Some Thoughts on the Batgirl Controversy

There’s a lot to unpack with the recent Batgirl cover controversy, whether it’s privilege, hypocrisy, a misunderstanding of censorship, or simply put, a misrepresentation of the power dynamics at play.

No Death Threats

Let’s start with the most important part: Under no circumstance should threats — death threats or otherwise — be used to silence dissent. The same goes for harassment. And just to be clear, the threats were never leveraged against the artist, Rafael Albuquerque. Instead, these threats were sent to fans who disagreed that the alternate cover was appropriate. And when the writer of the series, Cameron Stewart, clarified that it was their creative decision to not release the cover, he got harassed on Twitter, which is presumably what made him change his previously-public account to private (at the time of this writing):

Press Release Omission

Next, let’s talk about DC Comics’s initial reaction. They issued a press release stating the cancellation of the cover. Unfortunately, it’s an awful press release in the sense that it does not explain the relevant details and the people involved had to clarify things after the press release was public. Now I wouldn’t necessarily ascribe malicious intent or an intent to mislead, even if that’s what ended up happening. Here are some possible reasons why the press release came out as it is:

1. They had an awful or inexperienced writer writing the press release.
2. The writer was uncomfortable talking about the harassment and decided not to expound on it, or assumed their target audience knew the context.
3. They wanted to obfuscate the press release.

Since I am not DC Comics, I do not know which of these reasons (and there are possibly more) was the cause of the shoddy press release.

But regardless, intention has no bearing on the actual effects, and DC Comics’s public statement led to further disenfranchisement of those voicing dissent against the cover.

The Aesthetics of the Cover

A lot of the focus has been on the cover itself — and I think that’s important to talk about — without dismissing the social impact surrounding the controversy.

First, people are people. Even if they belong to the same group, they will have different opinions on the same topic.

So it should not be surprising that there are various reasons for people disliking — and some even liking — the cover. Teresa Jusino for example provides one perspective in That Batgirl Variant Cover: What It Means To New Readers. Panels and Pixels has another. Nor is it, as Rob Bricken puts it, as oversimplified as “we can never threaten a woman with danger.”

An artist on Twitter even modified the image, and this modification seems to placate some fans:

And of course, there will be rhetoric justifying the existence of the cover.

My only beef is the use of false equivalencies, such as comparing the helplessness of Batgirl in this particular cover, with, say, another male superhero.

They aren’t the same because of the imbalance when it comes to the portrayal of cis white, male superheroes and those who aren’t.

And ultimately, if you’re fine with the cover, that’s great. But don’t assume your opinion invalidates the opinions of those who have problems with it. Don’t be the white dude who enters the #blacklivesmatter conversation with #whitelivesmattertoo.

And if I were in DC’s position, it’s not just about the numbers and pandering to the majority, but understanding the perspective of the disenfranchised who have had problems with their decisions, creative or otherwise.

Creative Freedom, Not Censorship

Some people are crying censorship at DC Comics’s decision to not include the variant cover. In many ways, this is a kneejerk reaction that reflects a poor understanding of what censorship really means.

Governments are the only institutions that can censor a work. DC Comics is a commercial enterprise, and it is their decision not to use the cover.

The fact that people are able to share the image, whether on Facebook or Twitter, without reprisal, is proof that this is not, in fact, censorship.

Instead, what this is is a case of the creative team exercising editorial control of their vision and the parent company backing them up. Among other things, Stewart didn’t think it was an appropriate cover for the type of book they were portraying.

It’s a brave step for DC Comics, in the sense that variant covers usually sell to a particular demographic, and DC Comics is willing to not cater to this audience and prioritize retaining their creative team’s vision and direction. (That is not to say this decision is also not without its own other advantages.) The genesis of the variant cover after all was from promotions and marketing, who wanted an “extreme” version of Albuquerque’s original draft. And this was without input from the creative team working on the actual book.

