Cosplay is a transformative work of art created by a fan, just like fanart or fan fiction. It is a wearable representation of thought, time, money, energy, and passion for a single character and/or fandom.
Sometimes cosplay is created by the wearer. Sometimes cosplay is compiled, commissioned, or borrowed. It can be an elaborately hand-embroidered silk gown with articulated wings that can extend and retract, or it can be a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. There are no rules.
Well, sort of.
Cosplay, as a word, is the combination of the words “costume” and “play”, and the activity is intended to be a bit of both.
There is frequent debate around hobbyist costumers vs. cosplayers and if there is even a line between them. Costumers are people who create costumes and often wear them themselves. Cosplayers are people who create, purchase, or otherwise obtain a costume in order to dress as a particular character and “play” as them.
For the sake of this article, we’re going to say that there is a difference because if you are creating something purely for the practice of making it and the aesthetic of wearing it, the goal is different than if the whole point is to play as a character while wearing the costume.
Cosplay then, by this measurement, isn’t at all about the aesthetics or even really the costume itself. Obviously, the costume is part of the whole endeavor, but if the core tenet of Cosplay is the “play” part, then aesthetics matter less, right?
Not according to a very pervasive idea that has been perpetuated in Cosplay for a long time: people should only cosplay characters they look like.
No one would ever tell an artist that they can’t make fanart of something because their work doesn’t look just like the source material. No one in the history of fan fiction has let maintaining resemblance to the source material stop them from writing coffee shop alternate universe stories.
So why, then, should Cosplay be held to the same standard?
The answer is: it shouldn’t be.
Let’s break that down.
In the wider world, media is inundated by conversations about what is right and wrong in casting, especially in the world of adaptations of fan-beloved media. Is the next Chris going to be the perfect casting for the next hot male superhero? When will stories stop making disability the main feature of a character? Will they cast a BIPOC for a traditionally not-BIPOC role? How do we advance visibility for LGBTQ+ actors, artists, and stories? These are all important conversations we must have.
These conversations do not, however, dictate the roles you can choose for yourself. They especially should not be a reason for someone to be “wrong” for a particular cosplay.
In much the same way, the preconceptions of others should not be permitted to “cast” who can and can’t Cosplay a particular character. By that measure, only Gal Gadot or Lynda Carter could “correctly” Cosplay Wonder Woman because only they “look the part.” If the goal of Cosplay is not identical aesthetic reproduction of the original material, but rather to play as the character, why remain beholden to things like age, race, ability, gender, religion, or orientation?
Cosplay does not need to be a cinema-ready reproduction of the source material. It should be fun. That’s really it.
Those who perpetuate this myth of “correct cosplay” (looking like the original source material) shut the door on personally interpreted Cosplay. These people may not know it or intend it, but are also passing judgment on Cosplay as a whole, which has never truly been about identical reproduction. It limits which cosplays are available to which people, especially those who have underrepresented body types, visible disabilities, or are BIPOC. It limits the exploration of a character for those who aren’t exactly the same as the character already and leaves out the time-honored creative exploration of what it means to walk in someone else’s shoes.
Cosplay, at its core, is about creating a work of art that reflects, not reproduces, a piece of content that inspires you. That inspiration is not limited by things like gender, race, age, orientation, religion, or ability. It’s about wanting to embody that inspiration in the form of a character and interacting with other fans in that context. It’s about the feeling of engaging with other fans and sharing in a verbal and visual exchange of ideas about media that excites you.
It is up to the cosplayer to discover and critically examine the correct way to handle interpretations of a character to suit them individually. Each fan must learn what is acceptable to adapt to suit them and what should be changed to avoid appropriation or offensive stereotyping, and the community at large should help guide that. After all, the individual cosplayer is the artist of their own fanwork and is responsible for how they interpret the source material for their own body and vision.
