Every year, when May rolls around, comic book artist and publisher Marcus Williams makes the same declaration: MomoCon gets his undivided attention. No conflicts, no exceptions. "If I got to pick one show, it's going to be MomoCon," the 44-year-old says with the conviction of someone who's found his creative home. "This is my hometown show. It feels like a homecoming show every year."
Williams isn't exaggerating. With credentials that include work for Cartoon Network, Marvel, Sony Pictures Animation, DC Comics, and Nickelodeon, he's earned the right to be selective about where he spends his time. Yet year after year since 2016, he returns to Atlanta's homegrown convention, setting up his table in Artist Alley and reconnecting with a community of creators who share his passion for storytelling and visual art.
His loyalty speaks volumes about what MomoCon has become—and what it means to the people who've watched it grow. What started in 2005 as a student-led gathering on the Georgia Tech campus has evolved into one of the Southeast's most significant cultural events, a sprawling celebration of anime, gaming, and comic book culture that now draws over 60,000 attendees annually.
This May, MomoCon celebrates its 21st anniversary, anchoring itself across roughly one million square feet at the Georgia World Congress Center. The numbers are impressive—organizers project an economic impact of at least $43 million for metro Atlanta. But the real story isn't in the square footage or the dollar signs. It's in why people like Williams keep coming back, and what the convention represents for a generation of creators who once might have been told their passions were hobbies, not careers.
Williams remembers being shy when he first started attending conventions. MomoCon changed that. "Artist Alley has actually taught me so much more about the business of tabling," he reflects. "MomoCon helped me grow as an entrepreneur. It's helped me understand the art of communication, which has really shaped my business."
But beyond the practical lessons, something else happens in those aisles. Williams describes standing at his table watching young Black children discover his artwork for the first time—kids who'd never seen themselves represented in the comics and images lining convention hall walls. "They lose their mind. They are hooping and hollering, looking through the art, saying, 'I've never seen single images of us. I've never seen a comic of us,'" he says, his voice carrying the weight of what that moment means.
This is why he co-created "Tuskegee Heirs: Flames of Destiny" with his business partner Greg Burnham. The comic series deliberately centers Black characters and Black historical foundations, imagining a futuristic world where five teenagers trained by a descendant of the Tuskegee Airmen become humanity's last defense against a robot army threatening every major city on Earth. It's ambitious, unapologetic storytelling that says: your heroes can look like you. Your future can feature you.
Williams is far from alone in finding this platform invaluable. This year's lineup of featured Atlanta-based creators reads like a testament to the city's creative diversity: author Sarah Madsen, graphic designer and game developer Brian Colin, musician Chris Wilkes, cosplayer Keenen Baker, and martial artist Justin Lee Ford all return to the convention that helped launch or sustain their careers.
Ford's journey is particularly instructive. Now 24, he started attending MomoCon in 2011 as a cosplayer, eventually earning an invitation to return as a featured guest. Today, he travels the world teaching martial arts and performing stunt work across China, Japan, Thailand, the Netherlands, and Mexico. He's also the managing editor of Black Belt Magazine. Yet despite his global success, he prioritizes coming back to Atlanta for both MomoCon and Dragon Con.
"The vibe is very fun," Ford says. "The vibe at MomoCon is that of so much acceptance and curiosity." He notes that the questions he receives during MomoCon panels rank among the best he gets anywhere—attendees asking thoughtful, probing questions that suggest genuine engagement rather than superficial fandom.
Ford's path challenges the conventional wisdom he grew up hearing. "Growing up, I would hear often, 'if you're going to love martial arts, that's cute. But you're going to have to get a real job. You're going to have to go into physical therapy or something that actually can make you money all the time,'" he recalls. He started martial arts at eight, became an assistant instructor by fifteen, and spent years resenting the narrow expectations people placed on his creative interests.
What changed was finding spaces—like MomoCon—that validated unconventional passions as legitimate careers. Conventions became more than escape pods from a skeptical world. They became marketplaces, networking hubs, and stages where niche pursuits could prove their viability.
The convention's organizers understand they're stewarding something precious. Charlene Lopez, executive vice president and chief sales officer of the Atlanta Convention & Visitors Bureau, describes MomoCon as a "signature event" that has evolved into a cornerstone of the city's hospitality economy. "Over the years, it has evolved into a signature event within our hospitality community, providing significant positive impact to our hotels, restaurants, venues, and local businesses," she notes.
But while economic impact matters, it misses the human dimension entirely. MomoCon works because it's built on genuine community rather than top-down corporate programming. The Artist Alley thrives because creators like Williams mentor younger artists. Cosplayers inspire each other with increasingly elaborate costumes. Gamers find their people—whether they're into digital arcades, tabletop role-playing, board games, or card games. Musicians perform for audiences who actually want to be there.
As the convention approaches its 22nd year, it represents something increasingly rare: a space where creativity isn't monetized into sterility, where joy hasn't been algorithmed away, where a young Black kid can walk into Artist Alley and see themselves in the work hanging on the walls. For creators like Marcus Williams and Justin Lee Ford, that's worth every mile traveled, every year returning home.
MomoCon runs May 21-24 at the Georgia World Congress Center. The convention isn't just a three-day event anymore—it's become a cultural institution for a generation of creators proving that the unconventional path can lead somewhere real.
