Black Woman of the Day: Roxane Gay - Marvel Comics 1st Black Woman Writer

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There is No “E” in Zombi Which Means There Can Be No You Or We

https://www.guernicamag.com/fiction/gay_10_1_10/

[A Primer]

[Things Americans do not know about zombis:]

They are not dead. They are near death. There’s a difference.
They are not imaginary.
They do not eat human flesh.
They cannot eat salt.
They do not walk around with their arms and legs locked stiffly.
They can be saved.

[How you pronounce zombi:]

Zaahhhhnnnnnn-Beee. You have to feel it in the roof your mouth, let it vibrate. Say it fast.

The “m” is silent. Sort of.

[How to make a zombi:]

You need a good reason, a very good reason.

You need a pufferfish, and a small sample of blood and hair from your chosen candidate.

Instructions: Kill the pufferfish. Don’t be squeamish. Extract the poison. Just find a way. Allow it to dry. Grind it with the blood and hair to create your coup de poudre. A good chemist can help. Blow the powder into the candidate’s face. Wait.

[A Love Story]

Micheline Bérnard always loved Lionel Desormeaux. Their parents were friends though that bonhomie had not quite carried on to the children. Micheline and Lionel went to primary and secondary school together, had known each other all their lives—when Lionel looked upon Micheline he was always overcome with the vague feeling he had seen her somewhere before while she was overcome with the precise knowledge that he was the man of her dreams. In truth, everyone loved Lionel Desormeaux. He was tall and brown with high cheekbones and full lips. His body was perfectly muscled and after a long day of swimming in the ocean, he would emerge from the salty water, glistening. Micheline would sit in a cabana, invisible. She would lick her lips and she would stare. She would think, “Look at me, Lionel,” but he never did. When Lionel walked, there was an air about him. He moved slowly but with deliberate steps and sometimes, when he walked, people swore they could hear the bass of a deep drum. His mother, who loved her only boy more than any other, always told him, “Lionel, you are the son of L’Ouverture.” He believed her. He believed everything his mother ever told him. Lionel always told his friends, “My father freed our people. I am his greatest son.”

In Port-au-Prince, there were too many women. Micheline knew competition for Lionel’s attention was fierce. She was attractive, petite. She wore her thick hair in a sensible bun. On weekends, she would let that hair down and when she walked by, men would shout, “Quelle belle paire de jambes,” what beautiful legs, and Micheline would savor the thrilling taste of their attention. Most Friday nights, Micheline and her friends would gather at Oasis, a popular nightclub on the edge of the Bel Air slum. She drank fruity drinks and smoked French cigarettes and wore skirts revealing just the right amount of leg. Lionel was always surrounded by a mob of adoring women. He let them buy him rum and Cokes and always sat at the center of the room wearing his pressed linen slacks and dark tee shirts that showed off his perfect, chiseled arms. At the end of the night, he would select one woman to take home, bed her thoroughly, and wish her well the following morning. The stone path to his front door was lined with the tears and soiled panties of the women Lionel had sexed then scorned.

On her birthday, Micheline decided she would be the woman Lionel took home. She wore a bright sundress, strapless. She dabbed perfume everywhere she wanted to feel Lionel’s lips. She wore high heels so high her brother had to help her into the nightclub. When Lionel arrived to hold court, Micheline made sure she was closest. She smiled widely and angled her shoulders just so and leaned in so he could see everything he wanted to see within her ample cleavage. At the end of the night, Lionel nodded in her direction. He said, “Tonight you will know the affections of L’Ouverture’s greatest son.”

In Lionel’s bed, Micheline fell deeper in love than she thought possible. Lionel knelt between her thighs, gently massaging her knees. He smiled luminously, casting a bright shaft of light across her body. Micheline reached for Lionel, her hands thrumming as she felt his skin. When he was inside her, she thought her heart might stop it seized so painfully. He whispered in her ear, his breath so hot it blistered her. He said, “Everything on this island is mine. You are mine.” Micheline moaned. She said, “I am your victory.” He said, “Yes, tonight you are.” As he fucked her, Micheline heard the bass of a deep drum.

