Hot Pants and Spandex Suits: Gender Representation in American Superhero Comic Books

By Esther De Dauw

The superheroes from DC and Marvel comics are some of the most iconic characters in popular culture today. But how do these figures idealize certain gender roles, body types, sexualities, and racial identities at the expense of others?
 
Hot Pants and Spandex Suits offers a far-reaching look at how masculinity and femininity have been represented in American superhero comics, from the Golden and Silver Ages to the Modern Age. Scholar Esther De Dauw contrasts the bulletproof and musclebound phallic bodies of classic male heroes like Superman, Captain America, and Iron Man with the figures of female counterparts like Wonder Woman and Supergirl, who are drawn as superhumanly flexible and plastic. It also examines the genre’s ambivalent treatment of LGBTQ representation, from the presentation of gay male heroes Wiccan and Hulkling as a model minority couple to the troubling association of Batwoman’s lesbianism with monstrosity. Finally, it explores the intersection between gender and race through case studies of heroes like Luke Cage, Storm, and Ms. Marvel.
 
Hot Pants and Spandex Suits is a fascinating and thought-provoking consideration of what superhero comics teach us about identity, embodiment, and sexuality.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rutgers University Press
• Release date: Jan 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781978806054

Esther De Dauw

Esther De Dauw is a comics scholar who focuses on the intersection of gender and race. Awarded her PhD by the University of Leicester in 2018, she teaches and provides student support at the University of Leicester. Her work has been featured in The Journal of Graphic Novels and Comics and FRONTIER #4.

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Hot Pants and Spandex Suits

Hot Pants and Spandex Suits

Gender Representation in American Superhero Comic Books

ESTHER DE DAUW

RUTGERS UNIVERSITY PRESS

NEW BRUNSWICK, CAMDEN, AND NEWARK, NEW JERSEY, AND LONDON

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: De Dauw, Esther, author.

Title: Hot pants and spandex suits: gender representation in American superhero comic books / Esther De Dauw.

Description: New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, [2021] | Includes bibliographical references and index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2020010829 | ISBN 9781978806030 (paperback) | ISBN 9781978806047 (cloth) | ISBN 9781978806054 (epub) | ISBN 9781978806061 (mobi) | ISBN 9781978806078 (pdf)

Subjects: LCSH: Comic books, strips, etc.—History and criticism. | Superheroes in literature. | Gender identity in literature. | Race awareness in literature. | National characteristics, American, in literature.

Classification: LCC PN6725 .D4 2021 | DDC 741.5/973—dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020010829

A British Cataloging-in-Publication record for this book is available from the British Library.

Copyright © 2021 by Esther De Dauw

All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. Please contact Rutgers University Press, 106 Somerset Street, New Brunswick, NJ 08901. The only exception to this prohibition is fair use as defined by U.S. copyright law.

The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1992.

www.rutgersuniversitypress.org

Manufactured in the United States of America

Contents

Introduction

1 White Superheroes and Masculinity

2 The White Female Body

3 Gay Characters and Social Progress

4 Legacy, Community, and the Superhero of Color

Conclusion: The Next Steps

Acknowledgments

Notes

Bibliography

Index

Hot Pants and Spandex Suits

Introduction

For almost eighty years, superheroes have been a part of American mass media and, through the increased presence and popularity of superhero films and TV series, are now considered a staple of American culture, exported to international audiences in several different mass media formats. Originally appearing in comic books, superheroes have also appeared in syndicated newspaper strips and radio serials, animated cartoons, TV series, films, and original web content. Most mainstream audiences are accessing the superhero outside of comic book content, through the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) (2008–ongoing), Netflix’s series, and the CW Network’s TV series.¹ With wide ranges of products serving as superhero merchandise (literally anything you can slap a hero’s chevron or face on), superheroes being adopted for various political and social movements, and Avengers: Endgame (2019) bringing in a worldwide $2.796 billion at the box office, making it the highest-grossing film of all time, it is safe to say that superheroes are at least as culturally relevant now as when they first took the world by storm.² Arguably, with everyday life increasingly saturated with mass media and advertising, superheroes are more present than ever, and, like many other comic scholars, I want to dig into what it is they say about and to us. Situated at the intersection of comic studies, cultural studies, and theories of structural power relations, this book discusses superheroes in their sociohistorical context and determines how they are informed by dominant gender ideology in the American cultural landscape.

