If you’re a comic fan or a convention goer, if you follow the industry or are familiar with the concept of cosplay, you may be aware of the diatribe that comic artist Tony Harris posted to his Facebook page a week ago, raging in an embarrassing fashion against “COSPLAY-Chiks”  [sic] who he generally considers fakes who “DON’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT COMICS” and who prey on “average Comic Book Fans who either RARELY speak to, or NEVER speak to girls”.

Let me back up.  For those not in the know, the term “cosplay” refers to the practice of wearing the costume of a character from film, comics, video games, and other works of genre art.  Basically, cosplay is any instance of an individual wearing a costume outside of Halloween or a staged performance.  Those people wearing wizard robes lined up for the last Harry Potter film?  They were cosplaying.  But the most common venue for cosplayers is the fan convention.

Yes, the costumes are frequently sexy.  But that’s the nature of the comic and gaming industries, which have traditionally been marketed to – I hate to say it, but there’s a basis for the stereotype – lonely males.  Many female protagonists including Lara Croft, Princess Leia, and Elektra Natchios (all of whom have been portrayed, usually by male artists, in revealing clothing in the hopes of attracting the target demographic) also appeal to women as an alternative to the reactive and often victimized female characters frequently encountered in more mainstream media.  

While there is a basis for the aforementioned stereotype, the simple fact is that women are geeks too.  They read comics.  They play video games.  They enjoy science fiction.  They study film with OCD levels of attention.  They should be able to go to a convention and look the part without having to deal with the slings and arrows of someone so obviously insecure about his own sexual identity that he feels the need to liken them to the Sirens of Greek mythology.  Mr. Harris’ pre-emptive strike against “Quasi-Pretty-NOT-Hot-[Girls who] are more pathetic than the REAL Nerds, who YOU secretly think are REALLY PATHETIC” was certainly childish, evidence of what I assume to be deep-rooted bitterness against the girls who refused to talk to him during adolescence.  It may have been a natural extension of the long-held stereotype of the easily-threatened white male geek who feels entitled to toss about homophobic slurs in chat rooms and when gaming online.  Ultimately it revealed more about Mr. Harris than he probably intended.

His Facebook screed shows that he is against the co-opting of what – in his mind, at least – was once an all-male community.  To me, he doesn’t seem much different than the typical rich white male raging against his country club accepting female members and minorities.  It’s the 21st Century, and Mr. Harris would do well to acquaint himself with his audience.  He later denied accusations of misogyny, citing opposition to the common comics-industry practice of female objectification while praising the abundance of female fans he sees at conventions.  But it was too little, too late.  

You can’t slut-shame a growing portion of your demographic and then deny you did.  Even if it was possible, the spin Mr. Harris clumsily attempted to put on the entire debacle is insufficient.  In an attempt to escape the corner he’d painted himself into, he affirmed his respect for the many women in his life, a respect that I’m sure he genuinely feels.  But to me it sounded a lot like someone who claims to have many gay friends but still opposes their right to get married.  He also closed his remarks with, “This is my final word on the subject so move on.  I won’t address it again.”  This expression is internet code for “I can’t win, so please stop arguing with me.”  It’s basically the equivalent of repeating “OKAY!” in increasing volume as someone refutes your points.

As I stated on Twitter last week, I am an unabashed and very sex-positive geek.  I don’t harbor the same paranoia of women that Mr. Harris does, though to be fair I am fortunate to know many women both online and off who are honest-to-goodness comic readers, video gamers, roleplaying gamers, and the like.  Very passionate about their areas of geekspertise, they challenge the antiquated notion that women can’t be geeks.  Therefore when I see a female cosplayer at a convention, dressed provocatively or otherwise, my first reaction is to admire the work in much the same fashion that I would a male cosplayer.  After all, I’m not talented enough to do it myself.  I’m also likely to acknowledge the sex appeal of her costume if warranted because, let’s face it, that’s where my brain is at most of the time.  But one thing I generally don’t do is assume that she’s some sort of life-draining succubus, looking to latch onto and drain the vitality from every geek she meets like a demon collecting souls.  

No, I’d rather assume that she’s a real fan, because I’m guessing that you’d have to be a real fan to go to that much trouble.  If she’s not a fan – not that it’s any of my business – I’d probably assume she’s there with friends, or with her significant other, and has made the effort in order to ensure that she has a good time and fits in.  Ultimately, though, it simply doesn’t matter to me one way or the other.  Let’s say she’s a fake, that she just picked the coolest-looking costume she found in a Google search for “sexy cosplay”.  Maybe this outsider is trying to get her foot in the door, so to speak, and learn more about a very rich and exciting subculture.  Why should she be vilified?  So she’s new to the ways of the geek.  There’s no prerequisite for dressing up and attending a convention.  There’s no minimum number of experience points, no quest to complete, no dragon to slay.  All that is required is the interest, and the willingness to make or at least wear a costume in a public venue.  That’s it.  

