"Maybe this is what I've been waiting for. Maybe I'm finally part of something... bigger." (Kamala Khan aka Ms. Marvel)

Standing big and standing tall - 

it's what's expected of you, right?

Especially if you want to be like your heroes.

Standing big and standing tall - it's what the heroes in the comics do, right?

And I want to be a hero - to myself, and to other people.

But real-life doesn't always work out that way for me.

Because sometimes, I end up shrinking away from real-life, let alone from being a hero in it.

And, as a result, I end up feeling small.  And when that happens, I feel vulnerable.

And then I feel like the littlest things can send me into a panic.

And I've been thinking about this a lot lately - about this constant back-and-forth in terms of how I see myself ... and how and why it's always changing.

And that, in turn, has led me to think of a new hero who has come into my life recently and profoundly inspired me to see myself in a better light.

Which is why I'm writing here about Kamala Khan.

To say that Kamala Khan is currently my favorite character in comics isn't an understatement.

Ms. Marvel, the comic that chronicles Kamala's adventures, is pretty much the only comic that I will buy each and every month regardless of anything.  I make sure I have enough in my bank account to afford that comic whenever it comes out and I get it almost immediately instead of waiting for the issues to come down in price like I usually do.

That's not meant to be a slam against any of the other comics or characters I admire.  It's just that I'm that much a fan of Kamala's.

The writing is beautiful.  The art is gorgeous.  The characters are fascinating.  The entire creative team is genius in their subtle handling of big, bold ideas and images.

But this isn't a review of Ms. Marvel.  Here, I'm writing about why Kamala is, suddenly, one of my biggest heroes.

And the reason is simple: she helps me feel better about the world, and my place in it.

And she really does make me feel better about these things ...

... because I identify with Kamala ... even though our lives are nothing alike.

I really identify with her.

And, I mean, that identification is manifold.

Because I identify with Kamala's feelings that she doesn't fit in, which isn't exactly unique to Kamala in comics.  It's a truism of many young super-heroes.

But Kamala's handling of these feelings runs so much deeper.

Because I think every girl who's grown up in America knows what it's like to feel ill-at-ease when we don't match the standards that the dominant American culture sets out in front of us about what we're expected to be.

And I think we all know what it's like to dream - achingly, painfully - of being able to somehow, perhaps magically, live up to those expectations.

And to want to look at images of what we're expected to be, sometimes more than our own reflection.

It can hurt to know you're not the "same" as everyone else, even if no one is.

And it can make you want to scream.

And it can make you spend so much time and energy just wishing ... and wishing ... and wishing ... to no avail.

And that extends to being different from those Americanized standards, too.

To the point where you don't appreciate what makes them special.

And all you feel is alone, isolated and stigmatized.

Now, I do think I should point out here that my cultural upbringing is very different from Kamala's.

I don't share her background.

But I do think I understand a lot of her feelings.

And I understand those memories of simply begging to be taken seriously.  And being told "no" ... no matter how well thought-out my reasoning was.

And how my parents knew what they wanted for me ...

... and how my parents always seemed to prioritize what they wanted over what seemed "best" for me.

And I know what it's like to be punished for doing what I felt wasn't just right - but right because of its necessity.  

And knowing that no matter what I said or did ...

... it wouldn't be enough to sway the authority figures in my life that I was justified.

And that's what I think makes Kamala such a great character.  That, for all her differences from my own life, there are as many similarities as there are differences.

And, realizing that, I realize so much more.

I realize how wonderful this variety really is, in seeing representations so beautifully rendered of people who have not been part of my own experiences, but who are presented as fully-realized human characters the reader is meant to appreciate and empathize with even as those differences are highlighted in the stories and art.

And that has an affect on me that's like a balm to my own pain over how different I have always felt in my own life.  

And that realization leads to another realization in and of itself that can be a special challenge, as I've said before, for me because of my autism:  the need for empathy - at all times, in all cases, in all situations.

For everyone - not just those who fit one standard, but the width and breadth of human shapes and sizes.

And that's when the next realization piles on: that I'm one of those unconventional shapes.  I'm one of those unconventional sizes.

And that, like Kamala, I have to learn the hardest empathy of all ...

... which is empathy for myself.

Because that's a fight for me.

Because no matter how much I try, it's hardest for me to have empathy for myself, even as I try to have empathy for others.

But Kamala reminds me that empathy for oneself has to come first before we can worry about helping other people.

And I have to remember that, even though I am an atheist, the universe has blessed me with so many good things.  

And I have to appreciate them, so that I can best use those gifts to help others.

And live up to standing as tall as I can in this world.

And Kamala's shapeshifting power is a wonderful metaphor for these realizations, with her powers to change her appearance based on her needs - and her mood - serving to show how much power ... and danger ... can come from how one sees oneself.

And it can make a person beautiful no matter what shape they are.

And it can make them strong.

And it can help us to fight back against those very powers that tell us we're not enough of this or that, or enough of anything, or enough to be worthwhile.

Because we totally are.

And when we realize that, there's nothing we can't accomplish.

And we don't have to be perfect by someone else's standards.

And we don't have to even accept those standards.

We can punch them into the stratosphere, instead.

But it isn't just that kind of aggressive or destructive power that makes Kamala an amazing character to me.

And it's not in how she fights that strikes me the most.

It's in how she heals.

And I cried when I first read this panel.

And I cry as I'm posting it to this blog now.

Because that one image and collection of words says so much to me about the kind of person I am and want to be, the kind of hero I want to be.

Because it's great to fantasize about being invulnerable, indestructible, capable of changing shape and appearance to stand tall and fight the good fight.

But that's not where healing happens.

And it doesn't happen until we're our regular selves.

And that's where Kamala gets to me most.

Not as her super-hero self, and not as her normal self, but in the combination of the two.

Because Kamala is the real hero of the comic - not just Ms. Marvel.

And watching Kamala discover that is both strengthening and healing.

And it makes me feel like a hero no matter how I look, or where I am ... because I know that even when it can't so easily be seen, and even when I feel my smallest ... that heroism is there inside of me.

And that helps me stand tallest of all, because I'm standing tall as myself.