A HISTORY OF THE INDUSTRY

In this book, I focus mostly on the comics instead of the films or TV series that superheroes appear in, which warrants a brief history of the medium. Despite film and TV’s ability to reach a wider audience, the sheer amount of comic titles produced, with roughly seventy-five monthly titles published by Marvel Comics and seventy-three by DC Comics as of this writing, points to comics as being the dominant media format of superheroes. Additionally, TV series and Hollywood movies are considered adaptations of the comics, and thus comics remain the primary medium dictating the shape and form of superhero content, even as other media content also influences comics.³ As the original progenitor of the superhero, the comic book medium and its industry have significantly defined the concept of the superhero.⁴ The industry’s history was initially documented by fans and expert practitioners, who used labels that Marvel and DC adopted to categorize the different ages of comic book development: Golden Age (1930s–1950s), Silver Age (1950s–1970s), Bronze Age (1970s–1980s), Dark Age (1980s–1990s), and Modern Age (1990s–2010s). Each age is supposedly defined by dominating narrative, formal, or economic trends. While the exact dates of the ages (and the use of this classification) are regularly debated in both fan communities and academia, the industry generally accepts them. Discussing the extremely articulate critique of that model by Benjamin Woo, Orion Ussner Kidder writes that Woo contends that the terms are inherently antithetical to academic rigor.⁵ As Kidder states, agreement with this analysis does not preclude the usefulness of these terms, considering its use by the industry, professionals, fans, creators, experts, and the academic field. Recently, the American studies scholar Adrienne Resha provided a compelling argument that we have entered a new stage: the Blue Age of comic books (2010s–ongoing), which is defined by the digitization of comic books and comic book culture’s increasingly online presence.⁶ When discussing history and comics, these terms are inescapable and will be used in this book when appropriate.

In June 1938, DC published Action Comics #1 with Superman on the cover for the first time. Comics were a fairly new medium and consisted mostly of collections of reprinted syndicated newspaper strips with few original story lines. Because of the popularity of these collections, publishers began to pay artists and writers for new comic book content, which led to the creation of short comics and, eventually, to the publication of Superman. The immense success of this character launched the superhero genre, which dominated the comic book industry for nearly fifteen years. As Bradford W. Wright explains, Most comic book titles sold between 200,000 and 400,000 copies per issues, and "each issue of Action Comics (featuring one Superman story each) regularly sold about 900,000 copies per months."⁷ Following Superman’s lead, other publishers jumped on the superhero bandwagon and the market became saturated with other superheroes and imitations, which heralded the Golden Age of Comics. Historically, the Golden Age is defined by the industry’s extraordinary output as well as Superman’s omnipresence. While there exists, in online boards and fan communities, a nostalgic reverence for Golden Age stories, the quality of the material is often questionable. In Golden Age illustrations, the background is often blank, and there is a lack of detail in objects in the foreground. There is a wooden quality to the characters’ bodies, most visible in stoic facial expressions, which can be partly attributed to the low quality of the paper and the cheap printing process that would have blurred any detail in the artist’s original composition. Comics were popular with publishers because they were cheap to produce and finished products could be bought cheaply from artist studios or shops. Artists and writers often worked as freelancers and worked together as a studio/shop, which functioned as an assembly line with the writing, drawing, coloring, lettering, and inking of the work divided among contributors. This allowed for the fast production of a fully finished product. The copyright was often transferred to the publisher as part of the sale, with the understanding that the publisher would continue to pay the shop for new issues. Many artists considered comic book work as a way to make money while they worked on their real art or until they were contracted to illustrate syndicated newspaper strips, which were more respectable. Both inside and outside the industry, comic books were dismissed as lowbrow mass entertainment. Sold cheaply, they were affordable to the largest demographic in the 1930s: the working poor.

