Costume as Community History 

By Ibtisam Ahmed 

Science fiction narratives all engage in an element of world-building, even if the descriptions are minimal. By their very nature, the settings are fictitious and, more often than not, have elements that are fantastically different to reality. They are imaginary potentials, the possibilities of what-could-be. As such, every single aspect of these stories is crucial to creating a fuller picture. One element that can be overlooked in the analysis of the genre is costume (especially in texts that are only in the written form), but it is still a vital part of the wider world-building. In this essay, I consider the impact of costume in creating and holding community history in two science fictional texts – the short story ‘The Last Dawn of Targadrides,’ and the X-Men comic book arcs focusing on the Hellfire Gala.

Both examples are fictional counterparts to real-world analogues, but heightened to focus on marginalised community identity. As a scholar and performer whose artistic work engages with my own multiple marginalised identities (queer, Bangladeshi, migrant), these narratives provide instances of meaningful empowerment and even liberation. As such, just as these fictions build on real-world histories, my own work is influenced by and builds on these fictions. This is something I will reflect on at the end of this essay, but it is important to start by exploring each of the examples individually.

When Costume is a Repository

The short story ‘The Last Dawn of Targadrides,’ by Trip Galey,is part of the anthology Glitter + Ashes: Queer Tales of a World That Wouldn’t Die. The anthology, edited by dave ring, was published in 2020, and is a collection of stories that respond to the idea of apocalypse from various queer perspectives. While the stories are narratively unconnected, with each contribution providing a different speculative approach to the idea of the end of the world, the collection’s impetus already situates ‘The Last Dawn of Targadrides’ as part of a creative response from a community perspective – specifically, the idea of how queerness responds to apocalypse, an idea made explicitly clear in the editor’s preface:

“These stories show us that the end is not simply a dark road leading to more grit and doom. In that tradition, Glitter + Ashes: Queer Tales of a World That Wouldn’t Die is an anthology centering queer joy and community in the face of disaster […]” (6).

Thus, the story has deliberate politics that celebrate queerness and especially queer community as specific means of tackling distressing futures. The plot follows Virtus, a member of House Valenziaga, as he gets ready to debut his drag persona, Aurora, at a futuristic queer ball. As the story progresses, we learn that this debut is not just part of regular competition for Virtus, as he is acting in defiance of his House Mother to (re)claim his independence and autonomy as a person and as a performer.

In our world, the ballroom scene began as an underground art form in the USA, most famously in Harlem. Its pioneers were Black and Latine queer artists who took part in categories dedicated to fashion, dance, and lip syncing. Being led by non-white voices, it was a direct response to the racism that was still prevalent in mainstream queer cultural spaces like drag pageants and nightlife. It also nurtured found family dynamics, including pooling resources to rent houses together (the origin of the House system), allowing for safety from estrangement from biological family, transphobic violence on the streets, and homelessness.

Voguing was birthed in this space as a way to reframe the prejudice directed at effeminate movement into a dance of power and precision. Runway categories that awarded marks for “realness” (the term used to indicate how convincing a competitor looks in their ensemble) allowed trans and gender-diverse people to safely explore their gender presentation and to practice the ability to ‘pass’ in wider society (i.e., be visually accepted as their actual gender instead of their gender assigned at birth). The House structure within this scene brought together artists who shared a common identity and/or performance ethos, adding a layer of community cohesion on top of the practical safety that Houses provided.

These elements are still present in the short story, with House Valenziaga acting as a surrogate found family and safe haven for Virtus, despite the toxicity of their House Mother. Amidst these more recognisable trappings of ballroom and urban life is the occasional cataclysm that breaches through the fabric of space and time to wreak havoc on Virtus’s city. Described as “edges”, these events send debris from other worlds hurtling to his own, but they also provide an opportunity for scavenging materials and resources by so-called “Edgerunners”, of which we learn Virtus is one. Another fantastical element is how each character seems to have some form of incredible ability, with Virtus himself having the power to create adornments like specific flowers or crystals that sprout from his mouth depending on the emotion he is feeling.

