Spider-Man: Brand New Day slung its way into theaters a few weeks ago, grossing over two billion dollars worldwide and on pace to be one of the highest-grossing films of all-time. Even amid superhero fatigue and soaring movie prices, there’s something compelling about Spider-Man that keeps us going to the cinema. As a street-level hero, Spidey isn’t the biggest, strongest, richest, or most super-powered. He’s not a defender of the cosmos like Captain Marvel, an alien god like Thor, or a billionaire philanthropist playboy billionaire like Tony Stark. He is, as New Avenger team member and current Black Widow, Yelena Belova, tells him during the film, meant for “small potato stuff.”
Spider-Man, unlike some of the biggest names in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, has always been a relatable character that we understand. He’s a superhero, but he’s also a regular guy with regular problems. And even when his problems aren’t regular—consider that four years ago in Spider-Man: Far From Home he had to allow knowledge of himself to be erased from existence in order to save the world—the implications of those problems are all too relatable. We love Spider-Man because we can understand and relate to him.
Especially those of us in the fight for social justice.
Becoming the Mask
At this point in the Spider-Man story arc, it’s been four years (in universe) since the events of Far from Home culminated in the world forgetting about the existence of Peter Parker. It’s been four years without family. Four years without friends. Four years without community. Early in the film, we see series of clips of Peter watching his best friend and girlfriend live safe and happy lives unaware that he even exists. He’s alone in the world, only able to connect to others when he puts on the Spider-Man suit.
So he pours himself into his work. In classic Spider-Man montage format, Brand New Day shows us the end result of Peter’s relentless work as the webslinger, taking us through a series of clips evoking some of the most iconic comic book covers of all time. He’s a beloved figure across his city. He’s popular and successful.
So long as he’s wearing the mask.
It seems like things are going well but absent human connection and dealing with the continued stress of the loss of his best friend and girlfriend, Peter’s arachnid DNA begins taking over. He finds himself unable to control his emotions or actions, overwhelmed by sensory input, and feeling like he’s losing his humanity. On the outside, things seem like they’re going well. But on the inside, there’s a war going on between the spider and the man. He’s spent so much time being Spider-Man, he’s losing himself as Peter Parker.
Losing Ourselves in the Fight
It is easy to lose yourself in the pursuit of justice. There is always another cause. Always another injustice. Always another battle to (nonviolently!) fight. Whether it’s the death penalty, gun violence, prison reform, sexual violence, the refugee crisis, immigration, homelessness, poverty, racism, disability discrimination, food deserts, worker exploitation, the gender pay gap, lack of healthcare, climate care, or anything else on a long list of injustice and inequalities and the intersection of all these things. To those striving for a more just world, it is absolutely crushing and overwhelming work.
No matter how much we’ve done, no matter how much we accomplish, there is still more to do. That’s where Peter Parker finds himself. He has made his life about the pursuit of justice. He has found success. But he’s in the throes of a burnout that is threatening his ability to be human. The thing that enables him to do his job—combined with the lack of any other relational outlet—is consuming him.
It’s difficult to gauge the burnout rate among those involved in justice movements, but every indication is that is significant. In a recent meta-analysis of almost 17,000 social workers across seven countries, researchers found that approximately half experienced burnout. Another study, one focused on human rights advocates, found that nearly 20% met the diagnostic criteria for PTSD and nearly 15% met the criteria for major depression. Sooner or later, it is almost a guarantee, if you’re working for social justice, it’ll eventually become too much to handle.
Yet, for those in the trenches, taking time off or stepping away doesn’t usually feel like a viable option. Social justice researcher Paul Gorski sat down with thirty different racial justice advocates to talk about their experience of burnout. Twenty-nine said they struggled with a “profound personal responsibility for eliminating racism, a deep emotional relationship to racial justice, and feelings of isolation.”
They spoke about being unable to turn off the racial justice lends. One commented “It doesn’t matter how many things I do. There’s always more that I didn’t do.” They talked about losing friends. Another said “I feel isolated. I feel like I’ve lost a lot of friends…that…physically hurts.” They spoke about the inherent trauma of doing justice work: “This work basically asks people to be in pain.”
That’s where Peter Parker finds himself. Absorbed in the work, filled with the pain, having done so much yet having so much left undone, and bereft of any true community that accepts him and knows him outside of the work. Brand New Day is a cautionary tale as to what can happen when the pursuit of justice consumes us. We don’t become more human; we become less.
Becoming Human Again
The overriding theme of the film is about Peter Parker becoming secure in his identity and finding a life as Peter, not just as Spider-Man. Peter is forced to confront his loneliness and is brought right back into connection with the friends he had lost. Near the end of the film, there’s this scene where Spidey takes MJ (his former girlfriend) to the apartment she shares with Ned (his former best friend). They don’t remember Peter Parker. But they invite Spider-Man in to be their friend.
He laughs with them. Builds LEGO with them. Tells stories with them. Shares in their life. Is part of their community. For just a moment, he’s back in their life but not as Peter Parker. It’s a glimpse of what could be.
All of this gets brought to a boiling point in the film’s climax. To combat his spider side, Peter has invented an inhibitor that attaches to him and restricts his spider DNA. But the villain he’s facing is too strong. They hold Peter’s identity crisis over him: “So what are you? Man or Spider-Man?” In a moment of acceptance and realization, Peter replies “Both.”
He accepts that he cannot just be Spider-Man; he must be Peter Parker as well. He has been called to the work. He has been trained for the work. He has a passion for the work. But he cannot let it consume him.
In the end, the hero saves the day, but in the ensuing chaos from the final fight, Peter is injured and nearly killed. He wakes up in a hospital to find that there’s a crowd of New Yorkers surrounding the hospital there to support him, to pray for him, to cheer him on. Folks are dressed like him, holding signs and banners, and wishing him well. He has community.
He goes home. At this point MJ knows that Spider-Man is Peter Parker. She doesn’t know Peter Parker. The lost memories are not restored. The lost relationship is not regained. But the friendship begins again. The film ends with him telling Ned who he is. He’s not just Spider-Man. He’s Peter. And he has friends.
This is a reminder to us all. We can get so bogged down in the fight for justice that we forget to be human. Spider-Man’s story is a reminder to those of us fighting the good fight that we must also be human. That we must have community—friends, family, neighbors. That we were not made to do this alone. That our continued ability to do the work rests in the ability to rest, to take off the mask, and just be human.
