Latest news with #immigrant
Yahoo
14 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Should the gay Muslim man forgive his homophobic immigrant parents?
Yes! OBVIOUSLY! But my answer might've been different when I was younger — or before I left America to travel the world. Last month, the New York Times published an essay, 'I Let My Parents Down to Set Myself Free' by Tarek Ziad, about a young gay Muslim man and his difficult relationship with his very traditional immigrant parents. The man's family immigrates from Morocco to Florida, opens a small business, and experiences what sounds like fairly vicious racism and Islamophobia. The future writer acts out, and the parents discipline him according to the mores of their homeland — that is, very strictly. After a series of massive sacrifices by his parents, Ziad ends up in college, where he begins 'the process of finding myself, unburdened by the expectations of their traditionalist worldview.' That is, he cuts his parents off. Later, when Ziad hears his parents are desperate to make contact with him, he unblocks his number. 'My eyes scanning the floor, I called [my mother] back,' Ziad writes. 'I heard the relief and happiness in her 'Hello?' I told her I'd finished my junior year. I was studying acting and writing solo shows. And, oh yeah, I was having sex with men.' Now his parents block him. 'It's a tough lesson,' he writes, 'accepting that my happiness could be linked to my parents' misery. But I had to shatter their idea of me as simply the troublesome son with authority issues.' Later, his parents reach out again, asking if they can attend his graduation. But he insists that his college boyfriend be there, so they reluctantly decline. After that, they still regularly invite him home for holidays, but now he always declines because they still can't accept his 'queerness.' 'Even though I crave the love of a family dinner, I can't head home knowing not all of me is invited,' Ziad writes. 'I must refuse to splinter my ego, even as it deprives the part of me that misses his parents. And I do.' Instead, he cultivates 'new memories, a new relationship to faith, a new life. My life. People who love me, make me laugh, whom I love' — a chosen family. Obviously, it's none of my business how this guy lives his life, and I'm generally reluctant to judge other people's choices anyway, especially when it comes to something like being gay. On the other hand, when you write about your life-choices online, you're asking people to judge them — by definition. That's the whole point of writing a personal essay, right? Problem is, even hearing this story from within his own self-serving framing, my judgment is that this guy sounds like kind of a selfish jerk. He cuts his parents out of his life without explanation, and when they reach out to him, one of his first comments is to announce he's having sex with men? Despite their coming from an incredibly traditional background? Dude's apparently never heard of the concept of 'diplomacy.' Which, again — fine. It really is none of my business. But I also think he's making a huge mistake — if only because it sounds like his parents really are trying to meet him halfway. Okay, yes, his parents won't accept 'all' of him. But he's clearly not willing to accept all of them either: he's asking them to splinter their egos by foregoing their traditional Muslim beliefs. Funny thing, though. As immature as this Ziad guy seems, he sounds vaguely familiar. When I was in my twenties, I said very similar things. My parents were also socially conservative — devoutly Catholic — and they had an extremely difficult time accepting that I'm gay. When I came out, my parents both said horrible things to me too. Honestly, even after all these years, I've never been able to forget them. When Ziad's parents reach out to him, and he responds by saying he's having sex with men, he is obviously trying to hurt them — a fact that even the author acknowledges. Back then, I wanted to hurt my parents too. After all, they hurt me first. And they were the adults — I was just a kid. Then two things happened. First, I grew older, and I realized that life was far more complicated than I had thought. To my great surprise, my parents changed; slowly but surely, they evolved. By the time my dad died at age ninety-four, my devoutly Catholic father was proudly introducing me and Michael all around his retirement community: 'This is my son Brent and his husband Michael.' I also realized that even adults still make mistakes — big ones. Over the years, I've said my own share of horrible things to people that I suspect they can't forget either, even if I really wish they would. That's why I can't even judge Ziad that harshly. He's still in his twenties. Forgive me if I sound condescending, but he has absolutely no idea how in need of grace and forgiveness he will soon be. Most of us are pretty good at demanding dignity for ourselves, but we're less good at granting it to others, especially when it comes at a cost to ourselves. As for the chosen family, I have one of those too, and I treasure it. But here's another thing you don't realize in your twenties: sometimes members of your chosen family start families of their own, and their priorities shift. And sometimes people just move on. Meanwhile, your parents will always be your parents. There are absolutely things that parents can do where the kid is fully within their rights to cut them out of their life forever. And I also recognize that sometimes giving yourself space is an important part of a process that can lead to reconciliation. You prune a