A hearing has been scheduled in the case of Constance McMillen, the Mississippi lesbian high school student whose story has made national headlines after her school canceled the prom because she wanted to bring a female date. The ACLU is suing the Itawamba School District.

The AP reports: "In the court documents, McMillen said Rick Mitchell, the assistant principal at the school, told her she could not attend the prom with her girlfriend but they could go with 'guys.' Superintendent Teresa McNeece told the teen that the girls should attend the prom separately, had to wear dresses and couldn't slow dance with each other because that could 'push people's buttons,' according to court documents."

The ACLU is trying to force the school to hold the prom and open it to all students, although plans are already underway for a private prom.

A Facebook group in support of McMillen has more than  320,000 fans

McMillen has talked about the support she has received and the hostility from her home town in an interview with Dan Savage. Said McMillen: "Anytime I feel like this is too hard, I think about the support I'm getting. And I’m just ecstatic that so many people would come together like this. I never dreamed there could be so much support out there for me. It’s just amazing. I’m so thankful... The locals don’t like me, but I can’t help it. And things were really hostile in school last week after they cancelled prom. People were rude, and if people talked to me at all it was real short answers. There are a few people who are with me, my real friends, people who are intelligent enough to realize what's really going on here. But the majority are not on my side."

by John Lees (check out John's column, Comic Book Club, at ProjectFanboy here)

Okay, so who reads Scalped? For those of you unfamiliar with the series, Scalped is a sprawling crime drama by writer Jason Aaron and (for the most part) artist R.M. Guera, published by DC Comics’ celebrated Vertigo imprint. Set on the Prairie Rose Indian Reservation in South Dakota, it tells the story of Dashiell Bad Horse, a prodigal son returning to his childhood home and falling under the sway of community leader turned gangster Chief Red Crow. The comic has been widely met with critical acclaim, not least from here at Comic Book Resources. As well as regularly reviewing the book, CBR has prominently featured Scalped right here on the Comics Should Be Good blog. The comic is a constant fixture on What I Bought by Greg Burgas, who offers plenty of insightful commentary on the developing narrative. Brian Cronin, meanwhile, devoted an entire week of 2009’s Year of Cool Comic Book Moments to Scalped. CBR ranked the series at #5 in its Best of 2009 list. Looking beyond this site, Jerome Maida of the Philadelphia Daily News not only ranked Scalped as the best comic of 2009, but as one of the greatest comics of all time.

But the response to the book has not been universally positive. Some detractors have accused the comic of
perpetuating negative Native American stereotypes, even going so far as to condemn those who praise Scalped as part of the problem. As readers of Scalped, are we guilty of promoting racism? Well first, I would suggest arguing on these lines takes us up a blind alley where we don’t look too closely into the facts and simply accept that Scalped and its author are racist, knowingly or otherwise. So I am going to take things back a notch, and ask: is Scalped really racist?

To answer this question, we need to take a closer look at Scalped, and see how the comic itself holds up against such accusations. The most common complaint is the idea that the comic portrays all Native Americans as criminals and lowlifes. While yes, there are violent characters in Scalped and many laws are broken, this is a crime story, and is therefore by its very definition going to focus on criminals. But it should also be noted that thoroughly decent, law-abiding Native characters such as Granny Poor Bear and Franklin Falls Down challenge the notion that the book presents all Indians as scum, while the very worst figures in the book, those most devoid of redeeming qualities – such as psychotic killer Diesel or the amoral, vindictive FBI agent Nitz – are white.

One line of criticism I have encountered demanded more balance, that for every Native American engaging in crime or wallowing in drunken despair we should see another doing good for the local community or enjoying a happy and contented life on The Rez. This to me seemed like an odd request, not only because it would be utterly incongruent with the somber tone established in this particular comic, but because it clashes with the very dynamics of the genre as a whole. Should a comedy have balance by having half its content be harrowing drama? Should a horror have balance with extended sequences devoid of any suspense or peril? Why should the crime genre not be too much about crime? Perhaps, as I shall touch on later, it is more to do with the color of the characters committing the crimes.

