My colleague Zack Ford flagged an interview with New England Patriots tight end Rob Gronkowski, in which he says he’d be fine with a gay teammate, and correctly noted that comments like this are critically important in setting a tone and creating an environment in which someday, an active professional athlete will come out. But for me, the most interesting part of the interview was the context reporter Cyd Zeigler Jr. provided for it.

Gronkowski initially refused on comment because “Gronk said he had no problem with me, he was just afraid of saying something wrong. I understood where he was coming from. While he’s been the darling of the media at times since first appearing in the NFL in 2010, he’s also been the target of some nasty attacks by the media and fans. It seems every time he opens his mouth or appears in the media, he gets roasted for it.” But he changed his mind, came back and answered Zeigler’s question about how he’d handle a gay teammate, and did just fine. We’ve reached a tipping point where neutrality on gay rights is becoming a riskier proposition than affirmation, the kind of thing it’s worth composing yourself to comment on even if you’ve got a history of press trouble. It’s important to be on the record on this, and to preserve your position on the right side of history.

The Olympics are a huge, sprawling event, and every time they happen, I struggle to decide what to make appointment television. But this year, I want to keep tabs on six women. Not all of them have shots at medals, though a number of them do. But I’m excited to see them compete, not just because they’re tremendous athletes, but because they’re sparking important conversations about women’s participation in sports in the first year that every country competing in the games will be represented by both women and men, and that the United States is sending more female athletes to the games than men.

1. Sarah Robles: We’re pretty psyched that our petition inspired online ad company Solve Media to sponsor Robles, the strongest woman in the United States. And as much as it’s unfortunate that Robles had to get by on $400 a month, the news that she was sponsorless sparked an important conversation about which Olympians get financial support and public attention, and why. Plus she’s funny and classy on questions of sexism and her career. But most importantly, she’s unbelievably, mind-blowingly strong. We can’t wait to see her overpower the competition.

2. Gabby Douglas: The 16-year-old from Virginia Beach has lived away from her family for two years to train for the Olympics. And while she isn’t favored for All-Around gold in London, she’s in the hunt, beating favorite Jordyn Wieber in the trials that got them both spots to the games. Olympic gymnastics have traditionally been dominated by American and Eastern European teams and individuals, and the number of women of color who have picked up individual gold medals in gymnastics is small: Chinese gymnasts He Kexin on uneven bars and He Wenna on the trampoline in 2008, Lu Li on the uneven bars in 1992, Ma Yanhong on the uneven bars in 1984, Hong Un Jong, who picked up North Korea’s first Olympic medal with a gold in the vault in 2008. No black woman’s ever taken home an individual gold medal in Olympic gymnastics (Douglas is the first African-American on the American women’s team since 2000), and it’ll be exciting to see if the immensely likable Douglas can be the first.

3. Sarah Attar and Wodjan Ali Seraj Abdulrahim Shahrkhani: Saudi Arabia’s done everything it can to downplay the fact that the International Olympic Committee required the country to send its two female Olympians—Attar in the 800-meters, Shahrkhani in judo—to the London games, including not reporting their inclusion on the team in state-sponsored media. And some commentators have suggested that the regime will use their participation as a distraction while it cracks down on women’s rights in other arenas of Saudi life. But the Olympics are about celebrating the best that every country has to offer, even if the country itself doesn’t recognize the talents and aspirations of its own people. We should cheer Attar and Shahrkhani as a way of praising a vision of Saudi Arabia where female athletes like them don’t have to pursue their dreams abroad.

4. Khadija Mohammed: Just 17 years old, Mohammed defied cultural expectations and history to become the first woman from a Gulf state to qualify for Olympic weightlifting, and the first woman from the United Arab Emirates to qualify for the Olympics without needing to receive an invitation from the IOC. Her family’s been publicly supportive, and unlike Saudi Arabia, so has the head of the UAE’s weightlifting federation. And while this has been a challenge in other sports, like soccer, Mohammed will be able to wear a one-piece uniform that covers her hair after the International Weightlifting Federation approved the new styles. It’s a nice reminder that participation is the key goal here, not participation on purely Western terms. Mohammed isn’t expected to contend for a medal this year, but it’s only the beginning of her career.

