Feminism vs. Batman: The Killing Joke

This past Monday, I had the pleasure of seeing an animated feature length film of one of my favorite Batman graphic novels. Alan Moore’s Batman: The Killing Joke was a turning point in my love for Batman. I started becoming a fan girl of the comic book hero back in the 80s when the Tim Burton film was released but after reading The Killing Joke, I found a different love for the character. The Killing Joke showed Batman in a light that I think many people don’t want to see their favorite hero in.

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“All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy.”

He became more human, more damaged, more desperate in the story line and all of that is due to Alan Moore’s truly realistic and dark view of the comic book world. We’ve seen this type of sordid view of superheros from Moore in Watchmen or Captain Britain but here we see Batman essentially face himself through the Joker’s depraved acts and increasing insanity. Yes, his back has been broken before, yes his cohorts have died before; but here he is truly having to decide if he is as warped an individual as his all-time greatest nemesis.

I hope what I have just written will allow everyone to understand that I did not hate the animated film despite what is to follow.

The movie was somewhere around 30 minutes in when I sighed and decided that I was going to accept those first 30 minutes as not part of the film itself. My issues with it start with the addition of Paris Franz, an aspiring crime boss added to give Batgirl something to do. The character of Franz is so flat and brought nothing new to the story except flirt with Batgirl and treat her like a terribly toxic boyfriend who, instead of cheating, tries to kill her on several occasions. This character was also a placeholder for Batman to get jealous. Of course, the sexual tension increases, Batgirl and Batman engage in intercourse on a rooftop and, immediately after, Batgirl goes through the typical female crisis: “Why hasn’t he called? Where is this relationship going? What are we? Does he like me? What did I do wrong?” There is even a scene where she screams at him to say “It was just sex, I don’t care, you don’t care, no one cares,” or something to that nature.

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“Does this outfit make me look fat?”

I never really think of myself as a feminist but I was seconds from screaming at the screen in the half full theater. They turned a strong female superhero character like Batgirl, only a few scenes away from becoming a paraplegic, into a sappy, sobbing mess of a girl because she slept with her boss. I get it, she’s young and immature, but not every woman needs to cling to a strong male. I feel as if the screenwriters decided that women cannot be as strong as men, especially if that man is Batman. They decided that no woman can resist him, and even if they are partners, they must have intercourse.

I agree that the entire concocted opening to the film was there to give the audience an idea of how the events that unfold affect Batman in his core. He’s hard to read and allowing us to see him as a vulnerable human being gave us some insight into his personal feelings toward Batgirl. But what if this was Jason Todd? Would he have had to sleep with his Robin before he was murdered to give us some idea of how it affected him?

It is an unfortunate situation for Batgirl that she had to have that vagina. If she were only male, she would have just gotten over the whole Paris Franz thing, the whole “Batman doesn’t respect me as his equal” pouting, and she would probably still be Batgirl (not Oracle) with a fully functioning spinal column. I would’ve expected this treatment from an animated feature before but not in 2016 when a woman was just nominated a U.S. Presidential nominee for the first time in history.

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Perpetual Sadness with Spontaneous Outbreaks of Joy

I am legitimately tired.

I see everything that’s happened in the world and I am tired. I am tired of people, I am tired of humans, I am tired of us. All we are doing is killing each other. And no reason is a good reason to murder.

Obama was right, it’s not a black issue. But it’s also not an American issue. It’s a human issue. Dogs don’t walk around trying to kill other dogs because they don’t like the way their hair is cut, or what language they bark in, or which God they believe in. We don’t belong on this planet; we are roughage: taking up valuable living space for other beings that don’t kill for sport.

Besides just the senseless murders that have happened in the past 30 days, there’s more. There’s just simply being terrible, selfish people. Ignoring when someone needs help or turning away from something that shouldn’t be happening. We are to blame. As much as we’d like to say “it’s been like this for years and we cannot stop it”, we can. WE, not I. As a person, we can hashtag and cry and protest and fundraise and donate and volunteer, but as people, we should change. We won’t, but we should.

I’ll ask this again, who are we? Are we those people that hashtag a name and dedicate our Facebook to one cause while millions of people die miles away that we won’t even know about? Are we going to defend “Black lives matter” and yet ignore when police officers (who probably agree that black lives DO matter) are murdered in the streets?

We are matter. We will always be matter. And as living, breathing people, we matter now, but eventually we won’t anymore. Trayvon will be forgotten and commemorated through Wikipedia pages for our grandchildren. The 49 Pulse victims will be forgotten just like the 2,977 September 11 victims. We will forget as we age. We will forget to tell our children. They will learn in school about them and wonder, “How does this affect me?” We’ll plan parties, have birthdays, enjoy life, and forget, because that’s what we do.

Evolve. Make change. Not just by yourself but with others. Take the time to love someone who probably needs to be loved right now. Take time to enjoy the people around you because one day they could be gone.

Maybe, by some small chance, we can stop ourselves from ruining this world we’ve been gifted and never deserved.