There is something hypocritical when the person screaming “censorship” is telling the creative team “hey, you should publish material you don’t want to publish.” Where is the creative freedom in that?

Artists Getting Defensive

And then there is the reaction from some creatives, that when faced with the news of cancelled covers and reports of death threats, make it all about themselves: what about me and my creative freedom???

Here are some of the statements that I’ve seen, and let’s unpack them:

“Does this mean I can’t write a scene hitting a girl because it’s sexist?”

Well, first off, that’s an oversimplification of what happened in the Batgirl controversy but for the sake of argument, let’s say that’s what occurred.

1. This is not censorship. We can write whatever scene we want. There might be an argument that some publishers will not want to publish it — and that is their right — but that does not eliminate the fact that we can still publish it ourselves. Due to this very controversy, the image is circulating more than it probably ever would have had it been released normally without fanfare.
2. Readers —our audience — will react however they want to. I’m a writer but never am I in a position to say, “hey, readers, this is how you should be reacting to my work.” Are we really saying that our texts should be immune to criticism?
3. Once our work has been critiqued, we, as artists, have the power to react or not react to them. Do we cater to our audience? Do we stick to our original vision? There’s a spectrum between those two extremes, and we are the ones who ultimately decide where we fall.
4. And let’s face it, if we produce a work that is sexist, what are the consequences of doing so? I’m not saying that Albuquerque created a sexist text (although some have interpreted it as that), but others have definitely created sexist work, and the most that they have received was criticism. But those that criticized Albuquerque? They got death threats. Think about that, and the power dynamic at play here, including our mutual systemic bias.

“As an artist, where does one draw the line where violence against women is acceptable? How much does the intention of the artist serve as justification for the work, because there are pieces where readers might interpret them as problematic without that being the intention?”

Again, there’s a lot to unpack here, and I’ll tackle the second question first, since it’s briefer.

1. As a critic, intention only matters as far as judging whether the artist in question was successful in executing their vision: if we intended A, and it was interpreted as B, then one could argue it’s a bad work, although that is not always necessarily the case. An example of this is in comedy, where a serious line comes off as comedic, or the moment where our audience is supposed to laugh and are instead in tears. But aside from that specific scenario, the beauty of art is that it is up to the audience to decide how they feel about it, and our intentions are irrelevant when it comes to gauging it.
2. If our audience is “misinterpreting” our text, there are several ways to react to it. One is to understand why they are misinterpreting our work. Is it because we lack the skill and talent to pull off our vision? Or maybe it is because it really is problematic and we lack the insight and courage to ask ourselves what message our work is conveying to others? Or maybe the gap between our target audience and our actual audience is simply too wide, and we need to reevaluate who our audience is.
3. The question as to when is violence against women in Art is justified is trickier. Suffice to say, there are differing opinions on it, and there will not always be a line that polices everyone and says, hey, we crossed the line here, but didn’t there. Suffice the say, the point of being an artist is to figure this stuff out, and not read it in a manual.
4. Having said that, there have been numerous representations of violence against women in media, and it has been done so without thinking of the consequences and implications. Is it gratuitous? What role does it serve? Are we reinforcing the status quo or challenging it? What is ultimately the power dynamic at work here? Does this really need to be in my story? What would my audience feel about it?

“Shouldn’t Art be able to explore the limits of morality and ideas?”

Sure, Art can explore the limits of morality and ideas. But is that the goal of the work, or does it work for the intended audience? Just because we can create consensual pornography for example does not mean we should give it to a minor to read.

Perhaps the better question is that do we have the imagination and empathy to envision an audience who is different from us, but whose concerns are just — if not more so — as valid as ours?

Empathy

Ultimately, my views on the matter is to extend empathy — especially to the parties that have the most to lose. There are different power dynamics at work here, and those with Privilege might be blind to the nuances of the discussion, whether it’s structural biases or specific exercises of freedom.