The story goes back and forth between his weeks-long preparations for the ball and the immediate backstage drama just before he walks onto the stage, climaxing with the grand debut of Aurora Thunder. Unsure at first, Aurora wins over the crowd by dramatically unveiling the otherworldly costume that has been fashioned from the ruins of another world, with “fabric woven of dawn itself, the last light of a world now dead and gone.” (195) As Aurora recites the dying moments of Targadrides and its unnamed emperor, great care is given to describe the intricacies of the costume:

“Flakes of gold as fine as ash crumbled from her words as she spoke. […] Layer after layer of the dress was transformed, a slow but steady glow creeping up the dress like the rising of the sun. […] The dress blazed like a rough-gilded rose, pink and gold as the dawn. The only spot of darkness left was the coiled tresses crowning her head. […]” (196)

At this point, the costume becomes more than just an item of clothing and, indeed, more than just Virtus (as Aurora) laying claim to his own worth as a performer. It shines with the history of Targadrides, a foreign land lost to time and tragedy. The fabric transcends the physical space which it inhabits, no longer confined to the cramped floor of the stage or the ballroom, but instead holding the light of a dawn that will never be seen again – and, crucially, would never have been seen at all were it not for Virtus’ use of the material in his costume.

The dress ceases to be just artifice; instead, it is a physical archive that holds a tangible history of a community. It carries with it the death of an entire world, now immortalised for others to see and admire and mourn. Where many repositories are littered with gaps in their historical records (many of which are artificially imposed to hide crimes of coloniality and oppression), the costume here becomes a way to prevent historical erasure. It becomes a statement of resilience and survival, and perhaps even of sustainability, with one world’s loss fuelling emancipation in another.

When Costume is Political Action

Where ‘The Last Dawn of Targradides’ is entirely in the written word, my other example has more visible representations of the costumes I am going to discuss. As a side note, this means that I will not be providing quoted descriptions of costuming in this section. The X-Men comics are a longstanding staple of the publisher Marvel Comics, following the struggles of superpowered mutants as they fight to save themselves and to protect humanity at large, while still facing regular discrimination from ordinary humans. The Hellfire Gala arcs that I will be discussing take place during the comics’ Krakoan Age, published between 2019 and 2024.

This era of the famous heroes takes its name from the fictional island of Krakoa. Within the mythos of their world, Krakoa is an uninhabited, partially sentient island which becomes a new homeland for all mutants around the world. Seeking a formalised community but rejecting attempts at settler colonialism, Krakoa becomes a fresh start where mutants are able to build their own nation-state from the ground up, with the world-building explicitly touching on aspects such as forms of government, crime and rehabilitation, familial and romantic dynamics, trade, healthcare, education, and international relations.

It is part of this last strand of world-building in which the Hellfire Gala takes place. It is an event that sees mutants inviting diplomats from non-mutant nations to visit Krakoa, share resources, and finalise foreign policy. As part of this diplomatic endeavour, the Krakoans aim to show off their newly consolidated culture and wealth. (The gala takes its namesake from a prior event in the X-Men chronology, but that is not the version that is discussed in this essay.)

The real-world comparison for this event is the annual Met Gala, which takes place at the Metropolitan Museum of Art Costume Institute in Manhattan, New York. Formally called the Costume Institute Benefit, the Met Gala is a fundraising event for the institute, the theme of which ties in with the museum’s major yearly exhibition. Designers are invited to bring celebrity guests wearing haute couture ensembles that respond to the theme in some form or another. There is a similar level of exclusivity in both the Met Gala and the Hellfire Gala, and both focus on high fashion and the use of resources to highlight culture.

Interestingly enough, the theme for the 2008 Met Gala was dedicated to Superheroes: Fashion and Fantasy. Through a curation that mixed original comic issues, film and television costumes, and high fashion interpretations, the Costume Institute’s exhibition considered the cultural impact that superhero stories have had on real-world styling. Of particular note is how the exhibition considered superhero costume as a means of making statements against prejudice and bigotry through high camp. In the companion artbook by curator Andrew Bolton, the nature of the superhero body – especially that of the mutant superhero – becomes a site of upheaval thats ubverts the status quo:

“Mutant bodies are explicitly analogized to Jewish bodies, gay bodies, adolescent bodies, Japanese or Native or African American bodies – they are, first and foremost, subjugated and colonized figures. If they are victims, however, they are also valuable sources of disruption and challenge – transgressive, uncontrollable, and alternative bodies.” (131)

