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“I want to be Wonder Woman or Captain Marvel for Halloween!” my niece proclaimed.
She was excited and already planning her outfit months in advance of her favorite holiday. After nearly jumping for joy, she then wrinkled her brow and took a brief trip into the depths of her six-year-old mind. I let her thoughts breathe a little before inquiring about what had come over her.
“How come none of the girl superheroes look like me?” she asked.
I took a moment to let that sink in, observing her caramel skin, her soft flowing curls, and her big doe eyes that were now consumed with wonder. What did she mean by “like me?” Six years on this earth, and she had already become aware of her own distinction. She had already begun looking for her role models.
“There are Black girl superheroes too,” I told her.
“Yeah, but they aren’t girly. I’m girly,” she replied.
Ah, I see. While the Black women superheroes she referred to as “not girly” are very much womanly and beautiful in their own unique ways, I understood very well what her six-year-old mind was trying to communicate. It’s a similar thought that has crossed my mind from childhood…
