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Today is the 2nd time I've cried in my car to this song. Sobbing after work because of the injustice I now face in the adult world. This same song so many kids grew up hearing while they marveled at the corporate made heroism of wrestling's greatest face. The rattling of shakers set the tone of the tune. The hissing of serpents echoing in the background, broken by the emphatic “GRRRRRT RAFADOO”. The nonsensical war cry has no time to register as he sprints out on stage. Throwing his shirt to the fans and saluting to the crowd as he gets into the ring. There he is…John Cena. An icon of the mid-to-late 2000s. A hero has entered the arena, and the crowd erupts in what they know to be his inevitable victory over those who side with evil!

Music to my ears and the reason for my blubbering sobs because the child in me so desperately wants this feeling of redemption to be rooted in reality. A benevolent shining beacon to storm in and fix all that has been made wrong. Similar to my love for Superman currently, I loved John Cena as a child. I knew when those horns, with so much bravado, blasted, that everything was going to be alright. That John Cena was going to win and that the day would be saved!

I often fantasize about a similar event happening in our lives. A powerful, righteous, and good-willed force moves and saves all of us who are drowning in misery. Those of us who desperately work 9-5s barely making it paycheck to paycheck. Those of us who are under the boot of oppression because of our gender, because of our race, because of who we choose to love. Those of us who are children and see a genocide happening to our people, those of us who are houseless, those of us under persecution because we speak the truth. If only someone would save us from the system that's hell bent on crushing us.

This, however, will never happen and that is why I sob. That powerful force will never come, no matter how much the religious folk pray. A singular being will not rush out onto the ring as we are being assailed by fascist thugs. We will not experience someone jumping off the top ropes, frog splashing onto those who have taken and destroyed our land. We will not see the ones who have killed our family face a five finger knuckle duster that could send a man to his maker. A hero is not coming. No great man will save us.

We cannot just throw in the towel, take off our boots, and retire. We must learn to liberate ourselves. On our own we have very little power, but collectively, we can destroy kingdoms. The corporate images of these heroes are meant to distract us. Infantilizing us and playing on the laziness of some, while coaxing the scared inner child of others into submission. Together we have to fight back. Work isn’t only hard for you, it’s hard for your co-workers too. Learn to find common ground in that struggle. Organize, create a union, and fight those who exploit your labor. Our communities need us and the oppressors do not want us to realize and actualize the power we have as one unified front. As much as I yearn to be saved by a force fighting for good, as much as I wish I had the power to be that singular force, we can only create a world that will be better for us by manifesting it through our collective power.