It is in this mode of disruption that the Hellfire Gala and its fashion becomes such a powerful narrative space. Unlike the majority of X-Men eras, the Krakoan Age is notable for giving mutants a more proactive and autonomous role in world affairs through the creation of their own nation-state (instead of largely reacting to prejudice that was directed at them in the past). Mutants have created a just and equitable society from the ground up. As the most visible and glamorous cultural export of this society, the Hellfire Gala takes the transgression of mutant bodies and redirects it to become the new – and fabulous – norm. Of particular note is that non-mutant heroes who are invited to attend the event (such as Captain America, Iron Man and Spider-Man) are provided haute couture costumes made by the mutant designer Jumbo Carnation. Thus, even guests who are welcomed into the space are outfitted in regalia made in the mutant atelier.

The fashion itself is diverse. In sharp contrast to the occasional uniformity seen by superhero teams, including several iterations of the X-Men themselves, each attendee wears a look that is tailored to their powers, personalities, and complex histories. Thus, Emma Frost is bedecked in luxurious fabrics which highlight her affinity with the figure of the femme fatale; Cyclops channels strategic thinking in looks shaped by military history; Mirage includes adornments that pay homage to her Cheyenne Nation heritage; Manifold wears an outfit that is painted to reflect the cultural heritage derived from indigenous Dreamtime spirituality; and Iceman explores his recently-found queerness with corsetry and androgyny. (Note that these are just some of the looks that are worn by these characters as they had different costumes for each edition of the Hellfire Gala.)

The in-universe visual references to oppressed histories are explicit and intentional . As shown in the companion anthology Marvel Voices: Pride (a collection of short comics which focuses on queer characters written and drawn by queer creatives), Jumbo Carnation makes it a point to celebrate the specific heritages and identities of some of the queer heroes getting ready for the then-upcoming Hellfire Gala. He does so as a means of reclaiming painful pasts that were used to engender fear and shame, taking sources of pain and violence and using them to create pride and self-worth. As Carnation himself says: “[…] at least once a year, I am reminded that there is a group where I will always belong.” (no page numbers, emphasis from the original text)

From an authorial and artistic perspective, this is equally important. The designs for the Hellfire Gala costumes were created by a range of queer and racially minoritised artists, such as Russell Dauterman, Luciano Vecchio, Kris Anka, Javier Pina, and RB Silva. The comic book industry is known to be majority white and cisheterosexual. While its inception owes a lot to the creativity of members of the Jewish diaspora fleeing persecution in Europe, it has grown to become a space that is dominated by individuals with systemic and identity-based privilege. Thus, having artists who are still underrepresented in the industry – and some of whom would likely not have even been welcome to contribute to X-Men stories in the past – ensures that the centring of diversity at the heart of the Hellfire Gala is also reflected in its creative team.

The costume work in these issues makes a strong political statement towards listening to previously silenced voices. Community becomes a space of healing from traumas of the past, and the extravagant haute couture weaves in elements of suppressed cultures that loudly challenges oppression. The exclusivity of the event is catered towards prioritising and lifting up stories that had been hidden away in the past (which stands in contrast to other forms of high fashion exclusivity, including in the Hellfire Gala’s real-world inspiration), which leads to a community that is not only built on inclusion but proudly proclaims it as one of its strengths.

An Artistic Response

As explored through this essay, costume in science fiction is a nuanced space that can be used to explore stories of liberation, inclusion, and empowerment. When used by minoritised and marginalised creatives to tell stories of minoritised and marginalised characters, it becomes a powerful means of challenging the continuing sidelining of many community experiences in both fiction and the real world. As a multiply marginalised scholar, it is always a joy to be able to write down these reflections.

As a multiply marginalised artist, these incredible stories are also a wonderful source of inspiration. My artistic work involves showcasing my heritage – as a queer Bangladeshi migrant living in the UK – in spaces that are still largely white and overwhelmingly British. I like to wear fabrics and costumes from my home country whenever possible, and my performances in lip sync categories usually involve miming to English-language music in the style of jatra folk theatre and kathak classical dance.

In its own way, marginalised artistry can be seen as an act of speculative world building, where the stage becomes a space of re-envisioning and redefining norms. It is in this spirit of world-building that I include a sketch of an idealised costume in this essay.

