why can’t superheroes be sick?
when i told my brother iron man was my favorite, part of that came from the fact that a man used humor and wit to make light of a situation. he, like me, had a brain all full of ideas. and he, like me, was sick. he had what i had. he had flashbacks, he had anxiety attacks, he couldn’t sleep until a project was done. he had ocd that looked like mine. and yet he still fought it.
and i thought: well, maybe i can.
when bucky barnes comes out with dark eyes and no memory, i think of myself. of how certain words make me fall back into the places i never want to return to. of how i can’t erase everything that’s been taught to me by the people who hurt me, but i’m trying. that love, above everything, helps me ground myself to the present so i’m not sent tumbling. i think of my own actions - all full of risk, of hurting people i genuinely care about - that i don’t control. how not everyone holds him accountable.
and i thought: maybe there’s hope.
but at the end of the movie, we put the sick man back into sleep. he’s too much of a burden on his friends and family. he’s a plot line that needs to be wrapped up neatly. we don’t put him in therapy. we erase him completely. mentally ill people don’t deserve to be treated gently. we are a disaster waiting to happen. we are a war breeding.
at the end of the movie, nobody has helped tony stark. nobody has made sure he gets home safe and doesn’t drink well past dark. he has lost everything, can’t even get his friends to listen. he’s doing his best and still isn’t seen as a victim. his girlfriend is annoyed with him because illness is a burden.
mental illness works as a great shock value. they trot out the idea that they’ll actually represent us, and then they pull out the rug. black widow’s depression and trauma is just discussed to make a man feel safe. the story never touches on how that shapes her every day.
at the end, we are left with empty hands. the message is clear enough. if you are walking with something bad in your brain, you don’t get to be a superhero. you’re too much. you just need to be put to sleep so you stop bothering every one. your illness is a stunt. a character flaw. not serious enough. your lover will become angry with your compulsions. nobody will ask you if you’ve ever gotten over things.
at the end of the movie, tony stark’s friend jerks awake: he missed the whole story. the audience laughs and i find myself ready to start crying. “he was trying to get help,” i say, but can’t hear my voice through the chuckling, “he was trying.”
and i thought: what if nobody really cares that we’re dying?
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