Adoption, and the Appeal of Batman Comics

Introduction:

I have always loved adoption stories. 

I’m a softie at heart. I love stories about unrelated groups of people coming together and forging their own families, families with ties thicker than blood. I’ve touched on this in a few other essays, including “Gruff Man and Child” and “The Wonderful Domesticity of Cartoon Network,” but those sorts of adoption stories have always touched me, in no small part due to having an adopted sister of my own. 

It’s no surprise then that I love comic books. It seems odd that adoption and found families factor so heavily into popular superhero backstories, yet it’s not usually the first thing we think of. Most of my favorite superheroes have some element of adoption to them, an emotional core that grounds their narrative and unifies their cast. 

• Spider-Man is a fantastic example, with many of the best adaptations acknowledging Aunt May and Uncle Ben as his adoptive parents. 

• In X-Men, the older members act as parental substitutes to the younger kids who might not have a home of their own. That’s why Logan continues to be my favorite X-Men movie, and why Logan’s relationship with both Rogue and Lara is so important to me. 

• Superman is probably the most iconic example, considering how instrumental his relationship with “Ma” and “Pa” Kent are to his character. 

• Hell, even The Flash on the CW has an element of this, what with Joe West taking Barry into his home after his mother’s death. 

But out of all these, Batman is the story I keep coming back to. Themes of parenthood, adoption, and family are subtle but central to the caped crusader’s history. In this essay, I will examine these themes, explain the varying interpretations of the “Batfamily”, and argue that the portrayal of Bruce Wayne as an adoptive father creates a better, stronger Batman story. 

Adoption as a Theme, Part 1: Alfred and Bruce

The best place to start is at the beginning. 

At the age of eight, a young Bruce Wayne watched helplessly as his parents were gunned down in front of him. This moment set off a chain reaction, altering the trajectory of Bruce’s life and eventually leading to his transformation into the Batman, a Dark Knight dedicated to justice and protection for those who could not protect themselves. But until then, Bruce was still a child. A grieving, aimless orphan. 

Enter: Alfred Thaddeus Cane Pennyworth. 

During the Golden Age of American Comics, Alfred was little more than a living plot device meant to create more drama for Bruce. He insisted on being an adult Bruce’s caretaker and butler, and was yet another person that Bruce had to lie to and keep his identity a secret from. But, then, Alfred started evolving. After the Crisis on Infinite Earths reboot, his backstory changed entirely. Now, Alfred was Bruce’s longtime friend and caretaker, and a confidante of the Wayne Family. Future depictions, like his own TV show and Gotham, would run with this further, showing him meeting Thomas and Martha Wayne at a young age, and protecting Bruce even when he was a small boy. 

This begins the theme of adoption in Batman mythos. As the years went on and this version of Alfred became more and more popular, his role in Bruce’s life expanded. He was not just a butler, not anymore. He was Bruce’s guardian. He raised the boy, comforted him, dried his tears. Alfred was, in essence, Bruce’s father. During the times when Bruce was injured or thought dead, Alfred mourned as a father would. After Final Crisis, Alfred even volunteered to raise Damian Wayne--Bruce’s biological son. And it’s not just Damian. He treats all of the Robins as if they were his grandchildren. 

Alfred’s role in the Batfamily evolved from assistant into father figure yet he was never meant to replace the late Thomas and Martha Wayne. Instead, he simply wants to care for, raise, and love Bruce in their absence. I’ve always thought this was a rather nuanced, mature take on adoption and parenthood. Across the world, biological and adoptive parents alike play significant, important roles in the life of an adopted child. To use another popular example, Peter Parker fully acknowledges the love that his Aunt May and Uncle Ben give him, but in some stories (such as The Amazing Spider-Man) he also has fond memories and questions about his biological parents. It’s the same basic idea: no one is “better” than the other, and children are allowed to love all parental figures in their lives. 

But, the adoption of Detective Comics isn’t limited to just Alfred and Bruce. Now, we start to get into the truly genre-defining moments of Batman. 

Adoption as a Theme, Parts 2+3: Batman, Robin and Black Bat

The Dick Grayson version of Robin first debuted in 1940, over eight decades ago. His existence was the spark that led to “Legacy Characters,” a concept referring to sidekicks and successors of popular heroes. Legacy characters like Donna Troy and Roy Harper tend to have “Found Family” as a key theme, but never to the extent of the Robins. 

Dick Grayson started off as Bruce’s ward, but later depictions of the character have changed that, as wards were abandoned in the American legal system. In modern depictions, alternate continuities and reboots, Dick is generally seen as Bruce’s adopted son. 

As far as I can tell, this shift is generally considered a good thing, at least in most circles. The father-son dynamic between Bruce and Dick makes more sense when they actually are father and son in the eyes of the law. It adds thematic depth, recontextualizes classic moments, and creates a situation that both parents and children can relate to. 

