Jay Edidin is bedazzling saint candles as we talk. Adorned with the image of X-Men villain-cum-hero Emma Frost, “Our Lady of Weaponized Femme,” the candles represent one of many items for sale at Edidin and podcast partner Miles Stokes’ table at Flame Con 2018, the largest queer comics convention in the world — that is, in theory. “We sold out of almost everything [on the first day],” he explains, “so I had to run out and buy more candles this morning and frantically staple zines.”

Much of the enthusiasm for Edidin and Stokes’ wares, of course, stems from their fan-favorite podcast Jay and Miles X-Plain The X-Men, a project the comics professionals launched in 2014 to chart the entire history of Marvel’s merry mutants. The podcast naturally attracts passionate fans eager to partake in Edidin and Stokes’ quirky and intersectional superhero analysis, but at Flame Con, the enthusiasm seems particularly electric. It’s been less than two months since Edidin’s words sparked a Twitter outcry against comics publisher Dark Horse, whose company health insurance policies excluded transition-related care; unlike most outrage flare ups, though, this one got results.

The reversal of Dark Horse’s policy stands out as a landmark achievement in a subculture currently defined by rampant harassment and bullying of marginalized creators and fans, a much-needed source of momentum as the queer comics community galvanizes itself for more battles to come. We spoke with Edidin on the final day of Flame Con to discuss his long-awaited win, the bond he shares with his listeners, and his vision for the future of queer comics.

So, today has been pretty frantic.

The first day of Flame Con made it our best show ever, sales-wise. And that includes four-day shows. It’s been phenomenal, but it’s also been nonstop.

You were tweeting the other day about Flame Con and the atmosphere here…

I love it so much. I hear people worrying about being too straight to go to Flame Con, and I think the important thing to understand is that Flame Con is not a con for queer people, it’s a place where queerness is centered in the way that straightness is invisibly centered at most conventions. Being in a space where such a central aspect of all our experiences of life, media, all these things are treated as the default rather than the exception is so amazing. This is the only convention where we’ve not had people come up to our table to challenge us about X-Men trivia. We have more passing “you’re amazing” conversations than ever before. Knowing that this space even could exist was pretty life-shaping.

What effect do you think Flame Con is going to have on comics culture at large?

It’s a really active and radical demonstration of the fact that this kind of thing is possible. That we are this numerous, that we can make spaces like this and they can thrive. I know the better part of the population here is self-selecting, but this is proof of concept to publishers, that we are a relevant and viable market and population who are actively seeking content and context that reflects our experiences.

And, more pivotally than anything it could communicate outside, it tells us that we have this community, that we’re not alone. When you’re a marginalized person in a community — or a culture in general, but especially one that’s as aggressively and performatively straight as geek culture often gets — it’s really easy to feel isolated. The internet’s made a big difference for that, but having a physical space where people ask for pronouns as a default, where we can get excited about the things we get excited about and not have to justify or explain our lives and identities at the same time. That’s so powerful and so affirming, and I couldn’t really have imagined the difference it made until I experienced it. I go to Pride and — actually, I hate Pride because I get misgendered more there than anywhere else. But I go to TDOA (Trans Day of Action) and that’s great, but just having a space where we can do our things and just be is a complete paradigm shift, and it’s a radical shift in my sense of what’s possible and what I have a right to expect.