Into the Spider-Verse...
And maybe into a universe of greater inclusivity and acceptance
Here’s a little divergence from the heavier and more depressing posts as of late; something a little lighter and more hopeful (even if it still ties into some of the topics I’ve been writing about). For those of you who don’t know (and most of you wouldn’t), I’m a huge Spider-Man fan. I have been ever since I purchased (or rather my grandmother purchased, I think) my first Spider-Man comic from a dime store in Kingman, KS, circa sometime in the early ‘70s.
And so I’m greatly anticipating the latest Spider-Man movie iteration: Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse. Check out the recently released second trailer:
For those who enjoy building their anticipation by watching all of a movie’s trailers, the first trailer is available here. And as this is a sequel to Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, I would definitely recommend popping some popcorn and watching Miles Morales’ first venture into the spider-verse before following up with his trek across it.
If you’re only somewhat familiar with Spider-Man’s story you may be a bit confused, expecting to see the name Peter Parker. “Who is Miles Morales?” you might be asking. Well, if there’s a “spider-verse” then it stands to reason there’s probably multiple, maybe even an infinite number, of spider-men. Or more accurately spider-heroes. But more on that later.
In the 70’s, the story of an unathletic, science-loving teenage nerd turned super-hero after being bitten by a radioactive spider spoke to me as a nerdy, science-loving kid. I’ve always thought spiders were cool, and what kid wouldn’t want to the ability to climb up walls, stick to ceilings, and swing from building to building?
That Peter Parker maintained his nerdy awkwardness and underdog status post spider bite only made him more appealing to my equally awkward younger self. Heck, I’m still a nerdy, awkward adult (if that wasn’t already apparent from the small collection of comic books). And the blending of idealism, hope, uncertainty, resolve and witty sarcasm with the burden Peter always seemed to feel from having the weight of the world on his shoulders rounded it all out for me.
Peter Parker and his friendly neighborhood Spider-Man alter ego was a fictional character with key traits that I either related to, or inspired to embody, as a kid. But it’s also true that as a white, cisgender, heterosexual male child in the 70s, such comic book coming of age characters I could relate to were easier to come by than they were for girls, black and indigenous kids, LGBTQIA+ youth, and other minorities.
I think the first time this inequity in comic book story telling really hit me was in the mid 00’s (yes, far too late), when I became aware of an Indian version of Spider-Man - Pavitr Prabhakar, an Indian boy from a remote village who moves to Mumbai with his Aunt Maya and Uncle Bhim (all three names an obvious reference to Peter and his Aunt May and Uncle Ben).
Unfortunately, but not surprising for someone blanketed by white, male, cisgender, and heterosexual privilege throughout his life, my initial reaction to seeing this was “But wait, Peter Parker is Spider-Man. Spider-Man lives in New York. He’s an American. He’s white. You can’t just change the narrative. It’s not right. It’s…”
I don’t remember if this is specifically what I thought to myself, but it was along these lines. I’m sure I said something about it to my wife, Michelle, who I’m equally sure checked my privilege-induced gut reaction and got me thinking a little deeper. Why shouldn’t an Indian boy have a Spider-Man coming of age story he can more directly relate to? With characters that look like him and with places, histories, mythologies, and stories reflective of the cultural traditions he’s familiar with?
For that matter why shouldn’t there be a Spider-Gwen, aka the Ghost Spider (Gwen Stacy from Earth-65 who is bitten by a radioactive spider instead of Peter Parker), or Spider-Woman (the code name of several fictional characters in Marvel Comics with the original version being Jessica Drew), or Miguel O’Hara’s Spider-Man 2099 (an Irish-Mexican geneticist living in Nueva York, a renamed New York City, in the year 2099), or an openly gay spider-hero, Web Weaver (“a not-so-mild mannered fashion designer at Van Dyne [who] gets spider-powers and shows us a very different kind of Spider-Slayer”), or Spider-Man Miles Morales (the biracial teenage son of an African-American father and a Puerto Rican mother)? And why shouldn’t there be a trans spider-hero?
Most of these spider-hero versions and more show up in this latest animated spider-verse saga. And nothing is taken away from the story of that geeky teenage Peter Parker turned Spider-Man I grew up with. I’ve lost nothing, and I’ve gained so much more. We all have. Compared to the 70s, the spider-verse is awash with far richer story lines and more diverse characters, making it more likely for kids to see themselves within these stories.
Not only that, it’s also critical for white, cisgender, heteronormative kids to see others who don’t look like them portrayed as heroes. I think what it would have meant for me as young white male growing up in a pretty homogenous part of rural/suburban Kansas to have seen an urban biracial teenage boy’s coming of age spider-hero story. Seeing and reading about the differences as well as the similarities to my own life experiences, hopes, fears, and dreams.
Author and journalist Ta-Nehisi Coates also happens to be a comic book nerd. And not just a consumer of comic books, but a comic book author as well, having written for Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. The following two quotes of his I think speak to the positive influence that diversity and inclusion in comic book storytelling can have on kids.
But you need to read that at a young age. Those are the things. You give those things to your kid, and they’re sponges at that point, and they’re trying to figure out the world. You know what I mean? It’s like detonating a bomb, and their imagination expands.
Superheroes are best imagined in comic books. The union between the written word, the image, and then what your imagination has to do to connect those allows for so much.
Comic books have the power to portray diversity and inclusion as heroic, as a source of strength, as inspiring, and ultimately… as normal. And many of the stories on the page and on the screen are doing just that, even if they’re not perfect.
I wonder what the outcome would have been if more of the authors of the anti-trans legislation infecting so many of our state legislatures had read such stories as a kid. If they had seen posters on the big screen (see trailer shot below) that said “Protect Trans Kids”? If they had seen more depictions of transgender as a normal state of being? Would we have this many bills of hate and ignorance?
And would they have taken Peter Parker’s catch phrase more to heart - With great power comes great responsibility? Would they be legislating in a manner that recognizes this great responsibility applies to all of their state’s citizens - not just to the ones who only look, act, and believe like them or have the same privilege?
I don’t know, but I do think it’s time for Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios to develop their first friendly neighborhood teenage trans spider-hero.
I started reading Spider-Man in the Kiddie Corner of the Main St Dillon's Grocery in Hutchinson in the 60's. My brother and I were crazy climbers and would play tag in a Sycamore tree. Our best escape was to climb out from the trunk to the end of branch and leap to a another branch out of reach of the tagger. My high school nickname, not really a compliment on my trim and lengthy physique, was "Spider Man". Regardless, I remained a fan of the comics and most of the movies. My criticism is the movies exaggerated his plausible venom-enhanced powers well beyond the comic figure to super human strength and invulnerability. I'm sorry but those qualities are reserved for yet another fellow Kansan, Superman!