Where it all began, as told by Scott Beatty and Chuck Dixon.
Barbara Gordon, daughter of then-Captain James Gordon (absence of a mother and younger brother here), was a student wanting to go into the police force and set up her own detective agency. But no one, not even her dad, will take her seriously because she's "too short" (right). She takes people underestimating her to her own advantage, and is secretly more capable of espionage and butt-kicking than most full-grown adults. A couple of men even try hitting on her creepily, but she will have none of that either.
Barbara is her father's daughter, but isn't given a chance to express her views and skills. She even tries getting into an apprenticeship under Black Canary and a couple of superhero teams, but to seemingly no avail. They don't want to risk wasting their time on some redheaded young girl with no superpowers. She feels like the doomed prophet Cassandra, and worries about what will become of her future if she doesn’t get anything done right.
In an effort to show up her father, Babs designs, makes and dresses as a female version of Captain Gordon's ever-so-elusive "partner-in-crime", Batman, at a charity costume ball. But when a real criminal named Killer Moth crashes the party, she ends up fighting him; disrupting the plans of the Bat family and managing to one-up Batman and Robin. Killer Moth even calls the accidental vigilante Batgirl, much to Babs's shock and annoyance. And the rest, as they say, is history...
I loved reading Batgirl's origins in 'Batgirl: Year One'. I was surprised by how unpredictable it is. How Barbara came to be Batgirl was not necessarily by choice, but it was just something that happened on her course to prove to everyone around her how smart and badass she was for such an "ordinary girl". Actually, throughout the whole book she does have a choice - a choice not to wear the Batgirl costume anymore and leave crime fighting to the professionals, since she constantly puts herself and her loved ones in danger by going out and pretending to be another Batman. But Babs is an assertive heroine. She never gives up her cynical-yet-hopeful outlook on life - nor her dreams - because she continuously wants to be better and to keep on achieving more. And because she simply can, and will.
One thing I cannot abide in any hero is a stubborn refusal to learn from mistakes. Batgirl does learn, and she grows more aware of her boundaries; never losing her focus and drive along the way. Above all, to varying degrees, she never stops believing in herself when others do not.
Throughout her life, Barbara Gordon has never let her skills and determination falter and go to waste, no matter the circumstances. She is the epitome of inner strength and resolve. That, to me, is what makes her an equal to Batman; what makes her so admirable as a hero and role model for girls. This is why, currently, she is my favourite superheroine.
The artwork for 'Batgirl: Year One' is charming and colourful, reminiscent of 'Batman: The Animated Series', only slightly less dark and shadowy.
Batman is Batman here - broody, harsh, and unwilling to tolerate the existence of Batgirl. However, it doesn't seem like this is because the girl is cramping his style or making him look bad. Unlike a lot of the other men who underestimate Barbara in this comic, he eventually gives her a chance - several in fact - to prove herself fit to fight crime in the corrupt city of Gotham (the more I read about it in DC comics, the more it convinces me that it is the worst cesspool in the world to live in, and I wonder why anyone who's retained their sanity and loved ones still lives there). Batgirl takes incredibly dangerous risks on her night escapades against psychotic and deadly villains, but she succeeds and survives on her own, even without the help of Batman and Robin. In the end, she is finally accepted into the Bat family, with knowledge of the Dark Knight's true identity and his motivation. There's even foreshadowing in the form of a cut-out target of the Joker pointing his gun at Batgirl in the Bat Cave, which she takes out readily...
Dick Grayson as Robin (whom Babs calls Pixie Boots) comes across as a cocky, patronising little twerp most of the time, and I smiled whenever Batgirl easily kicks his butt. Yet he has his endearing moments, and seems to genuinely care for Babs, even if it is only because he has a crush on her (which is unrequited at this point). Robin starts believing in her long before anyone else does. Despite myself, I find I’m rooting for the two sidekicks as a couple; at least the Boy Wonder seems closer to Barbara's age than the other men who have the hots for her (Speaking of, there is Firefly... =shudders=).
Black Canary makes a proper appearance as well, with her lover Green Arrow left at the JLA space headquarters. Like everything else in Batgirl's life so far, Canary only partners up with her by chance and fate. They make a good duo similar to Batman and Robin, complete with banter and demonstrations of girl power. It's always great to see superheroines team up and fight crime together, and any comic where Black Canary isn't moping or is otherwise rendered ineffectual is a huge positive on my Action Girl Estimation scale.
Really, there are only two reasons why I don't rate 'Batgirl: Year one' five stars or 100%, even though I adore Batgirl:
It's 224 pages, but by the end I felt that more could have been done. There was a sense of "it could have been much more" in terms of action and character development, though it executes both competently. Maybe my expectations and standards are too high; that I've read many great stories in comics by writers like Gail Simone and I've become spoiled. I'm not saying 'Batgirl: Year One' should have been darker or edgier - it is already, with a balance of light humour complimenting the cartoony artwork perfectly. Maybe I was expecting a stronger story. Which brings me to...
The villains aren’t very interesting. Killer Moth and Firefly, as well as the mob bosses and monsters, seem to me like any other mooks or crazies inhabiting Gotham. The more I learned about them - and a lot of panel time is spent on them - the less invested I became. There isn't anything about them which stands out in comparison to the iconic Batman baddies such as Penguin and Poison Ivy. Except for Firefly, who is creepy as hell with his obsession with burning women to a crisp. It's proof that stronger villains make a stronger plot, in my opinion. Good heroes, but weak villains.
