Playing the victim

  For as long as I can remember, superheroes have been an influential part of my life. I grew up, not watchingPowder Puff Girls like any other normal six year-old, but watching Justice League and X-Men: Evolution instead. Not only was I watching superheroes on TV relentlessly, but my own bedroom was plastered with their faces, shining their symbols down on my restless eyes. I was moved by their miraculous ways at preventing disasters of cataclysmic proportions and their unfailing morality. I was inspired by their humble and courageous way of saving people without asking for anything in return. As Grant Morrison, the author of Supergods: What Masked Vigilantes, Miraculous Mutants, and a Sun God from Smallville Can Teach Us About Being Human, perfectly states,” We love our superheroes because they refuse to give up on us. We can analyze them out of existence, kill them, ban them, mock them, and still they return, patiently reminding us of who we are and what we wish we could be.”

Maybe the reason I became so attached to these magnificent and mystical beings is because they offered something I lacked. They offer power, alien or not, that they use for the benefit of society. At some point in our lifetime, we all wish for superhuman abilities, whether it’s flying to travel the world or healing to save a dying grandparent; we desire to be extraordinary. The fact is we aren’t superhuman, just human. We will always be insignificant when compared to these seemingly perfect beings. We realize, sometimes, we are just victims. Not in the sense of the victims who do not take responsibility for their actions, but victims, who through no fault of their own, become the prey of forces greater than their own. We aren’t Clark Kent; we’re not going around saving anyone who cries out for help. We’re not Oliver Queen, stopping the CEO’s who take advantage of people weaker than they. In fact, we are probably the ones crying for help.  We are the ones in need of saving.

No matter how much we wish we could be Batman or Superman, or any of the other nameless faces of heroism, we aren’t. But consider this, would you be capable to do what they do? Not in the sense that you don’t have their powers, because even if you did, could you possess their courageous and unflinching way of running into disaster. The way they sacrifice themselves everyday. It’s not just their powers that make them superheroes; it’s their bravery and burning desire to save people. Powers don’t make you a hero, just superhuman. Could you sacrifice everything for the betterment of humanity? Many people would answer yes automatically, not thinking the question through. Superheroes don’t get what they want; they do what’s necessary to save lives. So, in all honesty, are you willing?

So, the immense amount of time I commit to obsessing of superheroes has only made me realize the exquisite truth of my reality. I may wish to be a superhero, but in my heart I know that I would never be worthy. I could never contain the humble and incredible morality that Superman possesses, or the determination Green Arrow encompasses. I am simply the bystander amazed by the incredibly heroic acts going on around me. I am not the hero of this story. Just the star-gazing child who hopes to someday be saved, who, until then, is just playing the victim.