It seems easy enough. Highlighted words are italicized, CAPS-LOCKED, emboldened or SOMETIMES ALL THREE. You go left to right starting at the top row, and proceed top to bottom (withholding exceptions for manga and splash pages with inset/"floating" panels). Frames proceed moment to moment, action to action; word balloons fall in line like teeth on a zipper - YKK banter, insolent dialogue, sentences circling each other, trading blows to foreshadow the pugilist and superhuman wars of the gods on pages to come. The occasional "big word" is used to circumnavigate the Kryptonic blow of "Aren't those just for little kids?"
As Scott McCloud so eloquently pointed out in his inimitable Understanding Comics, comics is the media which most relies on active engagement on the part of the audience. Books, movies, music and television all happen to you whether you connect their dots or not, but one image of an ax in a madman's hands about to descend on a helpless victim followed by another image of a city skyline painted with "AIIIIIIEEEEEE!!!!" - that's murder one, and your brain is the prime suspect.
When we're little, we can make the leap and connect each panel of a comic to the next and the previous, like a movie's storyboards, to build a scene that unfolds in motion in our imaginations. Seeing the immediate consequence of an action - the hero just inside a broken window, flying feet first, shattered glass surrounding him/her - lends our brains the flight pattern of the character, the sound of the glass breaking, the fear in the villain's heart, the matching disdain or certainty in the heart of the hero and so on. Of course old, campy onomatopoeic words still fill most panels (Marvel's use of K words like KRA-KOOM and KATHOOM became a drinking game for us in college), but odds are the reader can already hear Thor's lightning or Iron Man's Repulsor Blasts before or as we read the printed sound effect.
As I grew and became a quicker reader, the challenge became making a comic last longer. In recent years, I found myself reading six-issue collections of The Walking Dead in an hour or so. This is great for playing catch-up, but I realized I was doing Robert Kirkman and his artists an even greater disservice by blowing through their comic than I was myself: if I read wordless pages quickly, I probably wouldn't miss a whole lot of the story but I wouldn't be giving each panel the "screen time" equivalent it deserves. Rick Grimes' terrified, silent hidings from Walkers drew time out like a blade in his world, and likely in his creators' and most fans' worlds, but I was breezing through near-death encounters in 15, 20 seconds. Someone finally asked me not how I'd read through it at such a speed but why. I was dumbstruck.
So I had to unlearn and relearn everything I knew about comics, and I'm happy to report both that doing so has made my enjoyment of sequential art much more rich and that I have a few tips for other readers for rewarding a writer-artist team with more than your $2.99. While practicing the following methods, keep in mind that I like to read a panel once to get all its information (and what led into it, and to what it leads in turn), then go over it a second time with these ideas in tow.
I know very little about acting, but I can tell when voiceover, dialogue and action work in a film and I've learned to apply them to comics. Let's first discuss voiceover - that controversial tool. Paul Thomas Anderson's Magnolia features a heart-wrenching monologue by Jason Robards about regret, while showing the entire ensemble cast of characters, in a series of shots, as they prepare themselves for their evening. Pregnant pauses fill his monologue, and breaks in word boxes in comics are a perfect way to represent those pauses, or the minor shifts in tone and mood expressed vocally in film. In the Terrence Malick adaptation of The Thin Red Line, internal monologue is abound - most effectively, perhaps, in a scene of uncertainty between Nick Nolte and John Travolta. Nolte smokes a cigarette alone and flashes back to just a few minutes prior, brown-nosing his superior officer (Travolta). The two exchange awkward dialogue about America's place in Guadalcanal in World War II, but their discussion is interwoven with Nolte's voiceover, which sounds shades more grim and introspective. With several seconds between each sentence, he despondently growls, "Cancer. Dyin'. Slow as a tree." The entire pace of the scene is brought to a near-standstill by his melancholic tone, and the featherweight length of each sentence is balanced delicately. Learning to stretch minimal verbiage in a panel or on a page to the length that Nolte (and, likely, the film's sound editing team) masterfully does is a challenge for the page-turning nature of comics reading, and seems almost counter-productive in stories with such action-laden sequences - but with practice, it can be done, and really should be.
In fact, with voiceover and dialogue both, I also make it a point to assign "famous voices" to characters to help differentiate characters in my own internal reader's voice. Luckily, with a universe like Batman, readers already have a wealth of examples from Kevin Conroy, Michael Keaton and Christian Bale, who have played Bruce Wayne and Batman in keeping with the darker tone of recent comics. Conroy's turns in Rocksteady's Arkham Asylum and Arkham City games are great fodder for voicing your "inner Batman." Robert Downey Jr. has already played Tony Stark / Iron Man in two of his own movies and the blockbuster Marvel's The Avengers, so if readers apply his voice to comics they'll find an easy time as well.
Dialogue is easier to learn to read than voiceover, likely because several comics films in recent years have expertly tackled the smart-ass vocal tone that billionaire playboys like Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne use to shine on public adversaries like Justin Hammer and John Taggart, respectively. Their snide tones and their pacing reflect well on the silver screen and have for decades. From the Stacy-Parker dinner scene in this year's The Amazing Spider-Man to the "Give Knox a grant" exchange in the Keaton/Burton 1989 Batman, not to mention the physical time it takes the eye to move from one spot to another in a panel, comics audiences have an easier time hearing dialogue in scenes than ever before. I find myself, by habit, running scenes of scientific or medical dialogue in a flatter, brusquer tone for characters - a practice best evidenced between Dave Bowman, Frank Poole and the HAL-9000 in Stanley Kubrick's 1968 sci-fi film 2001: A Space Odyssey. These more monotone, no-bullshit conversations sound like what we'd expect from the "shop talk" between Commissioner Gordon and Batman, or Justice League members analyzing a crime scene, Nick Fury and Captain America debating a threat level and so on.
Finally we come to the action. As Iron Man said last year in Carnage: Family Feud, "I don't banter." At times I wish that were true of all heroes. Do we really believe that, while we see one hero throwing a right hook across a villain's chin, the two have time for four lines of dialogue? Does time stop mid-action for their conversation? Fortunately for all, comics creators have learned from their predecessors and written most action speech into panels with more long-lasting time frames - characters hiding from gunfire, motion silhouettes leading a long path to our heroes' current positions, etc. Therefore, the practice I recommended of re-reading each panel once you've learned exactly what will transpire and how long that panel "feels" or "lasts" becomes most useful - and requires the biggest grain of salt - during action scenes. Try reading a few panels to get a general idea of where the characters move, what they say, which things explode or collapse and more, then go back and give each panel a look from a step back. Let the dialogue flow in your head the way it would in person or in a movie; try "seeing" the action a second before through a second after the millisecond "caught" by the image. Even shut your eyes and let the transition to the next frame happen in time naturally. You're the director here - zap that villain, blow up that bank vault, maneuver Nightwing away from the collapsing roof at your speed. If you see that a punch has just connected, imagine the person throwing it dodging a blow immediately before then countering with what you see, followed by the punch's recipient reeling back, regaining his/her composure, etc. There's ample room for improv here, despite the implied rigidity of the medium. A good two-page Alex Ross spread of heroes and villains battling at large in the DC or Marvel universes can play out for a good 10 seconds of air time from each and every angle you look at it.
