Remembering Trina Robbins

Trina Robbins was larger than life, a force of nature whose impact on comics, on feminism, and on social movements spanned generations.  

Her works inspired dozens of historians, hundreds of comic creators, and millions of readers. Presented here is a selection of tributes shared by scholars, artists, and friends, including some of the people who knew Trina best.

All photos courtesy of Casey Robbins and all art by Trina Robbins unless otherwise noted.

Lee Marrs

(cartoonist)

I first met Trina when I hired her to do the Panthea series for Alternative Features Service in 1971. The series was not a success. But we stayed in touch. When Ron Turner told me a bunch of women were gonna meet at Pat Moodian’s house to do a comic book together, I immediately was on board. So Trina and I joined several others to form the Women’s Comix Collective and produce Wimmen’s Comix. That began decades of being on panels together, various events where we were both guests, international exhibits, etc. Whenever Trina was putting together a comic, I joyfully joined in. Whenever Trina was putting together a project, I was in.

The woman had more energy than Niagara Falls. Although we disagreed A LOT, that made for good panels. I still can’t believe she’s gone. For a majority of my life, she’s been on the phone complaining, or arranging some grand pooba project or announcing a dinner for some comics dignitaries. To say that she’ll be sorely missed is an understatement.

Gene Ha

(cartoonist)

Not one to sit around and moan, Trina was always ready to TAKE ACTION. That's how she recruited me and my wife Lisa to donate a story to her Won't Back Down GN fundraiser for Planned Parenthood. Here's the first time I saw Trina stand up against idiocy.

In 2015, my Artist Alley table was around the corner from writer Marguerite Bennett. Word spread that a male art college instructor had held an all-male Women In Comics panel. At a show where Trina Robbins was a guest! Marguerite was NOT amused. Along with Trina and other female comics creatives, I watched them organize a fabulous Women in Comics panel for the very next day. Despite not being on the printed con schedule, I heard it was packed and triumphant. Truly awe-inspiring to behold. Thank you for that, and for all you did, Trina! Lisa and I love you so much.

* * *

Rebecka Hernandez Wright

(cartoonist)

She was always, always unapologetically herself, and that's something to which we should all aspire. She was so welcoming to and supportive of young artists/writers/editors. She was also argumentative and opinionated. And, as so many have pointed out, usually right.

She told me a few times that she felt her artwork was dismissed by many (male) cartoonists, and only felt she was accepted in the field when she was writing. By writing, I think she meant her many histories/herstories, but I could have misunderstood. That shocked me a little, because her artwork is phenomenal. Sometimes her style contained some retro elements, but she certainly wasn't the only underground cartoonist to pull from the past

I worked with her on several issues of Wimmen's Comix from 1986 onward. She was always enthusiastic about including new artists, something not everyone in the collective can say. Partly, I think she was enthusiastic about having other people on board to do the boring stuff.

Mario and I also contributed a story to her California Girls comic series. She was gleeful about it, which was lovely. After it came out, I was at Gary Arlington's shop and a man was there with his kids, buying a superhero comic for his son. I put the California Girls comic in his (very bored) daughter's hands, and she absolutely lit up. I thought, "Trina, that's what it's all about, isn't it?"

* * *

Keith Knight

(cartoonist)

It's hard to explain how much Trina Robbins reigned supreme over the Bay Area Comics Kingdom. If I was lucky enough to run into her at an event, I'd always make sure to say hello and hear her drop some funny, insightful quip about the comix goings-on. I dug her voice, which lives rent-free in my head, telling me my comix are still too wordy. If we are judged by the company we keep, look no farther than Trina's partner in crime, the great Steve Leialoha, as proof of Trina's awesomeness. R.I.P.

* * *

Pam Harrison

(Chief Editor ICC Magazine)

My dear friend Trina Robbins, the legendary "Last Girl Standing" has taken the last train out to Valhalla to join other legends of Indie comics. I loved her, like so many did, because of her fearless and progressive nature and attitudes dating back to the 60s. I found her comics at an early age and dreamed of being so free. She was the FIRST female artist to draw Wonder Woman.

We had a talk back in 2019 over a chance discussion about animal cruelty which later became A Tale of Two Turtles. We recounted this discussion later in a once in a lifetime interview together where we celebrated our sameness and talked about her incredible days as an indie comic artist from the 60s to present.

Unfortunately I am one of the few who never got to meet Trina in person. But we chatted candidly online, and I was able to get that interview with her for ICC Magazine. I will treasure it forever. My grandfather, who worshiped Wonder Woman since the 1940s, would have been ecstatic to learn of our chat.

You were SO relatable and easy to talk to, Trina. You were no snob. You were every woman's heroine, someone we should all aspire to be. You are so beloved in the comic universe. And you will be so missed. I love you.

Continue to inspire indie comics people forever after. It feels trite to tell you to rest in peace. Seeing you in pink pussy hats, carrying protest signs for decades, marching in Pride parades.... I can't tell you to "rest in peace." That was not your way. You were always backing everyone who needed love and support. We love you and I hope to be half the woman you were. You inspire us all. Goodnight, Trina. 

Rebecca Wilson

(cartoonist)

Trina was the first underground cartoonist I met when I moved to San Francisco in early 1974 and she changed my life. My comics-fan boyfriend had showed me It Aint Me Babe a few years earlier and I had devoured it, falling in love with Trina's polished style. In 1973 a college friend of mine interviewed Trina for a Women's Studies class she was taking at UC Berkeley and noticed that Trina had a poster I had done for Amorphia Rolling Papers hanging in her bathroom. When my friend mentioned it, Trina told her to have me get in touch as they were always looking for contributors for Wimmen's Comix. At that time I was living unhappily in Baltimore and planning to move to the Bay Area where several friends had landed, so that invitation was just the catalyst I needed.

