LGBT Comic Recommendations: My Personal Favorites

LGBT diversity in stories is a pretty interesting form of diversity, because it's something that's taken a long time to properly surface. Try as awareness organizations might, it seems that many working in the media still perceive gender diversity as an inherently sexual (if not outright perverse) subject, and as a result, it has taken a very long time to leak into that most juvenile of genres, the comic book. Even now, LGBT comic characters were (and are) fairly uncommon, even for a genre almost notoriously WASP-dominated, so picking out the best was a dicey proposition. I had to consider a number of factors: what kind of relationship is presented? Is it treated as sexual, or even sexualized? How important it it to the overall narrative? Would it be a good idea to give this comic to someone?

Eventually, I decided to just name a list of comics where an LGBT character or relationship is treated in a neutral or positive manner, and provide a bit of commentary, not only on why they're great comics about LGBT, but they're just great comics, period.

These posts are dedicated to Sarah VanEss, who inspired its creation by posting a little something in support of the movement almost every day.

Annihilation: Conquest - Quasar #1-4

Involved Characters and Themes: Quasar (Lesbian) and Moondragon (Bisexual)

As a part of Marvel's Cosmic line, Quasar already represents a pretty big step outside of 'normal' superhero material. Cosmic stories are distinguished from regular stories in that they take place entirely in space and the characters aren't considered very bankable, and as a result, they're self-contained, move at a quicker pace, and tend to be much more experimental than most superhero fare.

This comic is actually only a small part of the larger event of Annihilation: Conquest, a story about a war of galactic proportions against a seemingly-endless assault of machines that take control of sentient life. But Quasar is arguably the most important of the four sub-series that composed it, because Phyla-Vell, the newest Quasar and holder of the title of 'Protector of the Universe,' is the linchpin upon which the series swings.

And much of that story hinges on Phyla's relationship with Heather Douglas, the Moondragon.

The love the two women share for one another is obvious, but it never comes off as mushy or simpering. They know that they make each other happy, because both of them are not only accepting of the other as a person, but see the best in one another no matter what.

Moreover, their love isn't treated in any way as being wrong or shunned. They openly flirt in front of priests without raising an eyebrow, they're accepted freely by other individuals, and their interest in one another, as seen above, is something that is played as not only natural, but downright ideal.

What's more, although it is indeed noted to be a sexual relationship, sex isn't the center of it, or even really a factor. Phyla and Heather, as the story eventually shows, love each other for who they are, not out of lust or superficiality, but out of a need to be with one another that goes beyond all boundaries. And it's that love, Phyla notes by the end, that makes them stronger than the machines they're risking everything against.

The fact that it features an extended homage to Heavy Metal that concludes with Phyla impaling an evil android with the powers of all the Avengers is just a bonus.

The Authority Vol 1-5

Involved Characters and Themes: Apollo and Midnighter (Gay)

While Annihilation: Conquest is very much on the fringe even by comic standards, The Authority is a book you might have heard of. A story of superheroes grittier than a gravel driveway, it earned itself a large and growing niche for its tendency to hit the mature-readers-rating, and for being written by some of the best creators in comics. The comic gathered a large fanbase  throughout its long run before issues in its parent company led to it vanishing from the public eye, and it's considered to be one of the most influential comics of the last decade. Ultimates, itself a massively-successful comic, was essentially The Authority as applied to Marvel. It represented a shift in the medium, not only for its dark tone and multicultural cast, but for its direct, deliberate pacing. Every arc was like a little movie, playing out massive events over several issues before reaching a crescendo worthy of a team that would make the Justice League quake in their boots.

The now-defunct Wildstorm had a great talent for getting their hands on excellent writers: the team was created by Warren Ellis, and over the course of its multi-volume run, was written by Mark Millar, Ed Brubaker, Grant Morrison, Keith Giffen, Garth Ennis, Dan Abnett, and Andy Lanning - about as star-studded as a run can get. When the Wildstorm Universe was absorbed into DC, the members of the Authority survived more or less intact.

None moreso than Apollo and the Midnighter.

At a glance, it's pretty obvious that the two are meant as a darker take on the old World's Finest duo: Apollo is a down-to-Earth godlike being whose powers come from the sun, and the Midnighter is a black-clad, low-key anti-hero who survives largely by being very, very good at his job. And at another glance, the two are married.

