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writing-for-life · 10 months ago

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The Portrayal of Womanhood in A Game of You

I’ll be honest with you: Writing about The Sandman with a focus on (queer) women surely feels different in light of the recent allegations.

This meta has been languishing in my drafts for a long time, and since I’m currently clearing the pile, I will still publish it. Mostly because these views are mine and not someone else’s. And also because they’re critical to a degree. However, if you feel that these are topics that you currently find hard to engage with, this is the exit sign (I totally get it).

With that out of the road, let’s talk about the women of A Game of You (and why it was always one of my least favourite arcs, despite the fact that my literary and thematic preferences should have made it one of my favourite ones)…

Gender roles are a central theme in A Game of You. Before the arc even moves into these themes on a deeper level, we already get this:

Barbie tells Wanda that she wasn’t allowed to read comics when she was a young girl. And that immediately struck a chord with me upon my first reading as a teenager: I was allowed to read comics, but I still remember getting the side-eye, especially from boys. Somehow, you didn’t belong to their club (even if you arguably knew more about Batman than they did 🤣). The reason Barbie gives us is that reading comics supposedly rendered her “unladylike” (yes, comics were considered “boyish”, at least when I was a teenager, and this is exactly the time we’re talking about here). But it’s not just about how a girl is supposed to act—it’s also about actively excluding her from something that’s only for men/boys. And while the topic of, “What’s a girl supposed (and allowed!) to be like?” isn’t something either particularly dwell on in that moment, Wanda faces the struggle of having to define and fight for her womanhood daily: As a trans woman, she feels resistance on a constant basis. When she talks about Weirdzos from the Hyperman comics, this is actually a nod to DC’s Bizarro, who could be described as Superman’s shadow (there’s a whole story why they were called Weirdzos instead of Bizarros in The Sandman, but that’d lead too far here. You’ll probably find it on Google).

Close enough to the “real thing”, but always “slightly off”

And Wanda carries the shadow of her biology. All the time. There’s no escape for her, no respite, no true support.

We also see this in a scene with Hazel, one of Wanda's neighbours who lives in a lesbian relationship with her girlfriend Foxglove. Hazel noticed that Wanda has "a thingie." Despite the fact that a lot of “weird” things are happening in those panels, part of that is definitely that Wanda has not fully (in Hazel’s eyes) transitioned:

What is she, exactly (not who)?

And that question gets answered very painfully when Wanda, Hazel, Foxglove, and Thessaly come together to free Barbie from being trapped in the Dreaming. Thessaly is sure she can defeat the Cuckoo that holds Barbie captive. However, she needs menstrual blood to perform a ritual that will allow them to traverse the Moon Road into the Dreaming. During this process, Thessaly insensitively refers to Wanda as a man and prevents her from joining the journey with Foxglove and Hazel (and no, this isn’t about “Thessaly the TERF”—I already made my position on that clear and think that whole discussion needs a lot more nuance than fandom is often willing to engage in).

Maiden, Mother and Crone

Thessaly's statement, "This isn’t your route. It can’t be," further highlights the discrimination Wanda faces on a daily basis. She “isn’t” seen as a woman now, and she “can’t” ever be, even if she had reassignment surgery—Wanda would still be seen as a man by the ancient powers that be.

Wanda's struggle, more than any other character's, highlights the ongoing conflict between self-identity and societal perception of women. And that’s unfortunately still a struggle most women face. But Wanda’s character is particularly poignant because she is repeatedly forced to reaffirm her sense of self, only to be torn down again and again. Even Barbie, who always supports her and would probably never knowingly hurt her, says this when Wanda reveals her childhood name:

“Alvin? That's your real name?"

Please imagine what it must feel like if even the ones closest to you refer to your dead name as your “real” name, even if it’s without malicious intent (of course Barbie makes good on that later, but…).

Wanda can never truly find comfort in anyone. She is constantly confronted with the disparity between her self-perception and how the world views her. Ultimately, Wanda's exclusion from entering the Dreaming (and there’s more symbolism in that than you can shake a stick at—not just because she’s denied her womanhood, but also because she is denied entering a place of hope and possibility, and not least because she is denied being capable and having agency: Thessaly repeatedly acknowledges Wanda is important, and that she needs her help. But that’s on her terms, not Wanda’s) leads to her tragic death: The storm caused by drawing down the moon destroys the apartment where Wanda remains to watch over Barbie’s body.

And that’s why Wanda’s arc in the comics will always stay problematic to me (I don’t know how optimistic I can be for the TV series, because we’ve already seen her headstone in BTS shots, even if her overall arc seems to have changed): Dream grants Barbie a boon, which she uses to save the women in the Dreaming, but Wanda is not among them. There is no saving her—not in this world, not in any other.

Wanda's conservative parents bury her with her deadname Alvin Mann (and her second name adds insult to injury, because it is the German spelling of “man”, as in “male”. And again, I’m somewhat glad they have changed this for the series, as seen on said headstone, because I never got why choosing that name was necessary in the first place. Or let’s say: I get it, but I don’t think it was needed and was layered on too thick. Sometimes subtle does it, sorry).

