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Caped Crusader

© Regina Sewell

When I was eight years old, I created a superhero alias called “Super Reggie.” My very 1970’s super hero outfit consisted of green tights, green and pink gym shorts, old fashioned red track shoes with white stripes, a plain white t-shirt, a blue and green floppy sun hat that was folded to look like Robin Hood’s, and a cape made from a “magical” towel with a picture of an elephant on it. While I thought myself quite sporty in the overall outfit, it was the elephant towel that gave me my special powers. The elephant towel enabled me to fly and to make myself invisible.

My alias character was sort of a cross between Superman and Harriett the Spy. My mission was to save the world. I spent countless hours spying on family members and neighbors, waiting for them to plan an evil deed that I could prevent. Since I seldom caught anyone in the midst of planning a dastardly deed, I often had to save the world from the “bad guys” that blossomed in my imagination. Safe in the confines of my imaginary world, I fought with and triumphed over them and put an end to their nefarious plans.

As Super Reggie, I was invincible. I brushed off the bad guy’s punches and kicks like flies and sent the bad guys flying across the room when I punched or kicked them in return. And because I could fly, there was no way any villain could outrun me. No one could hurt me.

This was quite a contrast from my real life. I was my brother’s human punching bag. My brother chased away his demons by tormenting me. He poked, pinched, and punched me, called me names, and broke my belongings. Once he locked me in the trailer of my father’s 18-wheeler for what seemed like hours. All I could do was scream. My punches were ineffectual. I might as well have been hitting a brick wall for all the good that fighting back did for me.

Being Super Reggie gave me a sense of power that helped to counteract the powerlessness I felt in real life. It’s no wonder I created a super hero alias.

We take it for granted that boys have fantasies of being superheroes or other powerful characters. Superman fantasies, GI Joe dolls, soldier toys, trucks and sports equipment are seen as the accoutrements of boyhood. Still, it’s not unusual for girls to have similar fantasies of being powerful. I have heard women talk about having pretended to be things like the President, a powerful wizard or witch, a nun like Mother Theresa, a judge, and an amazing variety of superheroes when they were girls. Like me, they didn’t just want power for the sake of being powerful. They wanted power so that they could save the world. It’s almost as if the powerlessness that we face as girls makes us blind to our own oppression, but gives us empathy for others who are oppressed or victimized.

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