Trina introduced me to her roommates Sharon Rudahl and Leslie (now Zavier) Cabarga and we all immediately bonded over a shared love of art deco, vintage fashion, feminism, and cats. Trina and I discovered we also had similar taste in men (you know who you are, but my lips are sealed -- wink!) They were operating loosely under the name Naturally Curly Studios and made me an honorary member since I shared a similar style and the necessary physical attribute. Once I was visiting for dinner and offered to read a bedtime story to Trina's daughter Casey, who was 3 or 4. Casey chose a book which I recognized as being from the China Books store on 24th St, which were inexpensive and always beautifully illustrated but filled with not-too-subtle Maoist doctrine. When I got to the page where the good little children worship the picture of Chairman Mao, I changed the words to "Being good little robots, they..." and Casey immediately started howling, "They are NOT robots!" Trina came running to see what was upsetting Casey and I explained. Trina laughed and said, "Yeah, I usually just skip that page."

They took me to a meeting of the Underground Cartoon Workers of America in the basement of Spain's house on Bernal Heights and I suddenly found myself one of the few women in a room with almost every underground cartoonist I'd ever heard of. I sat there slack-jawed, too shy to say a word. I soon became part of the Wimmen's Comix collective, doing a story in issue #4 and the cover of issue #5. The meetings were inspiring, the artists passing around what we were working on, sharing suggestions and tips, looking through work submitted through the mail and getting to know each other. The comic had a rotating editorship and issue themes were chosen collectively. I was assigned to co-edit issue #6 for which the theme was women in American history in honor of the 1976 Bicentennial. I recruited Shary Flenniken (who had not previously contributed to Wimmen's) to do the Betsy Ross cover but was too busy with editorial duties and other projects to do more than an inside cover myself, which featured infamous American women (Bonnie Parker, Carrie Nation, Lizzie Borden, Squeaky Fromme) in EC style. 

When Trina launched Wet Satin, I designed the logo and contributed a back cover under the pen name Rainy Day Blues. I did a cover for Manhunt for Terry (now Terre) Richards and when High Times asked me to organize a 7-page section of women's humor for the May 1977 issue, I asked Terry to co-edit it. We included several of the Wimmen's artists -- Trina contributed a one-page strip and Sharon did a sci-fi story for which I did a full-page illustration.

When Trina and Leslie bought the house on 15th Street, I moved into the flat they were vacating on Guerrero St which eventually I shared with Paul Mavrides, my old high school pal from Akron, OH, and Hal Robins, who still live there today. After Sharon, Leslie, and eventually I, too, moved away from SF, Trina and I continued to get together regularly. A typical date included showing each other what we were working on, petting the current cats, and then heading out into the Mission to hit our favorite thrift stores, grab a burrito, and sometimes drop by to visit Gary Arlington's comics shop.

Trina knew everyone, and really enjoyed connecting people with each other. My flat served as overflow accommodations for people visiting her from all over the world and when I traveled in Europe, she connected me with lots of people there who also became close friends. Once when I was house-sitting for her, Rick Griffin was suddenly killed in a motorcycle accident. Ben Fong-Torres called to get a quote from Trina about him. I said I didn't know if Trina had known Griffin and he assured me she did. When I broke the news to Trina upon her return home, she was crushed. It turned out she had seen Griffin recently at a Neil Young concert. Her heart immediately went out to his pregnant girlfriend and within minutes she was on the phone offering whatever support the bereaved expectant mom needed.

Trina was always extremely generous with her time, her encouragement, and her advice, which was usually worth listening to. She became close with my friend Michael Goldberg, who followed me out from Baltimore, and together they and Michael's husband, Jim Sutherland, took charge of the kitchen at my potluck wedding in 1987, for which I'll always be eternally grateful. When I moved east with my husband, Trina sent adorable thrift store finds for our daughter. She was an enthusiastic grandmother and was thrilled when Casey and Tabby moved into the apartment downstairs to have three generations under one roof.

Trina was one of the few people I know who continued to volunteer for progressive causes her whole life. Not just organizing comics, though she did lots of that, too -- she was always out there for every march and never too proud to staff a phone line, address envelopes, and do the other grunt work any good cause requires. I will miss comparing notes with her about our various political activities but I know she's out there somewhere egging me on.

Trina's life force was so strong that it's hard to imagine the world without her. Even breast cancer didn't take her down for very long. In my last email exchange with her in October 2023, I asked if she was still tap-dancing and doing hula. She wrote: "Alas, I'm simply not in good enough shape to tap anymore. I haven't yet given up on hula at some time in the future, but currently (for the last month) I am afflicted with some weird thing that affects my balance. I've had a zillion tests and nobody seems to know what the hell it is. The only positive thing is that the tests have shown absolutely no tumors, so that means at least I ain't dyin'."

Trina, I know you're out there dancing and partying in some stunning outfit, getting everyone organized around whatever cause needs fixing in the afterlife, and I'm counting on you to introduce me around when I get there. I miss you, my friend!

Kristy Valenti

(writer/editor)

I’ve worked with Trina on several books as an editor at Fantagraphics and The Comics Journal. Like many, as a young person, her 1980s–1990s books about women cartoonists helped me realize a life in comics was possible for me. Strangely enough, the form that took is primarily in editing/writing about nonfiction comics and nonfiction prose about comics. It was a privilege to contribute a chapter to her work Pretty in Ink.

It is because of this 20+ year career that Trina helped inspire that what I find most extraordinary about her as an individual is that she never stopped fighting. It is easy to get worn down by the workload and the world, and, simply, she never did. She fought for what was right her whole life until its end with as much passion and energy and clarity of purpose as people generally have when they are young. Among her many talents, that is her greatest, and what truly made her one of the Greats.

I never knew Trina well, only through work.  When I arrived in San Francisco in 1971 and began working with the Air Pirates studio, Trina was already the goddess Queen of the undergrounds. She was a mythical being - Beautiful, super talented, and wildly successful. I was awestruck and considered her untouchable.

