Cheryl Lynn isn't quite sure who she is, but she's pretty sure of what she wants to be. A warrior woman. A bad-ass mamajama. Perhaps an earth goddess extraordinaire. She spends her days abusing keyboards and screaming at computer screens while she waits for her cult following to finally show up.

She changes her mind more often than extras in rap videos change thongs.

Remember: save to your own server, sweets!

Reading SELF Magazine.

Writing To-Do lists.

Hearing Thunder.

Watching General Hospital.

Building Nothing.

Eating Vitamins.

Drinking Iced Tea.

Buying Comic books.

Thinking "It is HOT!"

Playing Episodes from Liberty City.

Adoring Cold water.

Saying Very little.

Abhorring Bigotry.

Feeling Calm.

Hoping To get in gear.

Warning.

There's going to be some cursing. Yeah, definitely some cursing. And some yelling too. And incomplete sentences. Because I'm mad. Just a warning.

I can see that I am going to have to make the fucking comics.

And you see, I don't want to make the fucking comics. Making the fucking comics is hard fucking work. I don't want to have to struggle with chasing down artists who have disappeared into the ether. I don't want to have to wander through message board after message board begging someone to work with me. I don't want to deal with hours of research and proofreading. I don't want to go back to eating ramen noodles and putting quarters in jars and writing other people's term papers and not having enough money to eat at Chez Applebees.

But the fucking comics need to be made. Why? Because black and Latino girls are reading. A lot. I see them. They're piling onto trains and buses with little colorful paperbacks tucked into their pockets. And those colorful little paperbacks are full of shit. Complete and utter pandering materialistic gangsta bullshit. Stories where women are lucky to find a man who isn't too abusive and can treat her like a high-priced call girl. Stories where girls don't save the day by fighting the bad guys, they survive another day by fucking them.

And does anyone care that these girls are reading shit? Does anyone care that these girls are spending their lunch money on video-ho instruction manuals? Of course not. Nobody cares about what Keisha or Jazmine reads when everybody is focused on fighting over which company will provide the most entertainment geared exclusively for Jane and Sue. What will they buy? Supergirl? Spiderman Loves Mary Jane? Runaways? The Plain Janes? Or maybe it's one of the hundreds of manga TPBs that I have to climb over to get anything done?

And it's not that those books aren't lovely. And I've enjoyed more than my share of them. But those creative teams slaving away at their desks and those marketing teams taking meetings up in their glass towers have a certain vision of the girl who is going to save the day and of the girl who is going to buy the book about the girl saving the day. And neither one of those girls is going to be wearing Apple Bottoms jeans, Reebok sneakers and nameplate earrings. And they damn sure aren't going to have names like Jazmine and Keisha. Because no one gives a shit about Jazmine and Keisha.

But me. And about five other people. And only four of them are creating comics. And only one of them is currently creating comics that Jazmine and Keisha can pick up and see characters that are inspired by them. Make that two. Because now I see that I have to make the fucking comics. Comics where Jazmine and Keisha are more than just the perpetual support team for some other ingenue or manly superhero with less melanin or a Y-chromosome.

You see, I was doing the next best thing. Politely bitching. Yes, it is possible to politely bitch. And I thought that my polite bitching would inspire someone else to make the fucking comics. And then I could simply support them in all of their endeavors. And that could easily be done by doing my two favorite things...buying comics and talking about comics. Oh, so easy for me!

And right now I'm doing the second easiest thing. And that is to not-so-politely bitch. Because I suppose I'm still hoping that someone else will make the fucking comics. Because there are a ton of people out there with infinitely more talent and monetary resources than I possess. People who already have an established reputation and a publishing house that adores them. And I don't. But they don't give a damn. And I do. And they are clueless about how to reach these girls. And I'm not.

Fuck.

Cheryl Lynn @ 12:03 PM EST Link