I think part of the problem could be that much of this criticism is based on the first few issues of Scalped, or on the first graphic novel collecting the series: Indian Country. In these early chapters, the focus seems to be less on character than action, and while I wouldn’t necessarily say the characters are presented as racial stereotypes, one could see them as noir archetypes: the outsider, the gangster, the wise old drunk, the femme fatale. While there were some glimpses of the depth that was to come – take, for example, the series of near-misses and miscommunications that prevent Gina Bad Horse from getting in touch with her son in issue #4, which in the next issue are given tragic significance - in its beginning, the series felt more like a conventional crime thriller, well told. I’d argue that it was with the collection of issues contained in the second graphic novel, Casino Boogie, that Jason Aaron really began to stretch his wings and the book’s unique voice was truly established. From this point on, the intricate experimentation with time and chronological structure made Scalped less about constant action than dwelling on a single moment, reflecting on it from different perspectives and examining its causes and consequences. Characterization came to the forefront, and those archetypes began to get a lot more complicated, turning into nuanced, multi-faceted individuals. As a result, critiques based solely on the first handful of issues don’t just seem outdated, but rather it’s like they miss the point of Scalped entirely, almost as if they were talking about a different comic.

As an example of this, one character that has been a target of particular scorn is Lincoln Red Crow. Based on his first appearance in the first issue, it might be easy to dismiss him as a one-note caricature, just a typical gangster heavy. In his first appearance, he has just finished scalping some unknown victim, so it is perhaps understandable to assume the character is to become a stereotypical Indian villain. But as the series develops, Red Crow evolves into a fascinating, tragic figure. Red Crow’s soul has been steadily eroded by the moral compromises and Faustian pacts he has made to open his casino. Driven by a desire to bring prosperity to the struggling Oglala Lakota tribe, this casino for him represents these lifelong dreams becoming a reality.

After decades of fighting to secure his people’s future, he has succeeded, but at the cost of becoming the very thing he hates the most. “You done spent too long playin’ the part a’ the poor, old pissed-off ‘skin who wouldn’t be caught dead workin’ for the man,” sneers one associate, “Cause now you are the man, and you don’t know what the hell to do with yourself.”

But still, some would continue to disregard this complexity, concluding that the book’s readers will only view him as a “savage Indian” or a “greedy Indian”. Not only is this an inaccurate appraisal of Red Crow’s story – classic themes like “the loss of idealism” and “power corrupts” are universal, not exclusively Indian - but it severely underestimates the intelligence and morality of the comic’s readers, assuming they must all be as racist as its author is imagined to be. What is the more likely scenario? That deep down, all readers of Scalped secretly hate Indians, and they were attracted to a comic with Native criminals through an insatiable desire to validate their own bigotry? Or that readers of Scalped just happen to like strong storytelling and compelling characters?

Red Crow is a mass of contradictions, with Aaron encouraging the reader to alternatively view him as a tragic hero, a monster, an optimist, a tyrant, a loving father, an abusive father, a mentor, a traitor, courageous, cowardly, spiritual, violent, a man on a downward spiral of despair. But these racially-charged arguments against the book can only see Red Crow as an Indian, with all these other aspects of his character becoming secondary, simply ways of commenting on him as an Indian. In this line of thought, it seems a white criminal can be a fully-fledged character in his own right, but an Indian criminal must be seen as a representation of all Indians. Who then, out of Aaron and his detractors, is more racially progressive?

Here is a scene featuring Red Crow from the conclusion of a 2009 storyline...

It has been said that the reader generates just as much meaning from a text as a writer does, and as such no matter how fair and nuanced writers become in their depictions of Natives, the possibility of someone (over)reading a subversive racist subtext into everything will always remain. I believe Scalped to be the victim of what I call the stereotype that wasn’t there. By this, I mean that it is easy to assert that a creator is racist, but it is more difficult for said creator to conclusively prove that they’re not, meaning a piece of fiction can be burdened with a vague stigma of racism even without any substantial evidence to actually confirm what, with Scalped, too often amounts to overreaching assertions built on skewed interpretations.

