“Could you beat your dad in a fight?”
            It was summer and sometime after 12am. Four of us (Jordan, Adam, Dan, and myself) sat around a card table playing Texas Hold’em, drinking bear, smoking cigarettes, and rolling weed.
            “Now, in the future, or in the past?”
            “Does it matter?”
            “What kind of question is that? Of course it matters.”
            At that point in the night the cards didn’t matter. What was more important for me was not going home. At that point in my life, the card table and circle of friends were all that was getting me through to the finish line of graduating high school the following year, going to college, and never returning to Peoria if I had my druthers.
            “I mean, think about it. As a kid, our parents were giants. They were like gods with the power to destroy our world with the swing of a belt. Then, there was no way we could win. But now. Hell yeah, we could beat our fathers in a fight. Especially you, Jordan. You’re dad’s pretty much on an oxygen tank most of the day anyway.”
            Jordan chuckles, gives Dan the middle finger, checks his cards, knocks on the table twice to check, takes a sip of bear, and releases a puff of smoke. I can’t tell if it’s an actually cigar or just a casing with weed. Probably the latter.
            “Nah, I think it’s more psychological.”
            Adam, like myself, wasn’t drinking or smoking. It’s not that he never drank or smoked, but more that it only occurred rarely or on special occasions. He looked at his cards, threw two chips into the center pot and continued.
            “Like, my dad, he works out a lot. He’s always in the basement doing pull ups and jumping rope. Like he’s afraid of getting old or something. I mean, I run cross country, wrestle, run track, but I still don’t think I could beat up my dad. Even if he’s on his death bed and I’m in my thirties working out like he is. I feel like he’s always going to be able to whoop my ass.”
            The table mulled over Adam’s words as the flop revealed nothing for me and ended with Adam winning the blind and stacking the chips with his own.
            Soon afterwards, I cash out and begin the short walk to my cousin Cassandra’s house. I walk through a patch of grass connecting Jordan’s yard with his neighbor’s, cross the empty intersection, quietly open the front door, go to the basement, and lay on the couch, ensuring I don’t wake up my mother asleep in the other room. While lying on the couch, the conversation replays itself as I attempt to get a few hours of sleep before getting up to complete my paper route. As I lay there, I think to myself, “I’d beat the shit out of my father.”
            It’s been decades since that conversation. I’m now in my 40s, hundreds of miles away from Peoria, Illinois, and thinking back to that conversation at the end of the cull-da-sac on the humid summer night sitting in my office while reading the pages of The Immortal Hulk “In Every Mirror” (2018).

            After reading the first few pages the comic seems to be a throwback to earlier Hulk comics in which the Jade Giant must battle another super powered being or monster to prove “Hulk is the strongest one there is!” Here, in this comic, the monster is in the form of his friend and old college roommate, Walter Langkwoski. In the same manner as Bruce Banner, Walter was exposed to gamma radiation and transformed into a superhuman being known as Sasquatch. Usually, Langkwoski is capable of controlling his transformation into the Sasquatch, but something is different. Langkwoski doesn’t seem to be speaking or behaving like himself. This is proven true when Sasquatch tells Bruce Banner, his former friend and college roommate, he is not Walter while licking the blood of three dead physicians he has just murdered in a small community hospital. When the possessed monster attempts to kill Bruce Banner the Hulk surfaces and the two
beasts battle

.

            While attempting to defeat the other, destroying walls and equipment throughout the hospital, the Hulk interrogates Sasquatch, searching for answers pertaining to how / why the man beneath the fur and muscles is not Langkowski. The evil being lurking within the body of Sasquatch tells the Hulk to look for himself gesturing toward the reflective glass behind them. The Hulk turns, looks, and sees the creature he has pinned to the wall is not Sasquatch, but the grinning image of his abusive dead father. Immediately, the powerful confident expression of the Hulk transforms into the terrified child of Bruce Banner’s past.

After viewing the ghost of Brian Banner, the Hulk no longer dominates the fight. Instead, he cowers away in fear as he is beat, chastised, and denigrated between flashbacks of the trauma he endured as a child. Here, the Hulk is no longer “the strongest one there is.” He is simply a petrified child, groveling for mercy as he is beat into submission by the person who was supposed to protect him from harm instead of forcing him to endure it.

Eventually, the Hulk regains his confidence and does what Bruce could never accomplish as a child; he defeats his father. With fear filled and angry punches, the Hulk fights to protect himself and Banner. He screams in the face of the monster that is his father, “You’re just a man. A twisted old man who killed his wife, tried to kill his son, made him wish he had. You scared him. You scare Banner. You think that gives you power over me? Think it makes you important? Special? No. Not. Not special. Puny. Puny human!!”

