, Geoff Johns, and Akiva Goldsman, aired October 12, 2018, DC Universe, https://www.dcuniverse.com/videos/watch/titans/82e32c25-01ab -4979-96ae-673288d1032b. 44 Arguably the show’s most potent critique of the culture of silence surrounding childhood abuse, particularly the abuse of boys, comes in an episode that does not feature any Robins at all. “Hank and Dawn” traces the backstory of two other characters, one of whom was sexually abused by his youth football coach. Never given the opportunity to process this trauma, adult Hank is prone to violence, abuses prescription drugs, and struggles to form real relationships with other people. Though the episode ends with Hank and his partner, Dawn, exacting revenge on the coach who abused him, the overarching message is that prizing stoicism in males can be incredibly toxic. Titans, season 1, episode 9, “Hank and Dawn,” directed by Akiva Goldsman, written by Geoff Johns, aired December 7, 2018, DC Universe (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2019), DVD. 45 Titans, season 1, episode 6, “Jason Todd,” directed by Carol Banker, written by Richard Hatem and Jeffrey David Thomas, aired November 16, 2018, DC Universe, https://www.dcuniverse.com/videos/watch/jason-todd/ea0a59a2 -bf57-4953-823f-b49069ebe441. Conclusion 1 Mort Weisinger and George Papp, “Green Arrow: Case of the Namesake Murders,” More Fun Comics #73 (New York: DC Comics, 1941); Dennis O’Neil and Neal Adams, “Snowbirds Don’t Fly,” Green Arrow vol. 2 #85 (New York: DC Comics, 1971). 2 Dennis O’Neil and Neal Adams, “They Say It’ll Kill Me . . . but They Won’t Say When!,” Green Arrow vol. 2 #86 (New York: DC Comics, 1971). 3 Kevin Smith and Phil Hester, “Quiver (Part II of X): Long Time No See,” Green Arrow vol. 3 #2 (New York: DC Comics, 2001); Judd Winick and Phil Hester, “City Walls, Part 5: Oliver’s Army,” Green Arrow vol. 3 #38 (New York: DC Comics, 2004).
184 NOTES TO PAGES 148–153 4 Smith and Hester, “Long Time No See.” 5 Judd Winick and Phil Hester, “City Walls Part 2: What’s Green and Yellow and Red All Over?,” Green Arrow vol. 3 #35 (New York: DC Comics, 2004). 6 Judd Winick and Phil Hester, “New Blood Part Four: In Custody,” Green Arrow vol. 3 #43 (New York: DC Comics, 2004). 7 Bermejo and Corona, “We Are Robin Part One.” 8 Kelsey Piper, “Young People Have a Stake in Our Future. Let Them Vote,” Vox, last modified September 20, 2019, https://www.vox.com/future-perfect/ 2019/9/10/20835327/voting-age-youth-rights-kids-vote. 9 “Understanding Gen Z: How America’s Largest, Most Diverse, Best-Educated, and Most Financially Powerful Generation Will Shape the Future,” Morning Consult, accessed January 21, 2020, https://morningconsult.com/form/gen -z-report-download/; Kim Parker, Nikki Graf, and Ruth Igielnik, “Generation Z Looks a Lot like Millennials on Key Social and Political Issues,” Pew Research Center, Social and Demographic Trends, last modified January 17, 2019, accessed January 21, 2020, https://www.pewsocialtrends.org/2019/01/17/ generation-z-looks-a-lot-like-millennials-on-key-social-and-political-issues/. 10 Teen Titans, season 4, episode 13, “The End: Part 3,” directed by Ben Jones, written by David Slack, aired July 16, 2005, Cartoon Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2008), DVD. 11 Teen Titans, season 2, episode 10, “Betrayal,” directed by Alex Soto, written by Amy Wolfram, aired July 31, 2004, Cartoon Network (Burbank, Calif.: Warner Home Video, 2008), DVD. 12 Marv Wolfman and George Pérez, “The Judas Contract,” Tales of the Teen Titans #42–44, Annual #3 (New York: DC Comics, 1984). 13 Grant Morrison and Chris Burnham, “In the Eye of Leviathan, Part One: Demon Star,” Batman Incorporated vol. 2 #1 (New York: DC Comics, 2012). 14 As a youth slang-infused headline on the vegan website Mercy for Animals announces before summarizing several polls that identify increased interest in veganism among today’s youth. Joe Loria, “Thought Millennials Were Vegan AF? Meet Generation Z,” Mercy for Animals, last modified September 29, 2017, accessed January 24, 2020, https://mercyforanimals.org/thought -millennials-were-vegan-af-meet-generatio. The squarely millennial author of this book likewise eschews consumption of animal products for political, environmental, and ethical reasons.