It was years before I came to see Trina as the warm and funny woman she was.  But wow, she was still awesome, a relentless dynamo when it came to researching and reporting on the work of other female artists. She opened her arms and brought my good friend Becky Wilson and several other talented women into the elite fold of San Francisco cartoonists. She was a great person in many respects.  I hope she knew how influential she was.

* * *

(cartoonist)

The story that I had in mind happened right after a panel at the Cartoon Art Museum. Probably about a dozen people, all the women on the panel–it might have been one of the panels about Jewish women cartoonists, perhaps, where we were arguing about whether that’s a thing or not, or whether that should be a thing…and Trina was on the “it doesn’t matter if you’re Jewish or not” side, and I felt there was at least a responsibility to be funny. Just because that’s kind of traditional. But it didn’t matter, it was an interesting conversation.

There used to be a Chevy’s restaurant around the corner, and about a dozen of us went out, and sat at a really big table. Back in the early 2000s. I had this new boyfriend, who was very cute, but kind of an asshole. He was very serious. He was a coder. I had to explain humor to him a lot.

Trina was telling everybody there was going to be an exhibit of our work at a museum in Vienna, a beaux arts museum. A major museum.

The opening that we had there, we were going to be hanging right next to Gustav Klimt, and a lot of people who’d inspired us. It was a big deal.

So Trina’s telling the table about it, and a few of us at the table are from Wimmen’s Comix, and she says it’s going to be wonderful, you should go, there’s going to be a bunch of us there. And this new boyfriend I had, said, in a kind of dopey way, “oh, that would be really fun.” I asked if he’d be interested, and he said “yeah, I’ve never been to Europe.”

And from across the table came this voice. Trina’s voice. She stopped dead in her conversation, turned around and looked at us, and she looked at him and said, “WHAT? You’ve never been to EUROPE? What’s WRONG with you?” That voice of hers.

She and I shared a lot of background. Both from Queens, both Jewish, and speaking a little louder than other people, because of the Queens part. I felt like I understood her in a way that a lot of other people didn’t, because we had that same background. People said she talks loud, a little screechy, and I’d say, “that’s just being from Queens.”

The other thing about that, is she was very international. If there was a comic show, a book show, a museum exhibit–she would make that happen. And I appreciate that, if you get to travel, that’s fabulous.

Our trip, a month later, in the spring. Steve was along on the trip. He’s super-devoted to Trina, totally nice about it. I have never heard him say even one single sarcastic thing against Trina, ever. He’s a great boyfriend, he’s adorable.

So we go to Vienna, we have this opening, and we hung out with them a lot. I was so glad they were there, since my boyfriend turned out to be just a jerk. “Thank God you’re here!” I told her.

After the reception, our hosts took us all out to a nice dinner. They didn’t pay my way over there, but they were very good hosts. Joyce Farmer was there, a few other cartoonists. And Steve and Trina, across the table from us. Jeff and I were sitting next to the director of the museum. There were a couple of things going on. The director tells us that we’re going to have the most authentic Viennese food at the most authentic Viennese restaurant he could find, and he wanted to introduce us to Viennese food. We said, “that’s great!”

And the first dish was rolls of cabbage, stuffed with meat and rice. And Trina and I looked at each other and said, “stuffed cabbage!” Because this is Jewish food, so we grew up with this stuff. The next dish was lightly-fried potatoes, flattened out–and we yelled out, “latkes!” All this Eastern European food. A very jovial dinner.

The director turns to Jeff and I and asks what made us decide to come to his museum. I said, “well, I’ll go to Europe for anything.” And Jeff said, “we were at the Cartoon Art Museum for this panel, and we were all having dinner, and when I mentioned that I hadn’t been to Europe before, Trina said, ‘oh, you should come with us.’” And we’re talking at kind of a low, conversational tone, but then, from across the table, mild-mannered Steve Leialoha looks at us, just like Trina did when we were at Chevy’s, and he goes, “No, she said, ‘WHAT? You’ve never been to EUROPE? What’s WRONG with you?” It was so out of the blue to hear Steve do that, and it was so funny. So embarrassing for Jeff, but we died laughing. That’s one of my Trina stories.

It’s not a story about how wonderful Trina was, and what she did for everyone. She did mentor me. But it’s about how we connected on these other levels, too.

She was very driven. She was first-generation American. I was second-generation, and we’re lazier. But she was in that generation, and that was something that motivated her.

When I did my comic Ask Aunt Violet for the San Francisco Chronicle, it was an advice column, and once Trina sent me a letter, although it was under someone else’s name. She wrote a letter about having a maddeningly mild-mannered boyfriend, and how crazy it makes her, that he never gets mad at anything. “How can I get him to talk more?” I answered, and a little bit after, she asked, “did you get my letter?” They were very encouraging about Ask Aunt Violet. When I took a maternity break after I had my son, Trina was one of the artists who jumped in so I could take some time off when I really needed it.

* * *

Nicole Georges

(cartoonist, educator)

When I was the Fellow at the Center for Cartoon Studies in 2013, Steve Bissette (Swamp Thing)  lent me a stack of 1970s lesbian and feminist comics (Wimmen's Comix, It Ain't Me Babe, Tits & Clits, Twister Sisters, etc). 

I had never seen these before, despite being a queer feminist zinester and cartoonist for many years. I couldn't believe what I was reading. These were the feminist comics of my dreams! But they were so delicate and rare. They needed to be archived and to reach a wider audience. 

I made up my mind to locate Trina Robbins and help her publish a collection of these comics. I cold-emailed her, traveled to San Francisco, and took her to breakfast where I pitched this idea. Luckily, my dream was swiftly crushed/relieved as she told me she was already knee-deep in assembling this project with Fantagraphics (the Complete Wimmen's Comix). I did not have to help her scan 900 pages of archival materials, I could just enjoy her company! I invited Trina to come speak with my MFA Comics class at California College of the Arts that summer (2014), joined by Mary Wings and Lee Marrs. 