The costume would need to entail a level of science fictionality as the methods of fabrication and textile I imagine at its heart have been lost. The bulk of the outfit is made of delicate Dhaka muslin, a fabric made using a 16-step crafting process with a rare type of cotton by skilled artisans, and with a weave so fine it is almost transparent. While modern artisans and researchers have rediscovered parts of this process, to the point that a variation of Dhaka muslin now exists again, the specifics of the full process have been destroyed due to the ravages of British colonialism – through the enforcement of industrialisation in the textile industry which pushed out hand-woven fabrics; through the hyper competitiveness of capitalism that valued quantity over quality which prompted artisans to abandon their skills; through unequal trade practices that stole resources and skills away from the peripheries of the empire; and through increasingly oppressive clothing and cultural laws which made it effectively illegal to promote local forms of dress.

These colonial policies had a devastating effect on the region’s textile production. Prior to British colonisation, the region produced a quarter of the world’s fabric; by the middle of the 20th century, this share had become ten times smaller. Governments and colonial administrators ensured that textile production had shifted to enrich new industrialists which, incidentally, also destroyed local workshop-based production in Britain itself, in favour of factories. An additional act of colonial brutality in this process was how South Asia was forced to forego necessary food production so that cotton could be prioritised as a key resource for the British manufacturing industry. It is no exaggeration to state that millions of lives were lost due to the move away from local artisans to machine-heavy mass production. It is because of this lost heritage that the asymmetrical train in my costume is made of frayed layers of the fabric, speaking towards the violent interruptions that cut the continuation of my heritage.

The neckpiece and headpiece are primarily made of gold filigree, a technique that is still practiced across South Asia (including Bangladesh). The technique ties my look in with a wider tradition of craftsmanship across the region, bringing in an element of solidarity with other oppressed histories, while the silhouette and designs harken to a specifically Bangladeshi experience.

The rainbow colours in the feathers of the headpiece and the small jewels in the neckpiece weave my queerness into the look. Erroneously, queerness can be seen as a modern Western imposition in cultures considered conservative in their traditions. The truth is that diversity in sexuality and gender identity had always been present in what is now Bangladesh – and, indeed, across the world – before the Christian mission at the heart of British colonialism outlawed such identities as immoral. The rainbow symbolism is a modern creation, but placing it in prominent positions in my costume indicates how intrinsically linked my queerness is with my geo-cultural identity.

Considering that my performance work – where this fantastical costume would be worn if it could ever be made – takes place in the UK, the very country that outlawed parts of my identity and destroyed multiple histories of craftsmanship, the sketch feels like a particularly strong statement. As in ‘The Last Dawn of Targadrides,’ it alludes to a repository of lost knowledge and resilience. As in the Hellfire Gala, it celebrates a multitude of oppressed identities as a clear political statement. As in both, it allows for an imagination of (science) fictional community, liberation, and joy.

References

Bolton, A., 2008. Superheroes: Fashion and Fantasy. Yale University Press.

Duggan, G., Anka, K., Dauterman, R., et al., 2022. X-Men: Hellfire Gala – Immortal. Marvel Comics.

Duggan, G., Dauterman, R., Vecchio, L., et al., 2023 X-Men: Hellfire Gala – Fall of X. Marvel Comics.

Galey, T., 2020, ‘The Last Dawn of Targadrides’, in Glitter + Ashes: Queer Tales of a World That Wouldn’t Die. Edited by dave ring. Neon Hemlock Press.

Hickman, J., Duggan, G., Dauterman, R., et al., 2021. X-Men: Hellfire Gala Red Carpet Edition. Marvel Comics.

Various, 2023. Marvel Voices: Pride. Marvel Comics.

Bio
Ibtisam Ahmed (he/him) is an independent scholar who received a BA/Leverhulme Small Research Grant in 2022-2024 to complete a project on queer performance history. He performs on-stage as Indigo Spice as part of the House of Spice, a Queer Brown Performance Collective in the UK. Prior to that, he completed a postgraduate degree at the University of Nottingham with a focus on decolonial utopianism. His work has been published in different formats and platforms, including a chapter on superhero bodies as queer immigrant utopias in the book The Politics of Culture (2020, Cambridge Scholars Publishing), which he also co-edited. He is a massive nerd and a lover of costume design.