Sadly, this mindset only hinders the representation of Natives (and other minorities) in fiction. It can be a vicious cycle, with writers reluctant to tackle minority-based stories for fear of being perceived as racist and so contributing to the underrepresentation of these minorities in fiction. And when a minority character does see the light of day, are they to be portrayed in a manner more “sensitive” (some would say patronizing) than their white counterparts, so as not to offend anyone? What a regressive view of minority characters, where their loftiest aspiration should be to not be offensive! Some critiques go so far as to suggest we should only allow white characters to be featured in crime stories, to be sure no one can equate any minority to criminality. I would say this is a dangerous precedent to be setting in the name of “equality”. It seems like backwards logic to me, that because there aren’t enough minority-focused stories out there, we should further limit them by branding certain genres out-of-bounds for anything but white characters. Isn’t it a better solution to stop viewing characters as “white criminals” or “Indian criminals”, to look past their color for more substantial ways of defining them?

With Scalped, Jason Aaron demonstrates that a Native American character can be just as flawed and damaged as a white character. Far from being racist, I would suggest that is a necessary step towards that sought-after equality.

One could argue that Scalped is too violent, too foul-mouthed, too unrelentingly bleak and depressing. These are all complaints based on what is right there on the page, ready to be received by its audience in one way or another. Accusing the book of racism, however, is dependent on leaps of logic and speculation on both the writer’s intention and the response of other readers that are insulting to both writer and reader alike. For those yet to read the book, my recommendation would be to check out Scalped for yourself – there are currently five graphic novel collections available – and make up your own mind about it. But please, judge it on its merits as a crime story or a character drama rather than on its stereotypes or lack thereof, because Scalped is so much more than just an “Indian comic”.

Next week, the first issue of Titan's WWE Heroes comic series comes out and, being a big wrestling and comics fan, I wanted to get some more info on the series, so I went straight to the most logical source: Keith Champaigne, the writer of the book. He provides some background on the series and how it fits into the WWE Universe below the cut.

Chad Nevett: For those unaware, what's the basic premise of WWE Heroes?

Keith Champagne: First off, thanks for your interest and help in promoting these comics, it's much appreciated.

WWE Heroes is, more than anything, concerned with the eternal rivalry between two brothers: The Firstborn and The King Of Shadows. Since the dawn of time, these two have been fighting for dominance and their conflict has actually helped to shape recorded history. For instance, it's inferred that the fall of Rome was largely brought about by the machinations of the King Of Shadows.

So there's a mythology that we've created for this series and it actually has a deep connection to the WWE, something that will pull our favorite WWE Superstars and Divas smack dab into a war they could have never imagined.

What makes it different from the weekly WWE TV shows?

I'd say the stakes are much higher than the typical RAW or SMACKDOWN match. We have a lot of wrestling action, don't get me wrong but here, the matches are an important part of the story, a tool of a sorts in the over-arching story that becomes more increasingly important as we go, something that envelopes the entire roster.

It's not unlike the build up to a pay-per-view show in terms of structure. We just approach it from a different way.

How are you approaching the characters? How loyal to their on-screen personas are you remaining?

Wrestlers switch allegiances quite a bit so I'm not so concerned with portraying individuals as good or evil, but as real people who have been swept up in a horrible situation. If there's a long standing relationship, say between Triple H or Shawn Michaels, I try to texture that into the story but I'm really approaching the WWE superstars as the men and women behind the tights, not their public characters.

Are there any specific WWE superstars you'll be focusing on as the leads?

Primarily the most well-known, main event players: Triple H, Undertaker, and Shawn Michaels probably get the most attention. Vince has a large role. Big Show and John Cena are prominent. And I try to get face time for as many of the mid-card guys as I can but the spotlight is definitely on the biggest names.

Is there a specific time in the WWE's history that you're working from continuity-wise?

Nah. WWE continuity changes so much, so quickly that trying to tie it into a specific period would drive me mad. We're creating our own continuity.