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abuse: child, 144, 165n23, 183n44; physi100, 127; as an identity, 12, 13–14, 16, cal, 82, 95, 98, 137; sexual, 88, 90; 32–33, 53, 78, 102, 124, 132, 136, 149, substance (see substance use) 157n8; introduction, 22, 53; masculinAction Comics, 27, 162n24 ity, 38, 61–64, 67–77; as myth, 1, 4; as Alexander, Michelle, 113 patriarch, 23, 28–29, 51, 80–85, 91–95, Alfred, 46, 51, 56–57, 69, 92, 172n37 107, 116–121, 153; sexuality, 11, 40–42, anger, 61, 106–107, 118, 129, 144, 47, 135; on television and in film, 15, angst, 29–30, 108, 129, 135, 138 128–134, 138–146; whiteness, 13–14, anticomics movement, 40–42, 45 115, 122; writing about, 6–7, 124. See anxiety: adult, 41–42, 108, 127, 129, 153; also Fox, Jace; Gordon, Jim; Grayson, cultural, 9–10, 14, 21–22, 29–30, 32, Dick; Valley, Jean-Paul 50, 60–61; male, 61; regarding sexual- Batman (comic book), 3, 5, 6, 19, 20, ity, 11, 33, 38, 148–149; social, 17, 147 39–40, 42, 45–46, 50, 64, 100, 102, Aqualad, 31, 141; (Jackson Hyde), 104 116, 125 Arnett, Jeffrey Jensen, 23 Batman (film), 132–133, 141 Arsenal. See Speedy Batman (television show), 4, 14, 32, 73, 99, 124, 127–131, 140, 159n18 Bat-girlGirl, 42–43, 165n26 Batman and Robin (comic book), 55, Batgirl (character), 58, 99, 102, 119, 123. 57–59, 125 See also Brown, Stephanie; Cain, Batman and Robin (film), 134 Cassandra; Gordon, Barbara; Kelley, Batman Begins, 141 Carrie Batman Family, 46–48 Batgirl (comic), 91, 97–98, 174nn79–80 Batman Forever, 133–135 Batman (character): as avatar of idealBatman Incorporated, 152 ized adulthood/maturity, 12, 13–14, Batman: Prodigal, 53–55, 59 16, 31, 34–35, 39, 50–55, 57–60, 83, Batman: Rebirth, 120
H 203
204 INDEX Batman Returns, 133, 135 Batman: The Animated Series, 127, 135–136; as The New Batman Adventures, 180n22 Batman vs. Superman: Dawn of Justice, 142 Battle for the Cowl, 55, 57 Batwoman, 58–59 Beast Boy (Garfield Logan), 65, 123–124, 182n36 Bell, J. L., 39 Bermejo, Lee, 100–101, 103, 105, 109, 116, 118–119 Bernstein, Robin, 108 bildungsroman, 4 Blackboard Jungle, 29–30, 41 Black liberation movements, 14, 101, 151 Black Lives Matter. See Black liberation movements Black Mask, 94–95 Black Panther (T’Challa), 104 Blume, Judy, 87 Boskin, Joseph, 112 Bradley, Elijah (Patriot), 104 Breakfast Club, The, 30 Brooker, Will, 7 Brown, Jeffrey A., 58, 89 Brown, Mike, 101–102 Brown, Stephanie: as Batgirl, 6, 99; fridging, 94–98, 119; as Robin, 6, 10, 12–14, 60–63, 83, 90–92, 100–102, 127; sexuality, 88, 148–149; as Spoiler, 6, 84–86 Buffy the Vampire Slayer, 15, 137 Bulletgirl, 65 Burton, Tim, 4, 132–133, 135, 138, 141 Cain, Cassandra, 98–99, 122 Calvert, Karin, 37 camp, 4, 32, 127–128, 131–132, 134, 142 Captain America, 78, 104, 127
