If you want to know everything that happened at Comic-Con (and who wouldn’t?), you can see the io9 coverage here, including my ecstatic response to some footage we saw from next year’s alternate history epic, Cowboys and Aliens. You can also see some pictures of me moderating two awesome panels, the “Girls Gone Genre” panel (featuring some of my heroes, like Gail Simone, Marti Noxton, Felicia Day, Laeta Kalogridis, Melissa Rosenberg, and Kathryn Immonen), and of course the annual io9 “Scifi That Will Change Your Life” panel (featuring io9 staffers Charlie Jane Anders, Cyriaque Lamar, and Meredith Woerner, as well as Pyr Books publisher Lou Anders, comic book writer Marc Bernardin, writer and StarWars.com editor Bonnie Burton, and culture critic Douglas Wolk). And then there was this.

Until next year, San Diego!

While I’m in New York, io9 will be co-hosting a meetup with Laughing Squid on Tuesday, May 25. If you’d like to join the writers and readers of io9 and Laughing Squid, come join us between 6:30-9 at The Magician bar, 118 Rivington, in Soho. You can get all the gory details via our Facebook invite.

I’ll be at WisCon this weekend. I’m speaking on two panels on Sunday:

10:00-11:15 Battlestar Galactica: Caprica
2:30-3:45 Race and Gender in Avatar

Stop by and say hello!

I’m just one of the speakers at Dorkbot, though – I’ll be joined by the awesome Tim Hunkin and Eric Gradman. You can see all of us doing strange things with electricity Wednesday, 7:30 PM, at the Gray Area Foundation For the Arts, 55 Taylor St., San Francisco. ($5-20 sliding scale)

Then I’m heading to the South by Southwest Film and Interactive Festivals in Austin. I’ll be moderating a panel at SXSWi sponsored by the ACLU, which is about people’s right to control personal information online. It’s called “The Right To Delete.” That’s Sunday, Mar. 14 at 11 AM. Joining me on the panel are cool folks like Chris Conley of the ACLU, and Elly Millican, a web developer who has one of the longest-running continuous online journals in web history (she started in 1996 when she was a mere sprite).

Also, my awesome blog io9 is throwing a party at SXSW! Gawker Media, io9′s parent company, let io9 pick the entertainment and party theme at our annual SXSW shindig – so of course we called the party Time Bender and we have a sword fighting demonstration, followed by a performance from MC Frontalot. Oh hell yes. It’s a geek dream. The party is free and open to the public, so come say hi! More information on that, plus our awesome invite, can be found here.

Hope to see you in Texas!

Here’s the first few paragraphs:

Sam woke up feeling like something horrific had lodged in his sinuses, which he gradually realized was a smell. Shit? Vomit? Biomass? Then he realized: The tent reeked of outer space.

“Sam! Nez! It’s drinking time! I got a fistful of nickel and we’re gonna party!”

It was Grinder, who had emerged from his suit for the first time in three weeks. The patched, crumpled Sutter RE-2 lay in a pile at his feet, its barely-functioning life support tubes leaking a broth of processed waste. Grinning, the miner beat his narrow, bacteria-scored chest, then punched the air and whooped.

Sam moaned inside his bedroll and turned to face the semi-permeable roof of their small tent. Overhead, light the color of recycled urine streamed through asteroid dust and across the distant surface of Ceres, where the lit domes of Bachelor City looked like splotches of macroscopic infection. The ground beneath his bedroll groaned slightly as the jets kicked in, keeping their raft from tumbling in its orbit around the planetoid. Lashed together out of junk rocks, belts, cables, and rebar, the raft was roughly 300 yards square, its upper and lower surfaces blistered with the tents of miners too poor to rent even a container in the City.

The three of them had set up camp near the edge of the structure, giving Sam a good view of the slum’s slum: A fringe of cheap emergency bubbles, intended for short-term life support, tethered to the rock with rope. People got them free from the government and cocooned inside when they’d gone ore-crazy. It wasn’t uncommon to see one pop, disgorging its pathetic contents in a matter of seconds.

Grinder grabbed the mouth of Sam’s bedroll and shook it.

“Sammy! I’ve got enough nickel here to buy us a ride down to Bachelor City and into any bar you want, all day! Let’s go!”

“Fuck you, fucking alcoholic bastard. We just got in from dust trawling a couple of hours ago.”

