"Rao, Preserve Me."

Some Context: Superman and Clark Kent as Opposite Personas

Superman is often described as incontrovertibly masculine, an ideal representation of traditional images of men and the expectations heaped upon them by patriarchal norms. His towering physique and awesome capabilities underpin the resolute and authoritative personality he projects to enact change. To the extent that the aforementioned norms are intertwined with familial nuclearization, Superman’s status as the “greatest (and strongest) hero” works in tandem with stereotypical male roles of “protector,” “provider,” “leader,” and so on, buttressed by the general perception of him as the true embodiment of physical power. For these reasons, of the two primary personas with which this essay is concerned, Superman is typically the preeminent masculine figure even if he’s not the predominant identity; his presence, compassion, and heroics are consistently framed as paternalistically benevolent or righteously domineering, such that he’s often considered as the superior moral and behavioral guide in most situations even by other heroes his age.

In the larger Superman mythos, Clark Kent is typically constructed to be the opposite — effeminate, or at least enough unlike Superman that few people suspect a connection without ample evidence, despite any physical or attitudinal similarities. More specifically, Clark is “mild-mannered,” which has been construed to entail pervasive shyness, timidity, submission, and cowardice, in addition to a relative feebleness and delicate sensibility not expected of a man his size and age. He dresses poorly and hunches over to shrink himself, sometimes speaking with a stutter or nervous air. What attention he does attract for his sharp writing ability and communication skill as a reporter is often trumped by his reputation for being unabashedly scared, frail, and accident-prone. Clark’s friends and neighbors are more likely to regard him as gentle and sweet, but they find themselves exasperated at times depending on the current context. Clark also literally and figuratively lacks paternalism in most cases: in the Earth-1 and New 52 universes specifically, Clark is notably a bachelor, while Earth-2 and New Earth are not bachelors but have no children. He is also not considered a role model or a guide, at least to the same extent or type as Superman, such that a traditionally paternal image is usually attributed.

It should be noted most of these distinctions are not entirely cogent or consistent in universes such as New Earth, where the motion to make Clark Kent the “real identity” — here distinct from persona, in that the character’s embodiment of and positive relation to ascribed traits and descriptions is sincere — led to the excision of many previously prominent “effeminate” traits within the Clark Kent persona. Nevertheless, the belief that the distinctions between personas should and do exist, at least nominally, remains the most important aspect of Superman's secret identity quagmire. 

The Pantywaist and the Strongman: Earth-2, the Golden Age, 1938–1952

[Superman (1939) #67, "The City Under the Sea"]

Men regarded as effeminate or otherwise deficient in masculinity are implicitly presumed to not be (traditionally) heterosexual, as the initial construction of the heterosexual identity is reliant on a stable masculinity. That is, gender expectations for men under patriarchy include assertiveness and dominance — especially over women, who are expected to be submissive and passive. On an individual level, the effects of these displays are most prominent in men’s personal and sexual relationships, creating an environment in which the establishment of a heterosexual relationship acts as an easy indication of masculine prowess. In turn, this creates the cyclical reinforcement between perceived masculinity and heterosexual performance, as traditional heterosexual dynamics tacitly mandate the submission necessary for a man to sufficiently prove his masculinity. 

The Superman of Earth-2, also known as the Golden Age Superman and Kal-L, was the first to establish the Clark Kent persona and thus the first to employ the masculine/effeminate dichotomy that would come to define the character in the wider mythos. Though Earth-2’s Clark Kent is considerably more outspoken than many later depictions, bearing the weight of 1940s expectations, he is mild-mannered and diffident depending on the context. He avoids overt grand displays of chivalry to avoid detection, to the point of seemingly abandoning others from time to time, engendering a reputation for pronounced cowardice [e.g., Superman (1939) #1]. He also generally refuses to engage in degrading or disrespectful behavior, making him seem conformist at best and submissive at worst. Decades of embodying these traits, and a tendency to regress to form when he does defend himself or others, create the general perception that he is effeminate (or painfully dull, which often overlaps with the former, as it is seen as an expression of unmasculine passivity). It should be clarified here that effeminacy and femininity are not synonymous; Clark is treated as a particularly weak man for having traits perceived as feminine, namely submissiveness, but is not necessarily feminine himself.