She dazzled my students by showing them her original Angela Davis poster ("Sister You Are Welcome In This House"), and talked about how she made her way into feminist underground comics, despite all the guys in her scene refusing to invite her into their books and considering her humorless for not appreciating Crumb. 

As a group of people who had all been hit over the head with sexist imagery by Very Good Draftsmen, hearing this was a breath of fresh air. 

My students were also, of course, obsessed with asking her about Wonder Woman. 

Even the students who were too cool, who'd been staring at me stone-faced all semester, were tearing up and taking photos with Trina. They thanked me profusely for inviting her. 

Trina, Lee and Mary called themselves the Sister Act, and I invited them to visit my class for the next 9 years. 

Students would rush to the streets of Potrero Hill to fetch Trina as she tried to find our classroom, fresh off the bus. They fought each-other to give her rides home and to refill her water.  

It really meant so much to my students, no matter their age, gender or comics affiliations, to get to hear Trina speak and to ask her questions about her long, storied life. 

(One of my students, Craig Campbell, went on to curate them into an event about the history of feminist comics at Root Division in San Francisco, and later invited Trina and Lee to CXC to receive the Transformative Work Award for their work as part of the Wimmen’s Comix collective from the 1970s to the 1990s, and for their careers across media.)

Trina was bright and adventurous. She had a special scratchy voice and her smile shined brightest when she talked about her current book projects- always something to do with women's history, empowerment, or bodily autonomy.

She was happy to be part of the gang, and I think she could have lived forever. I actually disagree with her not being immortal. It seems like an error. 

I'm forever in her debt. 

I saw Trina on the public bus once. She got on board and as she was picking through her coin-purse for fare, the bus lurched forward and her purse fell to the floor. I rushed forward to help her gather her things, cursing the driver under my breath. The people on the bus had no idea that this was comics royalty. The driver had just been rude to Wonder Woman herself. 

Eric Reynolds

(critic, editor)

I met Trina in the spring of 1994, when I was a 22-year-old news reporter for The Comics Journal, covering an event called Pro/Con in Oakland, CA. Pro/Con was a professionals-only trade show that featured a variety of programming and roundtable talks related to issues and topics of concern to working comics professionals. It was the first time I’d covered something like this — I’d been on the job full-time for maybe four months.

I don’t remember the actual subject of the roundtable that Trina was participating in, but she quickly turned the conversation to advocating for more comics targeted to female readers. I worked in a comic book shop from age 15 to 20 and knew first-hand how off-putting comic shop culture was to the young women I was dating during that time. So when Trina said something about how, if we made more comics for girls and women, more girls and women would read comics, I raised my hand. I probably should have remained a silent observer at the event, but I was full of piss and vinegar with no shortage of opinions.

“Don’t you think that’s a little naïve?” I asked her.

I could have phrased it differently. I probably should have. My point was that the comic book shop market was such an intransigent minefield of male arrested development that even if there were more comics made for girls, it didn’t mean they would get stocked or supported by the myopic male retailers who dominated the field, or attract women into these stores. It was a problem of infrastructure and institutional support as much as content, even though I agreed that the medium would be much healthier if there were more diversity in the material and audience.

Boy, oh boy. Trina did *not* like being called naïve.

I don’t remember exactly how she replied to the question in the moment, but I do know that later that day, she unexpectedly cornered me and read me the riot act — she wasn’t letting go of a 22 year-old newbie telling her that her perspective on the field was naïve. She schooled me on the history of comics, how female readership was integral to the growth of the industry in its early decades, and how she’d dedicated her life to rebuilding a female audience for the artform.

Over the next three decades, I would run into her here or there, especially as she forged a professional relationship with Fantagraphics. She was always polite, and friendly. But she always reminded me of that day in Oakland. I was forevermore the guy who called her “naïve.”

Flash forward to Columbus, Ohio in 2022. Fantagraphics was exhibiting at the CXC Festival, and Trina was a featured guest. She and Lee Marrs gave a fantastic talk at the Wexner Center about the history of Wimmen’s Comix, which Fantagraphics had recently collected. Trina and Lee were signing books at our tables the next day. Drew Friedman’s Maverix & Lunatix: Icons of Underground Comix had just come out, and I showed them a copy since they were both included in the book. And they loved it. Listening to the two of them reminisce as they went through it, page-by-page, subject- by-subject, was a genuine pleasure. Trina has a reputation for having an antagonistic relationship to the underground, but her palpable affection for so many of the men and women in that book belied that notion. Each of Friedman’s portraits jogged new memories and good vibes, and they spent over an hour going thru it together and telling stories about old friends. It was fantastic.

Near the end of the day, however, while packing up to leave the show and Columbus, Trina reminded me of our initial meeting 28 years prior. I don’t remember how the subject came up, but it was all in good fun, gentle ribbing. I cut her off.

“Trina, I need to tell you something: You were right. I was wrong.” The medium of comics was as vital a mainstream medium as it had ever been, and it was primarily being driven by girls. Girls buying and reading western YA graphic novels, manga, and more. My own teen aged daughter was living proof of my naivete.

She lit up. “Oh, Eric!” she exclaimed, in that high-pitched Brooklynese of hers that never went away despite decades of living on the west coast. She gave me a big hug and told me how happy that made her, and thanked me profusely.

I can’t believe this was because she was hanging at all on my opinion, per se. She was just so invested in her lifelong mission that even the smallest of victories on that front mattered to her. We talked a bit longer, and hugged a final time as she left the show. Sadly, that was the last time I saw Trina. But I’m so grateful for that afternoon.

Thank you, Trina.

Lee Marrs and Trina Robbins at CXC 2022. Photo courtesy of Eric Reynolds.