I understand that for some, territoriality is part of being a geek.  It’s the same principle I possessed as a teenager which led me to abandon whichever obscure television series or work of cult literature I enjoyed the second I heard that someone I knew was into it.  But this is the internet age.  “Obscure” doesn’t mean what it once did.  At age thirty-six, I love meeting someone with interests similar to my own.  It’s fun to share my thoughts on a particular piece of popular culture that is important to me.  That so many women appreciate the same things I do makes me admire them even more.

As a worst-case scenario, what if Mr. Harris is right?  What if these women are attending conventions in elaborate and revealing costumes in order to blantantly self-promote, or – to validate his irrational fears – to manipulate “real” fans?  Admittedly I don’t know what their endgame might be.  Money?  A romantic commitment?  World domination?  Mr. Harris’ insinuation that female cosplayers get off on “the thought of guys pleasuring themselves to the memory of you hanging on them with your glossy open lips, promising them the moon and the stars of pleasure” is spurious at best; I question whether a woman with no interest in comics or similar pursuits would find it worth her time to fawn all over the socially-awkward geeky type that Mr. Harris cites in his Facebook post.

Even if this is the case, though, how does it matter?  The possibility that female cosplayers have begun a top-secret movement to use their feminine wiles to conquer the world is highly unlikely.  I’m guessing that Mr. Harris feels a lot of undue shame for the pleasure he himself takes in gawking at the young women he meets at conventions.  Additionally I must call attention to his angry insistence that comic book writers and artists should be given credit for creating the very costumes that Mr. Harris considers just fine for ink-on-paper superheroines but worthy of slut-shaming when worn by an actual flesh-and-blood human being.  This passage as much as any other in his post betrays his fundamental feelings of inferiority.  

So what purpose is served by calling them out for having a supposed agenda, other than shining a light on his own misogyny?  I’ll gladly double down on my earlier assumption that Mr. Harris was deeply hurt by a woman, or more likely by many women, during his youth or adolescence.  At one point or another, most geeks, males especially, feel out of touch romantically and/or sexually.  But the best way to overcome these feelings is to have some self-confidence and persevere.  Alienating a large portion of your audience by making yourself look like a jackass is easily one of the worst. 

I can’t say anything about this situation that hasn’t already been said by more qualified writers.  Check out a few links related to this story.  

See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!

(Submitted by Pagan Princess)

If I had to take a guess, I’d say that two of my former lovers were abuse survivors.  Actually, that’s an understatement.  If I’m being honest I’d say that the number is undoubtedly higher, as there was a period of my life where I seemed to attract women who were – you should pardon the expression – damaged, i.e. the products of broken homes, the victims of abusive parents, siblings, or significant others; or suffering from some variety of emotional or mental malady.  But in most cases I simply didn’t know.  I didn’t ask, or they didn’t volunteer.  In some cases the relationship, to the extent that it actually was a relationship, didn’t last long enough for the subject to even come up.

CRACK!

The ball soared into the air and the batter ran down the baseline.  She crossed first base and headed for second as the runner on third slid home.  The stands roared to life with cheers as the scoreboard lit up in celebration.

She ran as though her very life was at stake, even as the ball plummeted back to earth.  As she reached third it crashed into an outfielder’s mitt and the umpire called the final out.  The Honeybees won, seven to six.

It was considered good manners for Little League teams to form a line, and for each player to exchange a handshake with, and say, “Good game” to, each member of the opposition.  Although the losing team seldom agreed, for the winners it was an opportunity to display a semblance of respect for their opponents.

But this wasn’t Little League.  The Pussycats returned to their dugout, some players stripping off their clothes before they’d even left the field.  The spectators crowded at the railings, some rushing down the steps to get a better look.

When all the members of the losing team were naked, the Honeybees formed a line and filed through the Pussycats’ dugout.  Each player’s hand connected with the backsides of her opponents.

Each repetition of “We won” was accompanied by a hard, stinging slap. (220/231)

This week, the main theme at The Naughty Hangout is “Secrets”. Here’s the ornate wooden trunk that sits nonchalantly in our bedroom.

Be sure to mouse over the image to take a look at the wealth of sex toys, porn DVDs, lube, cuffs, condoms, and pervertibles that we keep inside, concealed from prying eyes!

The alternate themes this week are “Walls” and “Surreal”. Here I am standing at the junction of two walls (okay, a wall and a door), while the light emanating from the doorway on the left side gives the shot a surreal feel.

See who else is being naughty this week!

In 2010 we posted fifty-two consecutive weeks of pictures at OHNT.  We’re posting them on our blog, one per week.  They can be found here, along with background information and all the comments they received.