The Complicated Feminist Legacy of Underground Comix

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Christina Lee | July 2, 2025

In a 2008 Believer interview with comics historian Hillary Chute and cartoonist Lynda Barry, Barry recalled that after reading Zap, she felt that “...you could draw anything.” The Underground Comix movement was revolutionary because it introduced a new DIY ethos that prioritized the creator in both content and structure: Underground cartoonists worked without publisher oversight and ignored the Comics Code Authority, embracing creative autonomy and producing challenging work that depicted sex, drugs, and violence. Though it is no secret that some of the content from the Underground movement came atthe expense of women, this DIY sensibility lowered the barrier to entry to cartooning through alternative business and creative practices, ironically making the field more accessible for all, including women.

Underground Comix was a means of unfettered creative expression for their creators, and this was a significant part of its appeal for both artists and readers. The work defied industry standards through its subversiveness, and at times, deliberately so. For instance, in Kitchen and Danky’s Underground Classics, Spain Rodriguez states he intentionally produced work that defied all of the Comics Code Authority’s restrictions to avenge his favorite publisher, EC Comics, which was run out of business by the Code in 1954. Despite its proximity to the countercultural movement, Underground Comix was a male-dominated movement: though satirical in intent, the work frequently depicted unfair portrayals of women; often in a sexually violent manner. For example, Zap Comix #4 includes an S. Clay Wilson comic depicting aristocrats sexually assaulting a female servant, and a Gilbert Shelton comic showing an anthropological pig superhero, Wonder Warthog, attempting to have sex with a passed-out reporter. The treatment of women in these comics is brutal and disgusting, so it’s no surprise to me that female cartoonists in the scene felt sidelined: In Trina Robbins’ Pretty In Ink, Lee Marrs describes the Underground Comix movement as “...a boy’s club … a closed club … There was no way a beginning artist could break in, no place for it. All the underground comics consisted of friends printing friends … They were all buddies; they didn’t even let us in.”

Despite all this, the most lasting influence of Underground Comix was lowering the barrier to entry to cartooning. The movement championed a creators-first ethos that allowed artists to maintain ownership of their work, profit from continued sales through royalties, and most significantly, to create work on their own terms. In Underground Classics, Denis Kitchen states, “Undergrounds were the first to pay artists on a royalty basis rather than the flat-rate system. Royalties treated cartoonists like literary authors and guaranteed them their fair share of the pie.” As an alternative to the industry standard of paying artists a per-page flat fee, publishers like Kitchen Sink Press introduced a new way of compensating creators with royalties based on initial sales and reprints. This new system did not transform cartooning into a lucrative field, but did inherently elevate cartooning from a commercial trade into a literary medium; of which you can still see its lasting influence today through cartoonists like Julie Doucet and Ulli Lust. Doucet’s Dirty Plotte (1991-1998) series and Lust’s Today is the Last Day of the Rest of Your Life (2008) are masterful examples of the graphic bildungsroman, of which you can see the influences of Aline Kominsky-Crumb and Justin Green. Doucet’s and Lust’s comics feature an emotionally frank and deeply personal take on the coming-of-age story from the female perspective. Most profoundly, Underground cartoonists bucked the mainstream comics tradition of the division of labor through coloring, lettering, writing, and editing, and collapsed all responsibilities onto one sole creator. With no editor oversight, reduced overhead, and complete creative freedom, comics production was democratized- anyone could create their own comics, compelling those underrepresented in the field to participate: women.

The true revolutionary nature of Underground Comix was the newfound agency it granted through the structural liberation of industry norms. Even Trina Robbins, who famously was not a fan of R. Crumb, states in her autobiography, Last Girl Standing, that after reading Zap #1, “My mind was blown!” She continues, “...it had never occurred to me– never occurred to any of us!-- that we could produce entire comic books, real comic books like Marvel and DC, but with our stories in them.” Excluded from participating by their male peers and alienated by the hypermasculine content, women seized this opportunity to carve out a space for themselves by creating the first all-female comic anthologies: Wimmen’s Comix and Tits & Clits. Serendipitously, both were created in the exact same year (1972) but independently by different groups of cartoonists in different locations: Wimmen’s was founded in the San Francisco Bay Area by a collective of 10 artists, while Tits & Clits was founded in Southern California by a duo. Both anthologies shared a goal of highlighting comics for women by women and cross-pollinated creators; Wimmen’s published work by Tits & Clits founders Lyn Chevli and Joyce Farmer, and Tits & Clits published work by Wimmen’s contributors Trina Robbins, Lee Marrs, Mary Fleener, and Dori Seda. However, their editorial visions were drastically different, resulting in two very different publications.