tree, and it grows back stronger than before. But the older I get, the higher I think the bar for 'family estrangement' should be. That's because I've also discovered how incredibly short and precious life is. A few years after my disastrous coming out, I learned my mom was sick with Early Onset Alzheimer's Disease. Before long, she didn't recognize anyone, not even her husband. Except she always recognized me, right up to the very end. How incredible is it that I was there to be recognized? Now I'm almost the age that she was then, and in the last three weeks, I've learned that three of my closest friends have some form of cancer. Back in March, another friend learned he had cancer too — the husband of one of those just diagnosed. At this point in my life, I couldn't care less if I have to splinter myself a bit to have more time with my dead parents or any of my close friends. Only someone in their twenties could possibly be foolish enough to decline a dinner you yearn to attend because of a difference of opinion. Go! Sort all that other stuff out later. The second thing that happened that shifted my view of family? I left America to travel the world as a digital nomad — and I saw that outside of the United States, people have a completely different relationship with their relatives. I quickly realized what a massive outlier America is, prioritizing things like 'self-expression' and 'personal happiness' over things like 'duty' and 'familial obligation.' I'd always heard that America was 'individualist,' but I had no idea how true this was — nor how extreme the individualism. In America, the self is really important, and our personal wants and needs usually come first, and this is rarely even questioned. In other countries, it's often the other way around — and this is also rarely questioned. Ziad doesn't seem to have realized it yet, but this is one of the things his immigrant parents gave him: an identity as an American. He's deeply absorbed and is now displaying America's deep individualism. But I'm not sure this gift was such a good one. And I'm not sure rejecting his parents has made him 'free.' Back in my twenties, I was certain that 'family' was a dying institution — oppressive and dysfunctional. And some of the time, it is — especially for LGBTQ people, women, and anyone who feels 'different.' But 'family' is one of the things that age has made me realize is very complicated. The more I travel the world, the more it seems to me that people are happier when they're part of a vast, complicated network of relatives — the more extended the family, the better. The ties that bind also provide much-needed support — not to mention a sense of purpose and belonging. And the longer I'm away from America, the more Americans seem to me to be miserable — so often isolated and lonely, paranoid and angry. I think American values — and our troubled relationship with the concept of 'family' — are a big part of the reason why. Anyway, should Tarek Ziad forgive his homophobic immigrant parents, at least if they really are willing to meet him halfway? It's obviously not up to me. But if it was me, I sure would. Solve the daily Crossword
Fox News
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Fox News
'Superman' director James Gunn addresses 'Superwoke' backlash for his movie
"Superman" director James Gunn remarked on Friday that he'd want to see what's considered "woke" in his movie after facing backlash for some of his comments on the film. "I've heard people say it was woke, and then I've heard a lot of people say it's not," Gunn told Entertainment Weekly. "I am curious as to what in the movie is considered woke." Gunn recalled the original interview for the "London newspaper" The Sunday Times when he said that "Superman is the story of America," describing it as "an immigrant that came from other places and populated the country." Gunn said that the reporter was the one who first remarked that Superman co-creators Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster were the sons of immigrants and that the character was written as an immigrant story. "I said, yeah, it's a story about an immigrant, but mostly it's a story to me about kindness, which it is. That's the center of the movie for me," Gunn said. He added, "That's the thing we can all act upon, is kindness. And so what does that lead to? Well, does that lead to the way you vote? Sure. Does that lead to everything? Yeah. Does it lead to how many people are dying from road rage? Yes. All those things are affected if people just start to value kindness. I mean, people did value kindness in the past. That was an American value, was kindness, and it doesn't necessarily seem to be that way to me anymore. So that was always the center of the movie for me, and it wasn't about anything other than that." The character, first introduced in 1938, was born from the imagination of writer Jerry Siegel and artist Joe Shuster in Cleveland, Ohio. In the comics, Superman is the sole survivor of the planet Krypton, sent to Earth by his parents as their world faced destruction. Gunn faced backlash for his original comments, which were made just days before his "Superman" movie was released on July 11 and at the height of national discussion on the ongoing immigration raids throughout the country. In the same interview with The Sunday Times, he emphasized that his movie was about politics but that it was mostly about kindness and morality. "And obviously, there will be jerks out there who are just not kind and will take it as offensive just because it is about kindness. But screw them," Gunn remarked.