Survivors of adverse childhood experiences like myself love this scene because it showcases what all survivors of wish they could have done to the perpetrators who forced them to endure a living hell as children. We wish we could yell at the parents who neglected our needs as children for their own addictive desires causing us to wonder why we were never good enough to be loved as much as their alcohol, drugs, or sex; we pray for the power to pummel the perpetrators of sexually abused and assault who stole our control and power for themselves when they stole our innocence, forcing us to feel perpetually weak as adults; we beg for gamma radiation to give us the ability needed to crush the unjust systems of society keeping us from achieving a complete family like the ones we view on TGIF. We want to be Hulk because the Hulk is the protector we wish we had that was capable to protecting our Bruce Banner; the child who was too afraid and small and weak to defeat those who hurt them while continuously forcing them to feel small and inadequate well into adulthood. As survivors of ACEs, we desperately want to “HULK SMASK!!” all that we fear and hate. Unfortunately, there are repercussions. And Adam was right, it is psychological.

The Immortal Hulk comic ends with the Hulk defeating the monster who had taken control of Sasquatch by absorbing the gamma radiation from the beast into himself, transforming Sasquatch back into Walter Langkowski. On the last pages of the comic, as the Hulk walks away from the hospital having defeated Sasquatch by confronting and overcoming his childhood abuser, the Hulk looks into window of a passing car to see that his reflection has transformed into that of his father, revealing a fear survivors of adverse childhood experience have of unleashing their inner Hulk, especially for men. There is the fear that if we tap into that anger, we will become that which we hate the most. When we stand up for our wishes, hopes, desires, and needs as human beings we will gradually become the perpetrators of violence, shame, guilt, and fear on others, becoming the villain, and eventually, one day, looking into the mirror and becoming indistinguishable from our abusers.

For the young men sitting at that card table in the past at the end of a cull-da-sac in Peoria, Illinois, defeating our fathers meant becoming our fathers; the villains who reigned over us as children with fear rather than love and compassion. Fathers who lorded over their domains with intimidation. In the past, on that night, if given the opportunity, I would have fought my father. I would have attempted to beat the crap out of him to make him feel the hopelessness I felt when neglecting his responsibilities as a husband and father, resulting in the foreclosure of our home on Wilson Dr. and two years of living in the basements of relatives while attempting to remain sane and graduate from high school. I would have punched by knuckles bloody if it meant he felt a fraction of my disappointment when he was not in the stands clapping as I received my diploma in addition of scholarships and awards that would pay for me to attend college. I would have wanted him to feel the sheer exhaustion from listening to countless screaming matches between him and my mother that extended throughout the night and into the morning as I punched, bit, and scratched with all my might the puny human that is my father to feel as strong and powerful as the Hulk.

That was then, but what about now? As an adult, would I still fight my father to unleash the Jade Giant locked away inside? No, I wouldn’t, because doing so would mean my daughters, wife, students, co-workers, and young boys I mentor would see a monster rather than a man capable of love, compassion, integrity, and honesty when they look into my eyes and see their reflection. Calming my inner Hulk means developing the skills needed to look into the mirror and see a man I’m proud of rather than a cheap imitation of those who hurt me as a child.
But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to.

Happy June!! To say that last month was busy would be an understatement. I traveled to Salt Lake City, Utah and participated in the Gaithersburg Book Festival before finishing out the month rubbing shoulders in good old B’more.

First, Utah was amazing! As a black kid from the Midwest who’s parents were born and raised in the Alabama and Mississippi, I have never had the privilege of taking road trips out West to witness its beauty. Being invited to speak at the Utah Children’s Justice Center Symposium meant spending a few days at the picturesque Snowbird ski resort. I do not ski, but being in the mountains of Utah made it seem as if Frodo and Sam would appear at any moment as they trekked across Middle Earth on their way to Mount Doom.

 
Not only was this my first time in Utah, it was also my first time being featured as a keynote speaker! The Utah Attorney’s General office invited me to tell my story as a male survivor and explain how superheroes such as Batman, Superman, Flash, Green Lantern, and Wonder Woman can be used to help understand hypervigilance, internal family system’s therapy, dialectical behavior therapy, burnout, compassion fatigue, and secondary traumatic stress.

