Denver, 1992
Mile High Comics was located on the south side of a now defunct shopping center, next to the movie theatre that was tucked inside a recess in the wall, and across the way from the music store. I called it the Escape the Real World area, where I spent my Saturday afternoons, always alone but never really lonely.
I’d step into the comic book store first, say “hello” to the affable clerk as I walked by him, and peruse the titles. I knew exactly what I wanted as I searched through the store; action packed comic books with exquisitely detailed renderings of characters on the page. I usually found this combination in The X-Men, a comic book chronicling the lives of special human beings — called mutants — born with great powers. I’d read somewhere that The X-Men was in fact an allegory for the Civil Rights Movement, with Professor Xavier, a telepath and leader of the protagonist X-Men, occupying the role of Martin Luther King, and Magneto, a manipulator of metal and leader of an antagonistic group of mutants, inhabiting the role of Malcolm X. I didn’t care anything about synergizing stories with an implied deeper meaning back then, as I just wanted to get lost in a world that was different from the one I was living in.
“You must really love X-Men,” said the store clerk one afternoon, his head bowed as he documented charges on a cash register, also a defunct remnant of the past.
“Huh,” I said. “What did you say?”
The clerk looked up and smiled. “You buy an issue of X-Men every time I see you come here.”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “It is my favorite comic right now. I like the way the characters are drawn, and the stories are pretty exciting.”
The clerk slid the books into a translucent plastic bag and said, “You know if you’re interested in some more stuff, I’ve got some Black Panther comics in stock, and some Captain America comics too. There’s a guy that hangs with Cap, his name is Falcon. He’s pretty cool.” He placed the plastic bag on the glass counter. I extended my right hand, grabbed the bag, and let it fall to my side.
“I can show you where you can get a copy of the books I am talking about,” said the clerk. He pointed in the direction of the back door.
“Nah, I’m good,” I said. “I’ve got what I needed. Maybe the next time I come back to the store?”
His arm fell, along with his face. “All right man. I’ll see you next time.”
I tucked my head and scurried out of the store, leaving the downcast clerk in my wake.
***
It’s been nearly thirty years since that kindly clerk tried to introduce me to Sam Wilson, aka Falcon, one of the few black members of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. I am drawn to the character as a grown man.
In The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, playing exclusively on Disney Plus, Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes, aka The Winter Soldier, two of the lesser used characters in the previous Avengers movies, are afforded six hour long episodes to shine, enough time for the audience to get to know Sam and Bucky more thoroughly. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier is set a short time after the apocalyptic confrontation with Thanos — the fictional Titan responsible for excising half of the earth’s population with a snap of his fingers in Avengers: Infinity War. Thanos is eventually vanquished from existence by the Avengers, led by Captain America, in the subsequent movie, Avengers: Endgame, culminating in the reemergence of billions of people from the ether.
As the world attempts to move on from the trauma caused by Thanos, Sam Wilson, played by Anthony Mackie, arrives at a fateful decision. He will relinquish the shield bequeathed to him by Captain America, the archetypical American hero — white, blond hair, blue eyes — and former leader of The Avengers crew. Captain America, along with his vibranium shield, symbolized America for decades.
Sam Wilson, a black man raised down south in Louisiana, is unsure if Americans are ready to accept a black man as the new Captain America. With the shield constituting a weight that he is in no way prepared to carry, Sam humbly turns over possession of the shield to the United States Government, thinking that it would be kept safe somewhere, a tribute to a hero never to be forgotten. Sam is in Louisiana reconnecting with his sister when a distressing image appears on the television evening news: a new Captain America, carved out of the mold of the traditional hero, has been chosen by the government to carry the mantle forward.
Bucky Barnes, played by Sebastian Stan, is a victim of extensive psychological abuse, and is currently undergoing therapy to counteract the effects. He was very close with Captain America, who remained steadfast in his support for Bucky after he discovered disturbing information about his friend’s past — Bucky had been deployed as a covert assassin for decades. Bucky supported the former Captain America’s decision to bestow the mantle on Sam, as it is a validation of Captain America’s faith in him. So, when Bucky discovers that Sam has given the shield away, he is disheartened and dismayed.
As Sam and Bucky sit facing each other during therapy, a confrontation ensues:
“Why did you give up that shield?”
“Why are you making such a big deal out of something that has nothing to do with you?” said Sam.
“Steve believed in you. He trusted you. He gave you that shield for a reason. That shield that is — that is everything he stood for. That is his legacy. He gave you that shield, and you threw it away like it was nothing.”
Sam glowered at Bucky. “Shut up,” he said.
“So maybe he was wrong about you,” replied Bucky Barnes, incensed. “And if he was wrong about you, then he was wrong about me.”
Bucky and Sam soon discover that the new Captain America, John Walker, is unworthy of the honor and responsibility bestowed upon him, and forcibly extract the shield from John Walker’s grasp.
Even with the shield in his custody, Sam remained hesitant to accept the role foisted upon him by circumstances beyond his control. And after he visits with Isiah Bradley, a former black Captain America whose life is ruined by the United States Government — he was imprisoned for thirty years and experimented upon — Sam wonders if a similar fate could befall him.
Sam and Bucky, reluctant partners before taking back the shield from John Walker, cement a friendship while practicing with the shield at Sam’s childhood home. Bucky has come to understand why Sam hesitated to accept the role of Captain America saying, “When Steve told me what he was planning, I don’t think either of us understood what it felt like for a Black man to be handed the shield. How could we? I owe you an apology. I’m sorry.”
Soon after his reconciliation with Bucky, Sam makes his final decision to serve: “What would be the point of all the pain and sacrifice if I wasn’t willing to stand up and keep fighting?”
Sam Wilson is ready.
***
The Falcon and the Winter Soldier is a fictional story about superheroes that is rooted in our reality, with issues of race, mental health, and politics interwoven. The decision to include these issues into the context of the story was brilliant, as fans and critics of the show can readily connect the plot to what is taking place in our world right now, and this is especially true for black men and women. Sam Wilson is a world renowned superhero, a valuable contributor to a extraordinary team tasked with protecting the world from super powered antagonists. And yet, he is still unable to secure a bank loan, the police harass him for no reason, and he is easily overlooked for promotions despite all of his accomplishments. As I am a black American, survivor of multiple encounters with armed police and a victim of prejudice in the workplace, I can definitely relate to Sam Wilson’s plight. I am very glad for that.
I’ve been watching reviews of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier on YouTube, and I am heartened by the conversations being generated on race and equity. These influencers are making important connections, and are spreading their interpretations of the bigger message contained in the show to millions of their followers, many of them impressionable young people who are poised to take over leadership positions in the very near future. They’re going to know that a black man can be a symbol for what is good and right about America.
The reception of The Falcon and The Winter Soldier by the masses makes me hopeful for a better America in the future.
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