[Superman (1939) #5, "The Slot Machine Racket" and #15, "The Evolution King", respectively]

It follows that Clark’s interactions with Lois Lane, his coworker and love interest, illuminate perceptions of and responses to his effeminacy. In fact, Lois’ attraction to Clark is likely the most reliable barometer of the perception of Clark’s masculinity in-narrative; not only is she the character with whom he most interacts, but the predominant narratives of women’s desires in the 1940s were largely filtered through heteronormative and patriarchal lenses, such that a greater attraction to Clark than, say, Superman would be considered aberrant. Concordantly, Lois’ negative descriptions of and dismissal of Clark in this era — both extant from the beginning and compounded in severity by her own assertive nature, which is juxtaposed against Clark’s — aptly reflect the interplay between traditional gender roles and heterosexuality and related social mores: “pantywaist” referring to both a coward and an effeminate man [Superman (1939) #7, “The Three Kingpins of Crime,” &  #8, “The Carnival Crooks”] and “a miserable specimen of humanity” [Superman (1939) #17, “Muscles for Sale”] being amongst them. When asked why she avoids him, Lois tells Clark not to ask her for another sob story, only to reaffirm his status as a “spineless, unbearable coward” after an altercation with an aggressive man attempting to force her to dance [Superman (1939) #1]. Expectedly, Lois continues to lack an actualized romance with Clark through this era because she views him as unmasculine, which lessens her attraction to him (with the irony being that Clark is Superman and is thus the worthiest of her attraction in a traditional sense). Thus, the aforementioned avenue of using heterosexual norms to assert his masculinity is barred to Clark, making it so he must rely on alternate methods of asserting his masculinity or otherwise cope with the consequences of his failure.

[Superman (1939) #1 & Superman (1939) #17, "Muscles for Sale" respectively]

Given that the Clark Kent persona in the Golden Age largely exists in service of Superman’s endeavors, most especially the protection of his secret identity, Clark cannot truly escape his conundrum without increasing the risk of exposure. Establishing an honest romance with Lois or another woman would entail both becoming appealing in a traditionally masculine sense and informing her of his alter ego, neither of which Superman is inclined to do lest he and his associates be subjected to blatant violations of safety and privacy. This status quo results in Clark’s feigned shortcomings situating him in an ever-nebulous space of “effeminate heterosexuality,” wherein he ostensibly experiences opposite-sex attraction but is so pitiful at upholding a traditionally masculine role that he cannot establish, maintain, or defend a heterosexual relationship. Such a failure arguably constitutes a form of queerness in that it defies traditional expectations of men under patriarchy, which makes Clark "strange" — and thus, a target of persistent harassment and doubt.

[Superman (1939) #17, "Man or Superman?", #17, "Muscles for Sale", and #22, "A Modern Robin Hood!", respectively]

As aforementioned, Superman is the masculine alter ego and leading persona. The Clark Kent persona serves to shield him from the various unsavory consequences and annoyances of heroism. However, because Clark Kent primarily interacts with humanity, there’s a profound sense in which Superman’s masculinity is divorced from human expectations and standards. Significantly, Superman embodies traditionally masculine norms with ease, due in large part to his great powers and physique, such that he need not entertain many other engagements with gender expectations; yet he struggles with a sense of alienation precisely because he cannot sincerely participate in the relationship rituals that those around him find valuable. A neat example is when Superman, though technically guised as Clark, fears that he’ll crush a woman’s ribs if he forgets himself in a fit of passion [Superman (1939) #7, “The Black Gang”] but there’s also the more pervasive, aforementioned sense in which he cannot pursue a romance for fear the woman would be harmed or disappointed when he cannot perform normally. The alienation worsens the panic Superman develops when confronted with the potential reveal of his secret identity. Generally, the reveal — even just to love interests such as Lois or good friends — is too ruinous to entertain, much less tolerate, such that he lies or engages in blatantly manipulative behaviors to maintain the secret [e.g., Superman (1939) #19,” Superman: Matinee Idol”]. Superman stuffs his suits into secret panels, closets, or drawers, of which he is so protective that he’d rather hope (guiltily) the discoverer die than blackmail him, even in dreams [e.g., Superman (1939) #6, “Mission to San Caluma” & 19, “Superman’s Amazing Adventure”; Adventures of Superman, “The Mystery of the Stolen Costume,” chapters 1–2]. His terror at being discovered is so great that it clouds and confuses many of his personal interactions and concerns, which is compounded by any belief that someone is actively investigating him. 