Andrew Farago

(curator, journalist)

I first met Trina literally half a lifetime ago, not long after I’d moved to San Francisco and started volunteering at the Cartoon Art Museum. It was a Halloween party–I was Bizarro, she was Wonder Woman, Steve was…Steve, I think. He may have been wearing his Tintin sweater. I was thrilled to meet some real-live comics creators, they were kind and generous to the extreme, talking about superhero comics with a kid covered in greasepaint and dressed in a hand-painted t-shirt.

Despite that weird start (or maybe because of it? We were both dressed up as DC Comics characters, after all), we hit it off, and worked together more times than even Superman could count over the next twenty-four years. At least a few times a year, she’d call up to pitch an exhibition spotlighting her latest favorite woman cartoonist, and more often than not, we’d find a way to make it happen. Shaenon and I spent many amazing hours in Trina’s living room looking at beautiful artwork, playing with Trina’s cats, and trying to figure out just what kind of sleep schedule Steve was keeping.

I lived in their neighborhood for most of my first decade in the Bay Area, and it was always fun running into Trina, usually on her way too or from Aardvark Books or a cafe or a thrift store. Like your cool aunt or any other beloved family member, she always took time to catch up, share stories about her latest adventures, and to make sure we’d visit soon to check out whatever amazing new thing she’d picked up or just to talk shop.

Writing about her this week, looking ahead to gatherings with her friends and family, and I’m thinking about all the questions I wish I’d asked her. Some about comics, some about fashion, but mostly about raising chickens in a city backyard, since our son finally wore us down and convinced us to buy a couple of chicks last month. So many questions.

Peter Maresca

(publisher)

I first met Trina in the early 1980s when working with Steve on a comics project. She was a legend and I was in awe. In subsequent meetings at comic shows I learned she was approachable, friendly, with a genuine warmth (as is Steve in his complementary style), and we became friends. We joked about a yearly competition for the Will Eisner award, then in 2017, we both won in different categories—as did our pal Michael Tisserand (seen in this photo with Steve in the background). Forty years after a fan met a star, I had the opportunity to work with Trina on Dauntless Dames. More than bringing fem-cred to the project, she gave the book focus and a proper perspective on women in comic strips, both by male and female creators. Unlike with many legends, pretty much everything you have read about Trina is true. She was big enough to be it all.

Justin Hall

(cartoonist, educator)

Trina Robbins not only broke open doors but did her best to tear them off their hinges so that they would never close again. She was fierce and generous and a force of nature, inspiring us all to make work that matters.

With “Sandy Comes Out” in 1972, Trina created the first “literary” story about a queer person: in other words, one that was not erotic, a gag, or derogatory. And she remained a fierce advocate for queer cartoonists throughout her career; we all owe her a huge debt of gratitude.

Jody Houser

(writer)

The last time I saw Trina Robbins in person was WonderCon 2023. She stopped to chat with Meghan Fitzmartin and me in Artist Alley. Before she left, she hugged me and whispered, "Let's take over comics!" in my ear.

Rest easy, Trina. And don't worry, we'll keep on making comics.

* * *

Sydney Heifler

(historian)

Trina has meant so much for everyone and she has meant the world to me as an artist, historian, and friend. I’ve never seen another person lift up other women as much as she did, in person and in her work. I found her as a historian, and used her beautiful herstorian work to help ground my research on romance comics. She was gracious enough to be on every panel I ever asked her to be on and I think that’s a testament to her as a member of the comics community and as a mentor. As a friend, she encouraged me to be unapologetic in my love of romance comics, feminism, and fashion. She gave me my first opportunity to publish a comic in print for Won’t Back Down, her comics anthology that benefited Planned Parenthood. She lived her truth in every way and she did so with humor, kindness, and wit. I will miss being a girl with her the most and talking about what outfits we would be wearing to our panels.

* * *

MariNaomi

(cartoonist, founder/admin of Cartoonists of Color, Queer Cartoonists, Disabled Cartoonists databases, California Chapter leader of Authors Against Book Bans)

Trina was one the first professionals to take me seriously as a cartoonist. Back in the late-nineties/early aughts we became friendly online (back in the bulletin board days). In 2001 or 2002 I volunteered at her table (I think at APE) and a couple Ladyfest folks came by asking if she knew any women artists for their festival. I would have NEVER spoken up, I was so shy and full of imposter syndrome, but Trina touched my shoulder and said, “Mari’s an artist, put her in your show.” And they did! This moment led to hundreds of art shows over the years.

I was only tabling for Trina for a couple of hours that day, and in that brief amount of time I met
so many people through her who I still know today. She helped me become a part of the community by introducing me to everybody, giving me the confidence to believe I deserved to be there.

Trina was extremely passionate about inclusion and lifting up others. She showed me how
something so easy to do can change the course of a young artist’s career. It’s something I try to
emulate in my work and in my daily life.

Larry Hama

(writer, editor)

I first met Trina in 1968 at the E. Village storefront that she lived in with Kim Deitch. They were
publishing Gothic Blimp Works out of the store, and living in the back. It was Vaughn Bode and Bhob Stewart who took me there to introduce me, and get me involved in Gothic Blimp. That was the beginning of a friendship that never faded. We could go years without speaking and pick up the phone and talk for an hour as if only days had passed. There are stories, but few can be told. Some things are too personal and intense.

The attached photo was taken in 1976 in Trina's living room. I was in San Francisco for the second half of the Pacific Overtures West Coast tour, and we were performing at the Curran in downtown. I think we were going to some sort of Halloween event, judging by my kamikaze pilot outfit. She drew me into one of her strips wearing that jumpsuit. I had been Trina's date for Margo St. James' Hooker's Ball in 1974 where R. Crumb and the Cheap Suit Serenaders were the featured band.

