How I Became a Comics Snob in 5 Steps

So this thing happened. I was headed out to a local fan convention, like I do, and I put on my We Are Wakanda t-shirt — the Dora Milaje red one, of course. The whole afternoon we’re there, I get not one comment on the shirt, not even one head nod of recognition. This kinda hurt my ego. I mean, I know this is slightly obscure, this isn’t a Captain America shirt from Target, but still I figured someone would get my clever Black Panther reference. Finally, as I was leaving, a white dude about my age stops me and asks me what’s up with the t-shirt. I excitedly explained, all ready for an engrossing conversation about the upcoming Civil War movie and Black Panther’s possible role… except dude nodded politely after my explanation as if he was expecting me to say something else entirely and wandered off. I gave him a look of derision and thought to myself: “He’s not a real comic book fan like I am.” Whoa. WHOA. W-H-O-A. In the last 12 months, I’ve become a comic book snob.

I picked up the Storm comic last August as an afterthought — as a “well, I’mma support my girl, even if I don’t read it” kind of gesture. I did read it and something about it just pulled me in — the quickness of the read, the striking art, the timeliness of the themes — I wanted more. I put out a call to my female comic reading friends and quickly received PDFs and recommendations. Rat Queens, Captain Marvel, Saga, Ms. Marvel… none of them fit my preconceptions of what a comic was. New ones (Bitch Planet)…