In 1980, Carol Danvers was part of perhaps the most irresponsible story Marvel Comics has ever put to paper. The plot involved kidnapping, inter-dimensional roofies, and rape, and it ended with Danvers riding off into the sunset with her rapist as her Avengers teammates wiped away tears of joy.

Today, however, Carol Danvers is Captain Marvel, a feminist icon in her self-titled comic book. And in 2018, she is going to be Marvel's first female superhero since 2005 to have her own movie.

Danvers' rise through the Marvel-sphere is, in many ways, the story of women in comics in miniature. And it starts where those stories often started: with the woman as an admiring, leggy love interest.

The Girlfriend

Carol Danvers makes her first appearance in Marvel's Super-heroes no. 13, published in 1968. Written by Roy Thomas and drawn by Gene Conlan, Danvers is ostensibly a security officer at NASA's Cape Kennedy Space Center, but in actuality, she's primarily introduced as a "girl" who, to Captain Mar-Vell, a man who's actually a Kree alien, is as stunning as the heavily guarded aircraft.

"And, indeed, even the shock-resistant senses of Captain Mar-Vell are stunned by the awesome sight they behold," Thomas writes, comparing Danvers to a vehicle. It's a fossilized example of the comic book industry's archaic view of women, a view that was too often applied to Danvers.

Danvers wasn't the only superheroine marginalized in her first appearance. Jean Grey, an original X-Man, was introduced five years earlier in 1963 as Marvel Girl. Susan Storm, a member of the Fantastic Four, was introduced in 1961 as the Invisible Girl. And Black Widow, the only female Avenger to make it to the big screen so far, was just a "gorgeous new menace" in a dress (no costume) in her debut in 1964.

Comics have long been a mirror of American society. The ways women were introduced on the pages reflect how women were seen at the time. Grey and Storm were considered the weakest components of their teams and were bailed out often by their husbands and boyfriends. Black Widow, meanwhile, was a Russian femme fatale and thorn in Iron Man's side. Women were either there to play damsel in distress or to lure men into sexual temptation.

Danvers's primary role, despite being a NASA security chief and former Air Force officer, was to be a love interest. She was a supporting character, a trope really, who had a thing for Captain Mar-Vell but was harsher to his alter ego, Dr. Walter Lawson — a little bit like Superman's Lois Lane:

Extraordinary things were being done on the pages of Marvel comic books during the 1960s. Men built suits that could fly like planes. Some tapped into the mysteries of the universe with magic. One scaled buildings like a spider. Those things just weren't being done by women. Despite all this imagination and a realm of infinite possibilities, comic book writers, when it came to women, were still constrained by the shackles of real life and the social attitudes of the time.

Carol Danvers was used as a love interest for a long while — not unlike other female characters at the time. And though she's playing a stagnant role, it's an important one. It sets up the rest of her journey throughout the years.

2. A PSA for women's liberation

In 1970, Captain Mar-Vell's solo book was canceled, spelling a brief hiatus for Danvers. But the comic book industry was changing without her. The twin effects of the Civil Rights and women's liberation movements began making their mark in the minds of comic book writers and artists during the mid '60s. The comics and storylines created in this period — lasting into much of the '70s — were inclusive and empowering but often skewed toward heavy-handed prescriptivism. Sean Howe, author of Marvel Comics: the Untold Story explains:

The low-selling Captain America became Captain America and the Falcon, and the new African-American costar began warily dating, and debating, a shrill black militant named Leila. The Avengers tackled women's lib, the Sub-Mariner addressed ecological concerns, and the Incredible Hulk, Thor, and the Inhumans visited the ghetto. Where was the fun in that?

Carol Danvers was not exempt from this. She re-emerged in Ms. Marvel no. 1 in 1977, sporting the ability to fly, enhanced strength, a pre-cognitive "seventh sense," and a short, feathered bob. In that first comic book, writer Gerry Conway offers constant reminders that this woman is tough as nails:

Yet Ms. Marvel wasn't exactly breaking molds. Her powers fell into traditional superhero lore, and were similar to those initially borne by Superman. Ms. Marvel wasn't so much presenting an alternative to the patriarchy as she was embodying its ideals.

That may have had something to do with who was writing her. Conway isn't always great at expressing what he thinks about female characters. In 2013, when speaking at a Television Critics Association press tour panel, he said that "comics follow society. They don't lead society."

His work on Ms. Marvel and his treatment of Carol Danvers reflected that. The biggest conceit in the first issues of Ms. Marvel was that Danvers had no idea she was Ms. Marvel. Danvers would get a headache, then come to without any knowledge of the heroic stunts she just performed.

In short, Danvers was a bystander in her own comic.