Cartoon Network, 123, 126, 136–137, 139–140, 152 Catgirl. See Kelley, Carrie Catwoman (Selina Kyle), 47, 71, 77, 133 childhood: Black, 102, 108, 112; and comics, 2, 15, 28, 31, 149; construction of, 3, 21, 36–38; and femininity, 63–64, 72, 76; in media, 26–27, 142–144; parenting, 55, 57, 73–74, 81; psychiatry and psychology, 21, 32, 41–42; transition out of, 9, 33. See also abuse; femininity; innocence child labor, 121, 124 Chinn, Sarah E., 124 civil rights, 67, 111 Clancy, Bridget, 52 Clooney, George, 134 Cluemaster (Arthur Brown), 84–85 Cocca, Carolyn, 65, 67 Cold War, 8, 29–30 Collins, Max Allan, 5 Comics Code Authority, 42, 65 consumers, 15, 20, 124, 128, 132–133, 136, 139, 146, 149 Copeny, Mari, 151 Court of Owls, 118, 152 Craig, Yvonne, 99 criminal justice: juvenile system, 106–107; mass incarceration, 113; police, 13–14, 36, 53, 109–111, 115–116, 128, 144–145; police brutality, 13, 101; stop-and-frisk, 13–14, 101, 109. See also juvenile delinquency Cyborg (Victor Stone), 104, 123, 182n36 Daniel, Tony S. See Battle for the Cowl Dark Knight, The (film), 138 Dark Knight Returns, The, 5, 12–13, 66–74, 76, 78, 94, 98, 142, 169n1, 170n15, 171n37
INDEX 205 Dark Knight Rises, The (film), 138 Dark Knight Strikes Again, The, 5, 78, 80–82, 94, 170n15, 172n37 DC: animated films, 125; comics, 3–4, 10, 17, 46, 47, 50, 52, 55, 83, 90, 92, 95, 97–99, 101, 104; film universe, 142; streaming service, 144 Dearden, Mia, 148 direct market, 67, 101, 170n12, 180n16 Dixon, Chuck, 6, 80 Douglas, Susan J., 64 Drake, Tim: as heir, 94, 120; introduction, 51, 53; as Red Robin, 131; retirement from vigilantism, 91; as Robin, 5, 10, 16, 54, 59, 84, 90, 100, 114, 120, 123, 125, 127, 180n22; sexuality, 88 drama, 15, 17, 29, 90, 137 Drew, Nancy, 26, 64, 170n15 Dzerchenko, Ariana, 54, 88
Foucault, Michel, 19, 159n6 Fox (television network), 37 Fox, Jace, 158n8 Fox Kids Network, 135 fridging, 81–82, 94, 172n40
Gabilliet, Jean-Paul, 28 Gabrych, Andersen, 98, 119 Garland, Judy, 26 Geaman, Kristen L., 4, 6 Generation Z, 151 Goff, Philip Atiba, 108 Golden Age, 40, 100, 164n16 Gordon, Barbara: as Batgirl, 46, 65, 99, 121, 144, 177; as Oracle, 121; as Robin’s love interest, 46, 51 Gordon, Jim: as Batman, 103, 115; as Gotham City police commissioner, 53, 74 Gossip Girl, 137 Eco, Umberto, 45 Gotham City, 38, 51, 53, 55, 64, 69, 74, Elasti-Girl (Helen Parr), 65 76, 94, 100–101, 103, 107, 109, 114, 118, Elastigirl (Rita Farr), 65 121–122, 130–131, 142, 151 Elton, Lori, 46 Grayson, Dick: as Batman, 12, 33, 52–60, Erikson, Erik, 23–26, 29, 87, 112, 128, 