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It happened again last weekend.  I was at a party here in Chicago, sipping a glass of sangria at a party and engaging in witty repartee.  The next thing I remember is waking up on a bed covered in empty, greasy pizza boxes in a fleabag motel in a Mexican border town with Richard Neal, the owner of Zeus Comics, passed out next to me.  As usual, both of us were dressed in red velvet mariachi suits. 

This is the third time this has happened this year, and my mind is filled with the same questions as before.  How did I get here?  Where is Ray Palmer?  Why is this happening again?  How did that donkey get in the room?  Why didn’t somebody tell me how cute I look in a sombrero?  What’s that smell?

It’s moments like this that I renew my commitment to be more superheroic, and take better care of myself.  This is when I pull out back issues of the X-Men.

Like most fanboys in my general age group, I spent most of my pre-adolescent and adolescent years immersed in my favorite storylines.  Between 1980 and 1986, I must have read each new issue of Uncanny X-Men ten times before the next issue came out.  In addition to just plain loving the stories, I was also digesting the morality espoused by the X-Men, which in some respects differed from what I was learning from my family, my school, and my community.  These are values that I hold very dear to this day.

Here’s what I learned:

Diversity is always an asset.  True strength comes from being surrounded by people different from you.  Who wouldn’t want to surround themselves with white-haired African goddesses, demonic-looking devout Christians, and a physically disabled mentors?  Stupid people, that’s who.

Never apologize for who you are, and never become what others expect you to be. We are all in a constant journey towards understanding ourselves and the people around us.  The X-Men taught me that the best strategy for being truly happy involves complete acceptance of oneself and rejection of peoples’ stereotypes of what we should be.  In spite of the fact that mutants were hated and feared, the X-Men rarely retaliated, and strove to be true to themselves and to work for the peaceful, unified world that they wanted to live in.  Conversely, Magneto spent his existence being ruled by the perceptions of others, and became what people expected him to be: a rageful killer.

Justice is greater than the law. Let’s imagine the government were to pass a law saying that they have the right to listen in on your telephone conversations, or to have you register as a mutant, or to hold people at Guantanamo Bay without due process of the law.  It sounds like science fiction I know, but really try to imagine this.  I credit the X-Men for my unwillingness to accept the status quo, and my desire to participate fully in the democratic process to see that justice is served.  Just because popular opinion indicates that mutants or suspected terrorists (i.e., brown people) should be quarantined without legal recourse doesn’t make it right, and each of us has a responsibility to fight for what is just.

The most important thing in the world is love. You may spend your days fighting your evil counterparts or giant robots or crazed religious zealots, but the most important thing in life is to take care of your family, whatever that looks like, and to let your family take care of you when necessary.  Even if the woman you loves kills herself on the blue area of the moon and you take some time off and get marooned on an island where Magneto happens to be residing, your family will be there for you, and you can always go back to them.

In some small way, these superheroic values saved my life.  One spring night in 1985, at the age of 15, I was lying in my bed in the dark wearing headphones and listening to Dr. Ruth Westheimer’s sex-themed, call-in radio show.  That night a guy, probably in his early 20’s, called for advice.  “My friends will point out a pretty girl, and I’ll notice the guy that she’s with.  What’s wrong with me?” “Are you gay?” Dr. Ruth asked, nonjudgmentally, in her matter-of-fact, German way.  Long pause.  “Wow.  Yes.  I guess I am,” he responded.  “Wow.  Yes.  I guess I am,” I thought to my 15-year-old self in the dark that night. 

For about thirty seconds, I felt like I was being electrocuted and couldn’t figure out how to shut off the current.  Then I remembered everything I learned from the X-Men.  I am different.  That requires no apology. Just because many people don’t understand it doesn’t mean that it’s wrong or unnatural.  There is family out there for me, I just need to find it.  Suddenly, I was just fine.  I was better than fine, actually.  I was excited to be me, maybe for the first time. 

Sometimes, when brutally hung over, lying next to an unconscious Richard Neal and dressed like a mariachi performer somewhere in Mexico, it’s easy to lose sight of those very simple principles that helped me come to terms with who I am.  As I’ve aged, life has gotten unnecessarily complicated.  “Those guys on the leather man float and all the drag queens in the Pride parade are hurting ‘the cause’ by alienating middle America,” I’ll sometimes think.  “Of course that guy didn’t deserve to get gay-bashed, but what did he think was going to happen with him flaunting his gayness like that in a small town in the South?” I’ll wonder.  “That guy’s such a fag, I don’t even want to be remotely associated with him.”

When I’m able to listen to myself and recognize this internalized homophobia for what it is, I’ll pick up some old issues of Uncanny X-Men to help me remember what’s really important.  Our differences make us stronger and better as a community.  No one should ever have to apologize for being who they are.  Every one of us deserves safety, justice and equality, no matter how the laws are written or implemented now.  We have a responsibility to love each other, and provide a sense of family and belonging to our queer brothers and sisters.  We deserve to treat ourselves well, and if that means drinking less sangria and not being the musical entertainment with Richard at Donkey shows in Tijuana, then so be it. 

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