In Defense of Superheroes
Superheroes vs. villains. Knights vs. dragons. They're things to which I've given a lot of thought recently, especially since with 3- and 5-year-old sons they consume so much of my day. When I was a little girl, boys were smelly, noisy creatures dressed in sweatpants, full of violent games. Except maybe for my little brother (but much of the time we dressed him up like a girl!). It wasn't until years later that I began to recognize the epic, constant battle between foes and heroes as something other than noisy games. And it wasn't until I had sons of my own that I began to recognize (and even encourage!) their constant drive to overcome some unseen enemy.
I had to admit very early on that boys are hard-wired for something very different from girls. They are made to be heroes, to fight for a cause that they believe to be good, to prove their superior strength, and to protect those who need protection. No amount of discipline or "civilizing"--no matter how much I crave peace--can drive that instinct from them. And after all, I realized, why would I want to?
My prayers for my boys changed with that revelation. I stopped praying that they'd be protected and shielded from harm, and started praying they they'd be brave and unflinching when it came. I prayed that they would recognize the fight worth fighting and see that battle through to the end. I prayed that they would be quick to intercede and stand for those who need their protection, and we are talking about it often. As odd as it would have seemed to my eight-year-old self, we are encouraging superheroes, knights, and games about the battle between good and evil.
There is a place for fighting, it turns out. My boys are learning boundaries and appropriate ways to express that need for a good fight. I am learning not to squelch it. I want my sons to be proficient fighters--not just in a physical sense, though so much of their world is dominated by the physical. Every wrestling match and battle is a very real training ground. Even at five and three, they are practicing skills that I hope will be important in their future lives. We are teaching them to be logical thinkers, to dig deeper and form their own ideas of right and wrong, and to defend those ideas. We're teaching them the right ways to be protective--usually through their sister--and ways to channel empathy into something useful and helpful.
The fact is that few things can teach them those lessons quite as clearly as superheroes (who forego their own comfort to fight for what's right) and knights (who bravely face foes to defend the honor of the people they've sworn to protect). Our home is full of capes and superhero action figures and foam swords. Our stories usually have a villain and a hero and an epic battle. We are hoaning and refining and encouraging what is always there under the surface anyway.
I don't know what their lives hold. Their battle may be physical. It may be standing for a good cause in the court systems. It may be as simple as standing up to a bully on the playground when they discover he's been picking on a classmate. Regardless of the scale, I can be sure of one thing: the enemy is out there, and he will, one day, call them out to fight. I hope we've done our part to send them into the battle equipped and ready to stand strong.
I had to admit very early on that boys are hard-wired for something very different from girls. They are made to be heroes, to fight for a cause that they believe to be good, to prove their superior strength, and to protect those who need protection. No amount of discipline or "civilizing"--no matter how much I crave peace--can drive that instinct from them. And after all, I realized, why would I want to?
My prayers for my boys changed with that revelation. I stopped praying that they'd be protected and shielded from harm, and started praying they they'd be brave and unflinching when it came. I prayed that they would recognize the fight worth fighting and see that battle through to the end. I prayed that they would be quick to intercede and stand for those who need their protection, and we are talking about it often. As odd as it would have seemed to my eight-year-old self, we are encouraging superheroes, knights, and games about the battle between good and evil.
There is a place for fighting, it turns out. My boys are learning boundaries and appropriate ways to express that need for a good fight. I am learning not to squelch it. I want my sons to be proficient fighters--not just in a physical sense, though so much of their world is dominated by the physical. Every wrestling match and battle is a very real training ground. Even at five and three, they are practicing skills that I hope will be important in their future lives. We are teaching them to be logical thinkers, to dig deeper and form their own ideas of right and wrong, and to defend those ideas. We're teaching them the right ways to be protective--usually through their sister--and ways to channel empathy into something useful and helpful.
The fact is that few things can teach them those lessons quite as clearly as superheroes (who forego their own comfort to fight for what's right) and knights (who bravely face foes to defend the honor of the people they've sworn to protect). Our home is full of capes and superhero action figures and foam swords. Our stories usually have a villain and a hero and an epic battle. We are hoaning and refining and encouraging what is always there under the surface anyway.
I don't know what their lives hold. Their battle may be physical. It may be standing for a good cause in the court systems. It may be as simple as standing up to a bully on the playground when they discover he's been picking on a classmate. Regardless of the scale, I can be sure of one thing: the enemy is out there, and he will, one day, call them out to fight. I hope we've done our part to send them into the battle equipped and ready to stand strong.