[Superman (1939) #7, “The Black Gang”]

Direct Responses

Writer Alex Jaffe: "When your guiding principle for Supergirl is only that she isn’t Superman, there are thousands of directions you can take."

This guiding principle is shit. I don't have a polite way of framing it. Kara's gender, age, place of origin (for even if Krypton hadn't exploded, Kal was born in Kryptonopolis!), and the time period in which she was introduced to Earth culture are just a few aspects that differentiate the characters without an author explicitly needing the crutch of "well, she's not him." Moreover, and perhaps more importantly, I would argue that this relies on Superman himself being a relatively stagnant and unchanging character, both in narrative and in wider perception, or the goalposts for developing Supergirl must change in response. The authors themselves do a better job of elaborating on their positions and how they've developed Supergirl, but the premise they're working from manages to be vague, trite, and damaging somehow.

Cary Bates answered, “At the time I was writing,” he told us, “the answer would be ‘not much.' But I think a more blunt answer to the question came in 1985 with Crisis on Infinite Earths, when DC took the drastic step of killing Supergirl "for real.""

I'm not going to say that Superman and Supergirl having nothing that's theoretically "off-limits" to the other for whatever reason that may crop up is inherently better — but I fail to see why them being so different that you can't regard them similarly is considered necessary from the outset rather than being a natural result of the characters' respective backgrounds and story progression.

I think the COIE mention is interesting because it's a perception-based answer; Superman was/is just too iconic and important to the overall DC universe to exclude, but Supergirl could be removed for a prolonged period without too much fuss as far as editorial was concerned. Still, "you can kill her off" isn't really the kind of answer people care about when they ask this.

Jeff Loeb answered, “What I loved about writing Supergirl was that she was a young woman who came to Earth—unlike her cousin Superman,” Loeb told us. “She had no Ma and Pa Kent, so her perspective on everything had to do with what she knew from Krypton.  It became a different kind of immigrant story.  Much more of a stranger in a strange land than Clark. Having spent years exposed to the yellow sun, she is, in many ways, more powerful than Superman, and hasn't had the human experience of keeping those skills in check when needed,” he suggested. “She can be the badass in the family. It's great fun.”

Based on what I've read of Loeb's take on Kara, I'm not necessarily surprised by the answer. The first half of it repeats what I mentioned earlier, and I take issue with the latter half, which aligns with how I felt about Loeb's writing anyway. I don't take issue with the origin where Kara got trapped orbiting the sun in stasis because of the powerscaling bit; I hate that writers of similar mind to Loeb accidently vilify her under the impression that they're making her cool. Supergirl being written as ill-tempered and violent — as a (often teenaged) young woman and a refugee — reeks of latent bigotry. Kara not having an amazing control over her powers at first is a completely normal aspect of Superlore, but if said lack of control's supposed to be "badassery," I feel there's an intentionality there evoking unsavory stereotypes. If we're working with the juxtaposition angle, then this heavily implies that her older male American Earth-raised cousin, who historically did struggle with impulses, is the softer and more reasonable one. Call me Ralph Dibny if you want, but it doesn't sit right with me.

Also, again, I don't appreciate comparisons between Kal and Kara that imply or state that his different immigrant story is lesser. He lost me with that.

"That difference in Supergirl and Superman’s origins is where most writers seem to find the crux of Supergirl’s character."

Finally!

“Supergirl is the stranger in the strange land trope at its best,” Landry Q. Walker (Supergirl: Cosmic Adventures in the Eighth Grade) told us. “And that is a tremendous amount of fun to write. She can look at a cow with wonder and amazement. She can be skeptical about ice cream. The room for comedy and drama is virtually limitless as Supergirl gets to be overwhelmed by the best and worst that Earth has to offer in a way that Superman—born and raised as a human—never can.”

Hm. Okay, I guess. Cliche and not my cup of tea.

