A SPECIAL WORLD
Even in a pandemic, cosplayers with disabilities unleash their inner heroes.
“My legs don’t work as well as they should,” Omar Syed says. His mildmannered alter ego clerks at Michael E. DeBakey VA Medical Center. But in another universe, the man with cerebral palsy can emerge as Superman.
That universe is cosplay. In that realm, the Man of Steel can use a walker.
Common reactions to people with disabilities sometimes weaken their confidence like kryptonite. But in the realm of cosplay, with its dichotomy of character authenticity and “anything goes” attitude, these participants don self-actualization. They choose who they want to be.
“Cosplaying starts in a place of admiration for a character,” says
Syed, 39. “… If I like them or I can relate to them, I’ll want to play them.”
Whether they consider it a hobby or passion, all cosplayers do more than play dress-up; they inhabit a character. Those who use wheelchairs or walkers often incorporate them into their superhero, anime and gaming looks, creating conversation starters at comic-book conventions and similar events for self-described “geeks.”
Now, during the coronavirus pandemic, some in Houston are prepping for the next such festivals, whenever they may be.
“The biggest blow to my psyche was no Comicpalooza,” Syed recalls of the canceled Houston event normally held each May that draws 50,000-plus attendees. On the bright side, “I have more time to plan for next year.” In this fraught time, focusing on cosplay “keeps me busy and gives me a modicum of control.”
A couple of events are still on the books for now. Anime Matsuri, typically drawing over 40,000 to the George R. Brown Convention Center, is set for July 9-12. Specifically for the disabled, Abilities Expo showcases new equipment and presents workshops and entertainment, including a mock cosplay contest. It is July 31-Aug. 2 at NRG Center. Both are adopting health and safety protocols for visitors and staff.
Connecting Houston-area cosplayers with disabilities is CosAbility, a group dedicated to breaking down barriers for individuals to achieve their character inspirations. Many of its 1,000 members — who use walkers, wheelchairs, trach tubes or machines to breathe — take part in panels at comic-cons on topics such as how to make the most of a prosthesis in a costume.
“The cosplay community is really accepting,” says CosAbility co-founder Kirsten Passmore, who has cerebral palsy. “You’re more comfortable portraying a character that’s based on the positive traits you have. We form relationships in and out of costume.”
Sometimes Syed’s walker is just a mobility device; other times, it is part of the look. When he cosplayed a “Baywatch” lifeguard, he affixed an outline of the squad’s yellow pickup to both sides of his walker. As one of the “Ghostbusters,” Syed used it to support the poltergeist-catching proton pack. (Attention, newbies: Do not call it a backpack, lest you risk ridicule from those in the know.)
Passmore, 19, is a “Whovian” — that is, a “Dr. Who” devotee. She cosplays Davros, the series’ disabled evilgenius scientist who uses a life-sustaining mobility chair, by rigging a shell over her spare wheelchair — she has an everyday one for life as a Lone Star College student. She also has traveled the comic-con circuit as anime heroine Sailor Moon and antagonist Cinder Fall from web series “RWBY” (pronounced “Ruby”) — “my play on it was Cinder Fell,” she jokes.
“I noticed people weren’t staring at me because I’m a disabled person but because I had an awesome costume,” she says of the Davros look, in particular.
The performance element of cosplay is “something a lot of people with disabilities maybe aren’t normally invited to do,” Comicpalooza founder John Simon says. But when cosplayers regroup for next year’s event, they’ll find the same inclusive environment they always have.
“People with disabilities … have the same reasons for wanting to be there as anyone else,” Simon says. “Cosplay, for people who are really into it, provides craft, pride, a flight of fancy and industry. It can be really therapeutic.”
“There’s a tension between creating costumes that are true and really make people believe you’re that character, and reinterpreting it,” he says. In that vein, cosplayers in wheelchairs may realistically portray the paraplegic telepath Professor X from “The X-Men.” Or a woman, able-bodied or not, could play Captain America,
Simon notes. Cosplay dares people to be who they want to be, and “there’s lots of room for people to enjoy it.”
Anime Matsuri founder and chair Deneice Leigh says the annual celebration of anime and Japanese pop culture welcomes everyone. “These are your fellow anime nerds,” she says.
Leigh applauds the creativity of cosplayers with disabilities who’ve used braces as robotic arms or wheelchairs as Transformers. She welcomes a model for the festival’s fashion portion whose intellectual disability doesn’t prevent her from taking cues on the runway. And she delights in demos by a paraplegic gamer who’s attended every year for more than a decade.
“They’re already courageous enough to come. It builds confidence, seeing that they’re willing to help others see a different perspective of cosplay, and of just being human beings,” Leigh says.
One such Anime Matsuri participant is Luigi Garcia, 23, who has both intellectual and physical disabilities. Cosplaying with his mother, Peachy Villar-Garcia, brings them closer and puts a smile on his face. Last year, Villar-Garcia attended as Emilia opposite her son as Emilia’s feline mentorprotector Puck from graphic novel series “Re:Zero.” “Puck is more powerful than Emilia,” Villar-Garcia notes.
Anime is a family affair. Garcia’s mom and stepdad have tricked out his wheelchair’s spokes with vinyl covers that feature graphics from video game “Overwatch” to match those on their Hyundai SUV. It is their
itasha — Japanese for “pain car” because the bright colors can be painful to look at for “regular people,” she says with a laugh.
Garcia also joins his mother for charity events via Houston’s Causeplay Alliance Project, whose mission statement is: Empowering others to find the hero within. Its members attend fundraisers for groups such as Sunshine Kids, which supports young cancer patients.
Cosplay is for “like-minded people with the same interests. My son, too — he belongs. Even me, at my age, we know that anime is opening a lot of doors,” says Villar-Garcia, 51, who teaches ninth grade in Cypress-Fairbanks ISD and runs her school’s anime club.
Until comic-cons resume, social media and virtual conventions will have to do for the tight-knit CosAbility group, Passmore says. “Even if we had stronger immune systems, we would wait till we can all be together,” she says. And while stuck at home, there’s time to imagine new opportunities.
Syed says he plans to “up the ante” on his previous “Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.” costume for the next Comicpalooza. He has cosplayed Daniel Sousa, from TV series “Agent Carter,” who walks with a crutch and has a prosthetic leg. A bad guy tells Sousa he’s half a man and that the beautiful secret agent Peggy Carter will only pity him.
“I could relate to this character and how he’s trying to get through his life,” Syed says. When he was 7 or 8, a kid told him he couldn’t dress up as the Man of Steel. These days, cosplay is “so much more inviting.
“It’s nice that we’ve moved past being told, ‘You can’t be Superman because you can’t walk.’ ”
“A Special World” shares programs and experiences by and for the disabled community in Greater Houston. suzanne.garofalo@chron.com