When I was a kid, I loved comic books. Batman and Wolverine were my heroes. I always dressed up like a superhero on Halloween; for one day of the year, I got to pretend that I was Batman, Wolverine and, once, even Superman, among others. I watched all of the comic book-based cartoons that I could get my hands on; the classic 1990’s Batman series, the 1990’s X-Men and Spiderman series, Teen Titans, Justice League, and so many more. I read so many comics. I borrowed thick collections of books published decades earlier from the library. I maintained a weekly subscription at the local comic shop. I idolized the heroes watched the superhero movies at the time; Tobey Maguire’s Spiderman, Christian Bale’s Batman, and especially Hugh Jackman’s Wolverine were some of my biggest role models when I was growing up. I used all of these mediums of comic book entertainment to escape real life. As I matured, I realized that I didn’t have a real-life male role model so I sought to fill that need by looking to another world: the world of comic books. Presently, I’ve found a mentor, a real-life hero that has been showing me the kind of man that I strive to be. But I’ll never forget all those years of looking up to Batman, Wolverine and other heroes and trying to learn something from them.
When I find a new interest, I pour so much energy into it. When I became a sports fan, I became a sponge as I tried to learn everything I could about the history of football and baseball. I read books, I watched documentaries, and I used the internet to research these topics so I could become knowledgable in them. The same is quite true for my interest in comic books. I spent an immeasurable amount of time, energy, and, yes, money, all in an effort to both become a quasi-master of comic books and to satiate my appetite for this enthralling hobby. However, sooner rather than later, childhood pressures caused me to somewhat throw this interest away.
Beginning in first grade, I started to get bullied about various things. I was too fat. I was too weird. I did this wrong and that wrong. I didn’t fit in. I was shunned. I looked around me, and I saw that about 90% of my classmates “got it.” They understood how to make friends easily and how to blend in. I always felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. I didn’t understand what I was doing wrong. I didn’t know why I was being bullied or shunned. I was desperate to stop it. I told myself that it was time to grow up; “comic books are for kids,” I told myself. I convinced myself that the bullies and the critics might leave me alone if I was more like them. So I turned to sports, because the cool kids liked sports. Of course, that didn’t improve my social standing. I still didn’t fit in. I was still bullied. But for years, I convinced myself that I was better off this way; that maybe, someday, it’d pay off and I’d finally be like the cool kids. Throughout the years, my frustration grew; I didn’t understand why the torment, both direct and indirect, continued.
It took me several years to stop caring about being a cool kid and to stop changing who I was in the hopes of pleasing others. It’s a process that took until very recently to complete. I used to worry that people would judge me for wearing superhero t-shirts in public. Now, I show them off. I wear my Captain America sweatshirt like it’s a security blanket. I used to exclusively read comic books in the security of my room. Now, I proudly pull them up on my laptop whenever I am and lose track of time as I read them. You can call me a “nerd” or a “geek.” And nowadays, I’d tell you that you’re right. I’d also tell you that I’m proud of who I am and I don’t care if anyone disagrees with me. I don’t care if anyone thinks less of me because I love comic books. Frankly, I’d simply ask them, “don’t you have more important things to worry about?”
This past year, I’ve fully embraced my passion for comic books and it grows more intense by the day. Last August, I formed an unofficial comic book club at my college and now, in March, I have successfully applied for the club’s recognition by the school. Through starting this club, I’ve made several good friends initially based solely on our common love of comic books. I definitely know better now: comic books are not just for kids.
I have my best form of escape back; reading comics lets me leave this world and enter one filled with my fictional heroes. As an adult, I have a new appreciation for the tortured souls of Batman and Wolverine and the optimism of the Flash. More than ever before, I love these stories and their complex themes and messages. So, I am a comic book fan. And I am damn proud of it.
