You’ll be a god to them.

Jor-El

Superman is back. And predictably, the American Right is furious.

Before a single frame of James Gunn’s new Superman hit theaters, the usual suspects began frothing about how “woke” it had become. Dean Cain — the Clark Kent of the Clinton years — preemptively whined that Hollywood was going to “make this character woke.” Fox News pouted that audiences don’t want to be “lectured.” Memes sprouted like weeds: Trump wearing the cape, the “real Superman” apparently defending border walls instead of crashing through them to save lives.

MAGA sees Superman — this strong, white, square-jawed man in tights and a cape — and mistakes him for their avatar. A patriotic enforcer. A defender of the American status quo. A middle finger to change.

But here’s the uncomfortable truth:
Superman was never yours.

Born of Aliens, Raised by Immigrants

Superman wasn’t crafted in a marble government building. He was born in the imagination of Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, two working-class Jewish kids from Cleveland — the sons of immigrants who fled persecution in Eastern Europe. He didn’t arrive wrapped in a flag; he crash-landed in a Kansas field, alone, alien, orphaned.

He is, in every way, an immigrant.

An undocumented refugee adopted by Americans with open hearts and calloused hands. Raised not to dominate, but to care. His power is not a weapon of conquest, it’s a burden of mercy.

Superman is the dream of an outsider — the fantasy of belonging, of doing good in a world that fears you for being different. MAGA loves its cult mantra of “America First.” But Superman isn’t America as it is, he’s America as it ought to be: the one that opens its doors, not slams them shut. A United States that errs on the side of humanity, not punishment and hate.

The Real Villains Wore Suits and Hoods

In his early appearances, Superman didn’t waste time on alien invaders or apocalyptic threats. In Action Comics #1 (1938), he threw wife-beaters through walls. He hunted down war profiteers. He terrorized corrupt CEOs and politicians. He didn’t hover over cities — he punched up.

In 1946, in perhaps his most socially radical storyline, Superman took on the Ku Klux Klan in The Adventures of Superman radio serial Clan of the Fiery Cross. The writers worked directly with activist Stetson Kennedy, who had infiltrated the KKK and fed their secret rituals and codewords into the script. The show aired to millions of children. Klan recruitment dropped. Humiliation works.

Superman wasn’t defending “traditional values.”
He was defending the people traditional values often left behind.

“The American Way” Was a Wartime Slogan

The catchphrase “Truth, Justice, and the American Way” wasn’t even part of Superman’s identity until the 1940s — a product of wartime propaganda to align him with national morale. The phrase that idiots like Dean Cain are whining about? It was never original. Before that, it was simply “Truth and Justice.”

In recent years, DC Comics has consciously shifted it again:
“Truth, Justice, and a Better Tomorrow.”

Cue the outrage. As if acknowledging a world beyond our borders is somehow a betrayal. As if striving for improvement is subversive. But the truth is that Superman was always forward-looking. He was never a nationalist. He was a globalist in the best sense: a universalist, a believer in decency without borders.

The Right’s Woke Panic Is a Confession

So why the fury now? Because Superman is being reframed?

No — because he’s being restored.

James Gunn’s version emphasizes kindness, decency, and alienation. It frames Superman as a man who could conquer the world but chooses to walk among us, listen, serve, and hope. It presents him not as a demigod draped in stars and stripes, but as a moral philosopher with a strong back and a gentle hand.

The MAGA response — labeling that “woke” — is revealing.

They’re confessing what they wanted all along:
Not Superman, but Homelander.
Not hope, but dominance.
Not empathy, but enforcement.

My Review of Superman (2025)

I loved this movie — completely, sincerely, and without reservation.

Watching James Gunn’s Superman, I felt something I hadn’t felt in decades: the same electric joy I experienced as a 7-year-old kid flipping through comic books in a boring small town. Back then, Superman wasn’t just a hero — he was possibility. He was what happened when the ordinary met the extraordinary and chose kindness over power.

That feeling came rushing back. And in a film landscape overcrowded with cynical antiheroes and in-joke-saturated franchises, this movie reminded me why I ever loved superheroes in the first place.

I still remember seeing Christopher Reeve take flight for the first time. I was just a kid, wide-eyed and wide open. And now, as an adult — jaded, informed, and surrounded by chaos — I expected to watch this new version with arms crossed and skepticism loaded.

Instead, I smiled. A lot.
I felt. I cared. I believed again.

Gunn’s Superman doesn’t try to out-grim The Batman or out-snark Deadpool. It simply dares to be earnest. Dares to be hopeful. Dares to ask, without irony: what if the real measure of a hero is what they choose not to do?

What if the most powerful being on Earth wanted nothing more than to do the right thing?

The film is visually rich but never showy. It’s funny but never mocking. Its action sequences are thrilling, but what sticks with you aren’t the punches — it’s the pauses. The moments of restraint. The quiet choices to help instead of hurt.

It’s also a masterclass in tone. Gunn walks the tightrope between mythic grandeur and small human truths and he never falls. The immigrant metaphor is there, unashamed and unapologetic. So is the struggle to belong, the longing to help, and the moral discipline of someone strong enough to do anything… and choosing to listen instead. Instead of resigning himself to legacy, Superman is reminded how deeply human it is to choose one’s path — not to surrender to one’s fate, family, or fear.

This is the Superman I remember — not the weapon of a state or the punchline of a franchise.
But the Superman who shows up.
Who believes in people, even when they don’t deserve it.
Who represents what we could be, if we were brave enough to be kind.

After years of superheroes who only seem to reflect our worst impulses, Superman (2025) dares to reflect our best ones.

And for that I loved it.

The Verdict: Superman Belongs to the People

Superman does not belong to the Right.
He does not belong to the Left, either.
He belongs to those who need him.

To the kids who feel different.
To the people on the outside looking in.
To the ones holding the line against cruelty with nothing but hope in their hearts.

If you find yourself angry that Superman is being portrayed as kind, humble, or inclusive — you were never his fan. You were just borrowing him for your flag-waving fantasy.

But the cape was never stitched for you.

Superman is not a white nationalist wet dream. He is an undocumented alien raised by farmers who stood against the ignorant evil of groups like the KKK. He is the bulletproof refugee who shows up, not to conquer, but to help. If that’s “woke” to you, then the problem isn’t Superman.

It’s you.