 
I was blessed to speak to a room of between 500 to 700 professionals who work to keep children safe and / or work to help them heal from severe adverse childhood experiences. Although feedback for the conference has not yet been released, I feel confident I was able to provide helpful resources and materials to those who help other and themselves heal.
 
Throughout my presentation we laughed, we cried, and afterward I provided a few free copies of my books while speaking with individuals about my journey and available resources. As I already stated, it was amazing and I feel truly blessed to have been provided this opportunity.

 
After landing back in Baltimore, I got a few hours of sleep, loaded up my car, and headed off to the Gaithersburg Book Festival. It was a beautiful day and the weather couldn’t have been nicer. I sold nearly all of the posters I make from old comic books and sold out of a number of titles such as Heroes, Hope, and Healing: Accepting Your Inner Daredevil. I even ran into one of my students who knew I was going to be there and tracked me down. By the end of the day, I was most beyond exhausted, but I has one week to reorder books and make a few posters before participating the largest free outdoor arts festival, Artscape in downtown Baltimore, MD.

 
While I love getting books in the hands of people who need them, what I loved about Artscape is all the local support I received. Fellow teachers, administrators, and students all came out to my booth to show their support, give me a bathroom break, buy a book, or grab me some food. It was an amazing experience and that’s the beauty of Baltimore.

After all the running around, I’m just now getting my life together cutting the lawn, doing the laundry, grading papers, and preparing final exams. There are a few events planned for this month that I will keep you all informed about as they approach. Thank you all for the continued support!
All the best,
Kenny

Oh yeah, and I met Josh Johnson!!!

It’s April! That means Spring, flowers and Sexual Assault and Abuse Awareness Month. This week I spent all of Monday in New York City with my good friend, Theresa. We met at APSAC last June following my presentation of Heroes, Villains, and Healing. Afterward, she took a card and said she wanted me to come to New York to speak to her office. She told me she would be in contact, disappeared into the crowd of people, and I honestly never expected to see or hear from her again. Not because I did not genuinely believe she wanted me to come to New York and present about how superheroes can be used to help survivors understand their childhood trauma and begin the process of healing. Instead, it’s that many people who say they would like to connect after a conference get so caught up in life and helping those they care for heal that scheduling time for an individual presentation is too time consuming and may not achieve the most possible good in the least amount of time. However, seeing as how Theresa is a diehard Saints fan, she knows how to overcome extraordinary odds to achieve the impossible.

For nearly six months, Theresa and myself exchanged emails and phone calls determining the best possible date to schedule the presentation, creating flyers to distribute throughout the different Administration for Children’s Services (ACS) offices in New York, while also coordinating travel and lodging arrangements. By time I say Theresa in the hotel lobby Monday morning she felt a mixture of excitement, exhaustion, nervousness, and anxiety as she anticipated the day to come to an end and all the planning to finally be over.
 
Luckily, the day went off without a hitch (mostly). We did have some technical difficulties getting the conference call to work for those working remotely and in other offices throughout the boroughs, but eventually everything worked its self out.
 
My presentation, Heroes, Villains, and Healing offered mental health professionals and advocates the opportunity to understand the effects of hypervigilance using Batman; Superman to understand the manager, exile, and firefighter of internal family systems using the Clark Kent, Superman, and Kal-el facades; and Wonder Woman to understand the negative impacts of burnout, compassion fatigue, and secondary traumatic stress to help ensure they practiced self-care and mindfulness while helping those they care for heal from their trauma. Afterward, I signed some donated books that participants could either purchase or take for free while Theresa took the time to finally breathe a sigh of relief.

To celebrate the completion of the event we had lunch at the famous Katz restaurant (made memorable in the movie When Harry Met Sally the line “I’ll have what she’s having), visited the immersive Arte Museum at Pier 16, and enjoyed a parting beverage at Penn Station before boarding the train to return to Baltimore. It was a great day and I can’t wait to see her again at APSAC in June!
 
Thank you, Theresa for an amazing, well planned, and thoughtful trip! I truly hope the ACS offices of New York were able to benefit from my presentation and had some fun along the way.
 
All the best,
Kenneth Rogers, Jr.