So now that you've done that, what then? Now that you've built a moving, living, breathing scene on the page - a journey that will be aided by words that burn themselves in your brain so that you'll swear someone just spoke them, images that leap off the page and bring the fight into your house - what then? When the scene is played out, when you can feel each character's every move and thought spreading through every possible second allotted to that panel's (or page's) lifespan...start that section over just one more time. Give a closer look to the godlike shapes on the page. Spend just a moment pining over the shading, the detail, the texture of every scale of Aquaman's outfit, of Hulk's strained tendons, of the feathers on Hawkgirl's wings. Imagine the years of physical training that go into all those muscles; consider the hero donning the costume that morning before leaving the hideout. A contemporary visual artist will bring depth, texture and life to any image s/he commits to paper. In the first issue of Carnage: Family Feud, Clayton Crain's close-up of Michael Hall's fingers shows us that Crain has painstakingly painted Hall's fingerprints onto his fingertips. In 1602, Andy Kubert's shading and occasional "pencil sketch" textures give the reader an added dimension of the abstract to an already unusual comic. Alex Ross has consistently used human models and photo portraits on which to base his sketches and paintings of his comics, showing every wrinkle and fold of a cape, every light and shadow falling on every part of a face, and his ultra-realistic visual art makes comics hit as close to home as they can, outside of being portrayed by living actors - or, some would argue, even more so.
Studying every comic I've read this way in the last couple years has elongated a 30-page issue from an eight-minute read to a half-hour immersive experience. I learned to read when I was 2, but I learned to read comics when I was 27. I'm not sure which is the greater challenge, but I know they're both as rewarding, enlightening and inspiring as the other, in their own way. I hope you can find the same results in those mystifying pages. Thanks for reading.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Sunday, July 8, 2012
The Uniform (Minimalism).
I truly believe that comics are a form of modern American mythology, and the characters in them, when properly realized, represent symbols and personifications of traits and ideals. Like the ancient Greek mythologies, their best stories are parables and allegories for the way normal people live their lives - exaggerated lessons and legends of honor and chivalry, greed and consequences. In comics, the heroes' and villains' personae are brought to life not only through their actions and reputations, but through their choice of wardrobe. After all, the stories in comics - unlike classic mythological tales - are always told alongside graphic art and necessitate the same embellished symbols and actions in their visual representation as they do in their words in order to help convey the themes and ideological sermons at which they often excel.
The majority of heroes' and villains' clothes have always been bright, flashy costumes - usually all spandex and tights and capes - that personify the characters. While there have been some exceptions along the way - The Green Hornet's comparably simpler duster and cowboy hat or fedora raising fewer eyebrows than Captain America - the general assumption to non-fans is that if you one day gain superpowers, it's time to sit down and knit yourself something bright.
However, a trend I've enjoyed thoroughly in recent years has been for comics artists and costume designers to go the other way with the uniforms. My best guess is that since the phenomenon of "America's new trinity of love - Dean, Brando and Presley" (full credit to Kerouac for that) helped popularize antiheroes and flawed everymen in film, they rippled through other media of pop culture - it was only natural that comics would follow suit.
At some point in the '70s or '80s, something pedestrian and believable started to find its footing in comics. Grant Morrison and Dave McKean released Arkham Asylum which, at points, considered Batman as little more than a self-appointed psychotic with mommy and daddy issues. Frank Miller's Batman: Year One brought home the first rocky year of the Caped Crusader, showing that he was once still a beginner and almost died in his first ventures out at the hands of a mere pimp in one occasion, and three unarmed burglars in another. Alan Moore's Watchmen and V For Vendetta showed what a normal person can do with an overdeveloped sense of justice and a chip on his or her shoulder, given the resources. In fact Heath Ledger's Joker would later say to Harvey Dent, "Look what I did to this city with just a few bullets and a couple of drums of gasoline."
One of the best examples of the toned-down visual presence of heroes actually came from film. In 1990, Sam Raimi directed Darkman starring Liam Neeson as Peyton Westlake, a scientist who is beaten and burned beyond recognition and left for dead by gangsters. Peyton's area of expertise is in skin grafts and epidermal recovery, and he proceeds to exact revenge on the criminals in a series of covert operations wearing masks that make him indistinguishable from the person he's mimicking. Throughout the last half hour or so of the film - as well as on most of Darkman's posters and other ads - Peyton is seen wearing a near-full facial wrap of bandages and black trenchcoat and fedora, which he found lying around. Even as a kid, I remember seeing the movie and thinking That makes sense! He's just wearing what he could find; he didn't stitch together a costume.
M. Night Shyamalan's sophomore release, Unbreakable, was the next movie to successfully show off the hero without a costume. In that film, Bruce Willis plays security guard David Dunn, on the verge of separating from his wife when suddenly he's the sole survivor of a devastating train wreck. A stranger, played by Samuel L. Jackson, is a comics collector and art gallery proprietor who believes Dunn is a superhero - or at least the closest thing possible in real life. David Dunn is mortal, but is revealed to have never had any serious injuries despite the train wreck, a car crash in his youth, and everyday life. Eventually Jackson convinces him to find people in trouble and help them out, which is really just an unlicensed extension of his job of protecting people as a security guard, so Dunn dons his standard-issue rain poncho (but only because it's pouring rain when the scene takes place) and manages to find a family taken hostage in their own home by a homicidal maniac. At this point, he finds himself a part of a scene familiar to any comics fan, in which he has to fight the bad guy and save the victims. The following morning, the story makes the front page - but Dunn, remaining anonymous through his limited exposure to the family and his poncho hood covering his face for the most part, is unidentified. One of my favorite aspects of the movie is how much of the fantastic and unrealistic elements are taken out of the entire script. As much as I love a superpowered slugfest, probably 95% of Unbreakable is not only believable, but almost bordering on the mundane, and Bruce Willis' "superhero costume" is no exception - it's just a rain poncho with the hood up, similar to Darkman's black duster and fedora.
Sucker Punch released its first PlayStation 3-exclusive game, Infamous, in 2009. It follows Cole McGrath, a bike courier in Empire City (read: New York) who is delivering a package that turns out to be a bomb that explodes in his hands. In a complex and comic-based cutscene following the bomb blast, it's revealed that Cole has been imbued with some strange set of superpowers from the bomb, which has also unleashed an epidemic (and subsequent quarantine) and city-wide blackout. After recovering from severe burns, Cole does his best to control and develop his powers, which mostly involve being an electrical super-conduit and not getting hurt from jumping off buildings. The first time he picks up a handgun, it explodes in his hand. He can't sit in a car, but he can power a subway. The point is, the closest Cole gets to an outfit is that he wears a pair of charcoal cargo pants and a motorcycle jacket - yellow body, black sleeves - and his messenger bag. Even still, this subtle outfit becomes a trademark of sorts for him - in the 2011 sequel, Cole takes a boat down to New Marais (read: New Orleans) and sports a nearly identical outfit: charcoal jeans, a yellow-bodied ringer t-shirt with black short sleeves and his same impractically small messenger bag.
All these outfits, in their simplicity and mundane nature, have nearly paralleled their heroes' backgrounds. A scientist, a security guard and a bike messenger are a pretty far cry from Superman's alien baby crash-landing on Earth with x-ray vision and super strength, even with Cole's electrical powers. The low-key costumes even managed to continue with some more recent examples.
