Christopher Lai | Creative Director
Featured illustration courtesy of Jasmine Wiradharma
Rejoice, fellow nerds!
Unless you’ve been deliberately avoiding pop-culture for a decade, then you know it’s the age of super-heroic wonders. In 2008, we got the one-two punch of Iron Man and The Dark Knight in theatres. Since then, superheroes have taken over a ridiculous amount of our couch-potato time. Arrow and The Flash dominate CW’s small screen with delicious, angst-y cheese. Disney’s Marvel movies have discovered the secret to printing money with Iron Man and The Avengers, while the much grittier Luke Cage, Jessica Jones and Daredevil shows have perfected the super binge-watch on Netflix. Even Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, though dogged by a dubious reaction from both fans and critics, easily raked in its millions. It’s a time to rejoice for superhero fans everywhere, right?
Certainly. Yet as we revel in the bombastic super-fun of our heroes, one does start to see a pattern. Our heroes seem awfully similar, don’t they? They tend to be white. They tend to be male. And other than the big bad dude trying to blow up the city, they don’t seem to struggle against much else. The Caucasian alpha male is certainly kept busy these days—saving a world that is much more diverse and nuanced than their outlandish super adventures would ever suggest.
Now, there are indeed a few fantastic exceptions to the rule. The aforementioned Luke Cage was unapologetic and refreshing in the way it dealt with race and oppression, and should be lauded for making Twitter’s racist underbelly bemoan a “lack of diversity.” Yes, Twitter, you can have more than one black guy on-screen at once: it’s called real-life.
Supergirl, though completely different in tone and audience, is one of the few female-led superhero stories out there right now. It’s a bright, breezy, upbeat show with a well-intentioned but often imperfect heroine. I will readily admit that it delights me with its perfect blend of optimism, cheese and girl-power.
They are the outliers though. For the most part, it’s the hyper-masculine, white alpha male who we are cheering for in these super tales. Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice was the epitome of this story, with the central idea being that we should cheer for two snarling, testosterone-laden body-builders to beat each other senseless. So much for heroes.
Occasionally, we do get the shy, affable beta males like Grant Gustin’s Flash or Tom Holland’s Spider-Man, but often times, the point of their story is that they are trying to grow into a preening hunky alpha male in their own right.
There are some awesome, strong women in these superhero stories, but often they are ancillary to their male counterparts. Marvel’s Black Widow has saved the world time and time again with the Avengers, yet she is relegated to the status of a love-interest/sidekick to the male heroes, and has yet to be given her own film to shine in.
But why does it matter? It’s superhero fun. It’s popcorn fluff. It’s escapism. Why do we need to get political or push diversity with entertainment that’s just meant to go zap, bang and pow? Why look for meaning and progress in mindless entertainment?
Because it doesn’t have to be mindless. These heroes have a platform. Kids grow up entrenched in the world of Batman, Spider-Man and Supergirl. These heroes are icons we look up to. Their stories are modern-day morality plays, which clearly appeal to child and adult alike. Why limit the type of hero we get to see when the audience that enjoys them is so much more diverse? As we have seen with stand-out characters like Supergirl or Luke Cage, a hero can do more than fight crime. They can fight injustice, inequality and oppression. Our superheroes should do more than just save the world. They should challenge us to think deeper, try harder and make it a world worth saving.