Last week I attended the Krimes Against Kids conference in Orlando, Florida where I was privileged enough to be asked to present the breakout session, “Heroes, Villains, and Healing”. I want to say it was a great conference and in many ways it was. The conference was well run, attended, and I connected with some amazing people doing some amazing work to prevent and reduce the impact of trauma and abuse on children. The only problem was…me.
            Since my proposal had been accepted to speak at Krimes Against Kids (KAK) at the beginning of the year, I was excited to participate. Although I had never attended the conference, many exhibitors and presenters at the San Diego Conference for Child Maltreatment in San Diego, CA, and the Child Abuse Symposium in Huntsville, AL, often spoke of KAK with fondness. I knew it would be an enjoyable experience, but when I stood up in front of my audience to begin presenting something inside me began to deflate. For one reason or another, I began feeling like an imposter. As if I didn’t belong. As if there was no reason for me to be presenting on a topic I had not studied as a professional. Halfway through, I began to lose focus on the topic of the slides, but instead on the seemingly blank expressions of the people looking back at me. I went through the motions, but I didn’t believe what I was saying. It lacked making a connection. In the speech and debate world we call this going on auto pilot.
Soon, I found myself rushing through sentences, stumbling over words, and forgetting the names of important comics like Flashpoint. The voices in my head told me the audience could care less about Guy Gardner’s passion as a Star Saphire and Red Lantern, or John Stewart’s radical self-acceptance following the destruction of Xanshi. So, I began rushing, skipping a few slides and finishing in an hour when I was given an hour and thirty minutes for the entire presentation. Soon, I finished and immediately wanted to run away and hide, believing there was no way I would be able to sell enough books to justify making the trip to Florida and buying a table as an exhibitor. Instead, I did what I was “supposed” to do and took questions from the audience.
One of the first people to ask a question was a woman named, Violet. She said she started the breakout session taking notes, but soon stopped and instead spent the remainder of the time listing my strengths. She proceeded to tell me how I was courageous, passionate, funny, and a good speaker. She complimented me and afterwards, I hated her for it and told her so. Everything she said she saw in me, I did not see in myself. I wanted to cry but held back the tears for later, thanked and cursed her, and continued fielding questions. Afterward, there were people waiting at my table to purchase a book and tell me how much they enjoyed the presentation.
The point of this story is not to say you never know the impact your words can have on another person, or that my mood changed for the better afterward. Just the opposite. It’s been three days and I still believe my presentation was horrible and that I have no reason speaking on this topic of healing and superheroes. In fact, I packed up and left early to escape my feelings of shame and guilt. Lately, my doubts have been winning and my self-esteem has been lacking. Most days I’m filled with fear creating feelings of self-hatred and anger. I try to write and speak and read, but the voice in the back of my head asks, “What’s the point?”  I’m sure others feel this same way (especially in the current climate) and for survivors this is an everyday battle. It is something I’m working on and it’s something I wanted to share as I work to accept my inner Daredevil. Thanks for taking the time to read. And if you need anything as you work to accept your inner Daredevil, please free to reach out and let me know.
All the best,
Kenny

           
Superman has become synonymous with hope. As Lois Lane tells Clark in Action Comics #1082, “It’s your brand.” Not only has the emblazoned “S” on the chest of the Man of Steel become the Kryptonian emblem for the House of El, but Zack Snyder made it the Kryptonian symbol for the word hope in the 2013 film Man of Steel. However, what is hope? It’s a word we use daily to give credence to the capacity for our optimism, but can it be quantified? And, if so, can an individual gain or lose their hope? As a survivor of multiple adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) these are questions I have lately been attempting to answer on my road to recovery and creatively explored by writer John Ridley and illustrator Imaki Miranda in Action Comics #1082-1084 “Force Majeure: Part One-Three” (2025).
           

In these three comics, newly reformed criminal Major Disaster is believed to have fallen off the wagon of living a life on the straight and narrow and attempts to rob a bank to cover accumulated gambling debt. Unfortunately, the quick smash and grab goes wrong and an “innocent” bystander, Max Boykin, is killed. Rather than attempt to escape, Natural Disaster immediately surrenders to Superman. (It’s important to note that this is not what really happened. To find out the truth, you’ll just have to read the comics.)
            Later, in prison, Clark Kent, reporter for the Daily Planet, asks Disaster why he did it. Why did he go back to a life of crime when so many heroes, like Superman, believed in him and the belief that he could be reformed. Disaster tells Clark, “Middle of one of our death matches Superman holds out his hand, tells me all I’ve gotta do is take it and hope for a better tomorrow. Maybe for real people. Best I can do is spare the public a trial. I’m a screw up, Kent…That’s all I’m ever going to be. So, go write that for the Daily Planet. That’s the truth.”