In 2012's Chronicle, a found-footage masterpiece directed by Josh Trank, three high school kids outside of Seattle find a meteor that accidentally bestows powers of telekinesis upon them. What starts with the boys assembling Legos and skipping stones on water hands-free (and in secret) evolves into flying, throwing cars and more mayhem. At one point, Andrew Dentmer, the main character and primary cameraman played masterfully by Dane DeHaan, realizes he has to not only use his powers to break several laws, but to do so specifically in front of people in public. To protect his identity, he dons his father's firefighter's uniform and mask and heads out. Again, this is a prime example of a character using whatever is on-hand, eschewing the fancy skin-tight primary colors and perfect fits of Superman, Spider-Man, Captain America and other very famous heroes.
Mark Millar's vigilante comic Kick-Ass - and its 2010 film adaptation - both center on Dave Lizewski, a high-school student who decides to go out and try to be a real-life superhero. He is almost immediately hospitalized with severe injuries and is released to find that many of his broken bones have been set with steel plating and most of his nerve endings are shot. None of this is a government secret project; he just got seriously fucked up from his crimefighting. For the remainder of the comic/film, he fights crime with a slightly-deadened pain sensation and a skeletal structure that's a bit more sturdy than most. What makes him such a normal guy in his heroism is partly his outfit and weaponry - Dave wears a scuba suit with no gear and uses a pair of pipes or batons painted yellow. The irony is that this outfit looks more like something a superhero would wear than anyone else on this list.
On a side note, I'd like to mention Nicholas Cage's Big Daddy, his crime-fighting alter ego in the film adaptation of Kick-Ass. While the outfit is definitely an homage to Burton/Nolan-esque Batman, there's one scene in particular that shows Cage in the mirror applying his eye make-up that captures the emotionless, deadpan, utter lack of excitement I imagine a superhero would have suiting up more perfectly than I've ever seen in media, before or since. I think it plays so well into the "grass is always greener" motif expressed otherwise in Neil Gaiman and Dave McKean's film MirrorMask - that while normal kids would like to run away and join the circus, their heroine, a circus performer, would like to run away and join real life. This idea was hinted at with subtlety and brilliance in season six, part two of The Sopranos as well, in which Tony Soprano - a Jersey crime boss who regularly acts above and outside the law - slips into a coma and dreams of being a businessman at a sales conference whose briefcase gets stuck shut and who loses his wallet. These three fantastic, daydream characters who people like you and I could only dream of living as for a day personify for the briefest of moments how less glamorous their lives are than we imagine.
All in all, the increasingly realistic and seemingly normal backgrounds of iconic comic heroes is showing through in their wardrobes as much as their backgrounds. None of us could be Superman, but any of us could be Scott Pilgrim. Believing in ourselves with the same conviction we do heroes has been one of comic creators' hopes for longer than most of us have been alive, and dressing a superhero like a normal person is one step towards that goal. Characters like Darkman, David Dunn, Cole McGrath, Dave Lizewski, Andrew Dentmer and countless others have brought the idea of the superhero outfit from a form-fitted Oscar-worthy costume to little more than what you or I choose to wear to work every day - and after all, isn't that what they're doing?
In 2012's Chronicle, a found-footage masterpiece directed by Josh Trank, three high school kids outside of Seattle find a meteor that accidentally bestows powers of telekinesis upon them. What starts with the boys assembling Legos and skipping stones on water hands-free (and in secret) evolves into flying, throwing cars and more mayhem. At one point, Andrew Dentmer, the main character and primary cameraman played masterfully by Dane DeHaan, realizes he has to not only use his powers to break several laws, but to do so specifically in front of people in public. To protect his identity, he dons his father's firefighter's uniform and mask and heads out. Again, this is a prime example of a character using whatever is on-hand, eschewing the fancy skin-tight primary colors and perfect fits of Superman, Spider-Man, Captain America and other very famous heroes.
On a side note, I'd like to mention Nicholas Cage's Big Daddy, his crime-fighting alter ego in the film adaptation of Kick-Ass. While the outfit is definitely an homage to Burton/Nolan-esque Batman, there's one scene in particular that shows Cage in the mirror applying his eye make-up that captures the emotionless, deadpan, utter lack of excitement I imagine a superhero would have suiting up more perfectly than I've ever seen in media, before or since. I think it plays so well into the "grass is always greener" motif expressed otherwise in Neil Gaiman and Dave McKean's film MirrorMask - that while normal kids would like to run away and join the circus, their heroine, a circus performer, would like to run away and join real life. This idea was hinted at with subtlety and brilliance in season six, part two of The Sopranos as well, in which Tony Soprano - a Jersey crime boss who regularly acts above and outside the law - slips into a coma and dreams of being a businessman at a sales conference whose briefcase gets stuck shut and who loses his wallet. These three fantastic, daydream characters who people like you and I could only dream of living as for a day personify for the briefest of moments how less glamorous their lives are than we imagine.
All in all, the increasingly realistic and seemingly normal backgrounds of iconic comic heroes is showing through in their wardrobes as much as their backgrounds. None of us could be Superman, but any of us could be Scott Pilgrim. Believing in ourselves with the same conviction we do heroes has been one of comic creators' hopes for longer than most of us have been alive, and dressing a superhero like a normal person is one step towards that goal. Characters like Darkman, David Dunn, Cole McGrath, Dave Lizewski, Andrew Dentmer and countless others have brought the idea of the superhero outfit from a form-fitted Oscar-worthy costume to little more than what you or I choose to wear to work every day - and after all, isn't that what they're doing?
Sunday, May 20, 2012
How Much is Enough?
This week in the world of Real-Life SuperHeroes, I became aware of a citizen-in-need who had accused an RLSH of not helping him enough, and that is something worth discussing. I think I'm going to offer a distinct opinion or two here, so please know I'll do my best to label them as such, to differentiate them from the more objective "things to think about" points I usually try to make.
When you or I see someone who is "down on their luck" or whatever term fits best, there are a number of factors that present themselves in that situation. First, I think most of us identify immediately that that person is having a problem and at least the "food and shelter" aspect of his or her life isn't where s/he would like it to be. There are then a number of split-second decisions your brain makes that determine how the rest of that moment will be handled. See, the first thought we have after seeing someone in a bad place already begins our classification: is this someone with whom we empathize, or is s/he a "tough shit; best of luck" scenario? If you see someone and simply say "Oh well - better him than me," that really is the end of that. You then likely move on with the rest of your day, which is your choice to make, and there's no more to say about it. I've found, though, there are indeed people who hesitate, even if just for a moment, to consider that person's misfortune, and their following actions are what I'd like to discuss.
There are those who pause at seeing a person who has fallen on hard times and decide how to act based on how much of that person's misfortune is "their own fault." Assuming we are taking people on a case-by-case basis, and not the "all homeless people are junkies/drunks" generalization, it is still a part of human nature to judge people based on what you see at a first impression and to subconsciously identify differences and barriers between you and that person. Here, some people will decide there are enough differences between them and the unfortunate citizen that they can blame him for his fate and they can move on guilt-free. "Well, he was drinking when I saw him; I'm sure he got himself into that mess so he can get himself out." Again, at this point, this is the end of the scenario for that person. Some others will not blame the person for his/her misfortune and they will continue on to the next step.