5. Yelena Isinbayeva: One of the reasons women’s gymnastics has met with some criticism is the youth of the competitors, and the fact their careers are over so early. Isinbayeva, who was considered too tall to be a gymnastic competitor, switched over to pole vault, where she’s broken her own world records again and again. Whether she can recover from two tough years on the competition circuit and a break is one of the big, exciting questions in the track and field competition this year. But whatever the results are, Isinbayeva is an astonishing athlete, and a reminder that young female gymnasts need not be stuck as little girls in pretty boxes.

I’ve written many, many posts about what it means that we’re obsessed with television’s anti-heroes, the archetype that’s dominated and defined the medium’s decade-long rise to serious critical acceptance and analysis. Whether it’s a demonstration—and test—of our moral flexibility, as in The Sopranos, an exploration of what our obsession with an archetype means when taken to its logical conclusion like The Shield, or a tool for illustrating what our political preconceptions blind us to, as in The Wire, there are good reasons to be fascinated with men from Tony Soprano to Walter White. But those good reasons also mean that women have been locked out of the rise of television, whether because we’re uncomfortable seeing women behave as pathologically and methodically as men, as with Patty Hewes on Damages, or because while we find active male anti-heroism fascinated, we’re repulsed by the feminized version of inactive, self-undermining indecisiveness, as some viewers were with Girls.

So yesterday in Slate, I wrote about a lesser-explored figure in the anti-hero universe: the anti-hero’s wife. Specifically Breaking Bad‘s Skyler White, and why people hate her so much:

I think Skyler sees Walt as we’re meant to see him: a self-deluding, pathetic man, but a dangerous one. She punctures the fantasy that there’s anything admirable left about Walter White, that we should still root for the man who fought back against illness and emasculation with a pork pie hat and chemistry. But even if Skyler has a moral clarity that those of us who want to identify with Walt as a badass would like to deny, she can’t easily act on it. She has an infant daughter and an ill son to protect, and her husband is a man who boasts of killing legends, who’s used physical force to establish his dominance over her before. It’s hard enough for women who aren’t married to evil geniuses to leave abusive relationships. Skyler is attempting to negotiate a livable existence for herself in highly unusual circumstances. And her steel is hardening every day.

Women in anti-hero shows may be voices of morality, but they’re also cast, to a certain extent, as spoil-sports. It’s Claudette Wyms who’s a constant reminder that there’s nothing cute or charming about Vic Mackey’s behavior, even as he makes busts and acts as catnip for an endless string of babe. In Sons of Anarchy, part of the tragedy of Tara’s experience is the capture of her independent voice by SAMCRO—in smashing her repaired hand and giving up her career as a surgeon, she’s also relinquishing her chance to act as a reminder to Jax of the other life he could be having. This is a critically important role, but it’s one that makes some people itchy and irritated because it’s not fun, it’s a reminder that you’re indulging, maybe even falling prey to something ugly and unpleasant that you wish you could just enjoy.

Deadwood‘s one of the few prestige shows where the women get to be at least as fun as the men, and where male brutality is presented as ugly rather than witty. Watching Cy bully Joanie is never fun—her depression is more sympathetic than his violent need for control. Francis Wolcott’s compulsions aren’t some Dexter-ian fascination: they’re vicious and pathetic. When he’s confronted, Hearst doesn’t marvel at Wolcott’s evil, he’s disgusted. The show doesn’t pull us into a romance with a bad person and then make a woman do the work of puncturing our fascination with him.

Marvel announced its slate of movies and their release dates at San Diego Comic Con. But it’s remarks by Marvel co-president Louis D’Esposito that are making waves in some circles. He told MTV of Guardians of the Galaxy and Black Panther that:

“That would be Marvel in space,” he said. “That’s a great concept and a great idea, and potentially one of our films in the future.” Another possible candidate is “Black Panther,” a superhero story that centers on T’Challa, the defender of a fictional African nation called Wakanda.