But even though Conway had a tendency to be ham-fisted with Danvers, he did touch on aspects of Danvers's life as a career-oriented woman. She was frequently pitted against her boss, Jonah Jameson, who wanted to fill his women's magazine with empty-calorie fluff that he believed women "wanted":

In that first issue of Ms. Marvel, Conway broached the topics of equal pay, women in journalism, the topics women cover in journalism, "having it all," and balancing a love life with a career, all issues that remain topics of discussion 37 years on.

Though Danvers delivered strong, positive messages about how American society should treat women, the spirit of the character was missing. At times it felt as though she was a vessel for a public service announcement, rather than a unique character with the agency or autonomy that male superheroes routinely possessed. And the moments where she did something that truly defined her character were scant.

How men write women, and the rape of Ms. Marvel

In the years that followed, thanks to a push from legendary comics writer Chris Claremont, Danvers became a respectable and important character.

Under Claremont, Danvers's origin story was fleshed out — she was in an explosion that gave her Kree abilities — and she began appearing with teams like the Defenders and Avengers and heroes like Spider-Man. Claremont connected her previously disjointed two lives. Danvers held her own. She was confident. She was written as an actual person.

Her peers started becoming powerful and respected as well. Grey went from Marvel Girl to the Phoenix, one of the most powerful entities in the Marvel Universe. Storm was on her path to becoming the Invisible Woman (who would go on to arguably be the most powerful member of the Fantastic Four). And Black Widow finally had a costume and widow-like weaponry.

These breakthroughs would prove short-lived.

In 1980's Avengers no. 200, Danvers finds out she's seven months pregnant with a baby, despite not being pregnant the day before. Strange, father-less pregnancies aren't exactly anything to get up in arms over (see: the Bible). But as James Shooter, Marvel's editor-in-chief and lead writer on Avengers no. 200, would reveal, a villain named Marcus Immortus kidnapped Danvers against her will. Then, with the aid of machines, he more or less roofied her, impregnated her with a version of himself, and had her memory wiped:

Carol Strickland, a comics historian who wrote the brilliant essay,"The Rape of Ms. Marvel", points out that George Pérez's art just adds to the fecklessness of this issue.

"The artwork goes to great lengths — two close-up panels — to show Ms. Marvel's ecstasy during the pseudo-mating," Strickland wrote. "Another lesson to be learned from comics. It's okay to rape. Women enjoy rape."

Danvers's tale of cosmic kidnapping and rape gets worse. When she finds out the details of Marcus's plan, Danvers is angry. And she's frustrated that the other Avengers — many of whom are really happy this baby is being born — cannot grasp the concept that she's been, in her own words, "used":

As Strickland points out, this flash of anger is well-done. It's how you responsibly handle a scene like this in comic books, how you indicate that a character has been abused and violated against her will. However, later in the book, all this this anger is taken away from Danvers. She feels a soft-spot for Marcus and returns with him to his dimension:

This sudden change in Danvers's demeanor doesn't strike Earth's mightiest heroes as weird, even though they've heard her tale of brainwashing and rape. Her sudden shift in personality, even after acknowledging that some of it might be due to Marcus's inter-dimensional roofie machines, doesn't elicit any response from her friends or any attempt to talk her out of accompanying Marcus home. Instead, they let their compatriot walk into the sunset, and hope everything works out for the best:

This is perhaps the darkest moment in Danvers's history, even though the writing doesn't mean it to be. Danvers's fellow Avengers aren't written to be callous. The issue wasn't as scrutinized at the time as it is now — Strickland writes that she received negative feedback and was attacked after writing her essay in January of 1980.

The handling of Danvers's rape is a symptom of a male-dominated industry. There were no checks and balances, no other voices at Marvel. It was only a matter of time before that kind of story would be published, let alone published in a milestone issue of a comic. Claremont, who was responsible for writing Danvers and letting her flourish, was aghast.

"If that had been the point David [Michelinie; one of the writers of the book] was trying to make, that these other Avengers are callous boors, okay then, I may disagree with the point, but if he followed through on it, it would have made sense," Claremont wrote in The X-Men Companion II. "But it seemed to me, looking at the story, looking at the following story, that he was going for: 'This is how you respond to a pregnancy.'"

The power of Chris Claremont and the rise of Binary

Up until the mid '80s, the conversation surrounding Danvers's character had been more about what happened to her than about what she did on paper. She had too often been a character who was acted upon, rather than a character who acted.This changed with Chris Claremont's second run on the character.

Claremont, a graduate of Bard College, studied political theory and acting in school before interning at Marvel. His interest in political theory was evident when he began writing at the company full time. The clearest example is Claremont's crystallization of Magneto's motivations, showing how his religion and his background as a Holocaust survivor shaped his world view. These elements became fundamental to the character and were always alluded to, if not outright depicted, in the X-Men films.

