Recently, I took my nine-year-old daughter, Mia, to watch Captain Marvel during its opening weekend at our local theater. It was an afternoon 3D showing, just the two of us. Mia had just come from a birthday party, wearing a tiara and her cozy pink pajamas, her brown hair tousled from the festivities. Despite her outfit, I can confidently say that she is a devoted fan of the Avengers. We’ve seen all the films, but none resonated with her quite like Captain Marvel did.
We settled into our seats in the packed theater, with Mia clutching a bag of popcorn and adjusting her 3D glasses, just tall enough to see over the seats in front of her. She giggled at the Flerken—the seemingly innocent cat with tentacles—and even asked me what a Blockbuster video was, but for the most part, she was glued to the screen.
I’m not here to start a Marvel versus DC debate; I lack the expertise for that. However, I do remember when Wonder Woman was released. It played at the same theater, but Mia wasn’t interested in going. I suspect it had to do with her being more familiar with Marvel movies. So does that indicate we were influenced by a well-established brand? Likely. Would Wonder Woman have made a similar impression on her? Perhaps. I’ll let you know if I ever get her to watch it.
What I do know is that Mia and I have watched all the Avengers films and every Iron Man, Captain America, and Guardians of the Galaxy movie. Yet, none of them captivated her like Captain Marvel did.
She sat there, spellbound, and when that pivotal montage played—where Carol Danvers falls down and gets back up repeatedly—I could see the impact it had on her. Comic writer Kelly Sue DeConnick sums it up well: “Carol falls down all the time, but she always gets back up — we say that about Captain America, but he gets back up because it’s the right thing to do. Carol gets back up because ‘F*ck you.’”
During that scene, I glanced at my small, slender daughter, her right hand gripping her pant leg tightly, her shoulders tense and lips pressed into a firm line. In that moment, she looked undeniably empowered. It was incredible to witness.
As a father, I have many hopes for Mia’s future. I want her to be educated, to value family and community, and to confidently demand a raise from her future boss. I want her to feel safe, empowered, and capable of shattering glass ceilings. I even hope she might become an Avenger someday. I want her to be a strong, communicative individual, and I never want her to feel like she is fighting with “one hand tied behind her back.”
However, it’s challenging to instill these values when cinema often highlights powerful male characters. For Mia, Captain Marvel was more than just a film; it was a transformative example. It demonstrated that women can be superheroes and that she has choices beyond the realm of princesses. It taught her that she can fall down, get back up, and emerge even stronger. As a father to a daughter, that makes all the difference.
After the movie, with her left hand in mine and the other clutching a half-finished bag of popcorn, I asked if she enjoyed it. She stopped walking, looked up, and exclaimed, “It was amazing!” I smiled at her, and as I started to walk again, she hesitated, gazing up at me and asking if she could dress up as Captain Marvel for Halloween. This marked the first time she hadn’t asked to be a princess. I high-fived her and said, “Absolutely!” She beamed, pumped her fist in the air, and we continued our walk to the car.
In summary, my experience watching Captain Marvel with Mia underscored the importance of representation in media. It empowered her and inspired new aspirations, showing her that she can be more than just a princess. This change is significant for her future.