Following the Depression and unprecedented levels of unemployment across the United States, a large part of the population became subject to extreme poverty. The cultural landscape shifted in response, abandoning the Victorian middle-class axiom and turning to blue-collar sentiments instead.⁸ The middle class shrank while the working class expanded and the working poor and unemployed reached record numbers. Superman was born in this context, with mass media focusing on the common man, who was working-class and beaten down, desperately struggling against the forces of industry and modernization.⁹ As Wright writes, From Depression-era popular culture, there came a passionate celebration of the common man and his victory over the social forces set against him.¹⁰ Especially science fiction and fantasy offered up avenues of escape by removing the hero from the contemporary modern world, which allowed his masculine abilities to thrive, or by imbuing the hero with abilities that allowed him to conquer the modern world itself. Superman, brought into the world by avid readers of science fiction and fantasy, could bend the world around him for the sake of the disenfranchised and the poor. His creators were young members of the Jewish community, which increasingly rejected the tenets of laissez-faire capitalism in favor of a more social model as their community was disproportionally impacted by the Great Depression and its governmental and municipal budget cuts, as well as segregation and anti-Semitism.¹¹ As Aldo J. Regalado writes, Superman and the heroes that followed him are rooted in traditional American heroic discourse that sets Anglo-Saxon masculinity within the American context at the top of the racial hierarchy. While Superman set new standards for heroism and created a new image of masculinity, he did so by redefining the ethnic and class requirements of masculinity in America.¹² Superman created a heroic category that incorporated the working-class man and expanded the concept of whiteness to include non–Anglo-Saxon European. This allowed non–Anglo-Saxon communities to buy into enfranchisement at the cost of punching down, separating themselves from a more easily recognizable and identifiable Other, to conform to the dominant order.¹³ This involved masking or de-emphasizing ethnic identity in favor of an American national identity for white-skinned characters, embracing models of white masculinity and, to some degree, optimistically championing the social institution of the society they hoped to be a part of.¹⁴ Superman and superheroes like him were often vocal defenders of social justice and the (white) working class, combatting the social evils that created poverty and crime. They functioned as a power fantasy for the economically disenfranchised and the phenotypically white immigrants who found themselves excluded from mainstream society.

This process of breaking open the category of whiteness was accelerated through World War II, as superheroes increasingly fought Nazis, who were portrayed as a European Other. This placed Nazi racism in contrast to American values, such as democracy and freedom, further framing white American identity as a noble and powerful force for good. In this way, American superheroes demonstrated that a (phenotypically) white American identity was the central requirement for powerful masculinity, displacing Anglo-Saxon or Germanic ancestry as a prerequisite for whiteness. As Regalado writes: Having redefined whiteness in more inclusive terms, American superheroes consolidated these gains for their creators by increasingly resorting to traditional strategies of pitting white masculine heroes against racially defined ‘others.’ This trend became even more pronounced as the Second World War created opportunities for marrying more inclusive notions of whiteness to a national cause.¹⁵ Essentially, the war provided superhero comics with the opportunity to define white masculinity, elevating the white American above other whites and the racial Other. While this initially sustained a superhero boom, the focus on white men to the exclusion of white women also contributed to the initial, gentle decline in sales in the late 1940s, foreshadowing the 1950s collapse of the superhero genre.¹⁶ As men joined the war, women joined the workforce and increased their independent spending power. Comic books attempted to capitalize on this potential new customer base after the success of Miss Fury and Wonder Woman in 1941 by churning out female copies.¹⁷ However, superhero comics never really recovered. At the end of the war, superhero comic books continued to lose sales while jungle, Western, and crime comics began to flourish. Postwar prosperity ensured that working-class values lost their appeal, and with the rise of capitalist consumer culture, the more social justice–oriented superhero genre could not keep up. Robert Genter writes that the country transformed from a goods-producing society to a service-centred one and the American worker transformed from the brawny, industrial labourer from the turn-of-the-century into the conformist white-collar worker of the 1950s.¹⁸ In the 1950s, America became increasingly middle class, and without a public eager for a working-class hero, mass media increasingly catered to the middle class and there was no need for a working-class hero. Many superhero titles were canceled.¹⁹

