When I first got this role I just cried like a baby because I was like, ‘Wow, next Halloween, I’m gonna open the door and there’s gonna be a little kid dressed as the Falcon.’ That’s the thing that always gets me. I feel like everybody deserves that. I feel like there should be a Latino superhero. Scarlett does great representation for all the other girls, but there should be a Wonder Woman movie. I don’t care if they make 20 bucks, if there’s a movie you’re gonna lose money on, make it Wonder Woman. You know what I mean, ’cause little girls deserve that.
And maybe that’s what sets Fraction apart—and what makes Sex Criminals his most daring book yet. It’s not just that he realizes that there’s a serious sex problem in comics, or that he knows how to discuss it in incredibly nuanced ways, or even that his work often functions as counterprogramming. It’s that it so obviously pisses him the hell off. And in an industry that often seems trapped in a reductive and inane conversation about whether or not sex in comics is “good” or “bad,” Fraction loves both sex and comics, and loves talking about both in equal proportion to how much sex in most mainstream comics makes him want to facepalm.
You meet your hero. You meet your heroes. You do shows with them. You realize they are people, that they haven’t figured it all out, that they are still moving forward. That makes you happy, to know they are real, and that makes you sad, to know that there isn’t an end point.