• The stocking was made by my mum in timeless 1980s acid brights. Some things basically NEVER go out of fashion, and let me tell you, a turquoise, pink, yellow and orange felt medley is one of those things. Talking of classic, yes, that is an original My Little Pony guarding the stocking.

• Immediately behind her is a pretty swish-packaged edition of Ella Fitzgerald Sings The Cole Porter Songbook, which was originally released in 1956 and went into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 2000. I love the image of her on the front. She looks like she’s taking precisely no crap from anybody. In a similar vein, to the left of that we’ve got The Essential Billie Holiday, which is a three-disc gateway to the sublime.
• Jon Klassen’s I Want My Hat Back was our Markgraf’s Christmas present to me this year. So beloved of the internet has it become, it has an entry on KnowYourMeme, and I’m including it because throughout the entire text of the book only one animal is gendered as “he” and the rest are up to the reader to gender – if they need gendering at all. After the Dogs and Smurfs debate, I reckon that’s a good thing. It’s hardly stridently feminist, but it’s very good at not prescribing anything but a story. The second reason I’m including it is the general sense of righteous fury in the I HAVE SEEN MY HAT moment. I’ve had a dozen political click-moments which definitely come under the heading I HAVE SEEN MY HAT. If you get what I mean.
• From bears to kangaroos, next to that is Tank Girl: The Odyssey. I’m actually (SHOCK) quite new to actually reading TG but here’s Sarah J persuading me.
• And next to that we’ve got Serious Concerns by poet Wendy Cope, which contains important lines such as Bloody Christmas, here again. / Let us raise a loving cup. / Peace on earth, goodwill to men / And let them do the washing-up. and My cat is dead / But I have decided not to make a big / tragedy out of it – but also some really touching poems. You can read some of them here – I remember Flowers and Defining The Problem really struck chords with me.
• WEIGHTIER TOMES: Dreamers of a New Day: Women Who Invented the 20th Century by Sheila Rowbotham, which came out this year. And William Golding: not an obvious choice for a feminist blog, perhaps, but The Double Tongue, his last novel, retrieved in draft form from a drawer and published posthumously, is told entirely from the point of view of the Delphic Oracle, and I loved it. (It’s much more enjoyable than Lord of the Flies.)

• Pre-Raphaelite Women Artists: because the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood was not the whole hood. Tired of women being erased from mainstream art history (for more on which, read this), Jan Marsh and Pamela Gerrish-Nunn’s glossy book puts the Sisterhood back on record, with wonderful illustrations.
• Who’s Queen? Nurse your Boxing Day hangover with Miranda Richardson’s finest moments on Blackadder: The Complete Collection. (I recently rewatched Blackadder the Third and apart from her turn as a squirrel-shooting highwaywoman, I also loved Helen Atkinson-Wood’s supreme comic timing as housekeeper Mrs Miggins.
• Forgive the big beardy patriarch figure looming in the background, but in these days of strikes and kettles, Karl Marx is looking good on everything. And in the absence of a Rosa Luxemburg shirt, he’s looking best of all on this tee. LOOK AT HIS FACE. HE IS UNIMPRESSED. Let’s not have the whole Commodification of Marxism debate now – the shirt’s ethically sourced by Fair Wear Foundation (a thing to look out for, or you’ll defeat the point somewhat) and you can purchase one from Savage London who have a shop in London’s Covent Garden. And you could do worse than wrap it around Terry Eagleton’s latest book on the topic, Why Marx Was Right, an accessible and funny primer for lefty political activists of any stripe (and much easier to read with aforementioned Yule Hangover than Das Kapital, eh).
• Oh, and TEA. Everybody needs tea. Twinings are doing some cute tins which I kind of wanted to graffiti when I saw them in the shop with “Psst! Riots, not diets!” and “Priscilla! Are we fair trade, do you know?” so the ladies could chat to each other. But otherwise, any tea will do.

Merry Christmas!

Reams have been written about whether Tank Girl is a legitimate feminist icon or not. My position is something along the lines of OMIGODILOVEHER which comes partly from a feminist place and partly from a place of profound 12 year old outsiderdom and rage.

Just to be clear I’m talking about what I think of as Tank Girl – the comics not the film (oh God not the film) and basically the first two volumes of the collected comic by Jamie Hewlett and Alan Martin. After that the stories go to an even weirder place, and I think the artwork goes downhill too (I’m fussy about artwork – reading Alan Moore’s superb Swamp Thing series despite the garish colour was a labour of love). But anyway: there’s a little chunk of my soul which belongs to early Tank Girl.