The Guardian
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
What the culture war over Superman gets wrong
We've entered the era of the superhero movie as sermon. No longer content with saving the world, spandex saviors are now being used to explain, moralize and therapize it. And a being from Krypton has shown up once again in a debate about real life; about borders, race and who gets to belong. Superman. Of all symbols. I've read reactionary thinkpieces, rage-filled quote tweets and screeds about the legal status of a fictional alien – enough to lose count. This particular episode of American Fragility kicked off because James Gunn had the audacity to call Superman 'the story of America'. An immigrant, by definition, as he was always meant to be. What set things off wasn't just the sentiment – it was who said it, and how plainly. Gunn, now headlining DC's cinematic future, told the Sunday Times that Superman was 'an immigrant who came from other places and populated the country'. He spoke of Superman's inherent kindness as a political statement in itself, noting that the film would play differently in some parts of America before adding, bluntly, that 'there are some jerks out there who are just not kind and will take it as offensive just because it is about kindness'. 'But screw them,' he added. It was that line – less the immigrant metaphor, more the unapologetic framing – that sent the usual outrage machine into motion. Enter Dean Cain, a former TV Superman. Cain accused Gunn of politicizing the character, which is remarkably foolish, considering Superman's been swatting at fascism since 1941. Meanwhile, over at Fox News, it's been a full meltdown over the idea that Superman, canonically not of this Earth, might be played as … not of this Earth. Liberal brainwashing, they suggested. Identity politics in a cape. But have they actually looked at David Corenswet? The man looks like he was made to sell oat milk in a Ralph Lauren ad. All cheekbones and cleft chin. If this is the foreign body in question, no wonder middle America has historically shrugged over Supes being an immigrant by definition. Even still, there's something telling about any collective gasp over a white, blue-eyed man with an immigrant backstory. The scramble to defend him says more than intended. For all the hand-wringing over Superman's alienness, what rarely gets named is how meticulously his story was crafted to cushion the unease of the topic at hand: otherness itself – the very thing people pretend was always central to his character. There are plenty of ways to frame the ridiculousness of this argument, clever ways to connect the dots, but the real fracture in Superman's myth hits, oddly enough, during a quiet scene in Tarantino's meditation on vengeance, Kill Bill: Vol. 2. In the scene, the villain, Bill (David Carradine) unpacks what makes Superman different from every other hero. 'What Kent wears – the glasses, the business suit – that's the costume,' Bill says. 'That's the costume Superman wears to blend in with us. Clark Kent is how Superman views us.' It's one hell of a tell – the kind of observation that pulls back the curtain on how Superman was engineered to understand the world, and how the world, in turn, reinforced how he should fit within it. From the start, Superman was never meant to be an outsider. His creators, Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster – sons of Jewish immigrants – didn't craft him as a symbol of difference but as a projection of pure Americanness. They gave him a midwestern upbringing, an Anglo name in Clark Kent, and that square-jawed charm. Siegel and Shuster were working against the backdrop of unchecked antisemitism, at a time when Jewish immigrants faced hostility. But instead of exploring immigrant 'otherness', the artists imagined a version of America where that alienness could be easily discarded via an outfit change. Superman wasn't an outsider – he was the ideal immigrant, effortlessly slipping into a world that required no resistance. His story wasn't about struggling to belong, but about the fantasy of belonging, with the privilege of choosing whether or not to fight for it. That projection of safe, silent Americanness hasn't remained confined to the pages of comic books. Today's immigration politics run on the same fantasy. The myth of the 'good' immigrant – quiet, grateful, easy to assimilate – still runs wild. It's the same story that fuels the strange spectacle of politicians praising white South African farmers as victims of racial persecution, all while demonizing migrants from Latin America, the Middle East or sub-Saharan Africa. The notion of who deserves to stay has always been racialized, selective and violent. Tom Homan, Trump's border czar, has said that a person's physical appearance could be a factor in the decision to question them. He later said it could not be 'the sole reason'. But in April, Juan Carlos Lopez-Gomez, a US-born citizen from Georgia, was detained in Florida even