Shea Fontana (DC Super Hero Girls) similarly casts her view of Kara back to her origins. “Supergirl had a much more complex life and journey before she came to Earth than Superman,” she told us. “I love stories that explore the potential friction that causes and how it shapes her as a hero.”

Fontana's referring to the fact that Kara was a teen and not a baby. The use of the word "complex" rubs me the wrong way, but I'm oversensitive to discussions about Superman's immigrant themes so I'll give her the benefit of the doubt.

Steve Orlando, one of the writers on Supergirl’s Rebirth series, is of the same mind, but has clearly given the issue considerable thought. “While Kal learned about the home he lost after the fact, Kara experienced it firsthand—she had plans, hopes and dreams,” he explained. “She had friends, family and teachers she left behind. For Superman, coming to Earth meant discovering a history he never knew. For Supergirl, coming to Earth means leaving behind a future she'll never see. So, with Supergirl, you can tell stories that truly analyze the immigrant experience, even the refugee experience, in a way completely different than with Superman. And that can be as big as the pain she feels on a holiday no one else alive remembers should be celebrated, on the birthday for a lost friend no one but her in the universe remembers...or as personal as the complexities of the Kryptonian languages and the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis as it pertains to Kara's lens on Earth.”

Thank Rao for an actual answer to this question that elaborates on why the Supercousins can/should be treated differently and how that stems from their respective backgrounds without implying anything negative about either one. I hope Orlando's run was actually good.

 Supergirl: Being Super’s Mariko Tamaki takes another approach—looking not to Kara’s past, but the nature of her arrival. “The essence of Supergirl is that she showed up second,” Tamaki posited. “She’s someone who has to forge her own path in a world that has a Superman. I don’t think that’s her essence, but I think it’s relatable to have a character who is becoming themselves in the context of an existing narrative that isn’t their story. It’s why I love writing her.”

Clarification aside, I wish a painful death to the word and concept of "relatability."

Writer Alex Jaffe: "And as many of Kara’s more recent writers have embraced, It’s about existing outside of Kal’s strict moral bounds and giving herself some room to let her hair down and get wild with it when she needs to."

You know, if statements like this were elaborated on, I might take them more seriously. In general, I don't respect the refusal to acknowledge basically any time period or run where one or both of them were in a greyer area of morality than people like to assign to them.

“Supergirl, despite sharing so many qualities with her cousin, is her own person,” Supergirl: Survive’s Griffin Sheridan explained. “With Superman, we see him arrive as a blank slate that is raised human and must eventually learn what it is to be Kryptonian as well. The balancing act of being a god amongst man. With Supergirl, it’s almost reversed. She has always been a Kryptonian who has to learn to accept her new home, all while having a much more vivid picture of what was lost.”

Something about this doesn't sit right with me, but beyond balking at the use of "blank slate" to describe a violently orphaned, assimilated toddler, I'm not sure what it is.

To Brandon T. Snider, the writer of the middle grade graphic novel Supergirl’s Family Vacation, Kara Zor-El’s value is often as a critique of Superman. “Superman wants to be an example,” offered Snider. “He knows his own impact. He doesn’t just say whatever is on his mind at any given time. He also looks for ways to get his message across inoffensively. Supergirl, however, doesn’t have those same self-imposed constraints. She says what she’s thinking. If something doesn’t sit right with her, she’s not going to mince words or censor herself. Part of that is her youth. Part of that is her ability to see things Superman can’t. They both have a sense of right and wrong, but Supergirl is unafraid to point out inconsistences.”

What?

That sense of uninhibited freedom is what defines the tone of Sophie Campbell’s ongoing Supergirl run, now well into its dizzying second year. “The main thing you can do with Supergirl that isn't allowed with Superman is that she can be messy both literally and figuratively,” Campbell shared with us. “She can be a bit slobby, make mistakes, go overboard, she can party, and she can be a bit of a hot mess and still be a hero. She can have an all-night pizza party and still go save the city.”

I need everyone to understand that this is bad.

One last note from the legendary Mark Waid, who took on Kara for his Supergirl and the Legion of Super-Heroes storylineas well as the recent Summer of Supergirl Special. He only had three words for us when we asked him what you can do with Supergirl that you can’t with her cousin: “Change her costume.”

Points for hilarity, but Waid is probably one of the most popular Super writers ever, and I wish he'd answered it.

Musing