Comics and graphic novels
They were bold, badass – and brief. But Batman’s short-lived female sidekicks give us hope that women in comics are good for more than just sticking in a fridge
Julia Savoca Gibson THE GUARDIAN Wed 18 Mar 2020
To mark the 80th anniversary, several artists have
produced variant covers for DC Comics including
this one by Julian Totino Tedesco.
Eighty years ago, Robin – perhaps the most iconic sidekick of all time, the “boy wonder”, the cheery presence at Batman’s brooding side – literally burst onto the scene on the cover of Detective Comics #38.
The first character to become Robin, Dick Grayson, defined the sidekick as we know him now, in his 44 years in the role: the endless puns and exclamations of “Holy … !”; the red, green and yellow tunic with a scaly speedo and pixie boots; the dependable pluckiness. His successor, Jason Todd, brought an edge to Robin when he took over in 1983: openly rebellious against Batman, he became the first Robin to die on the job. The third, Tim Drake, brought the character into the modern age in the 90s, with a new and bold “R” on his chest, hacking skills, and, at long last, some trousers; Drake was popular enough to land a solo series. In 2006, the fourth and current Robin, Damian Wayne, flipped the Dynamic Duo’s dynamic: after his father Bruce died (sort of), Damian became a dark and angry sidekick to a lighter, jokey Batman as Dick Grayson – the original Robin – wore the cowl. Damian would also later die – but, like Jason, his father and so many superheroes, he was resurrected.
But there are two more Robins, whose lives and legacies have been largely forgotten or ignored: the girl wonders Carrie Kelley and Stephanie Brown.
Carrie appeared as Robin in one comic, 1986’s The Dark Knight Returns, which is regarded as the most influential Batman comic in history. If you’ve encountered any version of the caped crusader since 1986, you’ve likely seen its legacy: a brutal and hardened Batman who fights Superman in a bulky exoskeleton and drives a tank-like Batmobile. But one element of the comic had very little impact: the first female Robin.
Carrie was similar to the other Robins in some ways: she wore the same suit, the pixieish boots, and, at 13 years old, was as sharp as she was witty. And in others, she was utterly different: a ginger girl – not a black-haired, blue-eyed boy – who was often absolutely terrified. Where the boy wonders were defined by their confidence (“Holy cocky teenage boy, Batman!”), Kelley’s fear powered her story. She was bold and badass, like the other Robins, but, unlike them, she could be afraid. In one scene in the Batcave, Carrie stares at the memorial casket for Jason, the dead Robin; when she learns that her predecessor died in the role, she is scared – but not discouraged.
These days, Carrie only exists in its sequels (which sit outside of DC’s main continuity), and in brief cameos across various Batman media. While The Dark Knight Returns will always be remembered, she is forgotten all the time.
Nearly 20 years later, in 2004, the second female Robin appeared. Stephanie Brown was a supporting character and love interest in the Robin series, which featured Tim Drake in the role. When Tim quits, Stephanie offers to take his place and Batman accepts. Stephanie was fired just two issues later for disobeying Batman’s orders, which, as anyone familiar with Robin will know, is one of the defining traits of the character. In the following story arc, War Games, while trying to prove herself to Batman, Stephanie is captured and brutally tortured in a highly sexualised manner by the villain Black Mask. She dies shortly after.
Stephanie was not the first Robin to die, nor the last. But unlike Jason Todd, she got no memorial. In 2008, four years after War Games, Stephanie was revealed to have faked her death and brought back into the batfamily. In one scene, Batman explains to Tim, who reclaimed the Robin mantle after Stephanie’s death, that he hadn’t made her a memorial because he had suspected she was alive. Tim seems unsatisfied with that excuse – as were many fans.
Eighty years ago, Robin – perhaps the most iconic sidekick of all time, the “boy wonder”, the cheery presence at Batman’s brooding side – literally burst onto the scene on the cover of Detective Comics #38.
The first character to become Robin, Dick Grayson, defined the sidekick as we know him now, in his 44 years in the role: the endless puns and exclamations of “Holy … !”; the red, green and yellow tunic with a scaly speedo and pixie boots; the dependable pluckiness. His successor, Jason Todd, brought an edge to Robin when he took over in 1983: openly rebellious against Batman, he became the first Robin to die on the job. The third, Tim Drake, brought the character into the modern age in the 90s, with a new and bold “R” on his chest, hacking skills, and, at long last, some trousers; Drake was popular enough to land a solo series. In 2006, the fourth and current Robin, Damian Wayne, flipped the Dynamic Duo’s dynamic: after his father Bruce died (sort of), Damian became a dark and angry sidekick to a lighter, jokey Batman as Dick Grayson – the original Robin – wore the cowl. Damian would also later die – but, like Jason, his father and so many superheroes, he was resurrected.