Next, there are those who see that person in bad shape (whether it's "their own fault" or not) and immediately, irreversibly empathize. So what does the person who empathizes do then? It is at this point that I offer an opinion. I often hear people in some kind of trouble say to others, "It's enough to know that you care." Now, that's interesting. Sometimes I agree with that; it boosts my spirits to know when I'm having a hardship that someone out there is pulling for me, made more aware of the situation through my example, etc. I like that I can help people lose their preconceptions about whatever crap I'm going through by seeing me go through it. However, it is of my opinion that people can start using that as a crutch. If someone gets laid off and loses their pension, their house, their car, simply saying to yourself "Man...too bad" is not only not helping that person, but it's not helping anyone else who has fallen or may fall into that same trap. Now, no law says that person is your responsibility (which I'll get into in a minute), but I don't understand that people feel better about themselves in regards to that person's life just because they shook their head and felt bad for a second. End opinion.
It may seem like splitting hairs, but the alternative option to that step in social empathy is actually a crucial one. When you empathize with someone's situation, we just discussed not doing anything for them besides feeling bad. Well, even then, the most indirect seed of helping has already been planted in your mind. It's a possibility that even if you don't help this person immediately, maybe they stick in your mind (and you decide in 10 or 20 years to advocate a law or elected official dedicated to helping people get back on their feet) - or maybe they don't. This step in your mental process is that of empowerment. We ask ourselves, "Can I do anything about this?" If not, see the previous paragraph. If so, maybe you take the "eventual assistance" route that you see enough hopelessness in the world that one day you do something about it.
And it is here that we must first ask the question of the day: Is that enough? Is it enough to see enough hunger, poverty, crime, whatever on the streets victimizing Persons A through C that eventually we help Persons D through F? In the general mindset that "helping your fellow person" is a good thing as opposed to a bad thing, then the first few people's plight leading up to your decision to support the next few people is certainly a step in the right direction. Up until this point, we discussed being willing or unwilling to help someone in need. Then we discussed believing ourselves to be able or unable to do the same. Now that we're looking at being willing and able, what then? How active is active? What responsibility does one have to his or her fellow human? Where does helping meet enabling?
Essentially...how much is enough?
That's a question that predates my research into the RLSH community and I don't have a simple answer for it. I will present all the philosophies of the argument I've heard, though, without taking a side. Some people, RLSH or not, believe the best way to help society at large is to ignore people down on their luck. This is, as close as I understand it, a pretty hardcore sense of Darwinism - only the strong survive; the weak ones will eventually just die off and society will be stronger without them. This closely parallels some hard calls that officers in the military have to make, as well: is it right or wrong to sacrifice one to save many?
Others seem to believe in the old proverb: "Give a man a fish and he eats for a day; teach a man to fish and he eats for a lifetime." The closest parallel for this in modern life is that these people believe it may be alright to bring food-and-supply packs to those homeless/unfortunate folks, which will help them in the short-term, but that by giving them their immediate needs, one is simply enabling them and teaching them to rely on others. These same people will either commit themselves to "teaching them how to fish," e.g. helping the downtrodden find jobs and low-rent housing and so on, or they will simply offer no alternative solution and resign themselves to decry those "giving a fish" as being "part of the problem."
A third group of people believe in helping others in any way they can. I've heard many RLSH look at the opposite side of the same coin as the previous group - that "I may not be able to turn their whole life around myself, but I was able to buy this family some more time with food and supplies." There are plenty of RLSH featured in Penny Cavalier and elsewhere who leave their homes with supply packs to hand out to the homeless, none of which are necessarily inexpensive.
The final group of people believe in attacking the problem at its earliest source - whether that source is an unfair employer, a bad economy, a drug dealer or whatever else put the misfortune into someone's life.
So who needs or deserves help? Whereas earlier we looked at the empowered side of the issue of responsibility for a stranger, here we have to decide that individual's sense of responsibility and ability for him/herself. It's the "willing and able" tool we used for our helpers, only with different qualifying circumstances - if someone is willing and able to take care of him/herself, s/he absolutely wouldn't need the assistance of another person or government agency.
Another common view of the needy, which is the stereotype of them, is that they are "able but unwilling" to take care of themselves - and thus undeserving of any help. If a particular person in need sees himself as "able but unwilling" to get back on his feet, he is saying that the rest of the world owes him a living, and for whatever reason, he shouldn't have to work for it. Again, this is only if the person is truly able but not interested in taking care of himself. It's harder to reconcile this school of thought with a logical gauge of mutually-beneficial life in the western world.
Finally, there are those who are "willing but unable" to be in the same productive place in society as most of us are. They suffer from some kind of disadvantage - be it physical, mental, economic or otherwise - that places them in the awkward position of wanting to lead a better life than they do but being helpless to make it happen. This is a very real scenario, one with which people live every day. It becomes difficult then to determine who is truly unable and who is truly unwilling to support themselves, which is a decision that everyone from their family members to social workers to RLSH must each make, one case at a time.
Once the decision is made, however, what can that person expect in terms of help, short- and long-term? Now that we've identified all the elements in the equation, we can address that question again: How much is enough? In the end it's not up to me to decide; there are as many variables as different cases. In all my research into the world of the RLSH I keep coming back to having to take everything at face value in their lives - a necessary practice, but one as exhausting as learning a new language in every instance. The only person legally responsible for each of us is ourselves. On the other hand, the volunteer has pledged to be A Person Who Helps - but whether you think the extent of their help is enough or not isn't up to them.
When you or I see someone who is "down on their luck" or whatever term fits best, there are a number of factors that present themselves in that situation. First, I think most of us identify immediately that that person is having a problem and at least the "food and shelter" aspect of his or her life isn't where s/he would like it to be. There are then a number of split-second decisions your brain makes that determine how the rest of that moment will be handled. See, the first thought we have after seeing someone in a bad place already begins our classification: is this someone with whom we empathize, or is s/he a "tough shit; best of luck" scenario? If you see someone and simply say "Oh well - better him than me," that really is the end of that. You then likely move on with the rest of your day, which is your choice to make, and there's no more to say about it. I've found, though, there are indeed people who hesitate, even if just for a moment, to consider that person's misfortune, and their following actions are what I'd like to discuss.
There are those who pause at seeing a person who has fallen on hard times and decide how to act based on how much of that person's misfortune is "their own fault." Assuming we are taking people on a case-by-case basis, and not the "all homeless people are junkies/drunks" generalization, it is still a part of human nature to judge people based on what you see at a first impression and to subconsciously identify differences and barriers between you and that person. Here, some people will decide there are enough differences between them and the unfortunate citizen that they can blame him for his fate and they can move on guilt-free. "Well, he was drinking when I saw him; I'm sure he got himself into that mess so he can get himself out." Again, at this point, this is the end of the scenario for that person. Some others will not blame the person for his/her misfortune and they will continue on to the next step.
Next, there are those who see that person in bad shape (whether it's "their own fault" or not) and immediately, irreversibly empathize. So what does the person who empathizes do then? It is at this point that I offer an opinion. I often hear people in some kind of trouble say to others, "It's enough to know that you care." Now, that's interesting. Sometimes I agree with that; it boosts my spirits to know when I'm having a hardship that someone out there is pulling for me, made more aware of the situation through my example, etc. I like that I can help people lose their preconceptions about whatever crap I'm going through by seeing me go through it. However, it is of my opinion that people can start using that as a crutch. If someone gets laid off and loses their pension, their house, their car, simply saying to yourself "Man...too bad" is not only not helping that person, but it's not helping anyone else who has fallen or may fall into that same trap. Now, no law says that person is your responsibility (which I'll get into in a minute), but I don't understand that people feel better about themselves in regards to that person's life just because they shook their head and felt bad for a second. End opinion.