Their relationship is core to understanding the Authority, because it's emblematic of the Authority itself. Like the Authority, it's to some degree a pastiche of traditional superheroing; implying that if Superman and Batman were real, they would be a couple. Like the Authority again, it's very simple and direct. There's no hidden themes there; they love each other because they're two people who have been through too much together to not love each other, and they end up complimenting each other all too well, with Apollo's dutifully dogged sensibility contrasting happily with Midnighter's cocky, yet reasoned bravado.

And like the Authority itself, they're pretty dang well-written, well-realized, and well-understood. It's not the deepest of affairs, but at the same time, it's a long way from unenjoyable. They're just two guys who love each other just as much as they love beating the living shit out of anyone who says otherwise.

Maybe a bit more.

Doom Patrol Vol 2 #19-63

Involved Characters: Rebis and Danny the Street (Transgender), The Brain and Monsieur Mallah (Gay) 

For most of its existence, Doom Patrol was a mere curiosity. Despite its debut a full three months before fellow outcasts-from-society-led-by-a-man-in-a-wheelchair-who-fight-a-group-called-the-Brotherhood-of-Evil series X-Men, Doom Patrol never really caught on among the general public. Some traced its lesser popularity to its concept - while the X-Men were glamorous teens who could fly and shoot lasers fighting a world that hated them for being special, the Doom Patrol were middle-aged adults with decidedly gruesome or detrimental abilities, toughing it out in a world that pitied them for existing. An innovative concept, to be sure, but the group constantly faced difficulty gaining a fanbase; efforts to play a group that included an unfeeling robot with a human brain and a character whose power was to become catatonic while his pet spirit did the fighting as traditionally superheroic always failed.

But eventually, the stars aligned and the now-acclaimed Grant Morrison was placed on the book. Morrison understood that the appeal of the Doom Patrol ought to be that it was fringe and gruesome and weird, and so he leaped into the window of opportunity created by a low-selling book and lapsed censorship standards to begin experimenting with what you could do in a medium where you could show anything. Bizarre characters and plots were the name of the game, from a woman with the superpower of multiple personality disorder to a legion of Scissor-Men who cut people out of reality itself. Straddling the line between genius and insanity, it's really something to see to believe.

And in the midst of all that insanity is a number of alternate lifestyles.

The first one to appear was Rebis, the merging of the Negative Man and his female physician, who to this day remains the only truly hermaphroditic hero I've yet found. An enigmatic character, Rebis added a curious mystique to what was already a curious character, and livened up many scenes with some of the most surreal internal conversations I've ever seen in a comic. Certainly, he/she's more than a bit crazy, but far from the only one in the group, and honestly, when you've got a negative-energy parasite stuck in you, it's easy to forgive a bit of bad manners.

The next major recurring character is Danny the Street, a sentient avenue. The mechanics of it are best not dwelt upon, but the effect is fairly clear: Danny is a street that inserts himself into cities when unnoticed, and eventually serves as the team's headquarters. His name is a stealth pun on that of Danny LaRue, the famed drag queen, for Danny himself is a transvestite - his attitude, appearance, and even slang is based heavily on British camp culture, as is hinted in his storefront windows: gun shops with the signs decorated with stars and the barrels stuffed with flowers. Characters happily refer to Danny as a 'paradise,' and Morrison would fondly recall having received letters from American homosexuals, thanking him for introducing them to another part of their culture.

My personal favorite incident, however, is #34, also known as "the Brain and Mallah one." The sole appearance of the two characters, once major villains, in the series, it's one that has rightly earned some fame. The Brain, leader of the Brotherhood of Evil and a feared supervillain, and his genius gorilla assistant, Mallah, conspire to steal a robotic body and place the Brain in it. As it turns out, though, the two have grown so close over their many years of working together that upon obtaining the body, they decide to finally confess to one another... just in time to see the body destroyed. The issue elevated two characters who had previously been the height of cliche - a brain in a jar and a talking ape - and made them an almost poignant pairing, and added what has always been played as a note of sympathy to two characters who are otherwise unsympathetic. Today, it's hard to imagine the duo as anything but romantic partners, and the fact that a disembodied dome and a super-smart simian could find love is something that you'll only ever find in the insane world of comics.

There's a reason for why X-Men beat it so often. X-Men is an appeal to stress, a power fantasy where angsty teens could find solace. Doom Patrol is an ode to the outcasts; not just the queer, but the disabled and the disfigured and the deficient, people who spend their whole lives not being viewed as dangers, but as lessers and invalids. It was one of the first comics to confront many issues that others didn't touch with a ten-foot pole, and wrote what would have once been taboo with more sympathy than many do today. Needless to say, it's also really good.