Luke Cage: Hero of Hope

I wouldn’t call myself and MCU fanboy, but I have no problem discussing my favorite MCU movie, or which characters I’m most hyped for, or writing a long analysis on Chiwetel Ejiofor’s interpretation of Karl Mordo. Still, there are a few Marvel films I have yet to see (including Guardians of the Galaxy Volumes I and II, along with Agents of SHIELD).
But one thing I’m proud to say, is that I’ve seen all of the Defenders series from start to finish. I’ve seen Daredevil, Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, and (miraculously) Iron Fist. And when The Defenders finally did drop on Netflix, it really highlighted something very important for me.
I’m only really invested in Luke Cage.
Ever since the announcements of each individual show, I knew Luke Cage was the one I was most excited for. Even after seeing the incredible writing for Jessica Jones, and the wonderful fight scenes of Daredevil, each story still left me…cold.
There was something about the constant distrust, and disillusionment in both of those shows that left me loving the content, but not apt to rewatch it.
Then on September 30th, Luke Cage premiered on Netflix. And, even with my own biases, it became a show I instantly added to my library. Despite the weaker (yet still enjoyable) second half of the first season, and despite the concentration on respectability politics (it always made me side eye how Luke Cage has no problem talking about the issues within the Black community, but never really bothers to examine how white supremacy played a part in perpetuating those issues.) Despite all of that, Luke Cage filled me with a kind of optimism that Daredevil and Jessica Jones sorely lacked.
This was the first Marvel/Netflix program that made me feel hopeful. Luke Cage, unlike his predecessors, was such an anomaly in the fact that it created an aesthetic that was gritty, but never lost its idealism. Luke Cage was a show that dealt with so many difficult themes from the American judicial system, to distrust of the police, to gun violence, to the fear of the black body. But it never lost it’s ability to look at the beauty of what was around us, and why it was worth protecting. Black history, to Black music and an appreciation for what came before, and how it can inform what is yet to come.
Alfre Woodard, explained it perfectly here:
I love that Luke Cage is a guy who stands up for his community, but doesn’t have to resort to Batman level brooding, or dour soliloquies to “protect his city”. Where Daredevil does his best behind shadows, Luke Cage (and really, all of Harlem) stand proudly in the light.
Sure, in today’s world of police brutality, distrust in the judicial system, and an all encompassing disregard for Black life, it’s easy to see how a bulletproof black man can be appealing. That’s certainly what I was most excited for during the show’s premiere. But Luke Cage is more than just a bulletproof ex-con, he’s a symbol that hope is possible.
Despite all of his hardships, being framed for a crime he didn’t commit, being psychologically abused and physically beaten in prison, being on the run from the law, and having all (well, most) of Harlem turned against him by Mariah Dillard, he still fought to what was right. Despite seeing the worst of humanity from the extortion of prisoners, to dirty politics, Luke Cage never stopped believing that Harlem and the people of it were worth fighting for. In a world of ever present distrust and fear, Luke Cage still fought for the people who couldn’t fight for themselves. And that’s far more impressive than bulletproof skin.