It may seem like splitting hairs, but the alternative option to that step in social empathy is actually a crucial one. When you empathize with someone's situation, we just discussed not doing anything for them besides feeling bad. Well, even then, the most indirect seed of helping has already been planted in your mind. It's a possibility that even if you don't help this person immediately, maybe they stick in your mind (and you decide in 10 or 20 years to advocate a law or elected official dedicated to helping people get back on their feet) - or maybe they don't. This step in your mental process is that of empowerment. We ask ourselves, "Can I do anything about this?" If not, see the previous paragraph. If so, maybe you take the "eventual assistance" route that you see enough hopelessness in the world that one day you do something about it.
And it is here that we must first ask the question of the day: Is that enough? Is it enough to see enough hunger, poverty, crime, whatever on the streets victimizing Persons A through C that eventually we help Persons D through F? In the general mindset that "helping your fellow person" is a good thing as opposed to a bad thing, then the first few people's plight leading up to your decision to support the next few people is certainly a step in the right direction. Up until this point, we discussed being willing or unwilling to help someone in need. Then we discussed believing ourselves to be able or unable to do the same. Now that we're looking at being willing and able, what then? How active is active? What responsibility does one have to his or her fellow human? Where does helping meet enabling?
Essentially...how much is enough?
That's a question that predates my research into the RLSH community and I don't have a simple answer for it. I will present all the philosophies of the argument I've heard, though, without taking a side. Some people, RLSH or not, believe the best way to help society at large is to ignore people down on their luck. This is, as close as I understand it, a pretty hardcore sense of Darwinism - only the strong survive; the weak ones will eventually just die off and society will be stronger without them. This closely parallels some hard calls that officers in the military have to make, as well: is it right or wrong to sacrifice one to save many?
Others seem to believe in the old proverb: "Give a man a fish and he eats for a day; teach a man to fish and he eats for a lifetime." The closest parallel for this in modern life is that these people believe it may be alright to bring food-and-supply packs to those homeless/unfortunate folks, which will help them in the short-term, but that by giving them their immediate needs, one is simply enabling them and teaching them to rely on others. These same people will either commit themselves to "teaching them how to fish," e.g. helping the downtrodden find jobs and low-rent housing and so on, or they will simply offer no alternative solution and resign themselves to decry those "giving a fish" as being "part of the problem."
A third group of people believe in helping others in any way they can. I've heard many RLSH look at the opposite side of the same coin as the previous group - that "I may not be able to turn their whole life around myself, but I was able to buy this family some more time with food and supplies." There are plenty of RLSH featured in Penny Cavalier and elsewhere who leave their homes with supply packs to hand out to the homeless, none of which are necessarily inexpensive.
The final group of people believe in attacking the problem at its earliest source - whether that source is an unfair employer, a bad economy, a drug dealer or whatever else put the misfortune into someone's life.
So who needs or deserves help? Whereas earlier we looked at the empowered side of the issue of responsibility for a stranger, here we have to decide that individual's sense of responsibility and ability for him/herself. It's the "willing and able" tool we used for our helpers, only with different qualifying circumstances - if someone is willing and able to take care of him/herself, s/he absolutely wouldn't need the assistance of another person or government agency.
Another common view of the needy, which is the stereotype of them, is that they are "able but unwilling" to take care of themselves - and thus undeserving of any help. If a particular person in need sees himself as "able but unwilling" to get back on his feet, he is saying that the rest of the world owes him a living, and for whatever reason, he shouldn't have to work for it. Again, this is only if the person is truly able but not interested in taking care of himself. It's harder to reconcile this school of thought with a logical gauge of mutually-beneficial life in the western world.
Finally, there are those who are "willing but unable" to be in the same productive place in society as most of us are. They suffer from some kind of disadvantage - be it physical, mental, economic or otherwise - that places them in the awkward position of wanting to lead a better life than they do but being helpless to make it happen. This is a very real scenario, one with which people live every day. It becomes difficult then to determine who is truly unable and who is truly unwilling to support themselves, which is a decision that everyone from their family members to social workers to RLSH must each make, one case at a time.
Once the decision is made, however, what can that person expect in terms of help, short- and long-term? Now that we've identified all the elements in the equation, we can address that question again: How much is enough? In the end it's not up to me to decide; there are as many variables as different cases. In all my research into the world of the RLSH I keep coming back to having to take everything at face value in their lives - a necessary practice, but one as exhausting as learning a new language in every instance. The only person legally responsible for each of us is ourselves. On the other hand, the volunteer has pledged to be A Person Who Helps - but whether you think the extent of their help is enough or not isn't up to them.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Avengers Vs. Wu-Tang.
It's no secret that rappers love comic books. MF Doom has based much of his solo career on Dr. Doom, and members of the Wu-Tang Clan have taken on the ideology of some of their favorite comic characters. Ghostface Killah's first album is called Ironman (and he calls himself Tony Stark on a regular basis), Method Man goes by Johnny Blaze aka Ghost Rider, etc. RZA even created a new superhero, Bobby Digital, and invested much of his fortune into developing him into an RLSH, complete with a bulletproof outfit and a themed, souped-up car.
But besides rap's fascination with comic culture, what could Marvel's Avengers team possibly have to do with the rap group the Wu-Tang Clan? The answer may surprise you. Several years ago I wrote an essay for my first book about going to see the Wu-Tang Clan in Orlando in 2005. It was a great concert, but one of the things I focused on for my essay was the business end of the Wu and how they'd built an empire based on correlating products.
The short(est) version of it is this. In 1993, Wu-Tang released their debut album, Enter the Wu-Tang, which was a blowout success. It's a great album, featuring all nine emcees in the band throughout, besides being a welcome change from the poppy direction the genre had taken in the late '80s. The real genius of Wu-Tang, though, lay in the group itself. After the release of Enter the Wu-Tang, most of the members of the band released a solo album, mostly showcasing their own talents, but with guest spots from the band and other talent they'd recruited. It's not hard to tell who's who on Enter the Wu-Tang - half their songs feature the rappers calling themselves out for easy identification - and fans found themselves gravitating towards each member's solo albums depending on each fan's preference. The debut album became, in a sense, a sampler for the rest of the Clan's independent effort.
Even stronger for the business was the paperwork. The group's leader, RZA, rallied the other members to sign to different record labels. The band were so hot at the time, the labels agreed to unheard-of clauses in their contracts - including that a percentage of each artist's royalties would go back to the Wu-Tang group itself and divided up between all nine men. Also, any talent that one Wu member would recruit and sign to his label would pay that member royalties on their albums, which would sell better with guest spots the main Wu-Tang artists performed. Essentially, in a matter of a couple years, nine kids from New York City controlled over 30% of the money in the hip-hop industry and record labels were competing with one another to sell their albums, not realizing they were in fact putting all their money directly towards their own (and one another's) artists. Now stick a pin in that whole idea, reverse it and you'll see where where this is headed.