Having said that, I would like to do something that begins in the boom of the 80's, hits the peak in the 90's, and concludes today. It's tricky to pull off because of likeness rights but it's not impossible.

With wrestlers changing from heel to face (or vice versa), obviously some allegiances wouldn't be possible in the WWE now -- do you think that will be problematic for readers? Was that at all problematic for you as a writer? (For example, since the comic appears to have been written and drawn prior to Batista's heel turn, him working with John
Cena would fly in the face of their current feud.)

This is one of the biggest reasons why we decided to create our own continuity for the comics. Every turn would force continual re-writing and recasting of rolls in the comic and force me to jump off a building. We took the safer, saner path.

Have you consulted with any WWE superstars on their characters in the comic?

No, but I'm told that more than a few of the WWE superstars are excited to see how they're treated in the comic. So for the record, Big Show? I'm sorry. It was for the story.

The WWE superstars are welcome to contact me if they have ideas for their characters they'd like me to try to implement.

Wrestling is very action-oriented, often quickly paced with fluid movements whereas comics are a more static medium. What can happen in the ring in two or three seconds could take a page to convey. How have you approached the in-ring action in the comic to make it work for the medium?

A good wrestling match tells a story and I've tried to approach that the same way in the comic. In some cases, the context of the match is defined by the story. In others, the match becomes the story we're telling. But every match is designed to peak and valley and unfolds with its own rhythm. The matches have been ridiculously thought out.

Is there a specific audience you're writing for? Obviously, like any fan community, wrestling fans look for different things. Since the WWE has been targeting kids strongly in the past year, is the comic aimed at children more than, say, smarks who read the dirt sheets and online sites for spoilers, rumours, and backstage gossip? Or are you trying to appeal to as much of the fanbase as possible?

I consider myself a lifelong wrestling fan and I'm writing a wrestling comic that I'd like to read. That's really my only gauge for any of this. There's nothing in there that would preclude the younger audience from enjoying it and there's nothing in it that would alienate the older demographic. But mostly, I asked myself what I'd like to see in a wrestling comic and started from there.

I don't know how to ask this without seeming too snarky, but you've said online that you're a wrestling fan, so how about we conclude things with a few quick 'prove your fan cred' questions? Favourite wrestler of all time? Favourite current wrestler? Favourite match of all time? (If it helps, I'd say my favourite wrestler of all time is Bret Hart, my current favourite is Chris Jericho, and my favourite match is the 1991 Intercontinental Championship match between Bret
Hart and Mr. Perfect.)

My all-time favorite wrestler is Andre The Giant. Kind of an obvious choice but I just always loved Andre when I was young. I make no apologies for it. I was also a big fan of Mil Mascaras and the original Tiger Mask.

Keeping things focused on WWE, as far as in-ring work, I think it's really hard to top Shawn Michaels. He's one of the all-time greats. As far as characters, Rick Martel as "The Model" always cracked me up. His blindfold match w/ Jake Roberts is a classic!

Of the current, newer crop of wrestlers I like David Hart Smith, I'm interested in seeing where he and Dibiase Jr go with their careers.

And my all-time favorite match? It's tough to narrow it to just one, maybe one of the 60 minute Flair/Steamboat classics from the 80's. Steamboat/Savage from Wrestlemania 3. The Rock and Triple H had a great ladder match at Summerslam 98, which I was backstage for. Does that give me wrestling cred?

***

Thanks to Keith and Titan. WWE Heroes #1 is on sale March 23 and you can view the trailer for the issue here.

Anthropologist Roxanne Varzi came to our UCLA working group Culture, Power, and Social Change last week and spoke and showed a courageous and wise reflexive ethnographic film “Plastic Flowers Never Die” on the religio-statist support of martyrdom in Iran. I asked a question about how to theorize the role of digital ‘texts’ in the present era of ubiquitous self-publishing and social broadcasting. I was thinking about jihadi videos that are shot and distributed on online video portals as advertisement, recruitment tools, or celebrations of religio-military success. According to the IntelCenter, jihadi videos can be categorized as operational, hostage, statement, tribute, training, and instructional videos.