Not only did comics become less popular due to a changed demographic and competing mass media formats, such as television, but the growing controversy around comic books and their possible link to juvenile crime contributed to declining sales throughout the 1950s. The backlash against comic books heavily rested on the higher- and middle-class understanding of intelligence as the refinement of aesthetic taste and fears over the subversive nature of print culture dating back to the nineteenth century.²⁰ Essentially, highbrow and lowbrow culture is an artificial divide that defines the popular culture of the masses as vulgar and unrefined because of its widespread appeal, while highbrow culture is morally superior based on its exclusive availability to the middle or upper class. Intelligence was understood as the ability to identify highbrow aesthetic and entertainment. Comic books embodied lowbrow culture and were increasingly suspect as they challenged the notions of order, respectability, sobriety, self-control, productivity, and character championed by adherents to the nation’s capitalist mainstream.²¹ Comics’ status as mass media objects also drew criticism from those who feared that consumerism and luxury were corrupting influences that undermined (masculine) virtues at a time when the Cold War required American citizens to remain hardy and vigilant against communist forces. Furthermore, according to Thomas Hine, comic books were extremely popular among young teenagers and children, but contained increasingly violent and disturbing content that was unsuitable for this audience. Because they were so cheap, they were often purchased by children with their own pocket money, without parental oversight, and children often brought comics to school and swapped them.²² This decreased parental control over the comic book content that children consumed occurred at a time when parents were already wringing their hands at the level of independence that children and teenagers increasingly displayed.²³ Throughout the late 1940s and early 1950s, the comic industry came under fire for corrupting the nation’s youth and something had to be done.

As early as 1948, the industry devised self-regulating measures, such as the Comics Code, to deflect criticism. However, this code was ineffectual at curtailing extreme violence through a lack of any consequences for code violations. It did very little to change the industry’s output and halt the growing backlash. In 1953, the United States Senate created the Subcommittee on Juvenile Delinquency to examine the extent of juvenile crime and its causes. Many comic book publishers were called on to testify, as well as educators and child professionals, including the child psychologist Dr. Fredric Wertham. While the committee concluded that there was not enough evidence to suggest that comic books directly caused juvenile delinquency, the report heavily implies that they were a contributing factor. Several states attempted to ban comic books, but the bans were defeated in court through constitutional concerns regarding censorship.²⁴ The situation escalated when Wertham published his book Seduction of the Innocent (1954), which is based on his experiences working with criminally convicted children and young people. While his book did not use a scientific method and often misrepresented evidence by not referencing sources, it was very popular. Seduction of the Innocent presented compelling anecdotal evidence, and Wertham’s genuine concern for children’s development clearly shines through. He was particularly concerned with the rampant racism present in all forms of popular culture and its influence over young people’s morals and values. He believed in higher regulation for all forms of cultural output instead of allowing economic concerns to dictate the shape of mass media. In other words, he believed that just because crime sells does not mean that it should be sold. Comics, with their hold on the nation’s youth and the growing backlash against the medium, were an easy target. Wertham wielded the rhetoric used by Cold War warriors who chastised the nation’s lack of moral fortitude, accusing comic books of promoting the kind of depravity that would infect children’s minds. While he focused on crime and horror comics as the main source for juvenile crime, he also despised superheroes. He believed they were fascist and taught children, especially young girls, unnatural gender roles.²⁵ Pressure on the industry increased when schools and church groups organized public comic book burnings and retailers refused to sell comic books.²⁶ In response, the industry founded the Comics Code Authority (CCA) in 1954 to regulate its output.

The CCA consisted of a main administrator in charge of an expansive team of child care professionals. Publishers were required to pay a membership fee as well as a submission fee for every issue. Each comic would be reviewed, sent back with a list of changes to be made, and issued with the official CCA stamp on completion. Retailers refused to sell comics that did not have the CCA stamp. Some publishers were able to opt out of the CCA without having their comic books boycotted by retail outlets. For example, Dell Comics maintained that its line of education comics had always been beyond reproach and refused to associate its brand with less reputable publishers via the CCA. However, most publishers did not enjoy such a positive reputation and were forced to work with the CCA to get their comics on the shelves. The CCA’s approval process could be time-consuming and expensive. Therefore, an extremely strict adherence to the code prevented delays and loss of revenue. Most publishers immediately canceled their horror and crime series, removed any graphic depictions of crime from their detective comics, and eliminated any hints of nudity in their jungle books.²⁷ The CCA was tailored to affirm the dictates of suburban home life, middle-class respectability, and the validity of Cold War America’s ideological opposition to the USSR, contributing to the creation of increasingly conservative comic books.²⁸ Within several years, comic books came to be seen as harmless children’s entertainment and, as a medium, inherently childish. As Regalado writes, they became the type of product that could be comfortably dismissed by mature adults with anything higher than lowbrow aesthetic tastes. As such, superhero comic books largely ceased to register as blips on the cultural radars of most social reformers and concerned citizens.²⁹ Several small publishers perished in this environment, while those that survived returned to the older superhero genre to boost sales.