But 'Batgirl: Year One' is as good an introduction to one of my fave fictional females (the majority of which have red hair, I'm finding, but redheads are awesome aren't they?) as I could’ve asked for. It is funny, insightful, and both bright and dark in the right places.
Best of all, it never forgets who the star is. Batgirl narrates her story throughout, and while on the path to becoming one of Gotham's guardians, she achieves sound confidence, strength and self-control in her own destiny.
Final Score: 4/5
EDIT: Upon further observation, it's interesting that many of Gotham's non-powered female vigilantes started out independently without the direct influence or help from Batman or Robin (the male versions anyway): Batgirl in her various incarnations, Catwoman, Batwoman, Huntress. They've made their own choices and work under their own regime, not caring what anyone thinks. Batman doesn't make these ladies look good - they can do that themselves. Just a thought.
I would like to take this opportunity to be brave and confident myself. What I am about to write is personal and important to me, and it relates to Batgirl:
Do you know why I love superheroes? It's not just for escapist fantasy or the flashy superpowers, though those are cool too. I was a painfully shy and insecure kid growing up. Reality was scary, depressing and hopeless to my young eyes and ears, in a world where no one cared to listen to or understand me. So I mostly kept to myself, as I thought I was better off alone. Any ambitions were a pipe dream.
However, whenever I saw superheroes in films - but mostly in 90s and 2000s cartoons - fighting against adversity and proving that anyone can be as strong as they believe themselves to be, I found myself thinking, "Yeah, I can be like that. I can challenge the status quo and get people to take me seriously too." I especially loved seeing the women and girls kick arse, and in my little girl mind, I identified with them the most. They were some of my inspirations for opening up and expressing myself more.
Batgirl was one of the first superheroines I ever saw on TV, and I thought, "If a girl - with no powers at all - can be as smart, brave and amazing as Batman, then any girl can."
But apparently no one else thought so. No other girls I knew liked superheroes. And in recent years I've seen less and less female characters in the media who are in all honesty "strong" and "independent". If anything, the Smurfette Principle is stronger than it ever was, with a few exceptions including ‘The Legend of Korra’ and ‘Steven Universe’. Despite what we've achieved in diversity over the years, in the 21st century the dominant demographic in any popular media remains overwhelmingly and persistently the straight white male. Comic books in the past had been off-putting to me in how often the heroines are depicted in ridiculous sexualised poses and fanservice anatomy and clothing designed to titillate the male gaze. Anytime I so much as glanced at them on covers (and they were hard to miss), I'd think, "Oh those poor spines" - and I don't mean the book binding. The women are also usually portrayed as victims rather than heroes who actually do anything. The superhero comic books always seemed to be about men's stories, so I just didn't bother with them as they were clearly not for me.
Even worse, I'd bought into the sadly-not-yet-dying belief held in the lands of geekdom and the old white male executive that girls don't read comic books. I stuck to kid's cartoons for my superhero entertainment.
Now, in my twenties, I see that this women-are-lesser-in-comics viewpoint is false. I've begun to read graphic novels that are mostly female-positive and female-lead. While more comic books are now working harder to be more diverse and inclusive - as are a few revivals of good cartoons in the 2010s - I think we still have a long way to go. But we shouldn't give up hope. After all, Batgirl and many of our favourite heroes of justice wouldn't give up so easily.
To those people - specifically those working in toy companies - who say that girls shouldn't be superheroes, that they shouldn't want to be heroes, that little girls shouldn't bother being self-confident and just learn to be mothers and good clean wives while the boys get to be whoever they want: Fuck you. Excuse my coarse language, but I'm sick of this. It is 2015 gone on 2016. This medieval thought process - double standards, discrimination and human rights violations - it needs to be addressed. It needs to fade away and die. (Plus I loved playing with male and female action figures as a kid, so what the hell!) No one ever got broke from trying to appeal to a wider audience, such as, say, half the human population.
I talk about this because I now realise something: I was once one of those girls whom society had drilled the message that I shouldn't try hard and be the best that I could be. That I try not to be equal or beneficial to the boys for fear of being called a bitch for doing what the dudes are allowed to do no problem. Simply being someone who does what she wants, surviving in the big wide and ever-progressing world, does not make her a bitch. Fiction is a reflection of our reality and how society perceives things, and so stories are powerful tools of influence.
It is long overdue for a woman to be seen as an ambitious, independent and intelligent person - capable of making her own decisions - first before her gender is even taken into account in how we view her very identity as a human being. And treat her as such; for she is not just a body to be scrutinised every day of her life.
It is thanks to these discoveries - and rediscovering Batgirl and other heroines in mediums I love - that I can finally fight back. Change as a goal is possible if we work hard towards it. I am proud to be a geek and a feminist, and I know there is no shame in that. I can challenge the patriarchy whenever it shows its ugly, toxic, regressive head. That's what Batgirl and any other woman in fiction and in real life would want, and would do accordingly. Because they can.
Because we can.
That's my two cents. Thank you for reading, and have a good day.
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