The following morning, Lionel walked Micheline home. He kissed her chastely on the cheek. As he pulled away, Micheline grabbed his hand in hers, pressing a knuckle with her thumb. She said, “I will come to you tonight.” Lionel placed one finger over her lips and shook his head.

Micheline was unable to rise from her bed for a long while. She could only remember Lionel’s touch, his words, how the inside of her body had molded itself to him. Her parents sent for a doctor, then a priest, and finally a mambo which they were hesitant to do because they were a good, Catholic family but the sight of their youngest daughter lying in bed, perfectly still, not speaking, not eating, was too much to bear. The mambo sat on the edge of the bed and clucked. She held Micheline’s limp wrist. She said, “Love,” and Micheline nodded. The mambo shooed the girl’s parents out of the room and they left, overjoyed that the child had finally moved. The mambo leaned down, got so close, Micheline could feel the old woman’s dry lips against her ear. When the mambo left, Micheline bathed, dabbed herself everywhere she wanted to feel Lionel’s lips. She went to Oasis and found Lionel at the center of the room holding a pale, young thing in his lap. Micheline pushed the girl out of Lionel’s lap and took her place. She said, “Just one more night,” and Lionel remembered her dark moans and the strength of her thighs and how she looked at him like the conquering hero he knew himself to be.

They made love that night, and Micheline was possessed. She dug her fingernails in his back until he bled. She locked her ankles in the small of Lionel’s back, and sank her teeth into his strong shoulder. There were no sweet words between them. Micheline walked herself home before he woke. She went to the kitchen and filled a mortar and pestle with blood from beneath her fingernails and between her teeth. She added a few strands of Lionel’s hair and a powder the mambo had given her. She ground these things together and put the coup de poudre as it was called into a silk sachet. She ran back to Lionel’s, where he was still sleeping, opened her sachet, paused. She traced the edge of his face, kissed his forehead, then blew her precious powder into his face. Lionel coughed in his sleep, then stilled. Micheline undressed and stretched herself along his body, sliding her arm beneath his. As his body grew cooler, she kissed the back of his neck.

They slept entwined for three days. Lionel’s skin grew clammy and gray. His eyes hollowed. He began to smell like soil and salt wind. When Micheline woke, she whispered, “Turn and look at me.” Lionel slowly turned and stared at Micheline, his eyes wide open, unblinking. She gasped at his appearance, how his body had changed. She said, “Touch me,” and Lionel reached for her with a heavy hand, pawing at her until she said, “Touch me gently.” She said, “Sit up.” Lionel slowly sat up, listing from side to side until Micheline steadied him. She kissed Lionel’s thinned lips, his fingertips. His cold body filled her with a sadness she could hardly bear. She said, “Smile,” and his lips stretched tightly into something that resembled what she knew of a smile. Micheline thought about the second silk sachet, the one hidden beneath her pillow between the pages of her bible, the sachet with a powder containing the power to make Lionel the man he once was—tall, vibrant, the greatest son of L’Ouverture, a man who filled the air with the bass of a deep drum when he walked. She made herself forget about that power; instead, she would always remember that man. She pressed her hand against the sharpness of Lionel’s cheekbone. She said, “Love me.”

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Marvel’s World of Wakanda Will Spotlight Women, on the Page and Behind It

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The world of the Black Panther, the Marvel Comics hero who hails from the fictional African country of Wakanda, is about to get bigger. Marvel announced on Friday a companion series, World of Wakanda, which is to premiere in November.


And just like the current Black Panther series, which is written by Ta-Nehisi Coates, the author and a national correspondent for The Atlantic, the new comic will be written by newcomers to the industry: the feminist writerRoxane Gay and the poet Yona Harvey.


“My agent was not thrilled that I was taking on another project,” Ms. Gay said. But learning to write comics exercised different creative muscles, which she said she found exciting.


“It’s the most bizarre thing I’ve ever done, and I mean that in the best possible way,” she said.