Fast forward to 2008, when Marvel Studios releases a modern take on Iron Man, starring the amazing Robert Downey Jr. as Tony Stark. Of course it didn't hurt that Downey's supporting cast included the stellar Gwyneth Paltrow, Jeff Bridges and Terence Howard - not to mention being in the capable hands of Jon Favreau - but the mainstream movie crowd was still struggling what to think of superhero movies in terms of the 21st-century market. On the one hand, Christopher Nolan's Batman films had done very well - at the time, The Dark Knight was near the top of a short list of highest-grossing movies of all time - as had the first two Tobey Maguire Spider-Man efforts. However, two attempts at bringing The Hulk back (and Spider-Man 3, whose double-time jazz hands still cause me to wake up screaming at night) failed to impress audiences. We were only a year or so out from the poorly-received portrayal of Eddie Brock/Venom by Topher Grace, so in a way, Marvel Studios (and Iron Man) had to cut its jibs and prove itself from scratch.
The same way Batman Begins had to just three years prior.
The same way Wu-Tang had to in 1993.
Perhaps taking a cue from the Caped Crusader's recent successes, all parties involved in Iron Man made an effort to focus less on the campier, classic style of superhero media developed from the '40s to the '80s and update Tony Stark to fit in a little more with contemporary mainstream movies and their more realistic, toned-down portrayals. The last three Best Picture winners were The Departed, No Country for Old Men and Slumdog Millionaire - how much good do you think pun-filled one-liners would do for Marvel Studios? The result was a Tony Stark who was sometimes funny or goofy - again owing to Robert Downey Jr.'s seemingly endless list of good performances - but still grounded entirely in reality. Beyond a couple exaggerated gadgets in his repertoire, Ol' Shellhead was suddenly as believable a character as Bruce Wayne - no radioactive poisoning or freak mutations, no artifact from outer space. Just a guy with his heart in the right place (no pun intended), able to make a striking difference in the world - and who doesn't want to see that?
So Marvel had a hit on its hands. How could it make lightning strike twice? After the end credits of Iron Man, Tony is confronted by Samuel L Jackson playing Nick Fury, who tells Tony he's assembling a team of other people like him - The Avengers Initiative. Audiences went nuts - though it would be another four years before Avengers released, we had proof positive of how good their movies could be, assuming they were all produced under the same umbrella as Iron Man.
Iron Man was followed by Iron Man 2, Thor and Captain America, all using cast members and writing styles that would lead up to and return in Avengers. Iron Man 2 and Thor even introduced a couple supporting/fringe heroes, Black Widow and Hawkeye, respectively, who would return in Avengers. It should be noted that the one underrepresented superhero in Marvel's five-year plan is The Hulk, who will be played in Avengers by Mark Ruffalo rather than Eric Bana or Edward Norton who have each played him in recent years. I would imagine Marvel Studios didn't want to try to make a third standalone take on Hulk in a decade just for the sake of rounding out the team, but I'm sure Ruffalo does a great job.
Much like the Wu-Tang solo albums, details have already surfaced about Captain America 2, Iron Man 3 and Thor 2, which will obviously follow some time after Avengers. It seems that up until this point, like the record industry promoting a full-length album by an artist with one or two singles releasing before the album, Marvel Studios has been content for each superhero's movies to work on their own until next Thursday, fueling the release of Avengers. Whereas Wu-Tang released their assembled heroes first to later develop their own solo material, Marvel Studios has taken the opposite route for now - though they may for the next couple years follow suit, earning successes for future individual releases based somewhat on their united group's smash hit.
...Now all we need is a comic series crossover between The Avengers and the Wu-Tang Clan, in which the Wu would get to flaunt the musical and martial arts talents they have in their video game Wu-Tang: Shaolin Style. That or an arcade fighter game: Avengers Vs. Wu-Tang, a la Marvel Vs. Capcom.
But besides rap's fascination with comic culture, what could Marvel's Avengers team possibly have to do with the rap group the Wu-Tang Clan? The answer may surprise you. Several years ago I wrote an essay for my first book about going to see the Wu-Tang Clan in Orlando in 2005. It was a great concert, but one of the things I focused on for my essay was the business end of the Wu and how they'd built an empire based on correlating products.
The short(est) version of it is this. In 1993, Wu-Tang released their debut album, Enter the Wu-Tang, which was a blowout success. It's a great album, featuring all nine emcees in the band throughout, besides being a welcome change from the poppy direction the genre had taken in the late '80s. The real genius of Wu-Tang, though, lay in the group itself. After the release of Enter the Wu-Tang, most of the members of the band released a solo album, mostly showcasing their own talents, but with guest spots from the band and other talent they'd recruited. It's not hard to tell who's who on Enter the Wu-Tang - half their songs feature the rappers calling themselves out for easy identification - and fans found themselves gravitating towards each member's solo albums depending on each fan's preference. The debut album became, in a sense, a sampler for the rest of the Clan's independent effort.
Even stronger for the business was the paperwork. The group's leader, RZA, rallied the other members to sign to different record labels. The band were so hot at the time, the labels agreed to unheard-of clauses in their contracts - including that a percentage of each artist's royalties would go back to the Wu-Tang group itself and divided up between all nine men. Also, any talent that one Wu member would recruit and sign to his label would pay that member royalties on their albums, which would sell better with guest spots the main Wu-Tang artists performed. Essentially, in a matter of a couple years, nine kids from New York City controlled over 30% of the money in the hip-hop industry and record labels were competing with one another to sell their albums, not realizing they were in fact putting all their money directly towards their own (and one another's) artists. Now stick a pin in that whole idea, reverse it and you'll see where where this is headed.
Fast forward to 2008, when Marvel Studios releases a modern take on Iron Man, starring the amazing Robert Downey Jr. as Tony Stark. Of course it didn't hurt that Downey's supporting cast included the stellar Gwyneth Paltrow, Jeff Bridges and Terence Howard - not to mention being in the capable hands of Jon Favreau - but the mainstream movie crowd was still struggling what to think of superhero movies in terms of the 21st-century market. On the one hand, Christopher Nolan's Batman films had done very well - at the time, The Dark Knight was near the top of a short list of highest-grossing movies of all time - as had the first two Tobey Maguire Spider-Man efforts. However, two attempts at bringing The Hulk back (and Spider-Man 3, whose double-time jazz hands still cause me to wake up screaming at night) failed to impress audiences. We were only a year or so out from the poorly-received portrayal of Eddie Brock/Venom by Topher Grace, so in a way, Marvel Studios (and Iron Man) had to cut its jibs and prove itself from scratch.
The same way Batman Begins had to just three years prior.
The same way Wu-Tang had to in 1993.
Perhaps taking a cue from the Caped Crusader's recent successes, all parties involved in Iron Man made an effort to focus less on the campier, classic style of superhero media developed from the '40s to the '80s and update Tony Stark to fit in a little more with contemporary mainstream movies and their more realistic, toned-down portrayals. The last three Best Picture winners were The Departed, No Country for Old Men and Slumdog Millionaire - how much good do you think pun-filled one-liners would do for Marvel Studios? The result was a Tony Stark who was sometimes funny or goofy - again owing to Robert Downey Jr.'s seemingly endless list of good performances - but still grounded entirely in reality. Beyond a couple exaggerated gadgets in his repertoire, Ol' Shellhead was suddenly as believable a character as Bruce Wayne - no radioactive poisoning or freak mutations, no artifact from outer space. Just a guy with his heart in the right place (no pun intended), able to make a striking difference in the world - and who doesn't want to see that?