131 78, 93; as Bruce Wayne’s heir, 12, 115; fatherhood, 54–60, 89, 117; introducFalcon (Sam Wilson), 104 tion, 32, 34–36; as Nightwing, 47, fatherhood, 33, 53, 59, 60, 89. See also 49–52, 55, 59, 80; as Robin, 4–5, 11–12, patriarchy 31–36, 39, 42–50, 60, 63, 72–73, 89, 91, femininity: adolescent, 12, 15, 60, 68, 100, 109, 120, 123, 126–130, 134–136, 80, 83, 148; and childishness, 63–64, 142–145; sexuality, 10–12, 31–34, 38, 66–67; construction of, 68, 149; as 48–50, 59–62, 80–83, 148–149; whiteinferior, 14, 71–72, 94, 99; and sexualness, 14–15, 114, 117, 119, 122, 152 ity, 76, 85, 90, 148 Great Depression, 26 feminism, 13–14, 67, 101. See also Green Arrow (Oliver Queen), 127, women’s liberation movement 147–149 Final Crisis, 55 Green Lantern (John Stewart), 104 Finger, Bill, 5, 11, 15, 22–23, 26, 136, 138 Flash, the, 78, 127, 164n17 Halberstam, Jack, 46 flower children, 130. See also hippies Haly’s Circus, 35
206 INDEX Hansot, Elizabeth, 87 Hardy, Andy, 28–29, 41, 130 Hardy Boys, The, 26 Harper, Roy. See Speedy Hatfield, Charles, 2 Havighurst, Robert, 23–26 Hawkgirl (Shiera Hall; Hawkwoman), 65 heteronormativity, 34, 40, 47, 148. See also sexuality hippies, 128. See also flower children Hogan’s Alley, 3, 27 Horrocks, Dylan, 91, 97–98 Huckleberry Finn, 1, 18 Huntress, 47, 52
kissing, 48, 54, 85, 91–92, 134 Klarion the Witch Boy, 65 Klock, Geoff, 76 Kubert, Andy, 6 Lego Batman Movie, The, 126, 142–145 Lepore, Jill, 7 Lesko, Nancy, 12, 19 life-span development theories, 20, 23, 25–26, 29, 85, 112 Little Orphan Annie, 39 Lonely Place of Dying, A, 50
Marcia, James E., 23 Marino, César Alfonso, 46 individualism, 30, 128 marriage, 24, 44, 87, 123 innocence, 15, 34, 36–40, 42, 45, 89, 108, Martin, Trayvon, 14, 101–102 112, 130, 150 Marvel: cinematic universe, 101; comics, Ironheart (Riri Williams), 104 47, 104 Iron Man, 104, 127 masculinity: in crisis, 22, 30, 64; as idealized adulthood/maturity, 13, 31, Jim Crow, 108, 111, 161n20 52, 60, 62, 64, 72, 99, 117, 150; inheriJoker, 5, 39, 51, 69, 71, 74, 106, 120, 135, tance, 12, 38, 115; sexuality, 40, 52, 53, 171n18 58, 67, 69, 81, 83, 148; virility, 68, 71, juvenile delinquency, 4, 41–42, 50, 65, 77; whiteness, 15, 31, 52, 58, 104, 121, 130. See also criminal justice 147. See also fatherhood; patriarchy Medhurst, Andy, 41, 127 Kane, Betty. See Bat-girlGirl Medovoi, Leerom, 8, 25, 30 Kane, Bob, 5, 11, 15, 22, 26, 136, 138 Millennial generation, 151 Katzenjammer Kids, 27 Miller, Frank, 5, 12–13, 62, 66–83, 94, 98, Kavanaugh, Brett, 102 142, 144–145 Kelley, Carrie: androgyny, 70; as Batgirl, Miss Fury, 64 5, 99, 169n1, 174n82; as Catgirl, 78–83; Modern Age, 12, 14, 60–68, 78, 88, fridging, 81–83, 94; introduction, 67, 94–95, 124, 132, 145–146 69; as Other, 68–69, 72–73, 88; as Moore, Alan, 12, 66 Robin, 60–63, 73–73, 76, 99–100, 125; Morales, Miles (Spider-Man), 104 sexuality, 76–78, 80 Morris, Monique, 102 Kilmer, Val, 133 Morrison, Grant, 6, 55, 57–59, 66, 80, King, Tom, 6, 101, 105–107, 109, 111–112, 152–153 114–120 Moss, Gabrielle, 87