Sam rolled away from Grinder and found himself hemmed in by their tentmate Nez, her face split with a smile. Next to her missing front teeth, a single fang made of nickel glittered like madness. She punched his arm, using the force of the blow to uncurl into a standing position. “Not fuck YOU — fuck YEAH! Free booze is always fuck yeah!”

Read the rest of the story at Hilobrow!

It was a fun, rambling discussion, which Bloggingheads’ editors helpfully broke down into the following tracks:

Cataloging stuff white people like before it was cool (02:30)
The hidden meaning of zombies (03:39)
The ever-changing apocalypse (04:29)
A puzzle about culture analysis (02:08)
Is science fiction gaining cultural market share? (03:09)
The posthuman in pop culture (10:36)

Click through for these cigarette-break length pieces, or watch the whole thing.

Whether Avatar is racist is a matter for debate. Regardless of where you come down on that question, it’s undeniable that the film – like alien apartheid flick District 9, released earlier this year – is emphatically a fantasy about race. Specifically, it’s a fantasy about race told from the point of view of white people. Avatar and scifi films like it give us the opportunity to answer the question: What do white people fantasize about when they fantasize about racial identity?

Avatar imaginatively revisits the crime scene of white America’s foundational act of genocide, in which entire native tribes and civilizations were wiped out by European immigrants to the American continent. In the film, a group of soldiers and scientists have set up shop on the verdant moon Pandora, whose landscapes look like a cross between Northern California’s redwood cathedrals and Brazil’s tropical rainforest. The moon’s inhabitants, the Na’vi, are blue, catlike versions of native people: They wear feathers in their hair, worship nature gods, paint their faces for war, use bows and arrows, and live in tribes. Watching the movie, there is really no mistake that these are alien versions of stereotypical native peoples that we’ve seen in Hollywood movies for decades . . .

[Avatar and movies like it are] about white guilt. Our main white characters realize that they are complicit in a system which is destroying aliens, AKA people of color – their cultures, their habitats, and their populations. The whites realize this when they begin to assimilate into the “alien” cultures and see things from a new perspective. To purge their overwhelming sense of guilt, they switch sides, become “race traitors,” and fight against their old comrades. But then they go beyond assimilation and become leaders of the people they once oppressed. This is the essence of the white guilt fantasy, laid bare. It’s not just a wish to be absolved of the crimes whites have committed against people of color; it’s not just a wish to join the side of moral justice in battle. It’s a wish to lead people of color from the inside rather than from the (oppressive, white) outside.

Think of it this way. Avatar is a fantasy about ceasing to be white, giving up the old human meatsack to join the blue people, but never losing white privilege. Jake never really knows what it’s like to be a Na’vi because he always has the option to switch back into human mode. Interestingly, Wikus in District 9 learns a very different lesson. He’s becoming alien and he can’t go back. He has no other choice but to live in the slums and eat catfood. And guess what? He really hates it. He helps his alien buddy to escape Earth solely because he’s hoping the guy will come back in a few years with a “cure” for his alienness. When whites fantasize about becoming other races, it’s only fun if they can blithely ignore the fundamental experience of being an oppressed racial group. Which is that you are oppressed, and nobody will let you be a leader of anything.

This is a topic I’ve been interested in for most of my adult life. A large chunk of my book, Pretend We’re Dead: Capitalist Monsters in American Pop Culture, deals with race and fantasy movies; and I co-edited a collection of essays way back in the late 1990s called White Trash: Race and Class in America. At the time we published that essay collection, my co-editor Matt Wray and I were stunned at how passionately people responded to the idea of talking about whiteness in pop culture – it was as if we’d crossed a line, and some were thrilled that we’d done it while others wanted us to stop spilling white people’s darkest secrets.

Based on those experiences I should have been prepared for my post on Avatar to elicit a similarly intense response, but I wasn’t. The post wound up sparking a much bigger debate than I’d anticipated: It was covered in the New York Times, the Washington Post, the Atlantic, and countless other blogs and Livejournals. I’ve also gotten a ton of email about it, mostly positive. However, it has also sparked a lot of wrath.