Essentially antagonistic with technoprogressive modernity while exploiting the simplicity, freedom, and access that comes with new media, these videos can be described as vanguard, counter, resistant, or subversive to capitalistic modernity while using the forefront of the sociotechnical tools of that capitalist technocracy. Our models of user-generated labor, from Shirkey and Benkler’s celebrations of social production to Terranova’s Marxist perspective on exploitative and ‘free’ labor, might not fit this un-capitalist media production practice. It is going to take a mix of something new to get it. But what?

I asked Varzi about jihadi videos: “These strike me as a rich source of information about a culture that is otherwise inaccessible to anthropologists: jihadi martyrs. How would you go about developing a critical anthropological methodology to reading these video texts?” Correctly but dangerously she stated she wouldn’t do it without an ethnographic component. I thought to myself: Let me get this right. I gotta hang out, like, deeply, with jihadi terrorists? As an anthropologist I cannot make a statement about jihadi video production practices without having first squeezed my way into their schedule and shared a few meetings over tea with my local jihadist? I’d love to, frankly, but I doubt I can network into their cliques. Are we going to let these remarkably reflexive, vocal “weapons of the weak” go unnoticed? If we can’t talk about these videos we are losing our disciplinary focus on subcultural expression and resistance and an opportunity to expand our methodological repertoire.

Jihadi video producers and new media firms, my focus, share little but extreme privacy. The similarities end there, but the problems for the ethnographer of either are identical: gaining access. My subjects are powerful. They have ideas that are worth millions in venture capital. Their lawyers are all about intellectual property. They live comfortable lives. They don’t need my cultural capital. They don’t need me around. Infrequently and for whatever reason, they invite me into their world. The Frontline documentary Behind Taliban Lines is a rare example that follows a single video journalist into the operations of the Taliban attempting to blow up a US convoy. This rarely happens in every context where a researcher wants access. Though our own Rex thinks our focus should be on the subtle and not the savage, he’ll be happy to know that anthropologists usually are gutsy enough to pursue such inaccessible subjects.

What if I couldn’t meet these wealthy entrepreneurs in person? What if they were so private that participant observation was impossible? I would be forced to construct something anthropological through their public representations. Thankfully, my subjects produce a lot of media. They socially broadcast on Facebook and Twitter and have scheduled relations with the public at conferences. (Except for TED, which at $6000 a weekend excludes most.) But with or without ethnography, this project, like a hypothetical investigation of jihadi video producers, needs to happen. If we have to begin-and probably end-with texts, what will we do? We’ll need to first develop an anthropologically specific way of reading these video texts and other public media artifacts.

The time is now to revisit our present anthropological theories about the role of textual studies. Finding its most useful expression in reconstructive indigenous and postcolonial historiographies, texts have long been an essential part of our field. But have we fully fleshed out a spectrum of specific theories for each type of text? I am not interested in adjudicating the validity or truthfulness of this text versus that. Colonial documents, biographies, and census records need to be differentially theorized not as statements of fact or fiction but as culturally situated texts. What I am fishing for is a debate on whether the new digital documents can find a home in contemporary anthropological theory. What differentiates paper-based from Web 2.0 personal documents and text from video? Most importantly, how can we take a culturally distinct but necessarily distant visual text of war and conflict, consider its technical and productive online existence, not defer to speculation on auteur intentionality, be mindful of the artifacts that appear on screen, and extrapolate back to the producer’s culture?

More broadly, we need to ask ourselves how to do an anthropological study of ethnographically inaccessible objects: leadership of corporations, governments, terrorist cells, elite institutions. Anthropologist Jane Weddell’s recent book, The Shadow Elite: How the World’s New Power Brokers Undermine Democracy, Government and the Free Market” is a fine example. Ethical problems abound in all these projects. Just as Nancy Scheper-Hughes prospered, so will the anthropologist of video culture of martyrdom and other inaccessible objects.