Tag Archives: superman

Superman, Man of Steel: A failure of storytelling

Comics, Media,

Art is subjective and Superman belongs to all of us and none of us. The Superman of Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns is not my Superman. Nor is the recent New 52 Superman. Even the widely hailed Superman of All-Star Superman isn’t one I’ve fully embraced. But I respect the efforts. Like all good art, the exploration of Superman in those works is intended to tell us something, usually about ourselves. I learn the most about myself from the John Byrne Man of Steel reboot. Your mileage may vary.

All this is to say I can’t get behind those who say “Superman is…” or “Superman isn’t…” He’s an avatar through which we tell stories. Personally, I believe Superman is a Kryptonian formed by an upbringing on Earth. Near-immortal but made vulnerable and relatable by his humanity. Heroic, but flawed. Anything you want to do inside of that is OK by me. Even Dark Knight Returns Superman might seem to fall outside of the above but he’s still within those guidelines, even if he’s corrupted by them. In every Superman story, I’ve been a sucker for both Jor-El and Lara’s mix of anguish and hope and Jonathan and Martha’s gift of sacrifice and big-hearted sympathy because that’s what central to his character.

[This post continues after the jump with spoilers so read at your own peril.]

Continue reading Superman, Man of Steel: A failure of storytelling →

Here, now, some words about impending fatherhood

Comics, ,

There’ve been several reasons why I haven’t felt like doing any personal writing as of late, most of it having to do with what appeared to be an immovable cold front of Internet crabbiness hovering over Chicago last month, which caused several localized shitstorms. But Erin is leaving me in the dust when it comes to writing about the pregnancy so I need to get back to it.

Rather than knock myself around trying to come up with a proper piece about it all, I’m just going to sloppily jam a few posts into one. I want to apologize now for not going into appropriately significant details on all of this, especially the hypnobirthing stuff. Not doing so may jeopardize my intent in advocating for an alternative point of view but I don’t think I’m ready to devote this space to doing that just yet. (Though I’m happy to do so one-on-one via email or in person for those who want to know more.)

Reading material
This might come off as a blatant plug for work, but if you’re an expectant father or anyone who enjoys good writing, go check out Jeff Ruby’s Push blog. I’m still enjoying Brott’s books because the quiet text is soothing for someone who’s never done this before. But Jeff’s work is a perfect counterpoint due to its passion, honesty and humor. Someone give this man a book deal.

The Kid
We’re about six months in and…God, I can’t wait for this kid to get here. Not because I’m tired of Erin being pregnant but because…I am so excited to meet our daughter.

I didn’t let myself get at all excited for the First Three Months because that’s the part when things are most likely to go wrong. And even though there’s much that could still go wrong, all of our doctor’s appointments have gone well so damnit I’m excited.

We’ve been getting a lot of people asking us whether we’ve picked out a name yet. We’re telling people we’re batting around some names. Technically, this is not a lie. But we’re definitely favoring one in particular and it’s made her seem less a steadily-growing but an invisible-but-for-an-ultrasound presence inside my wife’s uterus and more a real person who already exists and has a personality and enjoys it when I read portions of Winnie-The-Pooh or the script from Superman: The Movie. (I create a narrative from the directions and do all the voices. I’m pretty proud of my Lex Luthor, in fact.)

Speaking of reading to the kid…

Hypnobirthing and doulas
There was a time in my life when I felt everything I knew about myself was wrong. Once I got past that and learned to trust myself again, I was left with both a more refined bullshit detector and a willingness to at least listen to a point of view that I might previously have dismissed.

When my wife told me she wanted to have a natural birth, I was supportive but skeptical. Erin’s what I’d admiringly call a “tough broad” but her tolerance for pain isn’t exactly Viking-like. On the other hand, I wasn’t a fan of pumping all manner of drugs into her system either and that feeling only intensified after watching The Business of Being Born. Still, when Erin mentioned hypnobirthing and a doula, I was again skeptical. Let’s be honest, if you don’t know what those words mean – and I didn’t at that time – it sounds like hippie talk.

I’ll defer to the above link and to Erin (here and here) for a more detailed explanation of what a doula does and what hypnobirthing’s about what we went through but I got on board pretty quick due to our doula’s academic bearing and matter-of-fact view of birthing. Plus, having someone who’s gone through this many, many times before and will be an advocate for us during the birth is a calming force when you’re having your first kid.

As for hypnobirthing and the classes we’re taking, I’m an evidenced-based person when it comes to the world around us and telling me “Well, that’s how it’s always been done” is a guarantee I’ll just do the opposite. So hypnobirthing – despite its basis in hypnosis – is right in my wheelhouse.

It’s also helped us to remain close as a couple, not just two people who will likely be parents in a few months’ time. Part of the process of hypnobirthing involves me reading several paragraphs of text to Erin before she goes to sleep. Not only does it help us end the day together, I think it’s also making my voice more familiar to our in utero’d child which is supposed to be all manner of good.