Claremont was interested in scooping out the guts and marrow of each of his characters to make sense of them. He was paired with the editor Louise "Weezy" Simonson, who created the villain known as Apocalypse. Simonson was one of the few women working in comics at the time and remains a friend of Claremont's to this day. Dave Cockrum, Marvel's ringer at imagining new characters like Storm and Nightcrawler, costumes, and translating the spirit of science-fiction to comics was Claremont's trusted artist.

The three combined to make Uncanny X-Men legendary. And they also combined to give Danvers a new start. Claremont, disgusted with the way Ms. Marvel was treated, wrote a scathing scene in Avengers Annual no. 10 in which Danvers rips into the Avengers for not being there for her and sending her off into another dimension with her rapist:

Claremont continued Carol's journey in Uncanny X-Men no. 164, where he amplified her powers and gave her a new identity as the cosmic entity Binary. As Binary, Danvers could rip through space at light speed and tap into cosmic energies. Along with these powers, Claremont and his team gave Danvers a dream and the power to realize that dream:

The X-Men wanted Carol to join the team. But she had other plans.

"Returning with you means rejecting my heart's desire, but fulfilling that desire means leaving everyone, everything I love. Earth was Carol Danvers' home ... but I fear it has no place for Binary," she tells the X-Men, rejecting their offer of membership and simultaneously raising the stakes about important the dream of exploration is to her.

Danvers would eventually return to Earth under the alias Warbird, a shell of her cosmic self. The bright presence of Binary was dimmed figuratively, and literally, as Danvers's uniform was swapped for a black leotard. Experiencing burnout and depression from her powers and not being able to continue with her dream, Danvers, under the writing of Kurt Busiek, battled alcoholism, ultimately ending with her suspension from the team.

Though this was another nadir for Danvers, it was handled differently. We see her act out, lash out, and really express how she misses the power she had. It's dark, but it defines her.

Becoming Captain Marvel

In 2005, Marvel introduced its House of M/ Decimation crossover event. In that series, the Scarlet Witch warps reality, creating a new world based on the hopes and desires of the world's most powerful heroes. In this alternate reality, Danvers is the most famous hero in the world and operates under the title Captain Marvel — the name of her first comic book love interest.

It's one of the more revealing peeks at Danvers's unbridled ambition.

Though that world is a brittle fantasy, Captain Marvel becomes a reality for Danvers in 2012, under the wing of writer Kelly Sue DeConnick. In the first arc of Captain Marvel, DeConnick brings clarity to the character's messy plots and complicated history and focuses each issue on different aspects of Danvers's time in the Air Force, her dreams of exploring space, and what the title Captain Marvel means to her.

In the final chapter of the arc, Captain Marvel no. 6, Carol is traveling through time and is presented with the option to alter the Marvel timestream and live her life as a civilian, or sit passively and watch an explosion give her the powers she never asked for. It's a poetic move by DeConnick, and it gives Danvers agency, freeing her from a Forrest Gump-ish history where things would merely happen to her as an innocent bystander. DeConnick finally gives Danvers a choice:

DeConnick's Danvers isn't perfect. She's controlling, stubborn, and cocky. She's also selfless, hilarious, and loyal. It would be tempting, considering Danvers's history, to set her up as an avenging angel. But DeConnick is patient and makes her Danvers struggle for each victory. Watching Danvers trade in her leotard for her space captain uniform, and set the pages of artist Dexter Soy's shadowy, stylish world on fire is a fun ride.

In the second volume of Captain Marvel, DeConnick spells out what Claremont hinted at. Claremont crystallized Danvers's dreams of exploration. But DeConnick underlines them — and makes clear all Danvers must leave behind: her romantic interest, the people she loves, and her cat. Carol Danvers follows her dream again (and takes the cat).

Danvers doesn't go to space just because she wants to save the world. It's more than that. It's some mix of selfishness, ambition, ego, desire and selflessness. There is no guilt on Danvers's or DeConnick's part for choosing this path.

Danvers has amassed a fandom largely made up of women known as the Carol Corps. Fans, some of whom are decked out in home-stitched versions of Danvers's space captain uniform, will wait over two hours to see DeConnick speak, and when she does speak — usually words of encouragement to fans to keep their chins up — the entire room goes quiet.

"I'm always surprised at how the book comes up as being a paradigm-changer," DeConnick told me in September. "I don't think of it as that different. I just ... write the person."

DeConnick's approach to Danvers sounds simple enough. But consider for a moment the way Danvers has been presented to us throughout the years. In the '60s, she was compared to a spacecraft; the '70s were insistent on letting us know that she was a woman — and political symbol. The '80s had sent her away for her own good; the '90s saw her fall from grace. We've been waiting a long time to see this woman, this hero, as a person

Throughout DeConnick's run, Captain Marvel has been underscored by the tagline: "Higher, Further, Faster, More." It started as a declaration of Danvers's lust for life and her passion to push herself beyond her limits. With a movie lined up and DeConnick building a world of wonder for Danvers, "higher, further, faster, more" is now an expectation — and a promise of what's to come.