Terre Richards, one of the founders of Wimmen’s Comix states in Pretty in Ink, “I was looking for a more creative outlet, one that would incorporate a growing interest in writing and animation [...] As a result of the Women’s Movement, there was a growing awareness of women in all areas of the arts as well as a newly developing market for women’s work in publishing, so the time was right for an all-woman’s comic.” In 1972, Richards, alongside Trina Robbins, Aline Kominsky-Crumb, Michelle Brand, Lora Fountain, Karen Marie Haskell, Lee Marrs, Patricia Moodian, Janet Wolf Stanley, and Shelby, founded Wimmen’s Comix; one the longest running Underground Comix anthologies published from 1972-1992 for 17 issues. Led by Robbins, the editorial intent of Wimmen’s was political: it was collectively organized in an effort to bring new female artists into cartooning. Unlike most anthologies, which tend to have static editorial teams or centralized decision-making, Wimmen’s implemented a rotating editorial structure to ensure no single voice dominated the publication: each issue featured a different editor and theme, and at least half of the contributors had to be a newcomer; in stark contrast to Zap, which featured the same editor and cartoonists in nearly every issue. However, inconsistent quality was the consequence of a collective editorial structure. In her autobiography, Robbins admits, “...Wimmen’s Comix, at least in the beginning, was not so much about artistic perfection as about giving women’s comics a place to be seen and giving the contributors a voice.” Instead of an insular network where only established creators were published, Wimmen’s functioned as an entry point into cartooning. During its two-decade run, it featured work by almost 100 different female cartoonists, including those who would become major figures in the subsequent Alternative comics movement such as Lynda Barry, Alison Bechdel, and Roberta Gregory, showing the outsized importance of a collectively-organized anthology in mentoring and encouraging more participants into the field.

Despite the unevenness, there is a breadth of great comics from Wimmen’s due to its long-running tenure. A common thread between all of these comics is a willingness to portray womanhood as it really was; incorporating a slice-of-life realism and relatability to the narratives. In fact, in Graphic Women, Hillary Chute describes Wimmen’s co-founder Aline Kominsky-Crumb as the “godmother” of autobio comics, attributing her alongside Justin Green as pioneers of the genre. One of my favorite regular contributors was Lee Marrs, who developed a confidently intricate style through her commercial experiences as a newspaper staff cartoonist at her alma mater, American University, and as assistant to Little Orphan Annie artist Tex Blaisdell. She is masterful in both technique and concept, as demonstrated in one of my favorite covers of Wimmen’s for its third issue published in 1973. I love this cover because of its use of loud colors and absurd humor: On a hot pink background, Marrs depicts a working woman stretched thin by all her responsibilities: a baby, her creative practice, dirty dishes, a mop, and hilariously, a typewriter attached to her wrist by a chain. Her hands are blistered and red, while she’s jumping on a gameboard with turns that satirize the female condition such as, “Marry a doctor - Jump 10 Spaces,” “Need Abortion - Lose 2 Turns,” and “Nervous Breakdown”; all sentiments that still ring true today. I feel a strong connection to this cover because it functions as a funhouse mirror reflection of the modern female artist, struggling to juggle domestic responsibilities, professional ambition, and her own mental/physical wellbeing.

One of the Marr’s best comics from Wimmen’s is, “So, Ya Wanna Be an Artist,” from Wimmen’s #2. This single-page comic features guidance on how to be a female cartoonist from a withered expert with pen gnarls, an artist’s bicep, a drawing board hump, and incredibly poor eyesight (one could guess that this is a self-deprecating self portrait). Each piece of advice is illustrated with gags that are specific to the working woman: for “Put All Deals in Writing Beforehand”, the female artist threatens the life of a businessman with a gun to his head while he signs a contract. Three different scenarios are depicted in “Be Prepared for Usual Situations,” one of which shows another female artist asking a lecherous man, “Don’t you want to see my etchings?” While drooling, he responds, “No. Heh heh heh…” By eliminating panels, Lee has created a comic with a dense and unique layout rich with humorous details that illuminate the unpleasant truths of the working woman’s experience.

Another regular contributor whose work deserves a second look is Lee Binswanger, whose clean lines and aesthetic minimalism exude a timeless stylishness that belongs in the pages of The New Yorker. From Binswanger’s numerous comics from Wimmen’s, my favorite is “Sliding” from issue #7. This single page 9-panel comic shows two women discussing romantic prospects at a bar. By the fourth panel, the main character starts an emotional monologue about love, “If a man notices me, I feel like melting… and if we go out and he still shows interest, I fall in love so fast it makes my head spin. I mean I fall all over him. I call him up- I write love letters! I go the whole route…” Her soliloquy is interrupted by a random man who spills a drink on her face. In the last panel, she declares, “What a cute guy!” Her friend responds while lighting a cigarette, “And he definitely noticed you.” Binswanger’s work is accessible not only because of her illustrative style, but also through her selected subject matter. Her comics read like a subversion of the male-dominated Romance Comic genre; Binswanger’s comics about love are for women and are clearly made by a woman. I strongly believe that her work would translate well to the contemporary comics audience because of her direct, clear visual style, relatable sense of humor, and frank approach to dating and romance.