As human beings, we may not by capable of placing a definition to hope, but we see and understand when an individual has, or is beginning to lose theirs. This lack of understanding of how to move forward is what Clark sees in Disaster’s face, hears in the words he does and does not say, and in the way he carries himself. Clark sees this in not only Major Disaster but another supervillain who turned back to a life of crime following reformation. When Clark asks Atomic Skull why he did it, Skull asks Clark if he had plans for the next day. Something he was looking forward to accomplishing. When Clark answers yes, Skull tells the reporter that because he has a tomorrow to anticipate he wouldn’t understand why he returned to a life of crime. Here, it is evident in Atomic Skull’s words and the way in which he behaves, he has lost Hope.

However, the question is, what is Hope? In Action Comics #1083, Ridley describes Hope as existing in an individual’s telomeres. These are end caps of an individual’s DNA. These are not fictional. They exist in your body in each cell of your DNA, and in the same way the plastic tips on the end of shoe laces prevent the strings from becoming frilled and unraveling, telomeres keep the double stranded helix of DNA from coming undone. However, in the DC comic, telomeres are being harvested from willing individuals and used as a way to extend an individual’s life for those willing to pay the hefty price tag. Although the more telomeres an individual possesses, the longer they live, the loss of telomeres creates a sense of despair and dread in the donor resulting in a loss of Hope. While in reality, telomeres are impacted by an individual’s adverse childhood experiences (ACEs), the true science of Hope is a little different.
Dr. Nadine Burke explains in The Deepest Well how ACEs have the ability to shorten and damage an individual’s telomeres, causing the premature aging of cells, uncontrolled cellular growth in the form of cancer and / or tumors, and the inactivation of some cells altogether. While there is some truth in the fact that the longer an individual’s telomeres the longer and healthier an individual’s cells, Action Comics still exists in the realm of science fiction with the belief that telomeres can be transplanted from one individual to another as a way to lengthen an individual’s life, but it’s not beyond the realm of possibility. Also, while it is true that the damage to an individual’s telomeres can result in the aging and eventually the complete shutdown of some cells, the shortening and damage to telomeres does not result in the loss of Hope. The science and psychology of Hope is quite a bit different.
In The Psychology of Hope, C.R. Snyder explains how there are three primary parts needed to instill and sustain Hope, Willpower, Waypower, and goal setting.
Willpower: is an individual’s motivation to achieve their goals.
Waypower: is the strategy and methods utilized by the individual to overcome obstacles to achieve their goals.
Goals: are scaffolded steps put in place by an individual to reach their desires.
All three work together to provide an individual with Hope, an improved outlook of the future and the path they have set for themselves. Each must more in tandem with the other. Too much or too little of one throws off the equation leading to a loss of Hope.
            Hope is not only a feeling of optimism, or a belief that something better exists just over the horizon, it’s also about having the will to move forward and a path. Without both, goals cannot be maintained and hope cannot be sustained. Willpower and Waypower must be present and work with one another in equilibrium to foster hope. Too much of either leads to an imbalanced equation.

Lost Imagination = Loss of Hope
            Years ago, I came up with the name Lost Imaginations for my small business as an author. At the time, I wasn’t quite sure why I chose this name. It just seemed right. As if I had lost the imagination I once had as a child and I wanted to try and find it again. To restore it while also helping others regain their childhood thoughts as well.
            After researching and learning about the psychology of hope, authors Casey Gwinn and Chan Hellman help to put words to my thoughts behind the name Lost Imaginations. They write, “Trauma is about the loss of imagination. Hopelessness is about the loss of imagination.” This is because developing and sustaining hope is about Willpower, Waypower, and setting goals. Individuals who have suffered ACEs may have the will to improve their life and set the goals to do so, but lack the ability needed to imagine alternate paths to their goals. If a survivor is using all of their energy coping from their traumatic experiences there is less energy available to imagine alternate pathways toward their goals. If a survivor has a limited view of the world and their place in it because they have had no models to emulate, how will they have the ability to imagine a new and better way of living? The book Rising Hope explains it beautifully when it states,
 
When someone is not able to learn anything from a painful, helpless experience, they begin to experience damage from trauma. You cannot live in the past and the future. If you get stuck in the pain of the past, you hope will be very low. If there is no ability to imagine alternate futures for yourself or someone you care for, trauma starts to do damage to the mind and the body. If you are able to choose to live in the future, imagining that different future, you have a pathway to hope. Imagination – picturing future memories – is a crucial step toward hope.
 
            Superman embodies hope, not because he can run faster than a speeding bullet or leap a tall building in a single bound. It’s because he is the Waypower for so many others (in this and alternate realities) to reach their goals and become the best versions of themselves. He is a model for others who may not have the imagination needed to envision a better future. He helps others find their lost imagination.