There are two scenes in 2003’s “X2: X-Men United” that have resonated with me for years, from the first time I saw them in theaters after coming out in high school to the last, watching late night TV at 35 beside my sleeping husband. He’s not as into the “comic book stuff.”
If you’re like him and you aren’t very interested or familiar, the sequel and its predecessor introduced the average filmgoer to the X-Men – superheroes that launched the modern day comic book movie craze and a 13-film franchise that would eventually gross more than $6 billion worldwide.
More importantly, they’re a chosen family of individuals, people who are hated and feared simply because of how they were born. Using their uncanny mutant abilities, they protect even those that oppose them.
It’s an allegory that’s spoken to and for marginalized communities since 1963, when during the height of the civil rights movement Marvel published “X-Men” #1. The comic book series was written by the late, great Stan Lee, a personal hero of mine who introduced readers to “the strangest superheroes of all.”
“I wanted them to be diverse,” Lee later shared. “The whole underlying principal of the X-Men was to try to be an anti-bigotry story to show there’s good in every person.”
A reflection of the world around it, the comic would inspire generations to come. It certainly caught my attention as a young gay boy growing up in poverty, feeling very different for a number of reasons far beyond my control – chief among them that Cyclops was more my type than Storm, as fabulous as she was.
I started reading comics at around 7 years old, many of which were well beyond my reading comprehension but paired well with the “X-Men” cartoon of the early 90s. They helped me learn right from wrong and to oppose prejudice in all of its forms from an early age, giving me a deep understanding of the source material that would inspire “X2.”
Those two scenes in particular still managed to surprise me, however, not just as a comic book fan but as a young member of the LGBTQ community. In the first, a character who can transform into ice reveals his secret ability to his parents, coming out as a mutant in an intimate exchange.
“When did you first know you were a … mutant?” his mother uncomfortably asks. She then reassures him that while his parents still love him, the revelation is “…complicated.”
You can view the clip below:
As powerful as the scene’s subtext was, it’s another quiet moment that’s helped shape my life for 17 years. In it, a blue-skinned mutant with a tail and demonic appearance named Nightcrawler – who can’t so easily hide his mutation – approaches the shapeshifter Mystique, someone whose ability allows her to do exactly that.
“They say you can imitate anybody,” he asks with a nuance only openly LGBTQ actor Alan Cumming could provide. “Even their voice.”
“Even their voice,” she responds in his tone.
“Then why not stay disguised all the time?” he asks. “You know, look like everyone else?”
“Because we shouldn’t have to,” she asserts. Watch:
https://youtu.be/dXtccnXt21Y
It’s an exchange that I’ve carried with me for half of my life, believing wholeheartedly that members of the LGBTQ community have every right to not just exist but to thrive. We shouldn’t have to hide our true selves to appease others and we should fight to ensure the most marginalized among us know that. It’s certainly what the X-Men have always done.
Those sentiments are just one reflection of how powerful cinema can be, of the types of impact the experience can have on a filmgoer. It’s certainly the power of the annual Tampa Bay International Gay and Lesbian Film Festival (TIGLFF), which this year celebrates its 31st year of showcasing films by and for the LGBTQ community, relying not on subtext but on substance.
In a festival first and as a response to COVID-19, TIGLFF will reach more viewers than ever before as it goes virtual. We detail this year’s empowering films at length in our new issue, introducing you to its impressive list of features streaming statewide and the shorts it will proudly bring to the nation.
In Tampa Bay news, a transgender woman named Karla Bello seeks accountability after she was jailed for 11 days with male inmates in Pinellas County Jail. City Side Lounge, one of Tampa’s oldest LGBTQ safe spaces, also leads other LGBTQ bars in reopening.
U.S. Rep. Val Demings demands action in Central Florida news as former Florida gubernatorial candidate Andrew Gillum lives his truth in our statewide coverage. A new entertainment experience also takes live theater to the streets of downtown Orlando.
Watermark strives to bring you a variety of stories, your stories. Please stay safe, stay informed and enjoy this latest issue.
