By: Kurt Busiek (story), Brent Eric Anderson (art), Alex Sinclair (colors)
The Story: Victory apparently never learned to turn off all electronic devices before trial.
The Review: Since this arc has firmly kept us on the topic, let’s talk about another problematic area in feminism and its understanding of female-male relations. In #7, I discussed the hostility certain feminists have towards men, and how unnecessary and unfair it is. But even without mean-spiritedness, women can hold on to an impractical resistance to men with the mistaken belief that this somehow empowers them.
Just as it doesn’t make sense to rely on men for every little task, it doesn’t make sense to eschew them entirely as a resource. Yet that’s exactly what the Council of Nike expect of their figurehead, someone who’s supposed to symbolize women’s strength and independence. Taking that view to the extreme, the council sees something demeaning in Victory’s relationship with Samaritan and even her membership in the “male-dominated” Honor Guard. They may not say it, but what they’re advocating is pure segregation, and we all know how well that works out.
The really foolish thing about all this showboating is that it is all just showboating. Victory realizes that her conflicts with both Karnazon and the council all comes to “proving a point about mean and women. And it all turned into symbolic this and symbolic that.” Her frustration later reaches a breaking point: “[W]e make our symbolic points, and who gets hurt?” Once she lets go of these purely abstract restraints, she becomes a much, much more effective hero, able to direct Samaritan and Confessor in their research efforts and knocking out Karnazon with a single punch, to the admiration of her male comrades.
To her credit, Victory already has the right priorities in place before her trial with the council begins, secure in the knowledge that even “if I couldn’t finish the mission—if I was cast aside—Samaritan and the Confessor were there to keep after Karnazon.” By the time the trial starts, she tunes them out, already well familiar with the arguments, predictable as they are from their simplistic ideology. Her response is clear and eloquent:
“[Samaritan and Confessor are] allies. I won their aid. Earned their support. Earned their readiness to fight side-by-side with me. And to seek out my aid in turn. …What message should I send? That men and woman can be equals? Or that women must stand alone to be strong? There is a time to stand alone. And there are times to stand together.”
This issue also makes it clear that this kind of mutual reliance has nothing to do with what men and women can or can’t do, but everything to do with when people need help from each other. Joey, despite his own abuses or perhaps because of them, does what he can to help his heroine when she’s in her own moment of crisis, and in return, she offers him the same kind of refuge and empowerment she used to give strictly to females. In short, Victory transforms from a female symbol to a universal one.
Most crucially, she does this not by virtue of being Victory—indeed, she almost loses her position as a consequence of ideological rebellion—but by her own good sense. And this is exactly what it takes to redeem not only Winged Victory, but Lauren Freed. Busiek ends the issue with Victory returning to her family home and original guise, emphasizing that even in a superhero-driven story, it’s the human motivation underneath that ultimately matters.
I wonder if perhaps a stronger ink might help Anderson’s fine linework gain some pop. There are times, especially when figures are seen at a distance, that the lines seem to blur and scramble, looking a little rougher, sketchier than the rest of the issue. But anyway, this is a relatively small downside in Anderson’s fairly solid art. His action sequences are a bit mechanical, but the expressions are where he really shines. Unlike her obvious counterpart, Wonder Woman, Victory shows her humanity in every panel with a wide range of emotions.
Conclusion: Touching and quite cogent for an issue that spends most of its time espousing values, though the plot is a little rote as a result.
Grade: B+
– Minhquan Nguyen
Some Musings: – What’s really disturbing about Karnazon is how at first you think he’s wearing a flesh-toned armor, only to realize all that hatching is chest hair. Blergh.
Grade
Conclusion