I wasn’t sure how I felt about Silk when she first showed up in the Spider-Man comics, but it was when she got her own series – and a narrative no longer intrinsically tied to Peter Parker – that she really came into her own.
But on the on the one hand, yeah, another webslinging spider-themed hero? We’ve already got a lot with Peter Parker, Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, and Miguel O’Hara in books of their own; do we need one more? The thing is, Silk brings with it – like each of the other spider books – a unique story and character.
Obviously, there’s Silk/Cindy Moon herself. One of the things that hooked me into the book is something somewhat shallow, but terribly important: Cindy is Korean-American. Yes, I know, I’m ranting about diversity again. But listen. There are precious few Asian superheroes, even less so with their own books. There will always be a thrill in getting to see someone who looks like you represented.
But Cindy’s Asian-ness isn’t just a lip service done through line art and surname, the story in Silk features distinctly Asian elements.
So quick recap, Cindy got bitten by the same spider that gave Peter Parker his powers, but due to some bad news involving spider-killing vampiric Inheritors (it makes sense in context), Cindy was locked alone in a bunker until the threat was over. Released early, Cindy is looking for her family who have disappeared during the years she was away.
Still with me? Now here’s the thing, the decision to lock Cindy away is not a malevolent one, in fact Silk does great work to ensure that while we know it’s a really sucky situation, it was one done out of love. As Cindy follows the trail of her parents, she finds that they never stopped trying to find a way to cure her and protect her from the Inheritors. When Cindy finally finds her parents – after traveling to the Negative Zone, teaming up with a dragon named David Wilcox, and discovering her mother is the badass, undead slaying Red Knight – it’s a happy, heartfelt reunion.
Never along the way does Cindy ever think that finding her parents isn’t worth it. She’s posed as a villain for Shield and takes a job at J. Jonah Jameson’s Fact Channel, all in an effort to discover what happened to her parents. The central theme of the arc, one espoused firmly by Cindy, is family first. It’s a story of unquestioning filial piety, one that is returned in kind by Cindy’s parents. Now, family loyalty is by no means a uniquely Asian thing, but Silk‘s emphasis on it allows the book to strike a wonderful narrative balance between an Eastern focus on community and the self-determinism more prevalent in Western narratives. Are you beginning to see why I keep harping on diversity being important?
That said, Cindy doesn’t live a merry angst-free life. Her time in the bunker did a number on her, and so Cindy seeks counseling. Her sessions often provide narration for her adventures as she confides in her therapist, which is a fun narrative tool in itself, but the portrayal of therapy as being something both normal and healthy stands out as special in comics. It’s not a sign of weakness, but rather a way for Cindy to work out anger issues and the newfound stress of getting used to a modern life (and being a superhero). It’s a profound addition that subtly destigmatizes getting help while allowing space in Cindy’s life to focus on her family without too much angst.
You know what’s coming next: This is why diversity in fiction is important. Sure, you could have had the looking-for-family narrative with anyone, but by attaching it to a Korean-American family you instill it with a little more weight and offer a representation of a different way of looking at the world. Silk is a wonderful book because it does all that and tells a plain good story while it’s at it.
Man, ain’t diversity grand?