Forgive the headline, but I cannot contain my enthusiasm for the news of the most recent challenge to the racial boundaries of comics. Sure, Marvel has had Nick Fury and DC has had Steel. However, if there was going to a Mt. Rushmore constructed out of Superheroes, it would white as the actual granite cliff face (Superman, Batman, Spider-Man, and Wolverine?). In June, that hypothetical sculpture will drastically change: Peter Parker is dead, Miles Morales is now Spider-Man.
Miles Morales, according to the press releases and conferences that took place in the past twenty-four hours, is a half-black, half-Hispanic teen. I cannot contain my enthusiasm for this gutsy change (although I'm skeptical about how long it will last as no superhero stays dead for long in comics) for two reasons. First, the most obvious, American superhero protagonists are largely white guys, which largely limits any social analysis or criticism that the form can bring to the table. For me, this is one reason why the bulk of superhero movies are so boring. Regardless of if it's Spider-Man, Rogue, or Superman, superhero origin stories often center on a physical characteristic that is shamefully hidden until it is proudly embraced. Yet, what about difference that cannot be concealed? While the X-Men comics and films tend to do a pretty damn good job of using mutation as a metaphor for racial, sexual, and religious difference, it tends to be dealt with as a subtext. The re-casting of Spider-Man potentially opens the door for the writers to make the subtext the text, giving comics some socially relevant teeth and a new focus for internal and external conflict.
Secondly, sales of American comic books - regardless of the success of their filmed adaptations - are pretty stagnant. Why else would DC announce a universe "reboot"? As Jean-Paul Gabilliet notes in his excellent study of the form (Of Comics and Men: A Cultural History of American Comic Books), the economic peak for the American comic book was in 1952 (pg. 46). 1952. Not 2002, not 1992, not even the seminal year of 1986 (which saw the releases of Watchmen, Maus, and Batman: The Dark Knight Returns). In the 1950s, as Gabilliet notes, 92.7% of 8-14 year olds, 72.1% of 15-21 year olds, and 53.7% of people 21 and older read comic books (pg. 199)! Let's compare those numbers to our contemporary period. Gabilliet cites a 1999 American Library Association survey in which only 33% of 11-18 year olds read comics or graphic novels (the distribution between the sexes: 42% boys, 27% girls - see pg. 207). As for contemporary adult readership, and Gabilliet cites this 1997 survey of comic book stores with caution, the audience consists of roughly 1,250,000 people (94% men, 6% women, see pg. 208). American comics, to Gabilliet, are "no longer a mass medium....In 2003, the best-selling comics in the United States...[were] mangas" (pgs. 207, 210).
Essentially, I would argue that the complicated narrative continuities and the lack of racial and gender diversity are major factors that have held American comics back, making them inaccessible to many new and/or younger readers (many of whom, considering the shifting demographics of the United States, are not ivory in hue!). Given the success of comic book adaptations at the box office during the past decade and this summer's disappointments, it may be a little late for DC and Marvel to change course successfully, be it via reboot or re-cast. Still, I admire the effort and hope it gains some momentum.
In a related post at In Media Res, and prior to this news of Miles Morales being the new Spider-Man, media scholar Avi Santo has published a short essay on Spider-Man and race, particularly in the light of the entrenched reactions to the once indulged casting of Donald Glover. You can find his piece here.
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