The late 1950s saw a resurgence of the superhero genre, with a new direction consisting of whimsical what-if narratives, futuristic technology, and a combination of science fiction and fantasy. In this sense, the Silver Age (1950s–1970s) refers to a time when the CCA was initially in control, although the 1960s–1970s saw increasing challenges to its restriction. It is also defined through its expansion into television and animation, and its expansion of the superhero genre.³⁰ In terms of gender, the CCA required that men and women fulfill traditional gender roles to fit in with traditional American values. Gay characters were nonexistent or extremely closeted. The code explicitly prohibited the depiction of illicit sex relations and sexual abnormalities.³¹ This referred to sexual relations outside of marriage and adultery, which were a staple of pre-code detective and crime comics, as well as homosexuality. While some superheroes have retroactively been identified as gay, such as the Rawhide Kid in Rawhide Kid (1955–1957, 1960–1979), no superheroes were openly gay during this time. The CCA also specified that ridicule of or attack on any religious or racial group is never permissible.³² Black characters were rare in the Golden Age, and most characters of color at that time were racist stereotypes. Particularly Japanese, Chinese, and other Asian characters were presented as monstrous, an evil racial Other that white America had to defend itself against, reflecting fears about race and yellow peril stereotypes during World War II. While attempting to block racism in comics was a positive step forward for a self-regulating industry, the overzealous application of the code and white fears of discussing racism resulted in non-white characters disappearing from the comic pages altogether.³³ Even narratives that directly engaged with the negative consequences of racism were banned, because they showed racism and people of color being treated poorly by white characters. As a result, racial differences became embodied by white characters who represented a racial Other or characters who had blue, green, or red skin. It was not until the code was less strictly interpreted, owing to the increased liberalization of American society throughout the 1960s, that Black characters reappeared in comic books.

The CCA’s control of the industry could not last during the 1960s and 1970s, when changes in America’s cultural landscape influenced mass media. The antiwar sentiment and disillusionment with American power and authority made the CCA’s insistence on a respectful depiction of authority outdated. With the invention of the first oral contraceptive pill in the 1960s and the rise of second wave feminism, which argued for greater political, financial, and social freedom for women, contemporary attitudes toward sex became less conservative. Simultaneously, the Stonewall riots in 1969 generated a radical gay liberation movement compared with the earlier, more sedate homophile movement. The civil rights movement in the 1960s campaigned to end racial segregation and discrimination against African Americans and secure their citizenship rights through legislation and social awareness. Publishers increasingly pushed the limits of the code, submitting less and less conservative issues, while the CCA increasingly interpreted the code in less conservative ways and stamped its seal of approval on issues that would not have seen the light of day a decade earlier. This led to the creation of characters such as Spider-Man (1962), the Hulk (1962), and Black Panther (1966), who challenged American institutions and pushed back against the more conservative trends in comics.

As Wakanda’s representative and king, Black Panther is meant to signify the potential of Black identity outside of white European-American control. In the 1950s, growing resistance to European colonialist expansion led many African nations to seek independence from European governance. According to Adilifu Nama, Black Panther represented African leaders [who] embodied the hopes of their people and captured the imagination of the anticolonialist movement with their charisma and promise to free Africa from European imperialism.³⁴ Certainly, Black Panther’s resistance to colonial forces taking over Wakanda allows him to function as such a symbol, existing as an idealized composite of third-world Black revolutionaries and the anticolonialist movement of the 1950s that they represented.³⁵ However, this representation was not free from racism. As Martin Lund points out, Wakanda is steeped in white stereotypes about Africa.³⁶ Lund discusses how, in their initial meeting with Black Panther and their first visit to Wakanda in 1966, even the Fantastic Four realize that Wakanda seems to consist almost entirely out of colonial narratives and Hollywood imagery. Wakanda is surrounded by a primitive and undeveloped jungle that "recalls notions about the African continent as nature-rich but underdeveloped ‘terra nullius, that is, vacant land,’ ripe for white interference."³⁷ The insistence on Wakanda’s technological developments, implying a Western view of progress as automatically taking similar routes as Western nations, does not negate the representation of Wakanda as exotic, barbaric, and undeveloped or culturally unsophisticated.