after his mother showed authorities his birth certificate. In New York, Elzon Lemus, an electrician, was stopped because he 'looked like someone' agents were after. Maybe he didn't wear his suit and glasses that day. Superman, the immigrant who makes people comfortable, has never been just a comic book character. He's been a metaphor and living testament to the kind of 'other' that wealthy nations have always preferred: those who blend in, assimilate and rarely challenge the systems that demand their silence. If you're still not convinced that Superman's assimilationist fantasy is alive and well, just look at a White House meme from 10 July 2025: Trump dressed as Superman, with the words 'Truth. Justice. The American Way.' It's a glaring example of how cultural symbols are repurposed – hijacked, really – to serve a narrow and self-congratulatory vision of America. That's the trick of Superman: he's been a blank canvas of a both-sides heroism, which makes everyone feel seen. You don't even need to like or dislike Superman for the Maga debate to pull you in, as it was always meant to. The culture war still appointed a celebrity to govern the most powerful nation on Earth. It still turned a corporate diversity initiative into a national crisis. And it took a serious conversation about immigration and made a polished, all-American character its face. The culture war distorts, and it continues, relentless as ever. Noel Ransome is a Toronto-based freelance writer
The Guardian
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
What the culture war over Superman gets wrong
We've entered the era of the superhero movie as sermon. No longer content with saving the world, spandex saviors are now being used to explain, moralize and therapize it. And a being from Krypton has shown up once again in a debate about real life; about borders, race and who gets to belong. Superman. Of all symbols. I've read reactionary thinkpieces, rage-filled quote tweets and screeds about the legal status of a fictional alien – enough to lose count. This particular episode of American Fragility kicked off because James Gunn had the audacity to call Superman 'the story of America'. An immigrant, by definition, as he was always meant to be. What set things off wasn't just the sentiment – it was who said it, and how plainly. Gunn, now headlining DC's cinematic future, told the Sunday Times that Superman was 'an immigrant who came from other places and populated the country'. He spoke of Superman's inherent kindness as a political statement in itself, noting that the film would play differently in some parts of America before adding, bluntly, that 'there are some jerks out there who are just not kind and will take it as offensive just because it is about kindness'. 'But screw them,' he added. It was that line – less the immigrant metaphor, more the unapologetic framing – that sent the usual outrage machine into motion. Enter Dean Cain, a former TV Superman. Cain accused Gunn of politicizing the character, which is remarkably foolish, considering Superman's been swatting at fascism since 1941. Meanwhile, over at Fox News, it's been a full meltdown over the idea that Superman, canonically not of this Earth, might be played as … not of this Earth. Liberal brainwashing, they suggested. Identity politics in a cape. But have they actually looked at David Corenswet? The man looks like he was made to sell oat milk in a Ralph Lauren ad. All cheekbones and cleft chin. If this is the foreign body in question, no wonder middle America has historically shrugged over Supes being an immigrant by definition. Even still, there's something telling about any collective gasp over a white, blue-eyed man with an immigrant backstory. The scramble to defend him says more than intended. For all the hand-wringing over Superman's alienness, what rarely gets named is how meticulously his story was crafted to cushion the unease of the topic at hand: otherness itself – the very thing people pretend was always central to his character. There are plenty of ways to frame the ridiculousness of this argument, clever ways to connect the dots, but the real fracture in Superman's myth hits, oddly enough, during a quiet scene in Tarantino's meditation on vengeance, Kill Bill: Vol. 2. In the scene, the villain, Bill (David Carradine) unpacks what makes Superman different from every other hero. 'What Kent wears – the glasses, the business suit – that's the costume,' Bill says. 