But there are two more Robins, whose lives and legacies have been largely forgotten or ignored: the girl wonders Carrie Kelley and Stephanie Brown.
Carrie appeared as Robin in one comic, 1986’s The Dark Knight Returns, which is regarded as the most influential Batman comic in history. If you’ve encountered any version of the caped crusader since 1986, you’ve likely seen its legacy: a brutal and hardened Batman who fights Superman in a bulky exoskeleton and drives a tank-like Batmobile. But one element of the comic had very little impact: the first female Robin.
Carrie was similar to the other Robins in some ways: she wore the same suit, the pixieish boots, and, at 13 years old, was as sharp as she was witty. And in others, she was utterly different: a ginger girl – not a black-haired, blue-eyed boy – who was often absolutely terrified. Where the boy wonders were defined by their confidence (“Holy cocky teenage boy, Batman!”), Kelley’s fear powered her story. She was bold and badass, like the other Robins, but, unlike them, she could be afraid. In one scene in the Batcave, Carrie stares at the memorial casket for Jason, the dead Robin; when she learns that her predecessor died in the role, she is scared – but not discouraged.
These days, Carrie only exists in its sequels (which sit outside of DC’s main continuity), and in brief cameos across various Batman media. While The Dark Knight Returns will always be remembered, she is forgotten all the time.
Nearly 20 years later, in 2004, the second female Robin appeared. Stephanie Brown was a supporting character and love interest in the Robin series, which featured Tim Drake in the role. When Tim quits, Stephanie offers to take his place and Batman accepts. Stephanie was fired just two issues later for disobeying Batman’s orders, which, as anyone familiar with Robin will know, is one of the defining traits of the character. In the following story arc, War Games, while trying to prove herself to Batman, Stephanie is captured and brutally tortured in a highly sexualised manner by the villain Black Mask. She dies shortly after.
Stephanie was not the first Robin to die, nor the last. But unlike Jason Todd, she got no memorial. In 2008, four years after War Games, Stephanie was revealed to have faked her death and brought back into the batfamily. In one scene, Batman explains to Tim, who reclaimed the Robin mantle after Stephanie’s death, that he hadn’t made her a memorial because he had suspected she was alive. Tim seems unsatisfied with that excuse – as were many fans.
All the official iterations of Robin, by Yasmine Putri.
Photograph: Yasmine Putri/DC Comics
Why we’ve not had more female Robins – or better served ones – is a symptom of a much wider problem. Of the 11 writers announced as contributing to DC’s anniversary issue for Robin, only two are women: Devin Grayson and Amy Wolfram. Between January and March last year, women accounted for 16% of the credits on comics released by DC; of writers, only 13% were women. The studio celebrated 80 years of Batman last year, but in that time not a single woman has been at the helm of Batman or Detective Comics. Aside from Grayson’s work on Nightwing and Gotham Knights, no female writer has ever written a Batman series. Given how many women are working on Batgirl, Catwoman and Batwoman, it would seem they are restricted to writing female heroes.
In her final moments, Stephanie asks Batman: “Was any of it real? Was I ever really Robin?” He responds: “Of course you were.” But in 2007, when DC’s then executive editor Dan DiDio was asked about her not getting a memorial, he said: “She was never really a Robin.” By 2011, DC officially erased Stephanie’s time as Robin from the canon. That same year, Batgirl writer Dylan Horrocks revealed that Stephanie’s death was decided long before War Games, and that her time as Robin had been “planned purely as a trick to play on the readers”. Despite the objections of Horrocks and Grayson, Stephanie’s excruciating torture and death proceeded.
Few superheroes have so much potential to be more inclusive as Robin, since very few mantles are passed on as often
Violence against women in comics has long been prominent. In 1999, future DC Comics writer Gail Simone, along with other feminist fans, compiled the now famous list of Women in Refrigerators, a plot cliche named after the fate of Alexandra DeWitt, a girlfriend of Green Lantern who was murdered and stuffed into a fridge. Women in comics get “fridged” when they are raped, killed, maimed, tortured, or otherwise injured for the sake of a male character’s arc. Batman comics are particularly infamous for fridging Barbara Gordon in Alan Moore’s 1988 The Killing Joke. Barbara is shot and paralysed from the waist down by the Joker, in an act that serves to torment her father, Commissioner Gordon, and Batman. The comic does not explore the impact this had on Barbara. When Moore asked his editors if it was okay to paralyse Barbara, editor Len Wein reportedly responded: “Yeah, OK, cripple the bitch.”
So is there space for a girl wonder outside of fridges? Recent developments suggest that she isn’t out of reach. We Are … Robin followed a group of Gotham teenagers who take up the mantle to fight crime. The lead character, a black teenager named Duke Thomas, eventually made the leap into the batfamily proper as a new hero, The Signal, supported by an incredibly diverse cast of supporting characters – including women. However, these Robins haven’t appeared in comics since 2018. Still, We Are … Robin was a genuine way to show what Robin has come to symbolise: any kid, from anywhere, can be the most iconic sidekick in history.