Miriam Libicki

(cartoonist, author)

Trina and I bonded over being Jewish right away, because I have a lot of Jewish content out when I table at cons! She was very warm and supportive from the beginning. She told me I should approach Friends of Lulu, an indie-women-in-comics activist group, and that I should submit to Sequential Tart, a feminist comics-culture site. Those leads gave me some of my first press and first illustration commissions, back in 2005. I think it took me awhile after I met her to realize she had drawn some of my favourite childhood comics, including California Girls, a humour/fashion/soap opera series with a girl-power message my sisters and I ate up. She later included me in her Minyen Yidn anthology, where she put a lot of Jewish artists at the forefront to depict Yiddish stories written by her father. I think the Jewish angle has a lot to do with how I took to her as a mentor, too. Her lack of reserve and her strong opinions were culturally very familiar to me, and made me feel like I could always be myself, too. Both around her, and as I embarked on my path into being a cartoonist.

Cara Goldstein

(cartoonist, educator)

It’s hard when someone so pivotal to our individual and collective world who symbolizes so much and embodies kindness and hope and progress passes on.

What I was left with, looking online today, was how each individual person who posted a memory felt seen by her and nurtured.

* * *

Bobby London

(cartoonist)

Trina Robbins was already a star of underground comics (before they acquired the ‘x’) when I brought my sample book of art to the East Village Other offices while I was still in high school. My best classmate buddy had won a poetry contest - not what you think, a psychedelic pastiche of Lewis Carroll, John Lennon and George Jessel - at Mademoiselle Magazine uptown and brought his big foot cartoonist buddy possibly in the hopes of getting rid of him in the layout department. Manhattan was a smaller place back then and the gap between high uptown fashion and low downtown hippie subculture was only a subway ride away so I soon found myself, at the instruction of that editor from Mademoiselle, walking, book under arm, down Second Avenue past the second-hand clothing emporiums, hole-in-the-wall rock clubs and through the smell of patchouli, incense and peppermints wafting out of what seemed like every other head shop doorway, then finally through the hallowed portals of the Fillmore East and up one flight through a door on the left. I didn’t meet Trina, I met her [then-partner], Kim Deitch, who told me my work was fine (which it wasn’t) but I’d have to hang around on layout night if I wanted to get anything in “The Blimp,” meaning The Gothic Blimp, the all-comic sister tabloid to The East Village Other. The Blimp’s black and white innards were wrapped around, to paraphrase William Randolph Hearst, a colorful effulgence that would make the rainbow look like a lead pipe but you wouldn’t have known the difference. This was another world, some of which was grotesque, goggle-eyed slapstick and misogyny, to be sure, but, in truth, most of it was an anachronistic mixture of surrealism, non-linear storylines and visual anarchy touched with a flower-power sensuality that screamed creative freedom. At its center was Trina Robbins. The only female, her simple brush line and uptown fashion sense seemed to upstage all the guys. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay at this all-night party. I left my scratchy drawings with [Kim] and got back on the subway to Queens to finish high school. By the time I was a part of it all, I was a penniless college dropout in San Francisco, with a $150,000.00 price tag on my head from a lawsuit with Walt Disney and a reputation for appropriating dead cartoonists’ drawing styles. The world of underground comix (now with an ‘x’), the world I wanted so much to be a part of only a year before, now seemed cynical, cold and damp to me. But Trina Robbins was still there and, believe it or not, she stood up for me. She stood up for me then as she did not long before she left us and, for that, I thank her, will never forget her and always love her.

Mary Fleener

(cartoonist)

Trina was born in what I call "The Right Place At The Right Time Generation" and she used that opportunity to develop her talents. I never knew her to NOT have a project she was working on, or taking a class in something unusual, like hula dancing or tap dancing. I think her lasting legacy and value was her role as a "Herstorian" and the detailed research she did about women artists who were forgotten, but she also kept updating her interest in the current women who were being published in comics. When I decided to edit an issue of TCJ in 2001, Trina was the first person I called, and not only was she generous with her time and contact information, she told me about a lot of newer people and what they were doing. I could always call her and she was always there for me. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and several times I was about to toss the whole project, but she helped me keep my cynical sense of humor, and I was surprised to learn she was intuitive and street wise, like myself, and I found we had a lot in common. We agreed to disagree on a couple of things, Zap Comix in particular. Eventually, I respected her opinion, and she respected mine. Trina wasn't afraid to express her opinions, and artists like her can create controversy, but our world would be so dull and boring without them, and sadly, the comic world is now a little less interesting.

* * *

Raina Telgemeier

(cartoonist)

As a young cartoonist, I was drawn to collections and works of nonfiction about the history ofcomics, but I mostly saw the men who were lauded for their work. I received a copy of Trina’s book The Great Women Cartoonists when I was in college, and it was like a missing puzzle piece had been unearthed: here were the women!! Here were their works, their collective memories, their photos, their connections, and how they’d fought to be accepted at the table alongside their male peers. Instantly, I felt like I was closer to understanding who and what I aspired to be.

Willy Mendes

(cartoonist)

I met Trina in 1967 through underground cartoonist Kim Deitch when we all were in the East Village; Kim was old pals with my hubby, musician Rick Kunstler and his Sunshine Girl strips for the East Village Other inspired me to do comics, initially as spoofs. I first noticed Trina’s art in her cartoon ads for her Broccoli boutique. When Kim became editor of EVO’s comic supplement, Gothic Blimp Works, both Trina and I were included. Then everyone moved to SF; we ran into Kim & Trina while apartment hunting and rented a house all together on Edgar Place, near SF City College. Trina and I were both pregnant, though she was a few months ahead. Then Rick and I got our own pad in the Noe Valley; Trina & I both gave birth, and I had my daughter Oma right on Trina’s Birthday, August 17th.

This is when Trina put together It Ain’t Me Babe, with Trina’s cover & stories, and first story & back cover by moi. Then we co-edited All Girl Thrills together. Meanwhile Trina split up with Kim. Spain had given Rick and me a ‘57 Chevy wagon; we drove off to Wonder, Oregon, giving our Noe Valley apartment to Trina and Casey. We kept in touch over all the years. By the early nineties I’d left Rick and was living in my gallery in a Downtown LA loft building, and producing a Public Access TV show called Angel City Art, when I had Trina appear as a guest on the show; that was fun!

