Masking the truth
It's a year this very day since one of my heroes, Stan Lee, passed away.
I, like many others, grew up on the incredible stories that Lee shaped with Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko at Marvel Comics. To call it a purple patch would be an understatement.
I even spelt my fictional surname as Stanlee for a while, a couple of years ago, until my inner critic convinced me it was neither big nor clever. Fake name or not, spell it properly, it barked.
Stan Lee co-created a number of awesome comic characters that impacted millions of childhoods all over the world. Everyone has their favourites. Spiderman, Fantastic Four, Dr Strange, Iron Man, the Hulk, the Avengers.
Mine was Peter Parker.
Parker was a kid. Like me. Living in a real city, where crime was rife.
Out of the blue, he's bitten by a radioactive spider and takes on all of its characteristics: super strength, the ability to shoot webs and a Spidey sense that alerts him to impending danger.
It was the first time I learnt about secret identities. Everyone knew he was Peter Parker, but no one knew (initially at least) that he was Spiderman.
I find it fascinating as an adult that not only superheroes wear masks. We all do. We all have an element of secret identity about us.
In Lee's world, when the heroes identities become known to villains, they become vulnerable, bare. Easy to exploit.
I think that's why the concept of superheroes is so popular and relatable. It's the manifestation of our psychological need to keep part of ourselves to ourselves, for safekeeping.
There's a need to compartmentalise. To keep others out, and some of ourselves in. It's both intriguing and frightening to think that a lot of people we pass by every day, people we work with, the guy who made me a black forest hot chocolate at the coffee shop – are all not necessarily who they appear to be.
We walk among real-life heroes and villains without even knowing. We are those people too. Stan Lee tapped into an entertaining, colourful way to think about the costumes and masks we use to present ourselves in a world where virtually everyone else is doing the same thing. Now I'm thinking, what's my superpower?
What a legacy you've left behind, Stan.
Excelsior!