Coincidentally, through their own small press, Nanny Goat Productions, Southern California-based cartoonists Lyn Chevli and Joyce Farmer self-published their own all-female comics anthology, Tits & Clits, just a few weeks before the first issue of Wimmen’s was released. Tits & Clits was created in direct response to Zap, which Chevli was simultaneously impressed with and disgusted by. She states in an interview with Cultural Correspondence, “[I] was impressed by their honesty but loathed their macho depiction of sex.” In contrast to Wimmen’s, each issue of Tits & Clits had a regular team of editors (Chevli and Farmer) and theme (female sexuality), resulting in a consistent editorial vision that was audaciously crass and apolitical. The best example of this sensibility is through the cover of Tits & Clits #3, illustrated by Farmer, depicting female protestors in DC proudly holding vibrators and singing, “We shall overcome.” The demonstrators range from old to young, with the oldest lady winking her left eye at a fellow demonstrator while raising her first with a green sex toy in her hand. Although its first issue sold out within one year, Tits & Clits only ran for 7 issues from 1972-1987. According to comics historian Sam Meier, whose extensive research has focused on Tits & Clits, throughout the publication history of the anthology, Chevli and Farmer encountered myriad of issues related to having trouble finding printers willing to work with them, obscenity laws, and an unsupportive Women’s Lib movement that viewed the anthology as “unfeminist” through its unfettered embrace of sexuality. Sex was a polarizing topic during second-wave feminism, and a divide emerged on attitudes towards pornography: many feminists believed pornography was inherently exploitative of women, and dismissed Tits & Clits as being too obscene. Despite the challenges Chevli and Farmer encountered in its production, Tits & Clits made an impact through its unprecedented artistry: its tone was much darker and grotesque than Wimmen’s, featuring a subversively honest depiction of female sexuality in comics for perhaps the first time ever.

One of the most thought-provoking pieces from Tits & Clits is a 5-page comic written by Chevli and illustrated by Farmer titled, “The American Dream,” from Issue #2. This comic features the story of Suzanne, a woman who gave up her career as a poet to become the perfect wife, mother, and cook. Her husband is unsupportive and doesn’t satisfy her emotionally or sexually (leading to an affair with another woman’s husband), and she’s too busy tending to him and their children to write anymore. After her husband rejects her cries for help, she reaches her breaking point and plans her suicide; directing her innocently naive children to record the act. In the last panel, she states, “I hear Daddy driving up now! Sissy, you turn the handle, and Brad, stand back so you won’t get knocked over! …Pull the little lever! NOW!” Through a brutal ending, “The American Dream” profoundly comments on the challenging overlaps of marriage, motherhood, and creative ambition.

Another highlight from Tits & Clits is “Kaleidoscope View,” by Joyce Farmer from Issue #7. This 3-page satire of modern marriage utilizes the comic medium in a formally innovative way: it tells the same story from 3 different character point-of-views, a la Exercises in Style, giving the reader a 360-view of a relationship between a CEO, his mistress, and his wife. Through each character’s perspectives, the reader can deduce that the CEO is a chauvinistic money-obsessed man who neglects his children, his mistress (who also happens to be his secretary) is delusional and in love, and his wife, though she knows about the affair, lives a pleasant life. The wife has the last laugh in the last panel of “Kaleidoscope View”: while tending to her abundant garden, she says with a smirk and a hand on her hip, “The stress will kill him one day… and I’ll have everything to myself.” Created 11 years after “The American Dream,” this comic demonstrates a stylistic evolution for Farmer. Her inking is more audacious, demonstrating confidence through densely crosshatched, grotesque faces and more intricate environments. Farmer has continued to make comics, with her most recent graphic novel, Special Exits (2010), being amongst my favorites in recent years. Created over a period of 11 years, Special Exits is a graphic memoir that chronicles Farmer’s attempts in caring for her dying father and stepfather. She treats family, aging, and death with an empathetic candor that only a highly skilled and mature cartoonist could achieve, all while casting a critical eye on the American nursing home system. I have yet to find anything as emotionally complex and politically nuanced as Special Exits.

Wimmen’s and Tits & Clits, alongside other all-female Underground anthologies such as Twisted Sisters and Wet Satin, shared a goal of giving female artists a platform in the male-dominated Underground Comix movement. The legacy of this era of cartooning is complex: while some of the work from this era has not aged well, it introduced profound structural changes that have become foundational to indie comics today. By championing a DIY ethos of free expression, Underground Comix lowered the barrier to entry into the field and propelled women to participate. During this time, cartoonists such as Trina Robbins, Aline Kominsky-Crumb, Joyce Farmer, Lyn Chevli, Carol Tyler, and Terre Richards (a non-exhaustive list) produced provocative work that discussed menstruation, masturbation, sexuality, and motherhood; topics that no male cartoonist could cover. Free from expensive overhead and the Comics Code Authority, women carved out a pivotal role for themselves by shaping narratives grounded in their own lived experiences. From their contributions, a lineage of authentic voices in Alternative comics emerged, such as Phoebe Gloeckner, Julie Doucet, and Alison Bechdel, who built upon the groundwork laid by Underground Comix cartoonists by creating courageously honest and expressive work; catalyzing the ongoing evolution of comic art and cultural discourse.

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