We showed slides of her work and talked about comix.

Then in the 2000s, Oma, aka Annie, died; I spent time in SF grieving with my late Aunt Julia’s bff who’d lost her husband; Trina and Steve were very kind to me and we reconnected a lot; I remember dropping off a Purim basket during Trina’s heroic battle with breast cancer, when she was too ill to visit.

Trina’s knowledge of my immersion in Judaism prompted her to invite me to do the cover for her amazing collection of her father’s stories, A Minyen Yidn. I loved the book and included a vignette of each story on the cover.

Then in 2016, I began to make comix again, producing Queen of Cosmos Comix; Trina inviting me onto panels at SDCC for the Complete Wimmen’s Comix, (into which she brilliantly inserted It Ain’t Me Babe), and then for A Minyen Yidn, is the reason I found a publisher, and we had fun times catching up. After that, hanging with Trina has always been the highlight for me of SDComicFest and SDCC. In 2020, despite the pandemic, both of our work appeared in Kim Munson’s Women in Comics exhibit in NY, Rome, & Milan.

This past April, Trina and Steve graciously put me up for the night. Steve shot pix of us holding our respective covers of those early books, Trina cooked a fab & Kosher dinner, and the next morning proudly showed off her chickens. Then in August, Trina put in a word for me to get invited to the Jewish Comics Experience in NYC in November, where we shared a table.

I loved Trina and miss her already. I’m grateful for 57 years of friendship, for the Blessings Trina brought my way, and for the powerful consciousness-raising she brought to the world!

* * *

Heidi MacDonald

(cartoonist)

Trina had long suggested an organization for women in comics based on Sister in Crime, a group for female mystery writers. The early 90s were probably the worst time ever for women in comics, or at least mainstream comics, with the rise of the very boy-centric Image comics. It was the WonderCon of 1993 where we felt particularly dissed and insulted - a Cherry Poptart lookalike contest as the central activity for Saturday night's socializing was the last straw. The next morning Trina and I had brunch with Lee Binswanger and really decided that the time had come to speak out and organize. I think I came up with the name Friends of Lulu by the time we had our first meeting at SDCC that year, but when Trina approved of the name, I knew we were on to something.

Trina was instrumental to the founding of Friends of Lulu and her instinctive activism was a driving force behind much of it. We had so many lofty goals and ideals, but Trina was unwavering in wanting comics to be a safe space for women to be heard and to create. She worked on the newsletter for years, even when the rest of the organization was struggling. When Trina believed in something, she never gave up!

I guess the thing I remember most is when we asked Trina to make a logo for us, and she came up with the image of Little Lulu holding a bomb. The rest of the board thought it was way too confrontational so we didn't use it. I still think we made the right decision for what our goals were at the time, but talking with Anina Bennett and Liz Schiller the other day we all agreed it was completely iconic. A cute girl in a dress ready to shake things up - that was Trina in a nutshell.

* * *

Jacque Nodell

(writer, historian)

I wish I could say that I had extensive memories of Trina, but unfortunately, I only had the opportunity to be in her physical company a few times at conventions.

As I learned more about her through my research on comics, I couldn't believe the breadth in which she worked in the industry. The first time I heard her speak was around 2009 when her Nell Brinkley book came out. I was immediately charmed by Trina's candor and blown away by her knowledge. As a young comic book historian, I knew I wanted to have the same impact.

When I was shopping around proposals for a book about romance comics Trina graciously offered to write an introduction, and while the book I had intended never came to fruition, Trina's offer left a mark on me. She was clearly dedicated to telling the stories of women of the past, but her commitment to lifting up the women in her footsteps was strikingly evident. She will be sorely missed by all those who knew her, loved her, and looked up to her. May her memory always be a blessing.

Sharon Rudahl

(cartoonist)

You may have heard of the passing of a great contributor, coach, and historian of women cartoonists: Trina Robbins. Trina gave me my first opportunity to draw a graphic story for publication, in the first Wimmen's Comix. She came to the underground newspaper where I was working and asked if there were any woman artists who wanted to draw comics. Me! Me!! It was like being asked if I wanted to learn to fly.

Shaenon K. Garrity

(cartoonist, author)

Trina was an irrepressible presence at the Cartoon Art Museum over the 24 years I’ve been volunteering there, and she was there long before my time, too. For as long as her health allowed, she showed up for most museum events, often dressed as Wonder Woman and always ready to party. She especially supported shows and signings for women artists, minority artists, and young artists. She was generous in loaning pieces from her extraordinary collection of comic art, and it was always a thrill to visit her house in the Mission to pore over Wonder Woman pages or advertisements for Nell Brinkley Hair Curlers. Even when she vocally insisted that her own comics career was over and she was strictly a historian, her support for comics and the people who make them never flagged. Few people have done so much for the medium, and few—despite all the slings and arrows suffered by a vocal feminist with no tolerance for BS—have had so much fun doing it.

Michael Dooley

(historian, educator)

So many fond memories of Trina. Where to start?

In 2005 i was hosting and co-organizing programs for the groundbreaking and infamous "Masters of American Comics" exhibition at L.A.'s UCLA Hammer Museum and Museum of Contemporary Art. and when i was tasked with arranging guest speaker events, i immediately proposed Trina. of course, she’d top the list for any occasion in search of a fabulous comics historian with exquisite firsthand experience in the profession. butI also had a hidden agenda.