'That's the costume Superman wears to blend in with us. Clark Kent is how Superman views us.' It's one hell of a tell – the kind of observation that pulls back the curtain on how Superman was engineered to understand the world, and how the world, in turn, reinforced how he should fit within it. From the start, Superman was never meant to be an outsider. His creators, Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster – sons of Jewish immigrants – didn't craft him as a symbol of difference but as a projection of pure Americanness. They gave him a midwestern upbringing, an Anglo name in Clark Kent, and that square-jawed charm. Siegel and Shuster were working against the backdrop of unchecked antisemitism, at a time when Jewish immigrants faced hostility. But instead of exploring immigrant 'otherness', the artists imagined a version of America where that alienness could be easily discarded via an outfit change. Superman wasn't an outsider – he was the ideal immigrant, effortlessly slipping into a world that required no resistance. His story wasn't about struggling to belong, but about the fantasy of belonging, with the privilege of choosing whether or not to fight for it. That projection of safe, silent Americanness hasn't remained confined to the pages of comic books. Today's immigration politics run on the same fantasy. The myth of the 'good' immigrant – quiet, grateful, easy to assimilate – still runs wild. It's the same story that fuels the strange spectacle of politicians praising white South African farmers as victims of racial persecution, all while demonizing migrants from Latin America, the Middle East or sub-Saharan Africa. The notion of who deserves to stay has always been racialized, selective and violent. Tom Homan, Trump's border czar, has said that a person's physical appearance could be a factor in the decision to question them. He later said it could not be 'the sole reason'. But in April, Juan Carlos Lopez-Gomez, a US-born citizen from Georgia, was detained in Florida even after his mother showed authorities his birth certificate. In New York, Elzon Lemus, an electrician, was stopped because he 'looked like someone' agents were after. Maybe he didn't wear his suit and glasses that day. Superman, the immigrant who makes people comfortable, has never been just a comic book character. He's been a metaphor and living testament to the kind of 'other' that wealthy nations have always preferred: those who blend in, assimilate and rarely challenge the systems that demand their silence. If you're still not convinced that Superman's assimilationist fantasy is alive and well, just look at a White House meme from 10 July 2025: Trump dressed as Superman, with the words 'Truth. Justice. The American Way.' It's a glaring example of how cultural symbols are repurposed – hijacked, really – to serve a narrow and self-congratulatory vision of America. That's the trick of Superman: he's been a blank canvas of a both-sides heroism, which makes everyone feel seen. You don't even need to like or dislike Superman for the Maga debate to pull you in, as it was always meant to. The culture war still appointed a celebrity to govern the most powerful nation on Earth. It still turned a corporate diversity initiative into a national crisis. And it took a serious conversation about immigration and made a polished, all-American character its face. The culture war distorts, and it continues, relentless as ever. Noel Ransome is a Toronto-based freelance writer
CNN
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- CNN
The director of ‘Superman' calls his hero an immigrant. Critics call him ‘Superwoke'
A baby arrives in America from a home in turmoil. A family in Kansas raises him. And he struggles to balance two identities. Comic books, TV shows and films have repeatedly recounted these details from Superman's backstory over the past 87 years. But the director of the latest big-screen adaptation drew backlash recently when he stated something that's been said many times before: Superman is an immigrant. 'I mean, Superman is the story of America,' director James Gunn told The Times of London. 'An immigrant that came from other places and populated the country, but for me it is mostly a story that says basic human kindness is a value and is something we have lost.' Coming as the Trump administration steps up its immigration crackdowns, the comments quickly sparked criticism from right-wing media personalities. A Fox News banner blasted the new movie as 'Superwoke' as pundits offered their takes. 'We don't go to the movie theater to be lectured to and to have somebody throw their ideology on to us,' said former Trump adviser Kellyanne Conway. Dean Cain, an actor who starred for years on TV in 'Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman' and is now a conservative commentator, told TMZ he didn't like Gunn's comments and speculated that the director's decision to invoke immigration while promoting the film could be a costly mistake. So far, it hasn't been. The movie, released by CNN's parent company Warner Brothers Discovery, finished No. 1 on its opening weekend with $122 million in domestic ticket sales and continues to draw large audiences. And longtime fans and historians of the comic books note that Gunn's comments weren't superimposing a new storyline on the beloved hero. 