Somebody’s Hero: A Rising Trend of Super-Moms in Comic Book Culture

 

Last autumn, I found myself having a tough conversation with my mother. It was the sort of nervy chat you don’t realize is happening until it’s happening, and on a worse day for either one of us, it could have gone south fast. I’m happy to report that we got through the tough bit and turned it into a valuable heart-to-heart.

Co-incidentally, that same week I happened to read a comic book where a powerful superhero found herself having a valuable heart-to-heart with her mother. I realized I was getting a little misty as I saw myself and my mom reflected back within the panels of the page.

At the same time, I got to wondering why it seemed so novel? I can name dozens of moments in superhero pop culture when a father and child relationship is explored for the lift it gives the champion – why is the mother and child so seldom given the same treatment.

Then December arrived and another mighty mom showed-up…and in April it happened again.

One could argue that much of this began two summers ago with WONDER WOMAN, but that story feels like something altogether different – an entire society of women where power and wisdom are passed from mother to daughter. The last several months feel like a trend, one that might be very interesting and well overdue.

SPOILER ALERT for Aquaman, Avengers: Endgame, and current Captain Marvel comic books.

 

 

The first example that comes to mind is AQUAMAN. The story – written by Will Beall and David Leslie Johnson-McGoldrick – begins by introducing us to “Super-Mom” Atlanna (played by Nicole Kidman). She is the queen of an underwater nation who washes ashore during a hurricane. She meets a mortal lighthouse keeper, falls in love, and has a son with him.

Since Atlanna has special powers that stem from her underwater lineage, so too does her son, Arthur. This is a rarity for a superhero story regardless of label or studio – so rare, in-fact, that it was largely invented by Beall and Johnson-McGoldrick for this iteration of the Aquaman character.

Atlanna is a warrior who can dispatch an entire unit of spies sent to extract her from her newfound domestic bliss. She has the moral fortitude to sacrifice herself and her relationship in the name of her son’s well-being, and even the tenacity to find a way through that sacrifice. When punished for abandoning her underwater kingdom, she is able to fight through banishment with the hopes that she and her family will one day reunite – becoming an example of hope and steadfastness her son might be able to follow.

Admittedly, much of this seems foolish when one considers that the powers involved are being able to effortlessly swim with power, speak to fish, and wield a trident. The point remains – the mother is powerful, and so too is the son. It’s one of the very few on-screen examples of a hero gaining the ability to rise based on what he inherits from the x-chromosome.

The heroes we have pulled-for are usually granted their gifts through freak accident, mutation, chance encounter, or because they are purely not of this world. Seldom does a character gain special distinction from their mother’s bloodline the way AQUAMAN does (“How very Jewish of it”, as a good friend of mine pointed-out).

Stereotypically, physical strength isn’t attributed to our maternal bloodline. Unless we are descended from women who are especially athletic (including athletic artistic pursuits like dance), the assumption is that our physical gifts come from our fathers. It’s a beautiful origin to assign to a superhero. It gives one pause and makes one think about how many physical gifts we inherit from that side of our parentage.

Before the tides of AQUAMAN roll out, the story will also touch on the nature of the difficult decisions mothers make in the hopes their children will benefit, and the desire that time and maturity will allow a measure of reprieve for the hardest decisions. So many mothers in the world face some very tough choices – made that much harder by so many onlookers who are quick to make judgements about “the right way to parent”. AQUAMAN wants us to empathize with Atlanna, and with mothers everywhere. Sometimes these women have to make a tough call regarding their children – a call that seems like a loss no matter what.

We in the peanut gallery may not be agree with these choices in the moment, but every mother’s conviction is that it will be the best call in the long run.

 

 

The next example of a recent “Super-Mom” comes from the pages of the Captain Marvel comics. Author Margaret Stohl was tasked with unveiling a new piece of Carol Danvers’ legacy. Stohl’s story – The Life of Captain Marvel – sheds light on a somewhat unexplored element of the heroine’s past – namely, her mother Marie.

In the 2018 arc, Stohl sends the woman the world calls “Captain Marvel” home to get her head straight after an especially taxing run with The Avengers. In Carol’s Massachusetts hometown, a family crisis requires her to make an extended stay, and a curious beacon summons an otherworldly visitor. As the malevolent alien takes aim at The Danvers homestead, Carol assumes the threat is there for her. It’s then that Marie Danvers reveals her own Kree colours and admits the truth – the threat is there for her.

In the moments that follow, the truth is made known. Carol is of mixed parentage: she comes from a human father and a Kree mother. Marie was sent to Earth on a solo military mission by the Kree, but abandoned the operation when she encountered Joe Danvers and his sons. She was drawn in by the love and warmth of family life – a deep contradiction from the world of war she had just departed. She stays on Earth, hiding her Kree identity from everyone. She becomes a step-mother for Joe’s two sons, and eventually has a daughter with him: Carol.

Confessing all of these secrets to Carol for the first time brings Marie to the ultimate point: Carol’s powers were not (as long assumed) a freak accident gained by proximity to another Kree man. They were within her all along, inherited from Marie, and the incident simply activated them. Carol’s abilities are Marie’s gift to her; that Carol now uses them to protect so many is Marie’s ultimate gift to the universe.

This book is especially affecting for anyone who has had their relationship with their mother change after a moment of crisis. When the ground shifts under us, we can sometimes pull away from our parents – or we can be pushed closer together. We suddenly stop looking at them through children’s eyes and suddenly see them as the adults we truly are. So it goes for Carol and Marie Danvers.

