So what is a superhero?
A man or woman with a secret identity dressed in a way that exudes strength and well-roundedness off to do (what they hope is) good in the world.
Because not every train forcefully stopped by a standing Superman counts as “saving the day.” Realistically speaking, aren’t there financial costs to doing that? Aren’t passengers exposed to sudden collisions that can harm them?
And don’t we dress up in presentable clothing every single day and head off to become the most super of them all? Don’t we pretend to be more capable in front of the world than we may be when we are alone?
Doesn’t a daughter who juggles academics, taking care of an ill parent, AND nurtures her own soul count as a Superhero? Doesn’t the son who fights to keep his manhood in tact while he hunts to provide count as a Superhero?
The mere fact that you go on with your life despite the pain, the heartbreak, the lack of appreciation, the lack of genuine no-strings-attached kindness you receive from others… just the fact that you still get up every morning to face the world again, makes you a Superhero.
So maybe Marvel wasn’t that far off when Wonder Woman or Flash came to mind, maybe we just too blind to see our colorful costumes.
But we need to make sure that we’re able to see our costumes and everyone else’s.
We need to acknowledge that Supers come in all forms, and that we all have a secret identity.