Her story, written with Mr. Coates, will follow Ayo and Aneka, two lovers who are former members of the Dora Milaje, the Black Panther’s female security force. “The opportunity to write black women and queer black women into the Marvel universe, there’s no saying no to that,” she said.

The first issue of World of Wakanda will include a 10-page second story by Ms. Harvey about Zenzi, a female revolutionary who incited a riot in the first issue of the Black Panther series. Mr. Coates, who recruited both writers, said he thought it was important to have female voices help breathe life into these characters. “The women in Black Panther’s life are very, very important,” he said.


Mr. Coates recalled a conference about two years ago, where Ms. Gay read a zombie short story. “It was the most surprising, unexpected, coolest zombie story you ever want to see,” he said. “When we started thinking about writers, she popped up right away.”


Ms. Harvey, of Pittsburgh, is his friend and, perhaps, also a chance to test a theory. “I have found that poetry is so correlated with writing comic books,” Mr. Coates said. “That’s just so little space, and you have to speak with so much power. I thought she’d be a natural.”


It is no surprise that Marvel would try to capitalize on the success of Black Panther. Eager anticipation greeted the announcement of Mr. Coates. And the comic book, drawn by Brian Stelfreeze, is a critical and commercial hit. The first issue, which was released in April, sold more than 300,000 copies, a number undoubtedly boosted by collectors and the curious. Issues 2 and 3, whose sales for any series are typically more indicative of sustained readership, each sold more than 75,000 copies.


Having such a diverse group of creators, particularly women, comes at an important time. While superhero comics have been making great strides in the diversity of their characters, the same is not always true of their writers and artists. This disparity was part of the discussion when Marvel revealed that Riri Williams, a 15-year-old black genius, would don Iron Man’s armor. She was created by the writer Brian Michael Bendis, who is white, and the Brazilian artist Mike Deodato.


“Why should we be prioritizing white male creators’ takes, when a nonwhite, nonmale character is put in the foreground?” wrote Abraham Riesman, an editor for Vulture, the New York Magazine website, who covers comics. “Aren’t we losing a tremendous opportunity by not having people who look like those characters tell their stories?” His conclusion: “Marvel just needs more black creators and women creators, period, doing all kinds of series.”


Axel Alonso, Marvel’s editor in chief, said, “I wouldn’t be too quick to conclude that the online reaction” — referring to the debate over whether a white man should create Riri’s tales — “is indicative of the fan response” overall.


Still, one of Marvel’s goals, long established, is to have its characters and their creators reflect the world of today. Look to the Muslim Ms. Marvel, the black Captain America, the Korean-American Hulk and the female Thor, among other diverse heroes, for evidence. He wouldn’t be surprised, he said, if someone who looks like Riri writes her adventures one day.

But both Mr. Alonso, who is Mexican-American, and Ms. Gay, who is black, understand where fans’ impatience comes from. “In general, people of color are underrepresented in most storytelling,” Ms. Gay said. There is also a frustration, at the onset of change, “when you get sort of a trickle, and you need a flood.”

Mr. Coates, a longtime fan, said he was aware of the arguments about gender and comic books. “We have to open the door,” he said. “It’s not, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if there are more women writers, more women creators in comics?’ That would be nice, but in many ways, it is kind of an imperative.”


He recalled an editor at Marvel’s being asked why Captain Marvel, who once wore a revealing costume, switched to a more militaristic uniform. The editor said he wanted his daughter to be able to dress as the hero for Halloween. “The idea is that the world of comic books, the Marvel universe, should be as open to his daughter as it is to my son,” Mr. Coates said. “I think that’s so important.”

http://www.nytimes.com/2016/07/23/b...mics-roxane-gay-ta-nehisi-coates-wakanda.html
 

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Who Is Roxane Gay? Get To Know The Feminist Critic Who Just Became One Of Marvel’s First Black Women Writers [SDCC 2016]

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At San Diego Comic-Con on Friday, Marvel plans to announce a new series spinning out of Ta-Nehisi Coates and Brian Stelfreeze‘s Black Panther series, Black Panther: World of Wakanda. An anthology series, the lead story features Ayo and Aneka, two lovers who defected from Wakanda’s all-woman security force to form the vigilante Midnight Angels. The story is co-written by Coates and feminist essayist and critic Roxane Gay, with art by Alitha Martinez.