The curators’ goal for this show was to establish a canon, and selected 15 artists over the past century – from Winsor McCay to Chris Ware – who (a.) made the most groundbreaking innovations and (b.) left the most important legacies while (c.) covering a vast spectrum of categories. all names were strong and solid, with the glaring exception of Lyonel Feininger. as far as i was concerned, Nell Brinkley exceeded all three criteria in several ways. and sure enough, when Trina gave her presentation at the Hammer she was her usual feisty self, as i expected, powerfully critiquing the show for its absence of female representation, with Nell among the women she cited. i can’t recall if i ever mentioned my ulterior motive to Trina, but i’d like to think she wouldn’t have minded.

moving on, i was thrilled when Trina released her sumptuous The Brinkley Girls book in 2009. and in 2020, when i was an Eisner Awards judge and we were tasked with selecting two "Judges’ Choices" for the Eisner Hall of Fame, i offered Nell as my first choice, and the other judges agreed. and personally, i considered her induction a belated, indirect, counter-balance to the Masters’ disservice. i never mentioned this to Trina, or anyone else up until now, for that matter. but there it is. of course, Trina and i discussed all sorts of other topics in the course of our friendship, usually long distance – she in San Francisco, me in L.A. among them ~

• the essay she was writing for my Education of a Comics Artist book, about love in Archie, Patsy Walker, and even Simon and Kirby's Young Romance.

• her 1980s comics serialization of Sax Rohmer's Dope, which she considered a peak moment in her career: "I was at my best as an artist, penciling and inking" and when i asked her why she was attracted to this particular story, she replied, “Colorful characters, wonderful villains, blood and thunder plot, opium dens; what’s there not to love?” our conversation prompted me to write an article to help promote her Kickstarter campaign to publish a book version, which succeeded:

Yippie!

• the Print magazine interview we did about Miss Fury, which included her admiration for Tarpé Mills’s skills at rendering clothing and risqué lingerie, and we concluded with a welcome about her appearance at an upcoming San Diego Comic-Con: "if anyone runs into me and wants to talk, introduce yourself, and let’s talk. I love to talk."

• and of course, i was honored to have her as guest speaker at my History of Comics class at Art Center in Pasadena, if only on Zoom. and then there were our in-person get-togethers for various affairs, which were always great, lively fun. among our most recent panels were "Mid-Century Fashion in Comics" and our last together, "Classic Erotic Comics.” i know i'll cherish my last conversation with Trina. it was amidst the hubbub of a Comic-Con, and we sat on the floor in a corner for over an hour, engaged in a spirited, free-associating chat about this ’n’ that: we shared anecdotes about our mutual friend and Realist editor Paul Krassner, we recalled our Queens, N.Y. early childhoods – me in College Point, she in Kew Gardens. we went all around, hardly touching on comics. and it was wonderful.

* * *

Bruce Simon

(cartoonist, archivist)

Trina blew my mind a few years ago when we were both on a panel and she said she’d always be grateful to me because I was the first male cartoonist to invite her to be in an anthology book I edited and this was in 1974; pretty late in the Underground game. Anyway, that didn’t occur to me at the time or even years later. The book was Lean Years, themed around the Great Depression, and Trina did a sweet two pager about a Busby Berkeley number from Gold Diggers of 1933. But the funny part was I tried to play editor with her at the tender age of 19 by making some stats of her pages and putting zip a tone on them to show her how swell they looked that way. We’ll, you can imagine what happened when I showed her my stats; she turned to [Zavier] Leslie Cabaga, who also had work in the book and said, “Can you imagine the nerve of this little pisher fucking with my pages?” And that was that.

Anne Timmons

(author, illustrator)

Trina and I were in Small Press at SDCC in 2001. We were busy greeting attendees and promoting our new book, GoGirl. I really needed a sugar charge and went to get a mocha. I came back with a Frappuccino. Trina was very curious and asked what was in it. Caffeine and chocolate! Wanna try it? She took a sip and said, “oh my goddess, this is lovely!” But the nearest one was two blocks down from the convention hall. I told her, “now they have a
Starbucks counter inside the convention hall.” (At that time, this was a brand new thing.) “Ah-ha,” she said. “I’ll be right back!” And she went to get her first Frappuccino!

Malcolm Whyte

(author, editor, publisher, founder of the Cartoon Art Museum)

Trina Robbins’ Art Deco-inspired graphic style caught my eye shortly after I started collecting underground comix in the late 1960s and continued to dazzle for decades. Trina also organized all-women comix, soloed on a special edition of Wonder Woman comics, designed the show-all uniform for comic book adventurist, Vampirella, and published some of the most thorough and beautifully produced histories of other —often forgotten or overlooked— woman cartoonists.

As founder of Troubador Press in San Francisco I fondly recall an engaging period in 1983 of working with Trina on her drawing and writing Flashback Fashion Paper Dolls for Troubador. The book was a marvelous example of her encyclopedic knowledge of fashions, illustrated art and her work as proprietor of a vintage clothing store in New York.

Always a fashion plate herself, Trina was charming and amiable, but could also be forcefully determined, particularly when it served to elevate respect for women. Her place in art history is assured.

Ron Turner

(publisher)

To say that she will be missed is like saying there will be no sunrise. A prolific artist, Herstorian and wonderful mom, it has been a pleasure to work with her for 54 years on various important projects.

We met on a phone call in 1970. She had the original art for a feminist comic and I was looking for a feminist comic. I went to her house in SF, near City College. She had the art and baby Casey, I had the thousand in cash and we traded art for $$. Casey was very observant riding on Trina's hip. That began a 54 year contribution in which It Ain't Me Babe was the first all-women’s comic. Followed by Wimmen's Comix, the AIDS benefit book Strip Aids, and most recently Won't Back Down, a book to benefit Planned Parenthood, just released.

She never gave up the cause of women's rights and was a strong intelligent spokeswoman for
human as well as feminist causes. We will miss her terribly.

* * *

Signe Wilkinson

(cartoonist)

I'm so sorry to hear this sad, unfunny  news.  I barely knew her, but had the opportunity to meet her at an Ohio State Cartoon Art fall gathering a few years ago where she spoke with the wit and vigor worthy of any of her saucy comic characters from 60 years ago.

As this article was going to press, tributes were still coming in. Additional memories will be added as they are submitted.