Senti Queen

Last week, somebody teased me about my penchant for using cartoon heroes to hide the real identities of guys who have entered, are entering, are about to enter, or are trying to enter my world.  At first, I was annoyed.  But upon seeing this cute profile layout featuring the Marvel Heroes led by Superman, I couldn’t help but smile because it reminded me so much of my childhood.   

My male cousins and my younger sister used to have our own justice league.  I always fought for the title Wonder Woman.  Aside from the fact that it was the most famous female superhero, I liked wearing that star on my forehead.  We roamed the open fields in our grandparents’ backyard looking for and fighting off our imaginary enemies.  We played our heroic characters to the hilt as evidenced by childhood scars I refused to get rid of. (Each has a story to tell which I still want to share with my future children.)

When Mazinger Z and Voltes V hit the boobtube, however, we ditched our self-made Marvel costumes and played instead with my male cousins’ Voltes V action figures.  We were also able to memorize that Japanese ditty without understanding any single word.  While Japanese anime heroes did catch our attention for a while, I’ve always had a softer spot for Batman, Spiderman, and Superman through the years. I didn’t know why. Perhaps their movies every now and then reinforced my love for their characters.

In real life, I also have my own justice league.  I have my heroes who save me from the fires of pain, madness, and stupidity. They sneak into my world when I need their help the most.  They walk into my life when everybody seems walking out.  I had my own share of Clark Kent’s and Peter Parker’s heroic acts to save me from my Lois Lane’s and Mary Jane Watson’s in-distress modes.

I love my own justice league.  They are not just my knights in shining armor. Above anything else, they are my friends. My dearest male friends I am more than willing to save in return.