INDEX 207 Rebel without a Cause, 29, 41 recapitulation theory, 20–23, 25–26, 29 Red Hood. See Todd, Jason Nash, Ilana, 63, 68, 72, 128 Red Robin. See Drake, Tim Ndalianis, Angela, 1 Rice, Tamir, 102 New Batman Adventures, The. See BatRobinson, Jerry, 11, 15, 23, 26, 35, 136 man: The Animated Series Robin War, 6, 101–102, 105–106, 109–111, New Teen Titans, The, 5, 17, 18, 30, 47–48, 114–119, 151–152 51, 123, 136 rock and roll, 9, 29, 30, 150 Nightwing. See Grayson, Dick Rock around the Clock, 29 Nolan, Christopher, 4, 33, 138–141, 144 Rooney, Mickey, 26, 29 Roosevelt, Teddy, 22, 30 O.C., The, 15, 137 Rubin, Gayle, 44, 53 Oliver Twist, 39 Olsen, Jimmy, 28, 162n24 Saguisag, Lara, 2–3, 15 Oracle. See Gordon, Barbara Sambo, 112 Orphan. See Cain, Cassandra Saved by the Bell, 30 school: college, 17, 46, 50, 136; high Pagnoni Berns, Fernando Gabriel, 46 school, 24, 29, 54, 137–138 parenthood, 24, 53–54. See also childSchumacher, Joel, 126, 133–135, 138, 140, hood; fatherhood 142, 178n7, 180n23 patriarchy: Batman’s family role, 12, 52, Second Great Awakening, 21, 37 144; challenges to, 85, 91, 95; Dick Seduction of the Innocent. See Wertham, Grayson’s family role, 54–55; as Fredric system of control, 62–63, 68–69, 72, sexuality: adolescent, 31–33, 36, 42, 83, 85, 92, 99, 129, 144, 149; as tied to 44–45, 48–49, 59–60, 137, 148; female, whiteness, 12, 15, 150 76, 80, 85, 87–88, 90, 149; heterosexPattinson, Robert, 142 uality, 25, 33, 37, 45–7, 49–53, 58–63, Pearson, Roberta, 131–132 69, 80, 117, 134, 167n53; homosexualPérez, George, 5, 17, 47, 49, 123, 136 ity, 25, 45, 77, 82, 165n23; queerness, Pfeiffer, Michelle, 133 5, 11, 32–34, 37–40, 42, 45–46, 60, police. See under criminal justice 104, 123, 130–131, 133–134, 136, 140, precocity, 38, 50, 59, 85, 88–89, 108, 148 142, 148 pregnancy, 59, 88–90, 94 Shalvey, Declan, 120 Project Girl Wonder, 98 Shyminsky, Neil, 40, 52 Signal, the. See Thomas, Duke racism, 31, 109, 115, 117–118 Silver Age, 66 Randolph, Khary, 107, 110 slavery, 111–112 Reagan, Ronald, 69, 87, 113, 116 Smallville, 137 rebellion, 9, 29–30, 108, 135 Snyder, Scott, 6, 119–121 Moynihan report, 113, 116 Murakami, Glen, 137–138
