As a kid, I was always into Batman. I never read any of the comics until I got older, but I remember watching the Animated Series and the Tim Burton movies. I loved the imagery and the stories and the villains, and more than anything, I adored how dark everything was. The world felt dangerous and slightly scary, and, to my young mind, that was the Coolest. As such, I never really understood the appeal of someone like Superman. Sure he was powerful and had basically any and every superpower, but he was boring. Why would you prefer someone that cookie cutter when you could have a hero who was The Night, who was part of the same grim world to which the villains belonged?
It was the mindset of a child, I now realize, the thoughts and beliefs of someone who had yet to fully experience life, the world, and the pain that some people cause for no other reason than “that person is different from me.”
As I got older, I began to experience more of life and the very real prejudice some people carry towards others. It was a gradual realization and one that was also far closer and more personal than I ever would have imagined as a kid. I thankfully grew up in a pretty accepting town, but nonetheless, I heard the occasional story from my brothers and parents about being picked on or discriminated against for being Hispanic, and eventually I started to have my own experiences in that regard. It’s an awful feeling being made to feel like less of a person simply for the color of your skin and it’s something I don’t think anyone could really understand unless it has happened to them directly or to someone they love. I can take a lot, and I dealt with some racial confrontations in high school, even once or twice when dealing with local police, but nothing ruffled my feathers more than hearing a story about some cops discriminating against my mother for simply driving her car. (Nothing happened, for the record, but it’s a story I took to heart and will never forget.)
It could have been easy for me to dive head first into the grim world of Gotham and take Bruce Wayne’s ethos to heart. Not to say I would have been one of those people who puts on a cape and mask and walks around town with a baseball bat claiming to be a crime fighter, but it would not have been hard to have a darker view of the world and its people. Batman does not work with others. He works alone, playing the role of both judge and jury before committing criminals to whatever sentence he deems necessary (usually beating them to a pulp before turning them in to the police). He does not trust. He does not love. He does not even particularly like people. Batman is a hero who fights to get revenge on the criminals who wronged him – and his parents – when he was a child. He is a hero predicated on being selfish and full of guilt, and he fights for no one but himself.
It wasn’t until I really started to think about what he represents as a character that I understood that – which was after I saw Captain America: The First Avenger.
I knew absolutely nothing about Captain America before sitting down for the film in 2011. I knew the basic imagery, sure, and thought his shield was kind of nifty, but he seemed the epitome of Corny, an All American Apple Pie Superhero for a bygone era. And yet, within 30 minutes, I was moved to tears. Steve Rogers makes it clear fairly early on what his ideals are and where he stands – we see him abandon a double date as he tries and fails to enlist for the US Army for his fifth time – but it is when he is approached about the Army’s experimental Super Soldier program where we get this exchange:
Dr. Erskine: Do you want to kill Nazis?
Rogers: I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t like bullies. I don’t care where they come from.
That one exchange has stuck with me and perfectly captures why I now adore Captain America. Steve Rogers does not have a dark past. He is not riddled with guilt. He does not want revenge. Instead, what makes Captain America stand out is that he is simply driven by an unwavering moral compass. He fights for what is right and what is good. He stands up for the little guy. He does not like bullies. Unlike Batman who stands for nothing other than himself, Captain America stands for the people. He is the characterization of the best we can be, the American Ideal made real. And in our world, especially in our current political climate full of hatred and pain, he is something of a guiding light, a reminder of what it means to be strong and trustworthy and good.
As a child, I didn’t know what it meant to be truly good. But as an adult who knows how hard it can be to plant your feet and fight for what you believe in when people surround you, shouting that you are lesser and deserve to be put in your place, there is nothing I admire more than someone who will stand up to the bullies of the world and say, “No.”
My appreciation for these types of characters has only grown. Superman, Wonder Woman, Captain Marvel, Black Panther – all of them are shining examples of heroes fighting in the face of adversity simply because it is the right thing to do. But it is Captain America who I will always turn to first and foremost. For more than what he does, it’s about what he inspires.
I have worn a Captain America watch every day for the last year and a half. The glass is scratched up. The bands are wearing. The battery is dead. But I’ll fix it up as necessary and continue to wear it for as long as possible. Because when I look down at my wrist and see Captain America’s insignia emblazoned across the watch face, it reminds me to be better, to do better, and to follow what I know is right.
Standing in the Corner at Parties 