So Marvel had a hit on its hands. How could it make lightning strike twice? After the end credits of Iron Man, Tony is confronted by Samuel L Jackson playing Nick Fury, who tells Tony he's assembling a team of other people like him - The Avengers Initiative. Audiences went nuts - though it would be another four years before Avengers released, we had proof positive of how good their movies could be, assuming they were all produced under the same umbrella as Iron Man.
Iron Man was followed by Iron Man 2, Thor and Captain America, all using cast members and writing styles that would lead up to and return in Avengers. Iron Man 2 and Thor even introduced a couple supporting/fringe heroes, Black Widow and Hawkeye, respectively, who would return in Avengers. It should be noted that the one underrepresented superhero in Marvel's five-year plan is The Hulk, who will be played in Avengers by Mark Ruffalo rather than Eric Bana or Edward Norton who have each played him in recent years. I would imagine Marvel Studios didn't want to try to make a third standalone take on Hulk in a decade just for the sake of rounding out the team, but I'm sure Ruffalo does a great job.
Much like the Wu-Tang solo albums, details have already surfaced about Captain America 2, Iron Man 3 and Thor 2, which will obviously follow some time after Avengers. It seems that up until this point, like the record industry promoting a full-length album by an artist with one or two singles releasing before the album, Marvel Studios has been content for each superhero's movies to work on their own until next Thursday, fueling the release of Avengers. Whereas Wu-Tang released their assembled heroes first to later develop their own solo material, Marvel Studios has taken the opposite route for now - though they may for the next couple years follow suit, earning successes for future individual releases based somewhat on their united group's smash hit.
...Now all we need is a comic series crossover between The Avengers and the Wu-Tang Clan, in which the Wu would get to flaunt the musical and martial arts talents they have in their video game Wu-Tang: Shaolin Style. That or an arcade fighter game: Avengers Vs. Wu-Tang, a la Marvel Vs. Capcom.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Analyzing the Bee Sting/Shotgun Incident.
When I published my book Penny Cavalier a year ago, I figured its release would essentially mark the end of my personal involvement with - and coverage of - the Real-Life SuperHero movement. I had no desire one way or the other to continue or discontinue writing about the global phenomenon of anonymous masked citizenry, and as other projects came up on my itinerary, Penny Cav tucked itself into a corner and essentially went into hibernation.
So imagine my surprise this morning as I awoke and found myself so compelled by an incident in their community to dust this blog off and compose a new entry. I think given my past with the RLSH it's partly my responsibility to try to lay out the facts in a straight line and make sense of this situation involving their subculture.
An RLSH named Bee Sting has been arrested in Burton, MI - that link has the most concrete story I've found besides comments from other RLSH on FaceBook shedding some light on the incident. Details are sketchy at best right now, so please take even my report with a grain of salt, let alone what you read elsewhere, but I've come to understand something to this effect between all the sources I've read. Last night in the vicinity of a mobile home neighborhood, Bee Sting came across a motorcyclist who he believed was making enough noise to warrant intercession - I believe the man's motorcycle was the source of the noise. At some point, Bee Sting is said to have drawn a shotgun during his discussion with the man. The shotgun went off - whether intentionally or accidentally has yet to be proven, so no judgments can be made on its fire - and the shot hit a nearby vacant trailer. The police arrived and took Bee Sting into custody; I was unable to find information on the motorcyclist's whereabouts after the confrontation.
Since a hundred questions remain (Why bring the gun? Why brandish it? How did it fire? What did the conversation sound like?), I can't speculate on why or how it happened, nor how differently or similarly it should have happened. I've always made it my practice to use as few opinions as possible regarding the RLSH as a whole or as individuals, and will do my best to continue to do so today. Why? In researching Penny Cavalier, I had the privilege of speaking with many anonymous citizens who opened up to me despite unfavorable media coverage on their lifestyle before and since, and their open mind regarding my position as a writer convinced me further to treat them the same, whether we agreed or disagreed with one another's practices from time to time.
New Orleans private activist Captain Black has written an opinion piece on the Bee Sting incident and raises some interesting points. For example, Black points out that the Trayvon Martin / George Zimmerman scandal in the news has caused the nation to rouse debates on everything from gun rights and neighborhood watches to Florida's self-defense laws and contemporary racial stereotypes. While Zimmerman awaits trial, a news story involving an RLSH brandishing a firearm on patrol couldn't possibly come at a worse time. Clearly the incidents are very different in circumstances and outcome, but a 21st-century scandal-happy news industry can and will connect the dots if the Bee Sting story continues to grow. After all, the Martin/Zimmerman case has already caused Fox to pull and revise its campaign for the upcoming Ben Stiller comedy Neighborhood Watch, in which four concerned citizens on patrol end up battling aliens who land in their neighborhood.
The media blowout awaiting Bee Sting - and the RLSH community, who will surely face some collateral damage - raises plenty of questions by itself. Primarily, how can a number of people judged and grouped in the public's eye largely by their physical appearance shake the social stigma attached to them whenever one individual sharing that appearance acts in a publicly unfavorable manner? I touched on this issue in a chapter of Penny Cavalier, in which a celebrity stalker had made several claims of being involved directly in the RLSH community - though in my research, even his conversations with any other RLSH were tenuous at best, much less resembling an acquaintanceship. Without that research, though, what image does that paint of the RLSH? An answer may have come from Michigan today.
In the case of Bee Sting, his involvement with the community is more tangible. He was at least called a member of a Midwestern group called the Michigan Protectors, started a year ago by a masked citizen known as Arsenul - in the interest of being forthcoming, I want to note here that Arsenul has added me on FaceBook since the publication of Penny Cavalier, though I have not spoken with him directly in at least a month or two and this piece is being written without the direct involvement or knowledge of any RLSH. As soon as Arsenul caught word of the story about Bee Sting last night, he publicly denounced Bee Sting's actions and, according to the MLive article linked to earlier, has kicked him out of the Michigan Protectors. It's my opinion that this is a step in the right direction in the interest of damage control. That's not to mention that there is no evidence suggesting that Bee Sting's carrying a shotgun on his patrol is because of or in accordance with the usual practices of the Michigan Protectors. So unless verifiable reports to the contrary come in, Arsenul's public disapproval of Bee Sting's actions can be reasonably taken as honest - if the public gives him that chance. Each member of their community is now faced with the decision of continuing his or her personal and professional relationship with Bee Sting, and that brings about another point raised by Bee Sting's course of action last night.
When acting as a representative of a group, where does one's responsibility to that group end, and is every member prepared for that accountability? The actions of each RLSH have the potential to reflect upon them as a whole in open view, and it's as much the media's job to report on newsworthy RLSH activities fairly and objectively as it is for the RLSH to act in a manner that serves their global image. When either side fails to meet that task, the watching world is presented with an unjust account of these anonymous citizens. What i mean is, it disheartens me that many people will likely look at the circumstances regarding Bee Sting this week as a great reason to assume that any human dressed "like him" (e.g. in a symbolic outfit but not legally-recognized law enforcement or medical aide) must obviously "act like him" (from what these people have read, a citizen patrolling a neighborhood with a shotgun he is able and ready to brandish). This assumption can and will boil down, to some, as "all these superhero types must be dangerous." I actually know for a fact that's not the case, and will continue my habit of taking each person in a group at face value, but many people don't know that. Basically, it's up to every RLSH to decide what his or her responsibility is in their efforts of altruism, and he or she must consider what each action for which s/he performs will "say to the world" about "all of them."
