It’s Okay when my Daughters Pretend to Be Iron Man

Since most female superheroes look like sex objects I reluctantly allow my girls to dress up as Iron Man.

My four year old twin daughters are all of a sudden into superheroes. “They must be getting it from preschool,” said my husband. And I agreed because we don’t let them watch TV.

We live in Berkeley, California, one of the most liberal towns in America. In Berkeley, superheroes are derided for their violent approaches to problem-solving and for occupying the realm of non-intellectual pop cultural pap. However, I will secretly admit something to you now. But you have to promise not to tell anyone.

Okay, come closer so I can whisper in your ear.

I love Iron Man.

I cannot get enough of Robert Downey, Jr. as Tony Stark, charming the pants off of everyone, kicking ass and flying around in his dazzling robotic suits. It’s so satisfying when he delivers a coup de grace along with a snarky catch-phrase and a twinkle in his eye. I want him to win.

So when my sweet little daughters coerced me into making them Iron Man masks so they could pretend to fight crime and save those in danger, I reluctantly acquiesced. It’s problematic enough that two small girls are pretending to be a lady-killing billionaire pretending to be a superhero. Of course they don’t know anything about the Tony Stark storyline. They just think it’s fun to be Iron Man and save a person (me) who fictitiously broke her leg.

But what bothers me more is there are no female superheroes I feel good about encouraging them to emulate. They are all hyper-sexualized.

Let’s take a brief look at some of the more prominent figures in the pantheon. Wonder Woman fights crime in a strapless American flag maillot. How do her giant boobs stay in the suit while she brandishes her golden lasso? The Invisible Woman, also quite curvaceous, wields light waves and psionic energy (whatever that is) to fight evil-doers. But being the object of Doctor Doom’s affection, she is frequently used as bait to lure him from his lair.

And when no female superhero is featured in the plot, the male superhero fights (a metaphor for sex) a gorgeous yet capable lady villain while saving his pure and pretty damsel in distress. Consider Catwoman holding her own against Batman in her skin-tight bodysuit; Black Widow beating up men twice her size with décolleté on display; or Mystique, a shape-shifting killing machine who also happens to be a stunning blue woman who doesn’t wear any clothes.

Batgirl may be the only exception. She holds a Ph.D. in library science, has no romantic ties to Batman, and is a crime-fighter in her own right. But it’s hard to reconcile her curriculum vitae with her appearance. With her centerfold figure tightly clad in a black latex suit and high-heeled patent leather boots, she could easily be mistaken for Dominatrix Barbie.

I think female superheroes basically exist for two reasons. The first is as sex fantasy fodder for comic book collecting nerds who may not be so lucky in the lady department. The second is to sell provocative Halloween costumes to women who really want to let loose on All Hallows Eve.

Letting my daughters dress up like Iron Man clearly seems the lesser of evils.