Where to start? She looks awesome. Yes, she’s often in a bra, and yes, she has a slightly implausible figure, but she’s a million miles away from traditional balloon breasted comic book heroines. She is rather androgynous, masculine without being butch, has actual facial expressions and a great philosophy about clothes. She is sexy, and sexual, but in a way which entirely rejects the idea of a performed sex appeal.

Then there’s her attitude. Irreverent and subversive to the very core of her being, she is linked in some of the stories with a demonic force, a sort of soul of chaos. There’s a great story where an aboriginal community summons a kind of mystical proto-Tank Girl (called Tanicha) to wreak bloody vengeance on the white men who are trying to steal their land and assault the women.¹ Tanicha slaughters them gleefully, and in interestingly gendery ways. Tank Girl laughs at danger, power, pomp and duty in a thrilling and vicariously liberating way.

Tank Girl, Sub Girl and Jet Girl

But then there are a few moments in which she is breathtakingly, shockingly human, even vulnerable. In one story, she dreams that her friends and her lover have had their minds destroyed in a psychiatric institution, One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest -stylee. She wakes up shaken and goes to sit outside her beloved tank to think. As the sun comes up, her lover brings her a mug of tea. He’s a mutant kangaroo called Booga, for anyone who doesn’t know, but that doesn’t make the moment any less touching.

Although many of the characters that accompany her on her adventures are men, her female relationships are surprisingly significant. Her two childhood friends Jet Girl and Sub Girl are introduced in a story about her birthday party (spoiled through a lack of decent beer) and one issue consists of a letter from Tank Girl to her mum. She also goes to England at one point to visit her sick grandmother.

And some of the best stories are where she gets one over on a series of macho tough guys, from a kangaroo gang leader to a bounty hunter who underestimates her special gift for total destruction. In one of my favourites her former sergeant becomes obsessed with her lack of respect and her lack of discipline, and sets out to annihilate her. In his dream he prepares to blow her apart with a rocket but she just laughs at him.

Sergeant: “Look at me when I’m going to kill you!”

Tank: “The male ego rides again… Should I faint or scream? Ha ha ha ha!”

Then her breasts transform into missiles. Which makes the point quite nicely, I feel.

Tank Girl is not a positive role model. She’s not a ‘strong female character’. Unlike, say, the similarly badass Starbuck in the Battlestar Galactica reboot, she’s not particularly troubled, and she doesn’t experience remorse.

But when I was a geeky 12-year-old at school, powerless and furious, she was a lifeline. I’m sure my TG-inspired dreams of destruction saved me from turning my rage on someone in real life, when I finally gave up the fight to be quiet and pretty and clever and kind. When my peers were throwing sandwiches at me on the bus I’d just think, “What would Tank Girl do?” And I’d lean my head against the window and enjoy the carnage.

1. This is a bit dodgy I guess as Hewlett and Martin patch in a bit of faux aboriginal culture as it suits them, but one of the main characters (Stevie) is an indigenous Australian and there’s nothing particularly mystical about him at least.

Hi Maura, nice to have you here at BadRep Towers! To get us started, why don’t you tell us a bit about Róisín Dubh , which has just gone on release.

“Róisín Dubh is a three-issue comic book series that will also be collected and bound as a graphic novel. It’s set in Ireland in 1899 and follows the adventures of Róisín Sheridan, an eighteen-year-old woman who harbours ambitions to be an actress. Her life is altered forever when she and her parents are attacked on the road by a bloodthirsty man called Abhartach who has just risen from the earth. Róisín’s parents are killed and she is left for dead… until she is given a mission by ancient powers. She has to go against the conventions of the day, and her previous notions of what is possible, to try and put Abhartach back in the ground… but the person who raised Abhartach from his 1,400-year stasis has other plans.”

What might feminist readers enjoy about the comic? As if an Irish suffragette killing demons isn’t enough to get anyone interested…

“Well, I hope there’s plenty there for everyone, but the women’s suffrage movement was on my mind from the start. Róisín has had a liberal, educated upbringing, she was allowed a lot of leeway as a child, but as a woman she’s starting to discover that there are more limits on her than she imagined.

For instance, that simple thing her father says to her: of course women should have the right to vote… but a career on the stage? It’s disreputable. The struggle for equal rights is a slow erosion of the buts. People are always full of reasons why you can have some rights, but not all.

