It wouldn’t surprise anyone that knows me to hear that Spider-Man is my favorite Superhero. Ever since I sat on the hood of my father’s car in the humid August air and watched The Amazing Spider-Man at a drive-in movie theater, it’s been a giant part of my life. From bed sheets to keychains, Spider-Man swung his way into my everyday. It isn’t until recently that I actually thought about why Spider-Man is the hero that drew me in, despite him having a rather uninteresting backstory as far as superheroes go (I mean, just LOOK at Star-Lord) or fantastic tools. While I originally wrote it off as having always had a thing for characters that deserved better than they got (READ: Batman’s Robins), I realized that the answer is much, much simpler: I like Spider-Man because he’s good and because he’s proof that anyone– and I do mean anyone— can be a hero.
Into the Spider-Verse backs me up. After all, the movie is about a thirteen-year-old that becomes Spider-Man and then immediately discovers a pig, a robot, a divorcee, and a film noir detective that are all also Spider-People. The film ends with a broad message: anyone can wear the mask. It’s the same message that the original 1960s comics sent into the world of comics.
The heroes before Spider-Man weren’t people that blended in. Iron Man and Captain America don’t need to hide their identities because, in the long run, they can afford not to. While that’s cool and all (after all, if I was Iron Man, I’d totally flaunt it), it also makes them far less relatable as characters. They have less to lose. The friends that Captain America had before defrosting are almost all dead, and the friends he gained– or found again– are all capable of taking care of themselves. Iron Man is more than able to shell out a few million dollars if he feels Pepper needs protecting. Going public with their identities doesn’t put giant targets on the backs of the people they love the way it would for Peter Parker. Peter has more people to lose than he can protect. While Aunt May, Mary Jane, and Gwen are all capable of taking care of themselves, they aren’t superpowered, and there’s little they would be able to do against a menace like Electro or Rhino. But beyond other people, revealing his identity would mean losing Spider-Man. In issue #158 of Ultimate Comics Spider-Man, Peter says it himself, “I can’t be Spider-Man and Peter Parker. I can’t do this once I’ve been outed.” There’s an advantage that Cap and Iron Man possess with being so willingly public, and rich and part of a team, and that’s that their sense of self and responsibility don’t hinge entirely on hiding. In a way, that makes Peter look more human because the risks he takes are more relatable than those of Iron Man or Captain America.
The creation of Spider-Man brought along with him a message: No longer are superheroes only rich men, or half-aliens, or people with terrible, traumatic backstories. They’re bookworms who were in the right place at the right time and were forced to discover that their actions have consequences. For Peter Parker, this realization came in the form of his Uncle Ben being murdered by a criminal he let go. He discovered, for himself, that having these powers means that it’s his responsibility to do good. In Spider-Verse this happens in every montage– the bite, the powers, and then the catalyst that really makes someone Spider-Man: the consequence that makes them want to do good things. A dying Peter Parker shoving an electronic key into Miles’s hand gave Miles an unspoken choice: do something or don’t. Spider-Man, from the beginning, has been someone who can be anyone. Peter Parker was bitten on a school trip. When he was created, he was what the majority demographic of comic book readers were: a teenage boy. That hasn’t changed much. With a wider fanbase now, Spider-Man could be a divorcee, or a middle school boy, or a ballerina. Spider-People keeping their identity a secret only helps uphold the suspension of disbelief because anyone around you could be a hero.
Spider-Man’s sense of humanity, however, is something we can all relate to. How often do we choose to stay silent about the right choice because it’s the decision that could hurt us the most in the long run? In Spider-Verse, we see Peter B. Parker tempted by this. Thrown into the wrong dimension, his first instinct is to take the Goober (his code name for any electronic key that does anything) and go home. When Miles reminds him that everyone could die if the machine runs again, his response is cynical, “‘Or everyone’s gonna die.’ That’s what they always say, but there’s always a little bit of time before everyone dies, and that’s when I do my best work.” Following him up a building, Miles reminds him that this isn’t who Spider-Man is. Spider-Man wants to save the world. He wants to save everyone. So Peter B. Parker does the right thing: he saves the world because that’s what Spider-Man does.
“With great power comes great responsibility,” is the realization that Spider-Man came to alone after the death of his uncle. Instead of wallowing in guilt, Peter Parker chose to do something with his powers. In the Play-Station 4 game, he uses them to hunt down pigeons (on top of fighting seven of his greatest foes, of course). In Ultimate Comics Spider-Man, he uses them to help other heroes. In Spider-Verse, Peter B. Parker uses them to stop a dumb kid from getting himself killed. “With great power comes great responsibility,” is what made Peter Parker start working for J. Jonah Jameson to make some money for Aunt May. It’s what made him protect, again and again, the city that often called for his head on a stick. What I’m saying is that Spider-Man is a hero that does the right thing because it’s right. He isn’t morally ambiguous, he doesn’t argue points that could be justified and also not (SEE: Civil War). At the end of the day, Spider-Man does something that we all can do: make the right choice. That’s why anyone can wear the mask. That’s why anyone can be a hero. That’s why Spider-Man grabbed my attention at eleven years old and hasn’t let go since.
