All of Our Heroes Shouldn't Appear on No Stamp!

When I was nine my heroes were Willie Mays, Spider Man, Adam 12, and the Brady Bunch.  You see, I lived in a world at that time that I wanted to escape from.  Nothing against my parents.  They were great people who did all that they could and now that they are ancestors, I love and appreciate all their sacrifices, but my childhood was one of insecurity, anxiety, and a constant lack of feeling safe.  So, I was always trying to escape.  I developed an active imagination and I had my heroes.  All of my heroes overcame obstacles, were the best at everything they did, and represented the winners and ""good guys."  To me, those were all the characteristics that I seldom saw in my day to day life, so I loved these people I didn't know, most who didn't even exist, with all my heart.  I went to San Francisco Giants games whenever I could and when they traded Willie Mays it felt as if I had been orphaned.  Every month, I marked off the days until the next Spider Man comic book came out and since they came in 30 day intervals, I had four weeks to figure out how to get the money to insure I was there the moment the new copy was available at Fred's Liquor Store.  I watched Adam 12 like clockwork every week.  They were clean cut, perfect, and the protectors of the universe.  And, I wanted to be a member of the Brady family.  They had a garage, an upstairs, a cool dog, and a family that seemed to work through problems collectively.  Then a strange thing started to happen.  I began to grow older and slightly wiser.  I think it started when I caught a home run ball at Candlestick Park during a game.  That accomplishment gave me the privilege of getting into the player's parking area to get autographs after the game.  I remember seeing Willie Mays in that parking lot that day.  He was playing for the New York Mets then, that would have been the only reason I was there, but I think he still lived in the Bay Area.  It was to be his last season, a shell of the legendary player I fell in love with, he was still Willie Mays.  So, when I saw him, I ambled over to him, ball and pen in hand, anxious and hopeful of getting his autograph.  It took me a few moments to speak to him because there were women around him, young attractive women and he was much more interested in them then he was in me.  Finally, he turned to me and I extended my ball and pen to him, but he only took my pen so that he could use it to write down the phone number of one of the young women he was enamored with.  Once he did that, he didn't even look my way again, not to mention sign my ball or at least return my pen. Then, he got into his pink Cadillac, and spun out of there, kicking up rocks in my face.  I was crushed, but that was probably the beginning of my wake up call because shortly after that, I remember having a moment of reckoning with Spider Man.  I don't remember what the comic story was about, but Spider Man had to rough up a group of people who were protesting some injustice. Up to that point, I never remembered having to question Spider Man's judgment on anything, but I remember in that story, a person he was about to beat up challenged him on being on the side of the ruling class, or something to that effect.  And, I have always remembered his comic book bubble response.  He said something to the effect of he shies away from social statements and instead just enforces the law or something like that.  Whatever he said, it jarred me because even in my young mind I understood that everyone has to take a stand, take a side, even Spider Man.  Then, I remember watching an episode of Adam 12 where a European (white) man was robbing banks disguised as an African.  When Adam 12 finally caught him, the robber told them that he knew they had been looking for some "n - - - r" who was robbing these banks!"  I remember being shocked by hearing the word, even on a fictional television show, because quite possibly that was the first time I had heard the word on T.V., although I heard it in real life consistently.  At any rate, I remember feeling strange about the fact Adam 12's clean cut hero cops had indeed harassed several innocent African men throughout the episode looking for the actual culprit.  I also remember resenting the fact that they didn't correct the guy or say anything in response to his racist statement.  That jarred me.  The great protectors weren't going to protect me.  Finally, I remember when the Brady Bunch aired an episode where one of their neighbors took in an African and Asian boy and some of the neighbors took offense to it.  I was forced to accept that even in the Brady neighborhood, my existence was going to be an issue.

Today I can still count out most of Willie May's career stats off the top of my head, but the truth is shortly before or after my encounter with him, I had the opportunity to catch another ball and meet Roberto Clemente.  Unlike Mays, Clemente took a real interest in me.  Asking me my name.  Giving me baseball socks that I still have today.  He even told me I was an African.  I believe to this day that he was the first person to call me that.  He was killed shortly after that in a plane crash while attempting to deliver supplies to victims of a devastating earthquake in Nicaragua.  A true hero Clemente was.  After meeting him and learning about him, I haven't thought much about Willie Mays since.  In fact, I still admire Clemente. Actually, I'm reading a book about him right now.  Clemente, unlike Mays, spoke out often against white supremacy in sports and society.  You would never have heard Mays make a peep about social issues, even after he was discriminated against from buying a home in the Peninsula, he never spoke about it.  As for Spider Man, I haven't thought about him since I was a child.  I haven't even seen the movies except one I know I watched while on a plane flying to Africa once.  Now, when I think of Adam 12, I think LAPD, the farthest thing from heroes that I can imagine.  And, the Brady Bunch is simply an old television series where Robert Reed/Mike Brady was acting a lie as the husband when in real life he was a gay man who didn't even have the space to be himself in a society that still struggles with accepting people for who they are.  

I realize now that all my childhood heroes were illusions and/or lies.  It makes sense because most of what I was taught was an illusion and/or a lie.  And, clearly, I'm not alone.  The real superheroes aren't on sports fields (with the exception of quality individuals like Mr. Clemente) or comic books.  The majority of heroes and sheroes are day to day people who work hard, live and make decisions based on integrity, and stand up against injustice in whatever way that they can.  And, since I understand that and have raised my daughter to understand that I don't need the Brady Bunch's neighborhood any longer.  I don't need any neighborhood.  I'm glad that my daughter grew up with real heroes and sheroes.  She admired Assata Shakur growing up.  I remember taking her into Marcus Books when she was three and when she saw Assata's picture, she yelled "Auntie Assata!"  I remember revealing that to Assata when I met her in 1994.  My daughter had real people to look up to and the point of all of this is I learned that my mission is to provide real heroes and sheroes for every young person to look up to.  Probably my most proud accomplishment in life is I look at my daughter today and I feel that she's a well adjusted young person who is selfless with a huge heart.  My goal was to do everything I could to spare her the traumas I had and I think that goal was met.  She doesn't need the fantasy crutches that I used to survive.  Now, I wonder if we can do the same for the next few generations to come because if we can, we can create something far better than the lie we are living today.