That’s why Róisín has a bike. People forget that the bicycle was a huge boon to women in the nineteenth century – it gave them a freedom of movement that they didn’t enjoy previously, and it also helped bring about a change in clothing.

Susan B. Anthony said in 1896 that she thought the bicycle ‘has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world, It gives a woman a feeling of freedom and self-reliance. The moment she takes her seat she knows she can’t get into harm unless she gets off her bicycle, and away she goes, the picture of free, untrammeled womanhood.'”

What sort of heroine is Róisín – who is she as a character? Which other comic book heroines have inspired you in the past and what do you like about them?

“Róisín is a young, idealist woman with great ambition who is prone to impulsive decisions. The events in the comic book means she’s forced to deal with tragedy while learning she has far less control over her life. These are the kinds of lessons we often learn in life, although in Róisín’s case they involve an undead creature, magicians and ancient Irish divinities!

I haven’t drawn upon any other comic book heroines consciously in relation to Róisín, but there were a number that had an impact upon me over the years. First was Judge Anderson in 2000 AD. I didn’t read many American comics when I was growing up in Ireland as there weren’t many available at the time. 2000 AD was the premiere title for young teens then, so I read it too. Her first appearance in the Judge Death storyline (written by John Wagner and drawn by Brian Bolland) ticked all the boxes for me: horror and a great female lead.

What I loved about Anderson was her humour. She was the only one who poked fun at Dredd, and I loved that the Psi-Division were given loads of leeway because of the job they did and the high risk of their brains being fried in the process. Plus, she saves the world through an extreme act of self-sacrifice (thankfully, she didn’t remain in stasis forever!).

A while ago I read a comment on a website by one of the early artists of Anderson, in which he said he thought that she wasn’t very complex and was created for a bit of titillation for the lads. That comment disappointed me greatly. I guess he didn’t realise that Anderson was one of the very few women in 2000 AD at the time, and for that reason alone she had a big impact on the girls/women who read the series. Having a representation of women in comics book series is really important, and Dredd himself is not exactly the most complex character! I don’t usually hanker after writing particular characters, but writing Anderson would be a dream project.

Another character that had a big impact was Tank Girl (Jamie Hewlett and Alan Martin). She had a punk sensibility and a sense of humour, and liked sex, drugs and driving a tank – what was not to love?

Other characters I like are David Mack’s Scarab, Storm from the X-Men (woefully underused, I think), Alan Moore’s Halo Jones (another character I’d kill to write) and Promethea, Warren Ellis’s Jenny Sparks, and finally, the goddess herself, Wonder Woman.

I’ve only fallen in love with the Wonder Woman character in the past year, which is completely the result of Gail Simone‘s amazing writing. I’m also now a big fan of Simone’s Secret Six and Birds of Prey – so you can include all the (many) female characters in those series on my list now. Simone is one of the best comic book writers in the industry in my opinion, and she’s particularly adept at dialogue, especially for the female characters. Her comic books consistently pass the Bechdel Test, which so many titles still don’t do.”

Like Gail Simone and NK Jemisin, you’re a writer who sticks by her conscience, and you’re not afraid to call out industry figures when something’s Just Not Right. What have you learned from this so far, and has it ever worked against you?

“No change occurs if you remain silent. It’s that simple – but it’s not necessarily easy to speak up.

As a woman you know a likely response to raising an issue – such as the lack of women at an event – is that you will be dismissed or attacked (especially on the Internet).

So, I always strive to be fair and logical in how I present my case. Sometimes that’s difficult because I feel so passionately about women getting a fair shake – well, everyone getting a fair shake, no matter their gender, ethnicity, sexuality, etc.

A number of people have asked me if I think I’m damaging my career with some of the issues I’ve raised. So far I’ve never experienced it, but would it stop me? No.

Let’s be realistic. I’m speaking out on issues from a pretty safe environment. If I was a female union representative in Mexico – for example – I would have a genuine risk in speaking up. Or a mother trying to access education for her girls in Afghanistan. Those people inspire me – they are taking real risks with their lives and yet find the courage to stand up for what is right.

When I think of that it puts what I do in perspective! (And it makes me donate to aid organisations that help people in those risky situations.)”

Come back tomorrow for Part 2 of our interview. Warm thanks to Maura for talking to us.

• Maura McHugh is an Irish writer with films, comics and short stories to her name. She blogs at Splinister and you can read her recent guest post for BadRep, in which she recommended us some horror writers, here. Róisín Dubh is published by Atomic Diner and the first issue can be bought online here. Or pester your local comic store to order some copies!