“He has a lot of the same characteristics of a Captain America: great character, good values,” said the Marvel exec. “But it’s a little more difficult, maybe, creating [a world like Wakanda]. It’s always easier basing it here. For instance, Iron Man 3 is rooted right here in Los Angeles and New York. When you bring in other worlds, you’re always faced with those difficulties.”

It’s silly to say that it’s easier to build a visual and conceptual Wakanda—especially given BET did it in the Black Panther animated series—than Asgard, or a Skrull warship. But D’Esposito, in a sort of clumsy way, seems to be talking around some beliefs embedded in Hollywood conventional wisdom: that it’s easier to sell white men as brawling gods than black men as hugely technologically advanced leaders of foreign nations.

One of the things that’s bracing about BET’s cartoon adaptation is that it’s so directly about the racism of that disbelief. You’ve got white American officials who say things like “Where do a bunch of savages get off telling us they have a no-fly zone? What are they going to do, throw spears at our jets?” and a World War II-era Black Panther who brushes off Captain America’s offer of help with invading Nazis by telling him “You can go home now. I’ve already taken out the garbage.” In this interpretation, T’Challa’s the rare kind of superhero who can call out systemic ills in Western society, rather than relying on their continued existence to give him purpose. “The fact that every conversation here is framed in terms of profit and power says everything,” he says in the cartoon. “Why cure a disease when people pay for medicine?”

As thrilling as it would be to see those contradictions and assumptions challenged in a big-screen movie with all the power of Marvel’s brand and marketing department behind it, I’m not really surprised that Marvel’s finding excuses to demur. American audiences like seeing American superheroes and American presidents beat back alien invasions, to see America as the sophisticated country that stands as a bulwark between humanity and everyone else. We can put up with Asgardians because they’re on our side, Thor’s promise to protect the earth mediated by his partnership with Captain America, and representations of American superiority in industry, military might, and science, Tony Stark, Captain Fury, and Bruce Banner and Jane Foster. Blade can protect humans from the decadence of vampire torturers, ravers, raisers of evil Gods and breeders of abominations, but he’s an affirmation of our goodness rather than a critique of our society. That’s not to say that there isn’t evil out there that needs taking care of, and I appreciate the Blade franchise’s attention to the vulnerability of homeless people. But it’s easier to sell superheroes of any color who emphasize our common humanity than those who point our failures, whether it’s T’Challa in Africa or Luke Cage in Harlem.

I was sorry to read yesterday the news that Donald J. Sobol, the creator of the iconic children’s book character Encyclopedia Brown, had died at 87. Created in 1963, Encyclopedia and his best friend and detective agency business partner Sally Kimball were terrific models models of genre-busting characters— Encyclopedia is smart rather than a fighter, while Sally is effectively a ten-year-old action hero—and wonderful illustrations of the pleasures of exercising intellect and strength.

One of the things that the Encyclopedia Brown books do that’s somewhat rare in children’s stories is give us a hero who understands how the world reacts to his extraordinariness. The stories are always careful to point out that while Encyclopedia helps his father, the chief of police, solve mysteries, his assistance is a closely held family secret, on the grounds that Encyclopedia’s assistance might seem implausible or open him to resentment for ridicule. It’s not that Encyclopedia is pretending to be dumb, but he is aware that his intellect can be a way of alienating people rather than bring him closer. In one story, in which little old ladies ask him for help on their crossword puzzles, we learn that “He always waited a moment. He wanted to be helpful. But he was afraid that people might not like him if he answered their questions too quickly and sounded too smart.” And certainly bully Bugs Meany’s enmity for Encyclopedia is rooted in a dislike of his intelligence, the fact that Encyclopedia’s living a life governed not by the rules of kid-land, but by his ability to function in the adult world.

But even though the stories are cautionary, they’re full of feedback loops that emphasize the pleasure of using your brain. Every story ends with a teaser that encourages the reader to spot what Encyclopedia did, too, a mechanism that lets you feel the satisfaction of noticing what others don’t. Even if the book can’t fully immerse you in Encyclopedia’s victories, that setup gives the reader direct access to at least some of his emotions. In the text itself, Encyclopedia’s wins give him access to all sorts of status, whether it’s the ability to do good in his community, the respect of his family, and a relationship with the most attractive girl in town precisely at the time when such friendships between boys and girls are becoming fraught and complicated.