How we’re approaching the birth is not for everyone, obviously. But it feels right for us just as however someone else approaches birth feels right for them. And that’s all that matters.

Which brings me to…

Green Lantern
At some point during our first class, our doula said something about not apologizing when we tell the doctor exactly what we want in our birth plan (at that point, I didn’t know that’s what you call it, but that’s what it’s called). She may also have mentioned something about not having fear about giving birth or maybe a switch just flipped in my head…

And that’s when I started thinking about Green Lantern.

It’s common knowledge that I’m partial to Superman. And taking Superman as your inspiration can be good and bad. But for the purposes of going through a pregnancy and coming to grips with raising a child, there’s not a lot I’ve been able to draw from Superman. With Superman, you get certainty. But pregnancy and – if I may be so bold – raising a child doesn’t seem to carry with it a lot of certainty.

In the early days of the Green Lantern comics, it was said that Hal Jordan became the greatest of the Green Lanterns because he had no fear. In the more recent stories of the character written by Geoff Johns, it’s made clear that Hal Jordan is the greatest Green Lantern because he overcomes fear through sheer force of will, not because he doesn’t experience it.

There’s plenty of fear to experience in a pregnancy. I was fearful at various points in our first three months, wondering if we’d clear the takeoff part of our flight. A couple weeks ago I feared that maybe we we making a mistake in both of us planning to go back to work after the baby was born. I fear…well, plenty of things. But I’ve been getting through it through sheer force of will. (And the love and support of my wife who’s going through all this and plenty more, too. She is, put simply, a daily example of strength.)

So I decided to stop being afraid of having a kid or raising a kid. Because this isn’t going to be just a kid. This is going to be our kid. And our kid is going to be awesome.

That’s nothing to be afraid of.

Pink

Fatherhood, , , ,

Sometimes I think I have no idea how to raise our girl to be a woman.

Sure, I’ve witnessed my parents do so with my sisters two. But then it’s only “I have an idea how to raise a girl to be a woman.” Not our girl to be a woman of my union with Erin. Because lo this is to be the girl who will grow to cure cancer, slay vampires, bring peace to the Middle East and will one day best monetize the websites of newspapers and magazines throughout the land.

She is to be The Chosen One.

Or so I’ve built it up in my mind.

In reality, she is but one more young woman who will be brought into the world by well-educated, over-read, liberal parents who are trying to steer their daughter clear of sexist influences and give her every choice in the world…except Pink.

Pink.

Last week, Erin and I were discussing colors for the nursery and I said “Anything but pink!” Because, of course, this will prevent…I don’t know.

Something.

It’s just too easy. Accepting pink as the default color for a girl is the equivalent of saying you liked The Joshua Tree when I was in high school: doing so raises far fewer questions about your personal point of view and allows you to get through a stressful situation without a bunch of weird looks.

In my mind, Pink is the pastel specter that hangs over our pregnancy. A threat far greater than any other, leading our daughter down the path of various princess-branded toys, which as everyone knows are the gateway drug to playing dumb to get boys to like her. And here thar be dragons!

***

A couple weeks before we learned we were having a girl, one of Erin’s relatives told us she hoped we were having a boy as she – owing largely to my fascination with all things Kryptonian – had bought us a few Superman onesies. Not missing a beat, Erin and I said our unborn child’s gender wasn’t an issue in this case as ours was a child destined to wear the shield.

Yet even Erin – a woman quite contrary – said to me at lunch last week “Our daughter might like pink and Barbies” in a tone that left unsaid the words “and that’s OK” as well as “and you might just have to suck it up and deal.”

My wife said these things after I expressed concern over exposing our daughter to – of all things – Phineas and Ferb as none of the female characters were women I’d want her to aspire to be:

* Candace – tattletale
* Isabella – boy-crazy (or Phineas-crazy, as it were)
* Mom – unobservant
* Vanessa – the child of an evil, if largely unsuccessful, mad scientist

My wife is more intelligent in these matters and reminded me that our daughter would likely want to model herself after Phineas and Ferb, the resourceful, charismatic, unstoppable heroes of the show. This brought me some measure of calm.

None of this should suggest I’m set on Turning Our Girl Into A Boy.* I want my daughter to be free to form her own identity, irrespective of the expectations of others, including – or especially – her father. After all, it’s not like I’m a typical male: I fake it pretty well but I know jack about sports, avoid dude culture at all costs and have preferred cocktails over beer since college. I’m far more Oscar Wilde than Oscar Madison.

My wish for our daughter is that she would be the human equivalent of an order in a Chinese restaurant: a little from column A and a little from Column B, becoming a well-rounded, thoughtful, multi-talented individual who’s sees nothing – even the color pink – in terms of gender and everything in terms of territory to explore at will.

* Let it be noted here that there’s an incredibly nuanced discussion to be had about gender constructs. Let it also be noted here that I’ve had a few glasses of wine and am unable to fully explore said discussion in the above but am aware of the issues surrounding it.