The first issue of World of Wakanda will also feature a 10-page backup story written by poet Yona Harvey, with art by Afua Richardson. Harvey’s story stars Zenzi, a female revolutionary who has also been introduced in Coates’ Black Panther.

The announcement is notable for a couple of very significant reasons. Barring further announcements, World of Wakanda will be Marvel’s only series with unambiguously queer characters in the lead roles. Almost unbelievably, it’s also the first ever Marvel title written by black women. The subject of representation is something that matters to Roxane Gay herself, who told the New York Times, “The opportunity to write black women and queer black women into the Marvel universe, there’s no saying no to that.”

But while Gay is well known in the circles of feminist theory, she may be less familiar to comic book fans. So who is Roxane Gay?

Gay is one of the most exciting writers in America today. Like Coates before her, working on a Black Panther title represents her first comics work, but she’s done just about everything else: She’s best known for her non-fiction, but is also a novelist, poet, editor, and professor.

Gay was born in Nebraska and got her doctorate from Michigan Technological University. Her first book, Ayiti, is a collection of fiction, nonfiction, and poetry about her Haitian heritage and the Haitian diaspora at large. Gay’s 2014 novel An Untamed State also deals with Haiti, and tells the story of a Haitian-American woman who is kidnapped on a vacation to Haiti. It’s being adapted into a movie by Gay and director Gina Prince-Bythewood, who made Beyond the Lights.

Also in 2014, Gay published an essay collection called Bad Feminist, which has become her most acclaimed book. It contains her writings about pop culture and politics, about race, gender, and of course feminism. But don’t misunderstand the title — Roxane Gay is very much a feminist. But as she explains in the introduction to that book, it’s always complicated:



I embrace the label of bad feminist because I am human. I am messy. I’m not trying to be an example. I am not trying to be perfect. I am not trying to say I have all the answers. I am not trying to say I’m right. I am just trying — trying to support what I believe in, trying to do some good in this world, trying to make some noise with my writing while also being myself.



Her upcoming book Hunger is a non-fiction memoir about her relationship to food and her body. Just last month, she appeared on This American Life, talking to Ira Glass about her experiences as a fat black woman.

In addition to her career as a writer, Gay is a founding editor of PANK Magazine. She’s also essays editor emeritus at The Rumpus, as well as an associate professor of English at Purdue University.

Roxane Gay is one of the most exciting people I can imagine writing for Marvel Comics, especially among writers who have never written a comic before. But it also raises the question of why Marvel feels it has to venture outside the field of comics to find black women to hire as writers. Bringing in Roxane Gay and Yona Harvey will get headlines, and it will hopefully result in great comics. But there are many black women already making comics, and it’s a shame that Marvel doesn’t currently seem interested in hiring them as well.

But again, I don’t mean to take anything away from Roxane Gay, and her potential to write an excellent comic about the Midnight Angels. As a bisexual woman, she brings a perspective to Ayo and Aneka that Ta-Nehisi Coates, as a straight man, does not have. While I’m less familiar with Yona Harvey’s work, I look forward to learning more about her, as well as reading her Zenzi story.

Though this all comes shamefully late, it is obviously a step in the right direction that Marvel has finally hired its first black woman writers. But we’re still hoping they hire more soon.





Read More: Get To Know 'World of Wakanda' Co-Writer Roxane Gay | http://comicsalliance.com/roxane-gay-world-of-wakanda/?trackback=tsmclip
 

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Wow.
And it only took 75(+) years to do it.
And what title do they give her? A Black Panther title.
(God forbid she writes Captain America, The Hulk, Thor or even Spiderman.)
Good lookin' out Marvel, I'm SO impressed by this... :rolleyes:



Let's see just how long THIS obscure book lasts...
:lol:
 
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