Heroine Addiction

I have a terrible heroine addiction.  It started with Wonder Woman.  I mean, everyone loves Wonder Woman, she is hardly controversial, but it turns out that she was my gateway.  Suddenly, it is 1992, and Storm, Jean Grey, Psylocke, Boom-Boom, Lilandra, even fucking Jubilee are inspiring me to be pretty and take exactly zero shit from anyone.  Then Rogue happened.  I tried to get clean, but I just found more mainstream ways to channel my addiction - Sonya Semyonova showed me how to kill real demons.  Even Jane Eyre, who might be both the most boring and most heroic heroine of them all, like the Scott Summers of great British heroines, showed me that the realization of courage comes from acting in adherence to convictions, even when it steals happiness.  For Jane, happiness is a choice, and she chooses it again and again.  Damn that big, boring, beautiful damned heroine.

Now, I need heroines; I need them, and I see them everywhere.  I see them at my job, in my former students, in everything that I read, watch, otherwise consume.  I am a heroine connoisseur.  I can be picky; I know the hallmarks of the the best ones.  On Mother's Day, I am proud that I was ejected from the very best heroine, slung into the world by a woman whose superpower is her humanity.