The Man Of Tomorrow Or How I Learned That We’re All Superman.
The first time I talked about Superman in therapy it was in the context of loneliness. As gross and self aggrandizing as it might be, I used Superman to contextualize the deep, heavy loneliness I was plagued with to my therapist, Glen. It wasn’t the first time my therapy sessions had used pop culture as a metaphor for feelings that sometimes do not fit into an easy description.
But this was something different. As I described the feelings of isolation and related them to Superman I saw a visible change in Glen, a wonderful and kind listener who has taken great pains to understand me over the near 5 years that I have attended his practice. I saw the reference to Superman move Glen deeply, to make an impact. I saw him understand what I had struggled to put together with words. The universality of Superman began to creep up on me then.
For better or worse, Superman has been a touchstone in therapy since then. Emotions are sometimes a little easier to process when clad in red and blue spandex.
The next time Superman would serve as a connector between myself and another person was with Adrian, a professor at my university and someone I deeply respect and admire. When speaking about flaws Adrian spoke about Superman the same way I felt about Superman. A flawed character not because of his indestructible nature, but flawed for his overwhelming care for humanity. Superman connected us more deeply. We spoke about the character at length and I shared some comics with him. This remains one of my favorite parts of college with one of my favorite people I met there.
Countless friends have heard me talk about Superman. Notably, none of them have had to ask “Who is Superman?” or have needed more than a mention of him to know what I’m talking about. The pervasive nature of Superman has integrated itself into our cultural identity. I’d venture that most everyone in the world knows the broad strokes of the story and can recognize the symbol. An orphan coming to a new home, being raised by a kind family as their own, setting out into the world and making a difference. From Moses to Hercules this is not a new story. It’s universal, woven into the fabric of fiction and myth that humanity has built for itself.
Oftentimes I have to defend Superman, one of the most famous fictional characters in history, from the charge of being boring. I sympathize with the basic argument that some make. In an increasingly complex world which often demands of us more and more compromise in our ethics and morals a shiny and bright smiling blue boy scout seems gauche. An unrealistic, even slightly depressing vision of a past that was never there in the first place.
But I argue, passionately and loudly and oftentimes obnoxiously, that Superman does matter, tangibly and with subtlety. Most importantly, with real, measurable impact in our world.
In 1946, the Superman radio show was one of the most popular forms of media in the country. Families sat around the radio to listen to the adventures of the Man of Steel.
Stetson Kennedy, a civil rights activist, had infiltrated the Klu Klux Klan and looking for a way to demystify the Klan, contacted the producers of the show and pitched a story where Superman would fight the Klan. The sixteen part story “Clan of The Fiery Cross” has been overstated as something that destroyed the Klan, as if Superman himself leapt out of radios and used his super breath to cool off lit crosses and flew Klan members into jail.
It wasn’t.
But one thing is nigh indisputable. The Klan hated the portrayal. It harmed recruitment. Members boycotted Kellog’s, the show’s sponsor. There was tangible strength in combating white supremacy from the hero created by two awkward Jewish boys from Ohio.
In 2019 the story was adapted to a 3 issue limited series by American Born Chinese author Gene Luen Yang. The comic is largely unchanged from the audio adventure, with Superman fighting against the Klan in defense of the rights of a Chinese-American family. The 3 issues all close with essays from Yang which connected the story to his identity, both as the minority children of immigrants and the larger Chinese community.
In a political moment where increased hate crimes have been steadily reported and in the midst of an administration that minimizes the crimes committed by white supremacist, Neo-Nazi re-runs as protests that have “good people on both sides” it’s not a stretch to say that there’s a longing for someone that, with equity and justice at their core, puts the Klan members in jail and fights for the rights of dignity and respect for our most vulnerable communities.
In All-Star Superman #10 by Grant Morrison a dying Superman (it’s a long — and extremely worthy — story) spends a day doing the kind of stuff you expect Superman to do. He visits a children’s hospital, places a tiny bottle city on Mars (again, a super long and surprisingly recurring story.) and watches his own creation as a fictional entity through some truly Grant Morrison meta storytelling. In the midst of all that Superman stops a derailing train and we see a man inside of it apologize to someone on their cellphone before the line is cut off.
What follows is an entire story as told in five panels.
A clearly dismayed young outcast,named Regan, lets a phone drop from a building, anguish and pain clear on their face. This is a moment that has been building for some time. The drop of the phone feels like the drop of a weight.
Regan shuts their eyes. Tears streak down their cheeks. They gather their strength and their hope and their fears and their pain and prepare to make a very permanent choice.
A blue costume and red and yellow symbol sprawl out behind Regan. A hand rests gently and reassuringly on their shoulder. Surprise fills their eyes as a voice reaches them at this dizzying height. “It’s never as bad as it seems.”
Realization and shock that Superman stands right behind you, a scared and lonely teenager about to make a decision you can’t take back. Superman knows your name. He’s talking you, quite literally, off the edge. He cares. “You’re much stronger than you think you are. Trust me.”
A distant view of Superman, both arms wrapped around Regan in a firm hug.
If there hasn’t been a time in your life where you have been overcome with dread and fear and sadness, I’m sad to tell you, it will come. Your worst impulses will grip you and you will feel like an island floating in the midst of the ocean all by yourself. Hopefully, someone will be there for you to remind you that you are stronger than you think you are.
Alternatively, it’s equally as likely that some day you’ll be someone’s Big Blue Boy Scout, and hold them in their darkest moments. You’ll remind them that they are stronger than they think they are. You’ll seem like you were sent from a dying planet and raised by decent folk and became a hero just for that moment, even if just for an instant.
Superman is the story of the perfect man with the perfect moral compass doing the perfect thing, always winning and ending the day with a smile and a wink.
Alternatively, it’s the story of an immigrant carving a life out in a big city full of other people who need their help.
It’s also the story of a regular guy who gets a job in the big city and marries the girl of his dreams.
It’s the human story.
It’s your story.
Sure, you won’t flex the right muscles and fly out into the sky. You won’t be able to change a river’s course with your bare hands or fight a psychic gorilla. You won’t shoot heat vision out of your eyes and crush a piece of coal into a diamond with your bare hands.
But.
You’ll experience crippling loneliness. You’ll pine after someone who’s eyes are always at someone else. You’ll fight against inequality. You’ll meet challenges that seem impossible and gargantuan and come out victorious. You’ll care and fight for truth and justice.
You’ll be Superman.
Just like the rest of us.