But in the main story, that’s not the case. The first three Robins were white, blue-eyed, black-haired boys. Carrie, a white girl, doesn’t officially count; the fourth, Stephanie, was also white. Damian is of mixed Arab, Chinese and Caucasian descent – but he is often whitewashed, drawn no differently than the previous Robins and rarely written with heed to his identity. A casual reader could understandably mistake Damian for yet another white, blue-eyed, black-haired boy. They could also fairly assume Robin has been an exclusively male role.
Why we’ve not had more female Robins – or better served ones – is a symptom of a much wider problem. Of the 11 writers announced as contributing to DC’s anniversary issue for Robin, only two are women: Devin Grayson and Amy Wolfram. Between January and March last year, women accounted for 16% of the credits on comics released by DC; of writers, only 13% were women. The studio celebrated 80 years of Batman last year, but in that time not a single woman has been at the helm of Batman or Detective Comics. Aside from Grayson’s work on Nightwing and Gotham Knights, no female writer has ever written a Batman series. Given how many women are working on Batgirl, Catwoman and Batwoman, it would seem they are restricted to writing female heroes.
In her final moments, Stephanie asks Batman: “Was any of it real? Was I ever really Robin?” He responds: “Of course you were.” But in 2007, when DC’s then executive editor Dan DiDio was asked about her not getting a memorial, he said: “She was never really a Robin.” By 2011, DC officially erased Stephanie’s time as Robin from the canon. That same year, Batgirl writer Dylan Horrocks revealed that Stephanie’s death was decided long before War Games, and that her time as Robin had been “planned purely as a trick to play on the readers”. Despite the objections of Horrocks and Grayson, Stephanie’s excruciating torture and death proceeded.
Few superheroes have so much potential to be more inclusive as Robin, since very few mantles are passed on as often
Violence against women in comics has long been prominent. In 1999, future DC Comics writer Gail Simone, along with other feminist fans, compiled the now famous list of Women in Refrigerators, a plot cliche named after the fate of Alexandra DeWitt, a girlfriend of Green Lantern who was murdered and stuffed into a fridge. Women in comics get “fridged” when they are raped, killed, maimed, tortured, or otherwise injured for the sake of a male character’s arc. Batman comics are particularly infamous for fridging Barbara Gordon in Alan Moore’s 1988 The Killing Joke. Barbara is shot and paralysed from the waist down by the Joker, in an act that serves to torment her father, Commissioner Gordon, and Batman. The comic does not explore the impact this had on Barbara. When Moore asked his editors if it was okay to paralyse Barbara, editor Len Wein reportedly responded: “Yeah, OK, cripple the bitch.”
So is there space for a girl wonder outside of fridges? Recent developments suggest that she isn’t out of reach. We Are … Robin followed a group of Gotham teenagers who take up the mantle to fight crime. The lead character, a black teenager named Duke Thomas, eventually made the leap into the batfamily proper as a new hero, The Signal, supported by an incredibly diverse cast of supporting characters – including women. However, these Robins haven’t appeared in comics since 2018. Still, We Are … Robin was a genuine way to show what Robin has come to symbolise: any kid, from anywhere, can be the most iconic sidekick in history.
But in the main story, that’s not the case. The first three Robins were white, blue-eyed, black-haired boys. Carrie, a white girl, doesn’t officially count; the fourth, Stephanie, was also white. Damian is of mixed Arab, Chinese and Caucasian descent – but he is often whitewashed, drawn no differently than the previous Robins and rarely written with heed to his identity. A casual reader could understandably mistake Damian for yet another white, blue-eyed, black-haired boy. They could also fairly assume Robin has been an exclusively male role.
Who is Robin for, then? Sidekicks are a way for younger people to tap into superhero fantasy. While young heroes such as Spider-Man also serve a younger audience, there is something special about sidekicks, and there’s something even more special about Robin. To be part of an 80-year history, to be chosen and trained by the Batman, one of the most recognisable figures in pop culture, and become instantly recognisable in his own right … few characters come close to Robin’s legacy. Few superheroes have so much potential to be more inclusive, too, since very few mantles are passed on as often.
Though Robin remains so very male, perhaps girls won’t always have to look backwards to find a girl wonder. When Damian moves on, there’ll be a new Robin. She might stand where Carrie once stared down at Jason’s memorial. (And maybe there will be one for Stephanie, too.) She’ll be scared, but not discouraged. She’ll don the red, green and yellow costume, and she will be Robin. Perhaps, one day. Until then, we’ll be waiting for her.
• The Robin 80th Anniversary 100-Page Super Spectacular #1 is published today by DC Comics.
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