I Like Ice, You Like Ice, Everybody Likes Ice!

This is where I type a really long entry specifically on my love for Tora Olafsdotter.

But first, I'd like to go into a personal anecdote.

When I was nineteen, in the summer after my freshman year of college, I decided to take a life-guarding class. I've had swimming lessons since I was about six months old, and even very briefly stinted on a swim team before back problems got in the way so while I was a bit out of shape, it didn't take that long to get used to the laps and exercises. I'm a fairly strong swimmer and of the three girls in the class, I was the best at getting loose from the clingy drowning victim. (A big kid too, I gave him bruises.) I did well enough with backboarding and was probably the best of us at CPR.

I even figured out how to dive under the water and not lose my glasses. Which is a pretty good trick, I think. It's all in the angle of the neck.

Anyway, the teacher had been a lifeguard for twenty-odd years and went on and on about how she was so alert and kept such strong authority of her pool that she had never even had to go in the water. Ever.

I remember the odd feeling I got when she asked me about my major, Japanese Language and Culture, and said something like "They're all so polite and self-effacing, aren't they?" I thought that was pretty fucking racist, though I didn't understand that particular tone in her voice. Eventually I would.

The tests came around. From what I could tell I didn't do any worse than the other girls but I was the only one who didn't get certified. I took the instructors' word that I still needed work, and came in every day for two weeks after. The guys and gals who worked at the pool were really nice in re-enacting drowning so I could keep at it. They seemed a bit puzzled as to why I was still there too. My perpetual clingy-victim (already certified himself) even told me that I was doing a good job. But I trusted my teacher's judgment.

After two weeks, my teacher sat me down and told me that there was nothing wrong with my ability, but she didn't want to sign my certificate because she didn't think I could keep order and authority in the pool. She felt that I was too quiet and self-effacing, too polite. She didn't think I could shout. The fact that I was studying Japanese was just more evidence against me. (Clearly the woman had never been on a Japanese subway. Or wandered about Sannomiya at nightfall. :-)) God, I wonder, if I'd been Asian and not white, if she'd have signed the certificate at all.

This was ridiculous. I mean, I'm pretty sure you can tell from this blog that I'm not some kind of wall-flower. I do act quite a bit more deferrent in class, because I'm the student. I'm there to learn. I don't see the point in acting out if I'm trying to learn something, thank you. In a position of authority, I have a lot of witnesses who can testify, I'm very different. I'm an utter bitch. :-)

But even so, even assuming I was as quiet as I seemed. There was no reason to assume I couldn't do my job. I've met quiet people in authority who were considerably more imposing than any yeller. And even if I did end up having to go in and rescue people more than she did (and come on, SOME of that at least had to be luck)...there was nothing wrong with my ability to do so.

She did ultimately sign off on my certificate, but only because I'd spent every day of those two weeks and she couldn't deny I was competent. I know this because she TOLD ME so.

I spent two extra weeks I could have been looking for a job proving to this woman that my decorum was not an impediment to my ability.

Because apparently loud, aggressive, obnoxious people are the only good lifeguards.

Right. A belated "Fuck you" to that racist and judgmental bitch.

Anyway, that's the thing about Ice. See, Oracle, Black Canary, Power Girl, heck, even Lois Lane. They're all forceful, aggressive women. Diana might be more diplomatic, but she still punches people.

And that's wonderful. It is. Ultimately in personality, I think I'm also of this type. I'm normally aggressive, bitchy and opinionated and not afraid to state it. It's wonderful to see such strong women in comics.

I've heard the complaint about "men with breasts", which is utterly ridiculous. And almost invariably, in my experience, made by men. Society may push us to act differently, but there are plenty of women who have a lot more in common with these so-called "men with breasts" than they do with the characters that the accuser thinks are more womanly, and while we appreciate the inclusion in the male gender, the tits and vagina kind of tend to indicate that we DO actually count as women, thank you. And there are more of us than you tend to think.

That said, it's also true that not every woman does see herself similar to Dinah, Barbara, Karen, Diana, or any of those types. Women come in all shapes and sizes and attitudes, after all. There are plenty of women who DO embody more "traditional" feminine virtues, who are soft-spoken, sweet and prone to tears.

And there's no damn reason THEY can't be heroes either.

Tora is wonderful for that. It can't be denied that she's soft-spoken, sweet, and prone to tears and emotional displays. She does have an inner core of temper, but it takes the atomic bomb level force of obnoxiousness that is Guy Gardner to actually bring it out. She's NICE. She's POLITE.

And she's as much of a hero as any of those other gals.

Even if I personally see myself as having a lot more in common with the Barbaras and the Dinahs of the world, I don't think being mistaken for a Tora should remotely have any implication about my abilities.

It's the same satisfaction that Superman brings, showing the hidden inner strength behind all the world's meek and mild-mannered Clark Kents. Characters like Clark, or Barry Allen, or Tora Olafsdotter are important because they show the variance in human nature, and how heroism isn't limited to just one specific personality type.

Too bad my lifeguarding instructor wasn't a comic book fan.