One of the biggest objections people have to the article is that I’ve proposed to analyze Avatar at all. “Why can’t you just enjoy it for what it is?” I’ve been asked. Or I’ve been scolded, “You’re just reading into it whatever you want to see.” Josh Wimmer (AKA Moff) wrote a great rejoinder to comments like this, which Racialicious picked up and dubbed Moff’s Law. Here’s an excerpt:

First of all, when we analyze art, when we look for deeper meaning in it, we are enjoying it for what it is. Because that is one of the things about art, be it highbrow, lowbrow, mainstream, or avant-garde: Some sort of thought went into its making — even if the thought was, “I’m going to do this as thoughtlessly as possible”! — and as a result, some sort of thought can be gotten from its reception. That is why, among other things, artists (including, for instance, James Cameron) really like to talk about their work . . . Finally, this should also go without saying, but since it apparently doesn’t: Believe me, the person who is annoying you so much by thinking about the art? They have already considered your revolutionary “just enjoy it” strategy, because it is not actually revolutionary at all. It is the default state for most of humanity.

So when you go out of your way to suggest that people should be thinking less — that not using one’s capacity for reason is an admirable position to take, and one that should be actively advocated — you are not saying anything particularly intelligent. And unless you live on a parallel version of Earth where too many people are thinking too deeply and critically about the world around them and what’s going on in their own heads, you’re not helping anything; on the contrary, you’re acting as an advocate for entropy.

Pretty much my response to this criticism too. I’m not demanding that people analyze everything, and I expect the same courtesy. Which is to say: Don’t demand that I not analyze.

The other major criticism I got was that the film wasn’t about race, but instead about the hero’s journey or self-discovery or something much broader. I got a chance to have a pretty interesting debate about this with Dan Trachtenberg on Dave Chen’s /Filmcast After Dark podcast, and if you’re interested you can listen in here. My basic point was that a film can be about many different things at once. Saying that the movie is about heroism or environmentalism does not invalidate my reading. Moreover, there are a lot of good reasons to consider this film in the context of race, not the least of which is the fact that every Na’vi character is played by a person of color and they are designed explicitly to look like stereotypical American aboriginals. Moreover, their forest looks very much like pre-industrial America, and the threat posed by the humans seems at every juncture to mirror the threat that Europeans posed to the peoples of America 500 years ago. Cameron himself has said the aliens were based on “a melange of indigenous cultures,” in a recent Studio 360 interview:

Well they’re actually a melange of indigenous cultures, we looked at indigenous cultures in the Amazon, in Indonesia, in Africa, in America–I think giving them bows and arrows probably places them in most people’s minds, you know, in your Native American sort of cultural niche. But in fact there are lots of cultures around the world that use bows and arrows, it’s a common first technology for hunting.

Ultimately I’m pleased to have helped kick-start a debate about whether Avatar has something to tell us about racial identity in the United States. How does our pop culture allow us to work through historical traumas – or to recast them in ways that are perversely pleasurable? I wanted to get people thinking and talking about this movie on a level that went beyond “wow, great special effects.” And I’m glad so many people wanted to join me in that conversation.

Yes, I actually used the word “fascist” in this speech, which I rarely do – but you have to understand the context, which is that our moderator had begun the conversation by talking about how e-books were basically like Nazis burning books. You can hear his comments here. And if you want to hear what everybody on the panel had to say, check out the Examiner’s report on the event.

Here are the details, from the Library:

Thursday, December 3, 2009 2^nd floor Mechanics Institute Library, 6:30 PM (doors at 5:30)

LOCATION: Mechanics’ Institute, 57 Post Street, San Francisco

Panel: Is the Book Dead? High-Tech and the Written Word

Join us for our bi-annual Members Meeting followed by a dynamic discussion on the future of the written word, with local literary celebrities, who will debate the future of books, newspapers and printed media with the surge of the internet and merging technologies.

Moderated by Alan Kaufman, author of Matches and Jew Boy; and editor The Outlaw Bible of American Poetry. Panelists: Daniel Handler (a.k.a. Lemony Snicket), author of The Basic Eight, Watch Your Mouth, Adverbs, A Series of Unfortunate Events, a series of popular children’s’ books. Brenda Knight, Associate Publisher, Cleis Press & Viva Editions   John McMurtrie, Book Editor, San Francisco Chronicle Annalee Newitz, former culture editor at The San Francisco Bay Guardian and syndicated columnist of Techsploitation. Scott Rosenberg, author of Say Everything: How Blogging Began, What It’s Becoming, and Why It Matters, and Dreaming in Code. Oscar Villalon, is a publisher at McSweeney’s literary journal, and the former Book Editor, San Francisco Chronicle.