The new Supergirl film arrives after decades of stories that asked Kara Zor-El to shrink herself so Superman could remain the center of the universe.
As Hollywood prepares to introduce Supergirl to a new generation with Craig Gillespie’s upcoming feature film, it’s crucial to remember that her greatest battle was never against a supervillain, but a culture that never seemed entirely comfortable with a woman occupying the same space and possessing the same powers as Superman.
Kara Zor-El—also known as Supergirl—first arrived on comic book pages under circumstances that were almost too revealing: In August 1958, Supergirl is created by Jimmy Olsen’s magic wish to grant Superman a “companion” that is “a Super-girl, with super-powers equal to Superman’s.” The resulting heroine is powerful, capable, cheerful, blonde—and entirely defined by her relationship to Superman. Before the story ends, she literally collides with the Man of Steel, becomes discouraged and asks to be wished out of existence.
In retrospect, the first Supergirl was a fantasy prototype who arrived as an accessory to a male hero and disappeared just as quickly. This symbolic debut is an unintentionally fitting introduction to the struggles that would define much of her pop culture history.
From Catwoman to Jean Grey to Barbara Gordon, female characters have often been asked to serve as foils, muses or casualties in stories centered on men.
In her next appearance in comic book history in 1959, Supergirl is no longer a fantasy but a real girl: Kara Zor-El, a survivor of Argo City from Krypton who arrives on Earth by rocket after her planet’s destruction. After discovering they are cousins, Superman agrees to protect Kara, but proceeds to bring her drab earth garments and a terrible brunette wig—boring pigtails included—hauling her off to a nearby orphanage with an admonishment to “live here quietly as an ‘ordinary girl.’”
From her very first appearance, the message is hard to miss: Kara’s power came with conditions. She could possess Superman’s abilities, but not his visibility. She could save the world and be extraordinary, but only after learning how to make herself smaller.
Long before conversations about representation and gender equity entered the mainstream media, Supergirl embodied a familiar cultural tension: Society’s admiration for powerful women often comes paired with discomfort about what happens when they demand center stage.
Fresh from the trauma of watching her world perish not once but twice, Kara is silenced and abandoned by her kin on an alien planet. She is asked to hide who she is. No wonder she is, as current DC Comics co-CEO James Gunn puts it, “kind of a mess.”
In essence, Kara’s story exposes a recurring pattern in popular culture: Powerful women are welcomed, as long as they do not threaten the centrality of male heroes. And Supergirl is hardly alone: From Catwoman to Jean Grey to Barbara Gordon, female characters have often been asked to serve as foils, muses or casualties in stories centered on men.
Supergirl found new significance in writer Tom King’s 2021-’22 series Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow, on which Craig Gillespie’s upcoming movie is said to be loosely based. The series shows a 21-year-old Kara struggling with grief and depression, ultimately finding new purpose in helping a young alien girl seeking revenge for her father’s death. In this incarnation, Supergirl directly addresses the question long asked: Who is she, apart from Superman?
Society’s admiration for powerful women often comes paired with discomfort about what happens when they demand center stage.
Supergirl has spent most of her existence being abandoned by her planet, by her family and, at times, by pop culture itself. Again and again, she has been told to hide, to wait her turn, to serve someone else’s story or to disappear altogether.
Yet Kara endures, and that endurance is what makes Supergirl relevant today. Her story is not merely about capes or superpowers, it’s about what happens when women are treated as supporting characters in narratives that they are equally capable of leading and the cost of being asked to minimize oneself so that someone else can remain exceptional.
As a new generation meets Kara through the upcoming Supergirl film, let’s not abandon Supergirl as her cousin Superman did so many years ago. Rather, we have an opportunity to finally see her for what she has always been: not Superman’s companion, cousin, substitute or shadow but a hero in her own right.
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