By: Kenneth Williams Jr.
With the upcoming Supergirl movie on the horizon, I’ve been thinking a lot about the boys who grew up looking past Superman, Batman, and the other brooding men at the center of the superhero universe and finding themselves, somehow, in the women standing beside them. For some people, Supergirl may simply be another comic book movie. For me, it feels like an opportunity to talk about the boys who were never fully at home inside the narrow rooms masculinity built for them.
Transparently, I was one of those boys. Before I ever truly developed the language to understand myself on a deeply personal level, let alone as a queer man, I understood women superheroes. Growing up, the concept of masculinity that society attempted to indoctrinate me into oftentimes felt like a costume I was expected to wear despite it not being tailored to who I am. What I did align with, however, was Supergirl’s resilience, Wonder Woman’s grace and ferocity, along with Storm’s command of the sky and that of her own emotions. Whether it was empathizing with Jean Grey’s impossible interiority or Catwoman’s refusal to be easily named, these women were never side characters to me. They were survival guides instrumental in helping me grasp and maintain my own North Star.
There’s something so beautiful about witnessing the trajectory of women superheroes when you’re a young boy who doesn’t really fit in. Some of the most important life lessons I’ve received are rooted in the trials and tribulations of these fabled heroines. I saw how they navigated their environments with the permission to be powerful without being devoid of emotion. Compared to their male counterparts, these women showcased the profundity in existing between the intersection of glamour, fury, nuance, and heroism. Many of the male superheroes I remember growing up on were often trapped in this never-ending performance of control, where their violence was misconstrued as strength, and their vulnerability became something to conquer rather than heed.
Those lessons are even more pertinent now as we find ourselves witnessing the recruitment of young men into a rigid, misogyny-fueled era of masculinity. If we continue to allow the manosphere to dictate the ways in which these boys grow into men, we’ll be left with a society of men who truly believe that the essence of manhood is to conquer and abuse while disguising it as some fractured form of confidence. Those reasons are exactly why the necessity of women superheroes is so crucial in this moment; they provide positive examples for young boys to reimagine power in ways that don’t harm those in the margins of the margins.
When I think about what makes Wonder Woman so iconic, it’s the fact that she embodies strength without rejecting transparency and compassion. Her vulnerability is a part of her armor. When I reflect on Supergirl and how dynamic and compelling I find her to be, it’s not because of her proximity to Superman. I find her to be those things because she carries a gamut of emotions from loss and displacement to rage and hope in ways that resonate more with me emotionally than her older cousin. When I find myself in the throes of intense emotional overstimulation, I think of Storm and her superpower of commanding the weather. Most might believe that to be her only flagship mutant ability, but for me, it’s how she regulates her emotions so much so that they don’t create issues for herself and her teammates.
When it comes to young men who’ve been written off for leaning too much into basic human traits of sensitivity and vulnerability, these fictional women operate as mirrors of sorts. Their depictions illustrate that sensitivity doesn’t have to be at odds with strength, and that whimsy and happiness are just as important as being serious and uptight. And the hard truth, whether we want to admit it or not, is that femininity was never a threat to manhood; how could it be?
I first learned empathy from women superheroes, and as I would soon come to realize in adulthood, I’ve learned resilience too. Growing up and witnessing these heroines fight twice as hard for a sliver of recognition as their privileged counterparts while carrying worldly amounts of emotional and mental baggage gave me a masterclass in developing my own armor. While I wasn’t heading into war to battle Granny Goodness and her henchwomen of assassins or embarking on an Odyssey-type adventure to save my homeland, my entire life continues to be a battle. Thanks to the seeds planted by those courageous women, I was given permission to imagine myself beyond the cage of societal expectations and ills.
As Supergirl returns to the silver screen for new generations of young men to become inspired by, I can’t help but think about how incredibly timely it feels. The manosphere aside, it’s important for boys to see women lead, fight, grieve, love, and take up every ounce of space they can. Supergirl will, hopefully, remind young men that strength can look like compassion, humility, and partnership, not just force.
And that is why boys need Supergirl. That is why boys need Wonder Woman. That is why boys need Storm and every heroine who taught us that saving the world does not require abandoning ourselves.
Sometimes, the women in capes teach boys how to become whole.