In light of this event, regardless of which details come to light about Bee Sting's run-in with the police, the only assumption I believe we should make is that we can't make any assumptions. If you want my personal findings about the individual's rights to stand up for his or her community and what the consequences are, I spent about a year researching it and wrote a book. In regards to this situation in particular, I've done my best to separate fact from stereotype and speak from my experience. I hope this has been a call to reason for anyone on the fence on this issue and to remind anyone reading this to make your opinions based on facts and empirical evidence - as well as in individual cases - rather than conjecture or large-scale general critiques, even though anonymous masked citizenry is such a new and unfamiliar topic to much of the population that our limited experiences with it are easily confused with representative actions of a culture.
Note: It was not my aim in authoring this piece to approve or disapprove of Bee Sting's actions, nor those of the RLSH on the whole. As I discovered in researching Penny Cavalier, there are nearly as many types of people in their community as there are people in their community.
So imagine my surprise this morning as I awoke and found myself so compelled by an incident in their community to dust this blog off and compose a new entry. I think given my past with the RLSH it's partly my responsibility to try to lay out the facts in a straight line and make sense of this situation involving their subculture.
An RLSH named Bee Sting has been arrested in Burton, MI - that link has the most concrete story I've found besides comments from other RLSH on FaceBook shedding some light on the incident. Details are sketchy at best right now, so please take even my report with a grain of salt, let alone what you read elsewhere, but I've come to understand something to this effect between all the sources I've read. Last night in the vicinity of a mobile home neighborhood, Bee Sting came across a motorcyclist who he believed was making enough noise to warrant intercession - I believe the man's motorcycle was the source of the noise. At some point, Bee Sting is said to have drawn a shotgun during his discussion with the man. The shotgun went off - whether intentionally or accidentally has yet to be proven, so no judgments can be made on its fire - and the shot hit a nearby vacant trailer. The police arrived and took Bee Sting into custody; I was unable to find information on the motorcyclist's whereabouts after the confrontation.
Since a hundred questions remain (Why bring the gun? Why brandish it? How did it fire? What did the conversation sound like?), I can't speculate on why or how it happened, nor how differently or similarly it should have happened. I've always made it my practice to use as few opinions as possible regarding the RLSH as a whole or as individuals, and will do my best to continue to do so today. Why? In researching Penny Cavalier, I had the privilege of speaking with many anonymous citizens who opened up to me despite unfavorable media coverage on their lifestyle before and since, and their open mind regarding my position as a writer convinced me further to treat them the same, whether we agreed or disagreed with one another's practices from time to time.
New Orleans private activist Captain Black has written an opinion piece on the Bee Sting incident and raises some interesting points. For example, Black points out that the Trayvon Martin / George Zimmerman scandal in the news has caused the nation to rouse debates on everything from gun rights and neighborhood watches to Florida's self-defense laws and contemporary racial stereotypes. While Zimmerman awaits trial, a news story involving an RLSH brandishing a firearm on patrol couldn't possibly come at a worse time. Clearly the incidents are very different in circumstances and outcome, but a 21st-century scandal-happy news industry can and will connect the dots if the Bee Sting story continues to grow. After all, the Martin/Zimmerman case has already caused Fox to pull and revise its campaign for the upcoming Ben Stiller comedy Neighborhood Watch, in which four concerned citizens on patrol end up battling aliens who land in their neighborhood.
The media blowout awaiting Bee Sting - and the RLSH community, who will surely face some collateral damage - raises plenty of questions by itself. Primarily, how can a number of people judged and grouped in the public's eye largely by their physical appearance shake the social stigma attached to them whenever one individual sharing that appearance acts in a publicly unfavorable manner? I touched on this issue in a chapter of Penny Cavalier, in which a celebrity stalker had made several claims of being involved directly in the RLSH community - though in my research, even his conversations with any other RLSH were tenuous at best, much less resembling an acquaintanceship. Without that research, though, what image does that paint of the RLSH? An answer may have come from Michigan today.
In the case of Bee Sting, his involvement with the community is more tangible. He was at least called a member of a Midwestern group called the Michigan Protectors, started a year ago by a masked citizen known as Arsenul - in the interest of being forthcoming, I want to note here that Arsenul has added me on FaceBook since the publication of Penny Cavalier, though I have not spoken with him directly in at least a month or two and this piece is being written without the direct involvement or knowledge of any RLSH. As soon as Arsenul caught word of the story about Bee Sting last night, he publicly denounced Bee Sting's actions and, according to the MLive article linked to earlier, has kicked him out of the Michigan Protectors. It's my opinion that this is a step in the right direction in the interest of damage control. That's not to mention that there is no evidence suggesting that Bee Sting's carrying a shotgun on his patrol is because of or in accordance with the usual practices of the Michigan Protectors. So unless verifiable reports to the contrary come in, Arsenul's public disapproval of Bee Sting's actions can be reasonably taken as honest - if the public gives him that chance. Each member of their community is now faced with the decision of continuing his or her personal and professional relationship with Bee Sting, and that brings about another point raised by Bee Sting's course of action last night.
When acting as a representative of a group, where does one's responsibility to that group end, and is every member prepared for that accountability? The actions of each RLSH have the potential to reflect upon them as a whole in open view, and it's as much the media's job to report on newsworthy RLSH activities fairly and objectively as it is for the RLSH to act in a manner that serves their global image. When either side fails to meet that task, the watching world is presented with an unjust account of these anonymous citizens. What i mean is, it disheartens me that many people will likely look at the circumstances regarding Bee Sting this week as a great reason to assume that any human dressed "like him" (e.g. in a symbolic outfit but not legally-recognized law enforcement or medical aide) must obviously "act like him" (from what these people have read, a citizen patrolling a neighborhood with a shotgun he is able and ready to brandish). This assumption can and will boil down, to some, as "all these superhero types must be dangerous." I actually know for a fact that's not the case, and will continue my habit of taking each person in a group at face value, but many people don't know that. Basically, it's up to every RLSH to decide what his or her responsibility is in their efforts of altruism, and he or she must consider what each action for which s/he performs will "say to the world" about "all of them."
In light of this event, regardless of which details come to light about Bee Sting's run-in with the police, the only assumption I believe we should make is that we can't make any assumptions. If you want my personal findings about the individual's rights to stand up for his or her community and what the consequences are, I spent about a year researching it and wrote a book. In regards to this situation in particular, I've done my best to separate fact from stereotype and speak from my experience. I hope this has been a call to reason for anyone on the fence on this issue and to remind anyone reading this to make your opinions based on facts and empirical evidence - as well as in individual cases - rather than conjecture or large-scale general critiques, even though anonymous masked citizenry is such a new and unfamiliar topic to much of the population that our limited experiences with it are easily confused with representative actions of a culture.
Note: It was not my aim in authoring this piece to approve or disapprove of Bee Sting's actions, nor those of the RLSH on the whole. As I discovered in researching Penny Cavalier, there are nearly as many types of people in their community as there are people in their community.
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