Here is the full text of Sana Amanat’s talk titled “Myths, Misfits & Masks” at TEDxTeen 2014 conference.
Sana Amanat – TEDx Talk TRANSCRIPT
Now, I am actually going to do something that you guys do every single day.
I’m going to ask you guys to judge me right now. The Bumbys were just doing it; it’s very appropriate. Take a good look, and describe me in your head.
Now, based on those descriptions, how would you categorize me? By my height? By my skin color? By my hair?
Now, would any of those descriptions scream comic-book editor? Maybe my T-shirt, actually; I think that might have given it away.
But no, probably not. I’m actually one of the few South Asian, female comic-book editors out there. I think, actually, I might be the only one, so for any of you South Asian females interested, it’s a good gig.
I highly recommend it. Holler at my ladies? No? All right, that’s cool.
Now, what I do as a comic-book editor is I make things up. I work with creators to tell the most uncanny, amazing, sensational stories about seemingly ordinary individuals who come to possess extraordinary identities. We call them superheroes.
Now, when I was first asked to speak at this event, it was actually after the announcement of a character I had co-created: Ms. Marvel, the all-new Ms. Marvel, was the first Muslim American superhero to have her own series.
It really was the most obvious thing in the world in my mind. I had created a character that I could identify with. And yet it was quite possibly the biggest publicity that Marvel had seen in quite some time.
Parents called us, thanking us for creating a book that they could finally share with their daughter. Fans called us thanking us for creating a character that they could finally relate to.
We’d clearly tapped into something really powerful, something people had been craving for quite some time. And yet it was the simplest idea, just masked as the craziest.
Now, to understand the origins of Ms. Marvel, we have to take a trip to a land far, far away…
[It was New Jersey]
a long, long time ago, where — come on — where a young girl with a cowlick and bad taste in clothes never felt like she could fit in. She didn’t look like the other girls in her class, couldn’t eat the delicious, delicious BLTs that they could eat.
She began to become fascinated with bacon. What is that delicious meat? She had no idea. Her parents weren’t on the PTA. She didn’t get Christmas presents.
And in fact, she had to wear a T-shirt over her bathing suit every single time she swam. So clearly this girl was different. But she did have an outlet, and it wasn’t her parents, who she adored, who just didn’t quite understand her yet, or her three older brothers, who were too busy with hair gel and light sabers to pay any attention to her.
It was something else altogether different. It was the X-Men. Yes! Yes!
The X-Men were mutants, individuals with mutated and enhanced genes that triggered in adolescence, giving them superpowers. It was the coolest thing in the world.
A woman with brown skin and white hair who can manipulate the weather, a gigantic beast of a man with blue fur, a shy girl with a Southern drawl who couldn’t touch anyone.
So these people were that little girl’s safe place. These people she understood because they, too, were different. And it also helped that they also wore ridiculous-looking outfits.
I don’t know, Mom, I have no idea what you were doing in that picture. I apologize.
So, the X-Men embraced who they are. Adamantium claws, weird weather-controlling habits, mutations. They owned it: they knew who they were, and they would defend it, no matter what.
So every Saturday morning, when this little girl used to rush down the stairs to watch that show, she felt a little less alone because they had fulfilled a need to see herself in the world outside.
So, let’s talk about why that need existed in the first place.
Now, remember when I was asking you guys earlier about categories? Why don’t you guys think about the categories that you all belong to? I’m going to do that up here for myself.
So, I am a Muslim, a woman, an American, a comic book editor, a short person, a lazy person, a nerd — you can ignore that, though.
Now, the strange thing about defining yourself in this way is that it simplifies who you are. How can everything that I am be encompassed into a label?
Now, some of these labels we choose for ourselves, others we’re born into and others are assigned for us. But regardless, all of them come with preconceived notions — assumptions and expectations — of what they mean.
So if I’m Muslim, people may expect that I cover my head, that I don’t associate with men, that I don’t drink alcohol. Others may assume that I’m a terrorist — I’m not — that I hate Americans.
Well, I’m an American, so I certainly don’t hate myself, sometimes. I’m an oppressed woman. I’m way too stubborn for that. You can ask my poor parents; they deal with it every day.