 

 

In the moments leading up to Marie’s revelation, Marie and Carol were already beginning to communicate about many things in ways they never had before (crisis will do that). When the truth about superhuman powers is made plain, Marie holds nothing back. She makes it clear not only that her daughter’s abilities are no accident, but that she is proud of the decision she made that brought Carol into the world in the first place. She has no regrets over ending her fight for the many in order to begin fighting for a very special few – her family.

It’s affecting not only for the candour this super-mom uses to speak to her super-daughter, but also for the way it underlines the love our mothers have for us and how much they are willing to give up. We have no idea who these women were before we came along, and it’s easy to feel guilty about “what might have been”.

The power and grace of Marie Danvers words in response to her daughter’s anxieties are deeply affecting, and they come laced with the strength of the mightiest titan.

 

 

The third example of a “Super-Mom” might be the most powerful and potent of them all. Screenwriters Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely delivered AVENGERS: ENDGAME to the world last month, and contained within the epic tale is an unexpected moment of motherly wisdom delivered by Thor’s mother Frigga (played by Rene Russo).

It’s worth noting that in her previous two on-screen appearances, Frigga was given precious little to do. She eventually shows how fearsome a fighter she is during THOR: THE DARK WORLD by dispatching an entire unit of Dark Elves in hand-to-hand combat, but she is eventually overtaken and murdered protecting the woman her son loves. There is a word for harming a female character to advance the plot of a male character in her orbit, and it is “fridging”.

So how to atone for so egregious a sin as the fridging of The Queen of Asgard. Markus and McFeely made an attempt during AVENGERS: ENDGAME, and a worthy attempt it is.

ENDGAME finds Thor despondent over his failures as a hero. He has lost so many people close to him – his mother, his brother, his friends – all from his inability to give them the protection The God of Thunder should be able to offer. Thor falls into a deep depression, eating and drinking his feelings until he no longer physically resembles his former self.

As fate would have it, The Avengers’ first step to restoring universal order Thor going back to the events of THE DARK WORLD, and it’s there that he encounters his mother. Their meeting is brief, but truly beautiful

Thor tries to bluff his way past his mother, but she immediately halts him in his tracks. “I was raised by witches boy – I see with more than eyes”, she tells him. Not to suggest that anyone’s mother is raised by witches (though, if they are – cool!), but there’s a lovely allegory there. Perhaps there is something about being a mother that allows women to see their children with more than their eyes. Their gut? Their heart?

Thor confesses all of his shortcomings, and owns his despair, and without missing a beat, his mother drills into his thick, Asgardian skull what he needs to understand. She tells him that he is a failure, as is everyone else.

“Everyone fails at who they are supposed to be, Thor. The measure of a person – a hero – is how well they succeed at being who they are.”

 

 

It is both frank and loving, finding a sweet spot only mothers seem capable of finding. The sage words apply not only to The Odinson before her, but also to every one of the broken heroes in ENDGAME so desperately trying to undo their mistakes. What’s more, it cuts into all of us in the audience who wish we were something more…something better…perhaps even better daughters and sons.

Frigga’s son is one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy, but in this moment he is no match for the wisdom, intuition, and inner strength of the woman who raised him. She is able to see the commonality and lessons contained within failure – details her mighty son could not. Interestingly, not only does she patiently instill them back into her son, but she refuses to take his help in return.

Mothers don’t want to accept their children’s help – it’s just the way it goes, even for heroes. Speaking of “the way it goes”, she also prods her son to start eating a little lighter. Mothers, man…

In thinking about why I happen to be noticing the rise and role of “Super-Moms”, I realize it comes from the way my relationship with my own mother has changed in recent years. My father passed away suddenly late autumn of 2016, leaving my brother, mother, and I to move forward with a new family dynamic. While we were already close at the time, my mother and I found ourselves speaking to one-another differently ever since. She is – and probably always was – far stronger than I realized, and filled with her own manner of heroism.

In her I can see Atlanna’s sacrifice, Marie’s strength, and Frigga’s wisdom. My hope is that as time passes, I will see traces of her in other “Super-Moms”, and that the wider audience will see their parents too…and perhaps, eventually, their mothers influences on themselves.

 

 

Maybe it’s a coincidence that several superhero stories brought these “super-moms” closer to the center all at once, maybe my own experience has me keeping a keener eye out, or maybe something larger is bubbling-up. Throughout its history, much of this genre has been dedicated not just to male protagonists but to their fathers. For every Marie Danvers there are thirty Jonathan Kents or Uncle Ben Parkers.

Father figures like Uncle Ben get to give deep-rooted and iconic guidance like “With great power comes great responsibility”. Aunt May Parker, meanwhile, offers nothing nearly as catchy to The Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man. Her long-term presence and lasting influence, however, is every bit as important.

Our mothers and our mother-figures are every bit as heroic as the titans we idolize on-screen and on the page. They sacrifice so damned much for us; their energy, their nerves, their time, not to mention their bodies. They grant us our natural gifts, can impart guidance and wisdom, and put our best interests before their own. They don’t need a beacon in the sky to come to our side when needed, and when they arrive they show-up without cape, cowl, sword, or shield. They don’t even need adulation or applause…but it’s a good idea to call once in a while.

These matriarchal characters deserve to be represented in their stories with every bit of zeal and weight as their male counterparts. If that can continue to happen, we in the audience will see further reflections of the women who raised us. We will better understand the the sacrifices they made, the gifts they gave us, and remember the wisdom they have imparted. At the end of it all, we might even be better for it.