Superman, Nakama, and Me Aug17

Superman, Nakama, and Me...

The last person I thought I would be able to relate to is the Man of Steel. I’m not inhumanly strong, nor fast as a speeding bullet, nor have I x-ray vision or super hearing. For the longest time I didn’t care much for Superman. When my sister and I were kids, my parents bought us a DVD containing a bunch of vintage cartoons, including the original 1940s Superman. Even from a young age, I recognized that he was overpowered and always won the day with barely any opposition. Years later, I watched the show Smallville, a program that focused on his growing up with an adopted family and learning about his Kryptonian origins. However, not until the release of Man of Steel did I truly care for Superman, mostly because of his parents. I am adopted. Though my birth mother is living, my birth father passed away shortly after I was born, just like Superman’s. My adopted parents couldn’t have children, just like the Kents. Growing up, many people have asked if I knew my “real parents.” I don’t like that question, because it undervalues the ones who raised me. My adopted parents are my real parents. Just because I don’t share blood with them doesn’t mean they’re not as important as my genetic mother and father. My adopted parents are my “real parents” because they shaped me. Like Clark, I sometimes felt like an alien among my family. I could never relate to my friends when they spoke about how they inherited their parents’ features or quirks or when their mothers spoke about their pregnancies. Often I kept the fact that I’m adopted hidden until someone asked why I didn’t look like my younger sister or my dad. My birth father’s life was...

The Rorschach Test: Watchmen, Truth, and Lies Jan18

The Rorschach Test: Watchmen, Truth, and Lies...

I first got into comics when I was in junior high. It was a good time for comics, the simpler days before Marvel’s Ultimate complicated the continuity of the Marvel Universe, before upstart companies like Image and Valiant further challenged what it meant to be a superhero. The additions to my collection were based primarily on my interest in individual superheroes rather than the quality of the narratives. I was an undiscerning reader: I read The Amazing Spiderman, The Uncanny X-men and a few other Marvel titles because I liked those characters. I bought various Batman titles because Batman’s cool and Superman titles because… well, I don’t know why I bought Superman titles. I have never understood why anyone liked Superman. And then someone told me about Alan Moore and I picked up Watchmen.  I wasn’t prepared for what I read. It was so many different genres all wrapped into one: mystery, revisionist superhero narrative, political treatise, alternate history. Watchmen was my first exposure to a comic raising deep moral, ethical, and philosophical questions, often questions without clear answers. And it remains one of the few comic I return to again and again because of how Moore treats those questions. When all the conspiracies within Watchmen have been uncovered, when Ozymandias’s plot to create world peace in an alternate 1985 has been revealed, truth and deception remain powerful thematic elements. Once the truth that Ozymandias has framed Dr. Manhattan for nuclear attack on New York in order to unite the United States and the USSR is revealed, the heroes must wrestle with the information they possess in the light of the new-found peace that could stabilize the world. As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to see the dangers of Rorschach’s black and white perspective....