Why is Wanda so consistently shamed, while Hazel and Foxglove's lesbian relationship is regarded not a big deal (I’m obviously not insinuating it should be, see my disclaimer at the bottom of this post)? Although I have to admit there are things about that one that always rubbed me up the wrong way, too: The dumbing down of Hazel (honestly, most of us were not that clueless about reproduction in the 80s and 90s, lesbians or otherwise), the play on butch/femme stereotypes to then clumsily try to turn them on their heads (which did not work for me), the still somewhat male gaze applied to Foxglove (she didn’t have to sleep naked with her tits on display, did she?), the implication that all women somehow end up as mothers (if they don’t end up dead), even if just “accidentally”… There’s a whole lot to be said about the topic of motherhood, and how it gets instrumentalised in several Sandman arcs, but maybe that’s for another time...

To explore that question, I want to have a closer look at Barbie, who is a (in my view, often clumsy) stand-in for the gender-identity of many (CIS) women.

A quick throwback to The Doll’s House

The first signs of Barbie's identity crisis don't appear in A Game of You, but rather in The Doll's House. She is introduced as one half of “Ken-Barbie”: They finish each other's sentences, Barbie lacks a distinct personality and is completely overshadowed by being a “traditional wife” (maybe not the type of trad wife we think about today, and yet…). The fact that she and Ken share names with plastic dolls underscores the artificial nature of their identities and their relationship.

Barbie's dream-life always felt more authentic and meaningful to her than her waking reality—that’s why she is only a shell of herself when she can’t dream (after the vortex interlude with Rose Walker). She is passive, conforms to her father's expectations of being "ladylike" and adheres to “good” CIS- and heteronormative behaviour. And then, after her divorce, she feels uprooted, shows little motivation and relies on Wanda for support. Freeing herself from her shackles could have been a story of reclaiming her power without the layer of implied loneliness (I’ll get to that). Instead, she needs to suffer for a bit…

Barbie being trapped in her dream world also traps her in a state of passivity: Dreams are not real. You can make them real, but that’s not what she does—they are a maladjusted escape for her. And yet (or maybe rather “because”), instead of directly confronting and fighting the Cuckoo, Barbie smashes the Porpentine (much to the Cuckoo's delight).

Upon waking…

Upon waking, Barbie's personality hasn't changed much from the woman we first met. When she goes to Wanda’s funeral, she struggles to defend Wanda from her transphobic aunt despite trying.

However, she engages in a small but significant act of rebellion by crossing out "Alvin" on Wanda's headstone with her favourite lipstick and writes her real name instead.

Barbie then recalls a dream she had while traveling to Wanda's funeral. In this dream, she sees Wanda not as she was in life, but as an idealised version of herself—soft, more curved, and wearing a pink dress. Death stands beside Wanda, symbolising that she is recognised for who she truly is.

And I get it: The idea was to say, “She was always a woman, even to the cosmic powers that be. Eat that, Thessaly and everyone else.” But there’s also the part of me that wants to say, “You know what? She was good the way she was. Perfect in her imperfection. We didn’t need to affirm her womanhood by showing her as a stereotypical woman.” The use of “perfect” and “drop-dead gorgeous” always really rubbed me up the wrong way in relation to the way she was portrayed in that panel. Because it portrays a stereotypical woman: That’s what you look like if you need to/want to pass. And this applies, sadly enough, to all women in one way or another, no matter what gender we were assigned at birth. But if that scene holds meaning to people, I also get it. My more critical take on it is maybe down to my own history (again: disclaimer at the bottom of this post).

Simultaneously, the destruction of the Land in the Dreaming grants Barbie a newfound independence. She is now alone, without her best friend or the friends of her dreams, but these losses have given her freedom. And for a moment, loneliness becomes the ultimate resolution to Barbie's identity conflict. And I found that idea horrible, I’ll be brutally honest with you:

On the final page of A Game of You, Barbie is shown alone, waiting for a bus to an unknown destination. She reflects on her dream of Wanda, where she had the chance to say goodbye to her past life. For a moment, she stands rigidly still, and that moment feels… really long? Separated from her past and facing an uncertain future, she is free from anyone's expectations or desires. And maybe, in that simplicity, she finds freedom.

And maybe, A Game of You challenges the idea that we have full control over our identities. Our self-perception and how others perceive us are always influenced by external factors. And somewhat, I could never quite shake the feeling the story equates the removal of the ties that bind us (in this case: relationships) and/or death with freedom: Wanda only fully realises her identity in death, and Barbie feels most liberated when she is free from past entanglements and future obligations. Whether that notion is truly rejected in the end is probably down to the reader: Barbie turns and runs towards her bus, heading into a future that, while uncertain, maybe also holds a glimmer of hope. Unfortunately, none of the women of The Sandman get off particularly well in that department, and that is a common theme…

Disclaimer: I write this as a CIS bisexual woman in her 40s who has been in relationships with both women and men for 30+ years. Two of them led to marriage/civil partnership: One with a CIS woman, also bi (we were together for 10 years, 3 of them in a CP), one with my now husband (CIS straight man, married for 10 years, together longer, and we have a kid together). I don’t need to tell you this, but I am because I think it is important to disclose my own bias and experiences as a queer woman in the 90s, which include coming out, experiencing bi-erasure and misogyny from both inside and outside the LGBTQ+ community. As such, they will definitely colour the way I read and interpret A Game of You.

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