I never gave race, in comics, much notice. I noticed there weren't that many black heroes, yet the few there were, were magnificent. I never knew, the color of the skin, of my favorite writers and artists. I only knew that the work they were doing, was what I wanted and needed in my life. It's really as simple as, focusing on their imaginations, talent, and ability to transport the reader, to places of incredible fantasy.
Now, as an adult, working toward a career in comics, the subject of race sidles around the corner, and politely asks me to pay attention. And while I'd always paid attention, I'm now taking notice, and two moments, ignited that response.
The first was when I met (when I say met, I stood before his table, babbled my adoration, introduced my mother, shook his hand, and "stalked" his for the entirety of the 2009 Motor City Comic Convention) Dwayne McDuffie. From the briefest of encounters, I got humor, humility, mentoring, graciousness, and "good home training" (he was awesome to my mom), he was an incredibly dent guy.
The second moment was somber and grey. I'd heard from my mother that Dwayne McDuffie had passed. The moment felt similar to hearing aliens had landed, or that Atlantis was rising from the depths, it felt unreal, yet it was as real, as real gets. And at that time it wasn't a matter of losing a dynamic and thoughtful BLACK voice in American Comics, but one of the most brilliant, versatile, honest voices in the industry. The integrity in his writing is evident in the hundreds of vocal fans, that openly mourn his passing.
In the months that followed, I would see tweets and blog posts, about his role as a black writer in a predominantly white genre, as well as commentary on the state of black characters in mainstream comics. These were thoughtful essays about he man to be sure, written by individuals who I believe to be ardent fans of his work. Yet, in the majority of the writings, the subject of him being "a prominent african american writer", and each time I would read anything referring to his ethnicity, I would bridle. I cannot and will not attempt to speak for the man himself. I was not a friend, I am fan. We talked for a brief period at my first comic book convention, and walked away inspired, and full of admiration, but I did not know his mind, his personal journey through life, or his hopes for the future.
I will speak for myself. I do not want my legacy to be that I was a black man, who accomplished great things, and touched many people. I want my legacy to be that, I was a man, loved by his family, respected and loved by his peers, did the very best he could at the things he loved and brought him joy, and he was also an African American. I'm proud of my heritage, and my ethnic background, but I'm a man first, an African American second.
