The 7- and 4-year-olds in my home are Marvel Cinematic Universe obsessed. We snuggle stuffed versions of Morris from Shang-Chi, put on extended plays with the theme of “what if Black Widow and Valkyrie got married and found a baby in the woods they had to take care of,” and bewail the lack of Captain Marvel Band-Aids in supposedly Avengers themed sets.
So when the “Ms. Marvel” TV show (based on G. Willow Wilson’s comics of the same name about a Jersey City teen who gets superpowers) was announced, I knew we’d be watching it eventually. I even knew that we’d be celebrating welcome and long overdue representation for some of our dearest friends, as Ms. Marvel’s Kamala Khan is Pakistani American and the first Muslim hero to headline a comic or star in the Marcel Cinematic Universe.
What I didn’t know was how meaningful and formative it would be for our Christian family to see a realistic, practical, joyous religious family life, even if the religion in question wasn’t our own. Throughout the first three episodes, little moments kept popping up that thrilled my heart, as much for their precious mundanity as for their rareness of depiction in pop culture.
What I didn’t know was how meaningful and formative it would be for our Christian family to see a realistic, practical, joyous religious family life, even if the religion in question wasn’t our own.
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