208 INDEX Snyder, Zack, 4, 142 Speedy, 147–149 Spider-Man. See Morales, Miles Spoiler. See Brown, Stephanie Spyral, 52 Starfire, 48–53, 55, 59, 80, 137–141 Stockton, Kathryn Bond, 37, 45 Stratemeyer Syndicate, 36 substance use: drinking, 69, 77; drugs, 50, 65, 84, 116, 149; heroin, 147 Superboy (Connor Kent), 65 Superman, 6–7, 27–28, 41, 45, 69–7 1, 127, 137, 153 Sweet Valley High, 30, 86 Tarantula (Catalina Flores), 52 Teen Titans (team), 17–18, 23, 29, 47, 53, 141 Teen Titans (television show), 123, 126, 136–140, 150, 152 Teen Titans Go!, 123–124, 126, 140–141, 143, 146, 150 Temple, Shirley, 26 Thomas, Duke: exclusion from being Robin, 102, 114, 117–119; interactions with police, 107, 109–110, 116; introduction, 101; progressivism, 150–152; as Robin, 6, 10, 13–14, 99–100, 127, 133; as the Signal, 6, 99, 120–122; in We Are Robin (team), 103–105 Thunberg, Greta, 151 Tipton, Nathan G., 76 Titans, 125, 127, 144–146 Title IX, 87, 150 Todd, Jason: death, 50–51, 69, 73, 98, 142, 170n17; introduction, 50; as Red Hood, 91, 130; as Robin, 5, 10, 50, 69, 73, 76, 84, 93, 100, 114, 116, 120, 127, 133, 144–145 trauma, 87, 90, 144–145. See also abuse
Trigon, 152 Tsang, Shawn, 52 Turner, Brock, 102 Tyack, David, 87 Urricchio, William, 131–132 Valley, Jean-Paul, 157n8 Vietnam War, 128, 151 voting, 151 Walters, Curran, 144 Ward, Burt, 14, 127–130, 132–135, 142 “War Games,” 83, 93–94, 96–98 war on drugs, 109, 113 war on terror, 1 Watchmen, 12 Wayans, Marlon, 133–134 Wayne, Bruce. See Batman Wayne, Damian: as parented by Dick Grayson, 54, 89, 117; race, 14, 114–119, 152, 176n30; as Robin, 5–6, 10, 12, 55, 57–60, 93, 100, 118; vegetarianism, 152–153 WB (television channel), 137 We Are Robin, 6, 100, 103–105, 111, 114–117, 150–151 Weaver, Vesla Mae, 111, 115 Weldon, Glen, 128, 133 Wertham, Fredric, 32, 41–42, 45, 73 West, Adam, 127, 129–130, 137 West, Wally (Kid Flash), 17, 31, 78, 104 West II, Wally (Kid Flash), 104 Wilson, Slade, 152 Winick, Judd, 116, 149 Witek, Joseph, 66 Wolfman, Marv, 5, 17, 47–50, 80, 123, 136 Women in Refrigerators. See fridging women’s liberation movement, 31, 61, 87. See also feminism
INDEX 209 Wonder Girl, 31 Wonder Woman, 7, 31, 71 World War II, 41 Wright, Bradford, 2 X-Men, 47
Yellow Kid, the. See Hogan’s Alley Young-Bruehl, Elisabeth, 38 Young Justice, 127, 141 Zucco, Boss, 35–6 Zucco, Sonia, 52
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lauren R. O’Connor holds a PhD in American culture studies from Bowling Green State University. She has published in the Journal of Graphic Novels and Comics and the Journal of Popular Culture and contributed to the book Uncanny Bodies: Superhero Comics and Disability. Lauren enjoys bicycling, thrifting, and identifying trees while on walks with her spouse and their dog.