Superman has always been 'woke'

I'm pumped for the new Superman movie, more than I have been for earlier film treatments of the character. This current moment in history feels like it needs role models, even fictional ones, to inspire us to be better, individually and societally. 

The new film has been taking some knocks in certain quarters for being "woke." For people who use the term negatively, I guess this means that Superman is overly concerned with other people's feelings and emotions, that he is too soft and leans too far left. 

Being woke, to me, basically means giving a shit about other people and being aware of injustices that affect certain individuals and groups. This could be women, minorities, impoverished people, veterans, whoever. 

I haven't seen the movie yet, so I can't say if this new Superman is "woke" or not, but I assume he is. Superman has always focused on the downtrodden, on helping people who can't help themselves. 

The often-reprinted panels above (click on them to enlarge) are from the character's first appearance in Action Comics #1, cover dated June 1938. Superman is rather dramatically inserting himself into the crime of domestic violence. His comment, "You're not fighting a woman, now!" is certainly not enlightened, but his actions are what count.   

The next three panels show the aftermath, and a keen psychological awareness on the part of Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, the two young men who created Superman. Abusers are cowards who punch down, and when they encounter somebody stronger, they wilt. 

Siegel and Shuster were young Jewish men living in Cleveland when they dreamed up their now-iconic character, so they undoubtedly knew a thing or two about being on the outskirts of society, looking in. 

So, yeah, this newest iteration of Superman will probably be "woke." But that's not a new thing; the trait has been baked into the character since the start. Also, it's an odd characteristic to be seen as negative. Shouldn't we all care about each other? Shouldn't we all want to lift others up? 

Of course, it's okay to dislike a new movie. Like what you like, after all. But if you're hating on a character who's always cared a lot for the marginalized because he's caring a lot for the marginalized, and if you feel that way before you've even seen the movie ... well, I just think that's an odd flex. It might say more about you than about a movie, a character, or a studio. 

One more image. This one originally was used as one of those classic brown-paper-bag book covers, distributed to school kids by an arm of the Anti-Defamation League in the 1950s. Eight years ago, DC Comics restored and colored it. The message is as important—and as "woke"—today as it was seventy-five years ago. 

Stay woke, Superman. The world needs you. 

 

Superman Smashes the Klan

I must admit, I've passed on Superman Smashes the Klan since it was released almost five years ago, mostly because a perusal of the manga-inspired artwork convinced me it didn't capture the "look" of the 1940s, whatever that is, and the book's "young adult" label convinced me I wasn't the target audience. 

But a half-price sale enticed me to give it a look, and I'm glad I did. This is one of the most affecting Superman stories I've ever read, no hyperbole. Not only does the collection chronicle the main character's battle with the Klan of the Fiery Kross, a stand-in for the better-known and reviled "organization" that has reared its hateful head across several centuries of U.S. history, but it also serves as an inventive origin story for Superman himself. 

The adventure opens with Atom Man, a Nazi in a suit of armor, attacking the Metropolis Dam in 1946. He is interrupted first by Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen, stalwart reporter and photographer, respectively, of the Daily Planet, who attempt to stage an interview; and then by Superman himself, who makes quick work of the villain, but not before our hero is exposed to kryptonite. This exposure subjects Superman to a series of sporadic visions, images of himself as a red-eyed, green-skinned alien and, later, of his Kryptonian parents. 

Meanwhile, the story shifts to teenagers Roberta and Tommy Lee, who move from Metropolis's Chinatown district to the center of the city, following their father to his new job at the Metropolis Health Department. The teens make friends but also encounter racism prevalent against Chinese Americans at the time. When Tommy takes the place of the star pitcher on the local baseball team, the former ace's uncle reveals his Klan affiliations, striking terror—in the form of a blazing cross on the Lee's front lawn—into the family. This, in turn, draws Clark Kent, Lois, and Jimmy (the latter cleverly portrayed as a school peer of Roberta and Tommy) into the Lee's lives, as Superman and his alter-ego fight for the family. 

As noted earlier, Superman Smashes the Klan is a Superman origin story in disguise. The Man of Steel learns about his alien past (courtesy of the kryptonite exposure) even as the Lees navigate the prejudices in the community. Superman has suppressed his alien nature to fit in and be accepted by the people of Earth, yet the story speaks to the importance of acculturation over assimilation, a lesson that our hero learns in a dramatic fashion by the story's end. The narrative flashes back to Clark's own childhood and teen years, the ways he was "othered" by his classmates and community, and how he suppressed some of his more outre powers, such as heat vision and flying, as a result. 

With this last point, Yang does something that, to my knowledge, has never been done in a Superman comic: He resolves the power disparities between the Golden Age, Earth-Two Superman and the Silver Age, Earth-One Superman in the same character. In Superman Smashes the Klan, Superman has always had the ability to fly, see through walls, and burn objects with his sight, but he suppressed these powers because they would have exposed him as an alien and not merely a super-strong mortal. 

Yang also explores prejudices beyond the ones faced by the Lees. Inspector William Henderson of the Metropolis Police Department is a Black man, and Roberta and Tommy Lee's father is initially distrustful of him for this reason, demonstrating that even members of minority groups can be prejudiced against members of other groups. It's a small but significant character arc for Mr. Lee. 

The story is unflinching in its portrayal of the Klan. Characters at the bottom of the group's hierarchy are motivated by racial animus, but the group's leaders, particularly its horrifying Grand Imperial Mogul, are motivated by the financial gains that are a byproduct of hate. This comes as a shock to one of the lower-rung members—and perhaps to the book's readers, too. 

Yang's gutsy move is to allow the supporting cast more time than Superman throughout the book's 226 pages. This only works if the characters are compelling and their plight harrowing, and they are. 

Gurihiru—the collaborative name of Chifuyu Sasaki, penciler and inker, and Naoko Kawano, colorist—tells the story cleanly and clearly. This Superman has his roots in Joe Shuster's original, to be sure, but with a modern, slightly anachronistic vibe. Parts of the character and the mythos are visually inspired by the 1978 movie, particularly the portrayal of Superman's Fortress of Solitude. Nonetheless, it all goes down easy, even for this reader, who after he checked his artwork bias at the door, was quickly drawn into the visual world of the book.

By the last scene, I wanted to spend more time with these characters and see what happened to them next. Despite the young-adult designation, this is a book that readers of any age can appreciate, one that might be even more enjoyable to share between parents and kids or grandparents and grandchildren. It's something special. 

A text feature at the end of the book gives Yang the chance to talk about racism, Chinese immigration, the creation of Superman by Shuster and writer Jerry Siegel, and how a sixteen-part story from The Adventures of Superman radio show inspired this book.