In 1941, the comic-book world was introduced to a confident if slightly dweeby redhead named Archie Andrews. He stood smugly on top of a bicycle seat near a caption dubbing him “America’s boyfriend.” The feat was an attempt to impress his neighbor, a coquettish blonde looking on coyly. “You’re awful clever,” she marvels, flipping her blond tresses to and fro. She stands with her knees capped and her chest puffed out -- like a child, but with womanly curves.
Thankfully, times have changed in the past 75 years, and this sort of representation of women -- as wide-eyed, ego-boosting props -- wouldn’t fly today. But, until recently, the "Archie" series was woefully behind the times. Sure, there've been a few perplexing attempts to keep the franchise fresh; In "Archie Marries Veronica/Archie Marries Betty" our freckled hero dies, and in "Afterlife with Archie" he battles the undead.
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