'The idea of Superman being an immigrant, or maybe a refugee, has been part of the character's mythos since the very beginning. It's not something he invented or tried to shoehorn in,' says Danny Fingeroth, author of 'Superman on the Couch: What Comic Book Heroes Really Tell Us About Ourselves and Our Society.' The first Superman story, published in 1938, stated he was sent to Earth from Krypton, a fictional doomed planet. 'It makes him not an immigrant of choice. It makes him an immigrant of necessity…a refugee,' Fingeroth says. 'He's someone who comes to Earth and to America, to then blend in and become as American as mom, the flag and apple pie.' And, Fingeroth says, there are a lot of good reasons why these details are such a key part of Superman's story. Take the comic's creators, for example. Artist Joe Shuster and writer Jerry Siegel were both the children of Jewish immigrants who'd fled rising antisemitism in Europe. 'Just given their backgrounds and their sympathies, I think it's always been important that Superman comes from somewhere else,' Fingeroth says. The Cleveland-based duo wrote Superman's story as World War II loomed. The first page of his story describes him as 'champion of the oppressed.' 'The clouds of fascism are rolling through Europe. There's echoes of it here in America … and Superman's early adventure are fighting for the little guy, fighting for abused women, fighting for exploited mine workers, fighting against corrupt politicians,' Fingeroth says. Even before America was fighting Nazis in World War II, Superman was fighting them on comic book pages, he says. Through it all, 'Superman is the immigrant embodying the best of American qualities, even though he's from somewhere else.' It's a connection historians and immigrant rights advocates have made, too. More than a decade ago, comic book historian Craig This organized a panel at Wright State University highlighting the immigrant backgrounds of Superman and Wonder Woman. The idea resonated with the college students he was teaching at the time, he says. 'People were coming to this large public research university, maybe thinking that they were an outsider, and then said, 'Oh, wow, look, I can see these individuals as role models. I want to try and fit in. But really, it's going to be my differences that make me survive and be successful, not just here on a college campus, but also here in the United States.'' In 2013, the organizations Define American and the Harry Potter Alliance launched a social media campaign inviting people to share selfies and their family's immigration stories with the hashtag #SupermanIsAnImmigrant. Last week that campaign's creators pushed back against critics who've been accusing Gunn of politicizing his take on Superman. 'You can't politicize the truth,' Define American founder Jose Antonio Vargas and narrative strategist Andrew Slack wrote in The Hollywood Reporter. 'Superman has been an 'illegal alien' for 87 years.' A one-time undocumented immigrant himself, Vargas says today he sees an even more important message in the superhero's story. 'I think for the first time, because of this movie, because of what's happening in the country … I have people who have never talked to me about immigration talking to me about immigration,' he says. 'So we have people's attention. Now I think the question is, what are they going to do?' Of course, Superman's origin is just one part of his story. And in the initial comic, it was also a convenient plot device, Fingeroth says, allowing the authors to explain his powers. In some versions, Fingeroth says, 'Superman's immigrant status is not mentioned.' The hero could be from Metropolis or Kansas or anywhere, 'depending on the era, depending on the creators.' Each version of Superman comes with its own plot twists. In the new film, for example, the backstory of the superhero's parents takes an unexpected turn. Superman sometimes changes with the times. And sometimes different audiences perceive him differently. Many superheroes are outsiders. And one common thread that gives them such staying power is that people from many different walks of life connect with the characters, says Fingeroth, a longtime editor of Spiderman comics. 'Their mythos and storylines and origins speak to various aspects of the human condition, and that makes them appealing. Their adventures are enjoyed by people from a wide variety of political and social and religious backgrounds,' he says. 'And yet, the myths are so powerful that they all take it as their own.' In other words, all of us can see ourselves in Superman. And that may be a reason why so many people have such strong opinions about the character even today. Last week the White House's social media accounts shared an AI-generated image based on the new movie's poster, depicting President Trump in the title role. A few days later, though, it wasn't the Man of Steel that the Trump administration referenced on social media when it drew a connection between a beloved sci-fi character and today's undocumented immigrants. Instead, the Department of Homeland Security shared the iconic image of ET's bicycling silhouette. The text superimposed over the moon: 'GO HOME.'