And oh to be Sally Kimball, whose looks are always mentioned in the context of her physical prowess, as in “Sally was the prettiest girl in the fifth grade and the best athlete.” She’s a constant combatant of Bugs Meany, who “would have liked to get even with Encyclopedia by punching him in the eye four or five times. But he didn’t dare—for two reasons. The first reason was the quick left fist of pretty, ten-year-old Sally Kimball. The second reason was Sally’s right. It was evenq uicker than her left. One day Sally had seen Bugs bullying a Cub Scout. ‘Stop it!’ she had creid, hopping off her bike. ‘Go powder your nose,’ Bugs had jeered. Zam went Sally’s right.” Watching Sally stand up not just to Bugs, who is a jerk, but to the idea that she should pack away her strength at a certain age and go be pretty instead, is a delight. And as much as Sally champions Encyclopedia, he gives back to her, too, as in stories where he realizes that a boy has been staging fake fights to impress Sally. Maybe their friendship will last into high school. Maybe it will falter, or turn into something else entirely. But I love the idea of a boy and girl who have each other’s backs against both immediate threats to their town and to more insidious threats to the idea that they should value their own best qualities.

I’m relieved to know that I can apparently go back to thinking of Louis C.K. as the person I thought he was—though with some newly-acquired doubts about his taste in comedy—after his appearance on The Daily Show last night. Apparently, I—and the people who thought he was mocking Daniel Tosh—was wrong to interpret his Tweet to Tosh praising his television show, sent in the teeth of a…er…vigorous conversation about Tosh’s response to a woman at a show who told him rape jokes weren’t funny, as a show of support. And I’ve rarely been more glad to be wrong. C.K. apparently sent the Tweet while he was on vacation in Vermont, inspired by an episode of Tosh.0 that amused him, and not meant to condone Tosh’s actions at all, given that C.K. was largely offline and was unaware of them (an excuse that if it was anyone else, I’d probably be skeptical of, but that I’m willing to do C.K. the credit of believing). C.K. explained that chain of events—as of the original writing of this post, I thought he’d deleted the relevant tweet, but apparently it’s still in his timeline—and explained his reaction to the controversy since. Watch it:

The key bit is here:

It’s also a fight between comedian and feminists, which are natural enemies, because stereotypically speaking, feminists can’t take a joke…And on the other side, comedians can’t take criticism…I’ve read some blogs during this whole thing that have made me enlightened to things I didn’t know. This woman said how rape is something that polices women’s lives. They have a narrow corridor. They can’t go out late, they can’t go to certain neighborhoods, they can’t get a certain way, because they might get—That’s part of me now that wasn’t before. And I can still enjoy a good rape joke…This is also about men and women…Couples are fighting about Daniel Tosh and rape jokes. That’s what I’ve been reading on blogs. But they’re both making a classic gender mistake on this. Because the women are saying ‘This is how I feel about this.’ But they’re also saying ‘My feelings should be everyone’s primary concern.’ But the men are making this mistake, they’re saying ‘Your feelings don’t matter. Your feelings are wrong, and your feelings are stupid.’…To the men I say, ‘Listen. Listen to what the women are saying for a minute.’ And to the women, I say ‘Now that we heard you, now shut the fuck up for a minute.’

The way C.K. talks about his education in rape culture is the kind of thing that’s made me extend him so much credit in the past—even though, yes, to all the people who’ve sent me disturbing bits he’s done in the past, I’m aware—and the reason I’m willing to reup here. His curiosity is interesting to me, and I think it makes the women in Louie‘s audience, and the audience for C.K.’s shows feel like, even if C.K. crosses our personal lines, there’s a chance that he’s working through something in a way that will be useful to both him and us. And if I thought we could get the same deal he’s proposing here—folks who have been impacted by and have a direct stake in an issue talk, people who are less directly impacted listen, we give them room to think it through—more generally, I’d take it.