The 1960s also saw the rise of organized comic book fandom, when Julius Schwartz, the editor in chief for DC comics, added full addresses in the letter columns at the back of comic books, which allowed comic book fans to communicate with each other.³⁸ Once communication was established, the publication of homemade, small-scale fan magazines (fanzines) distributed through the postal system created a thriving fan culture that discussed all aspects of superhero comic book production. This included social issues and how they were handled in comics as well as the CCA and censorship. Fanzines became social spaces where the community shared their enthusiasm for the medium and for specific characters, recounting stories of visiting flea market to find old issues of favorite characters.³⁹ Fan communities, who fondly discussed old superheroes they had read as children in the 1940s, imbued these 1940s superheroes with new meaning, which Schwartz capitalized on by reviving old superheroes that had gone out of publication. Fan activity was heavily encouraged by Marvel and DC, which used these communities as free market research and advertisement, as fanzines provided a direct pipeline to their customer bases and allowed them to cultivate brand loyalty.⁴⁰ This direct interaction between fans and the industry created loyal fans, not just to companies but also to artists and writers, who were able to use their popularity as a bargaining tool to increase their pay, negotiate royalty payments, and maintain greater (although still limited) control over their intellectual property. However, it became increasingly clear that the stories fans wanted to read could not be published in the CCA’s controlled market.

Mainstream media’s lack of interest in comics, combined with the increasing push against the CCA’s limits by fans, led to the code’s rewrite in 1970. This ushered in the Bronze Age (1970s–1980s), where female characters could wear more revealing clothing and implied sexual contact was permitted. However, it still prohibited violations of good taste or decency, which was sufficiently vague enough to leave its application open to interpretation.⁴¹ The Marriage and Sex section stipulated that sex perversions or any inference to the same, which was code for homosexuality, was strictly forbidden.⁴² The code effectively prevented comics from engaging openly with queer characters, and, as a result, Marvel’s Chris Claremont and John Byrne created a subtle gay character in 1979 called Northstar, a member of Alpha Flight, the Canadian superhero team.⁴³ His civilian identity was Jean-Paul Beaubier, a French Canadian Olympic skier, who was never seen dating women because he was too focused on his career to commit to a relationship. During the 1980s, Northstar contracted a mysterious illness, which resulted in a hacking cough and limited healing/recovery abilities, which was rumored to be AIDS. However, the story line was squashed by Carl Potts, the editor of the Alpha Flight comics, as AIDS was still considered to be a gay disease and supposedly would have outed Northstar as gay to the general audience. Instead, his illness became the result of a cosmic disturbance interfering with his mutant powers.⁴⁴ The new code did not update its previous restrictions on religion or race, but these rules were now interpreted less conservatively, which allowed for the rise of Black superheroes. John Stewart as the Green Lantern (1971) and Luke Cage as Power Man (1972) were the first attempts to create Black superheroes who resembled real-life minorities. However, these superheroes were still written mostly by white writers, depicted by white artists, and under the control of white editors. As Derek Lackaff and Michael Sales write, these characters were not as progressive as Black readers may have hoped for: In the 1970s, these attempts to introduce Black faces left many Black comic book readers unsatisfied. Black characters were often given a heavy-handed stigma that immediately marked them as the ‘racial’ character, especially with their names, Black Panther, Black Lightning, The Black Racer, Brother Voodoo, Black Goliath, Black Vulcan, Black Spider.⁴⁵ Black superheroes suffered from tokenism and being marked as the single Black superhero. These stereotypes persisted throughout the 1980s and 1990s, although they became increasingly diluted because of growing social awareness.

Throughout the Bronze Age, comics also became more violent, especially toward female characters. While the CCA did state that rape or sexual assault shall never be shown or suggested, physical violence against female characters continued to rise.⁴⁶ Often attributed to the backlash against