Why Kevin Conroy's Batman Matters to Gay Fans
Editor's note: We were heartbroken to learn of the passing of legendary voice actor Kevin Conroy this morning. He was a favorite amongst fans, both for his talent in voicing Batman and Bruce Wayne, and also for his compassion for the fandom. We are reposting this, and some of our other favorite pieces about Mr. Conroy in honor of his legacy and his role in this Batman fandom. You can read our obituary for Kevin Conroy here.
In their new tradition of celebrating Pride Month, DC released their DC Pride anthology book. This annual book is a series of one-off stories about queer DC characters written and drawn by LGBTQIA+ artists. These stories mostly follow characters like Tim Drake's Robin, Harley Quinn, Jonathan Kent's Superman, Nubia, and more going on short adventures with their significant others. But, this year had a story that was a bit of a curveball. The final story in DC Pride 2022 #1 is a personal tale written by long-time Batman actor, Kevin Conroy. If the name doesn't ring a bell, the voice certainly would. Starting in Batman: The Animated Series, Conroy had been voicing Batman since the early '90s. He was even able to make a live-action appearance as a Kingdom Come-inspired Bruce Wayne in the CW's Crisis on Infinite Earths event in 2019.
Needless to say, he's a fan favorite. A lot of people would even argue that he is the best actor to take on the role of The Dark Knight. This is why it was surprising to read his personal story, called Finding Batman, about how the struggles of his life contributed to his Batman performance. And sadly, the struggles he described are ones all too familiar to the vast majority of gay fans, making his story even more impactful. Conroy told of his life up until auditioning for Batman, in mostly chronological order, but written from the perspective of him looking back at it in the present day. He described his life growing up with a brother who suffered from schizophrenia and parents who were in an abusive marriage that was breaking at the seams. On top of that, he was growing up in the suburbs of a predominantly Catholic family and area. As someone who grew up in the suburbs of the bible belt, the brand of homophobia he experienced rings all too true. This adds another layer of sadness, knowing that not much has really changed in the past 50-60 years.
Gay people are still dealing with the rejection from communities, the harassment from others for daring to be just a little open, and being forced to live a double life. One outward presenting, repressing basic parts of your personality, and hiding things about yourself to avoid being berated for just existing. The other; nicer and more open, where you can actually be yourself around people that you trust with all of your heart. All to simply not be, at best, rejected by the people you love, or at worst, getting attacked or killed. It sounds like an over-exaggeration, and a lot of people who don't understand will almost always call you overdramatic.
I have reminded people of the severity of this by simply recounting how it was only six years ago when the mass shooting at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando occurred. This was not too far away from where I was living at the time, and a city I spent three years living in shortly after. The absolute tragedy that happened that night did not go unfelt by the community. If you weren't there that night, most local LGBTQIA+ people at least knew someone who had friends there. It was horrible, and it still continues to be horrible. People were shot and killed just for daring to be out in public at a place that was typically safe for them to go. We are not that far removed from the Stonewall riots, people. A fact that became abundantly more clear as Conroy told his own story.
As an adult, Conroy dealt with prejudice in his work life and his personal life. He was often ridiculed by coworkers and employers who just so happened to find out about his sexuality. Because no matter how well you hide and blend in as "passing," at some point, people will find out. During the AIDS epidemic, not only did he have to carry the weight of being a working gay actor harassed by his fellow co-stars and employers, but he also had to deal with the deaths of some of his closest friends. Not to mention this being a time when the AIDS epidemic set more fuel to the fire of demonizing gay men and making us nothing more than the punchline of a joke. The 1980s, all the way up until the 2000s, was the heyday of homosexuality being a joke to the public.
Decades removed from Conroy, even when I was growing up, these were all still the status quo thanks to popular shows like South Park and Family Guy influencing people's sense of humor. And while standards of humor were wildly different at the time, that still didn't mean those jokes didn't hurt. Only recently have things like using "gay" as a descriptor for something being bad been slowly phased out of the public consciousness. This perception of gay men results in situations like my childhood where even before you realize that you identify as something other than straight, people are already attacking or bullying you for getting suspected of being gay. Just because you act or enjoy something that isn't viewed as "manly." Being demonized is something practically every queer man deals with. And it kinda sucks.
At a crescendo of sadness and being at rock bottom, Conroy described the Batman audition process. Having not been much of a comic reader prior to this, the character and lore of Batman had to be explained to Conroy, and, almost immediately, he seemed to understand his pain. You don't have to witness your parents being shot in an alleyway as a child to feel sadness and a sense of being betrayed by the world just for existing. You don't have to spend over a decade training as a ninja to understand the feeling of putting on a mask to hide your identity. You don't have to be attacked by clowns and scarecrows to feel a need to protect people from having to deal with the hardships that you have to. Being Batman is the quintessential gay experience. The double-life that Bruce Wayne leads is instantly recognizable to anyone who regularly has to code-switch just to get through an average day. Bruce Wayne and Batman mean so much more to gay audiences than the other heavy hitters in DC because his story is so wildly understandable.
In comparison, Superman and Wonder Woman are also excellent allies that a lot of gay people identify with. These two heroes have always represented the best a person can be. Not in a supremacist way that is analyzed in superhero fare like Watchmen or The Boys (both of which are fantastic shows, by the way) but simply just because they're kind people. Clark and Diana's greatest powers aren't super strength or combat skills, their real power is just caring about others. They are such perfect people that it's almost expected that they would be supportive of gay rights. But Batman just hits a bit differently than that. He has to wear a mask unlike the other two, he is the odd man out in the Justice League, being the only main member with no powers. He has to work so much harder than everyone else just to show others that he does in fact belong. How can any gay person read something like that and not identify with it? In a lot of ways, this is what makes Bruce even more of a hero than the gods he stands next to.
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