For instance, Dick left Bruce in the mainstream continuity and became Nightwing to get out of Bruce’s shadow and escape the feeling that he was never “good enough” to be Robin. Such a situation reflects many real-life falling outs that adolescents have with parents before leaving home. This comparison between the overbearing father and the independent teenager works even better when Bruce and Dick actually are father and son. 

Dick is repeatedly shown as Bruce’s confidante, partner, and equal, but he is by no means the only Robin to have been given this treatment. Both Jason Todd and Tim Drake have been legally adopted by Bruce in many continuities, and as such, they are more-or-less treated as his sons in modern DC Comics. Again, this adds thematic richness to the narrative of Batman by mimicking family situations some of us can relate to:

• Jason can be seen as the archetypal “black sheep” of the family. His violent, Punisher-esque methods and use of firearms create natural conflict between him and Bruce. This invites similarities to a rebellious son who gets in fights with his father for choosing a different lifestyle. 

• Leading up to his death, Jason is searching for his biological mother throughout A Death in the Family. While I’m not 100% positive that Bruce actually adopted Jason at this point in comic history, this still brings to mind the questions an adopted child might have about where they came from. As I mentioned above, my younger sister is adopted, and the whirlwind of emotions Jason feels about his birth mother is similar to what my sister has been going through. 

• Dick and Jason’s frequent squabbles (in the Post-Crisis era) bring to mind the competition between older children of large families, as well as the resentment a neglected child has for their “favorite” sibling. 

• Finally, Damian feels the need to assert himself as the “true son,” and he attacks Tim. While obviously hyperbolic, this can be reflective of the conflicts between biological and adoptive siblings within a family unit. 

Post-Crisis, Bruce legally adopted Tim after Tim’s biological father, Jack, was killed during the Identity Crisis storyline. Jack’s death is a tragic event, but Bruce’s adoption afterwards is an incredibly sweet moment that goes to show the billionaire’s hidden depths. During this emotionally-charged scene, Bruce even tells Tim that he doesn’t want to replace his father, but he wants to take care of him anyways. It’s the same theme I mentioned with Alfred: the idea that biological and adoptive parents can coexist without one replacing the other, and that children can love, value and respect them both. 

One of the more overt examples of adoption in Batman has to come from Cassandra Cain. The daughter of two assassins, Cassandra was essentially a living weapon, trained to do nothing but fight and kill. Bruce took her in, showed her kindness, and eventually, she became a member of the family, having been adopted in the Post-Crisis continuity. 

Even though she’s not technically adopted in The New 52, Cass is a major member of the family, and her presence adds a new layer of depth to the family dynamics. She originally used the alias “Orphan” in the New 52, but eventually abandons it, a symbol of how she’s become a part of something larger than herself and joined the family. 

Adoption as a Theme, Part 4: The Gordons:

While not as overt or relevant to the narratives of Batman, I felt this was worth mentioning. The exploration of adoption is explored beyond Bruce Wayne. In many continuities, Barbara Gordon is not the biological daughter of Commissioner Jim Gordon, but his niece, who he adopted early in her life. 

This is a situation I don’t see too often in storytelling, but I’m appreciative of it. In truth, many adopted children are related to the people who take them in. Unlike Bruce’s wishy-washy character (which I’ll discuss below), Barbara and Jim have a functional, loving father-daughter relationship across all continuities. In one of the newer comics, she even denies the chance to learn if Jim is her biological father, because it simply doesn’t matter. 

All adopted children handle their adoption differently. While it is perfectly fine for adopted children to search for their biological parents, I’m also deeply appreciative of any media where the opposite is true: where the children simply don’t need that, because their adoptive family is enough. And that’s a perspective that Barbara and Jim provide. 

Criticisms of Batdad:

Batman is one of the most rebooted, most popular, and more prolific characters in all of fiction. He’s appeared in 80 years worth of comics, dozens of movies played by a variety of actors, decades worth of animated television, amazing video games, and so much more. With all that in mind, it’s no surprise that people have their favorites. 

While adoption as a theme is never overtly criticized, many fans simply prefer that Bruce be a lone wolf with no children of his own, and no real parental relationship with Alfred. For many, the “ideal” Batman is a loner, a Dark Knight with no Robins or Batgirls to aid him. While I don’t necessarily agree, I certainly respect this opinion, and I think it explains quite a bit. 

Many of the most iconic Batman stories depict Bruce alone (or with only a single ally), struggling against a cruel world. Batman: Year One, The Long Halloween, The Killing Joke, and The Dark Knight Returns are a few examples (none of which feature Bruce in a parental light) and these comics defined the Batman aesthetic for many years to come. With that in mind, it’s no wonder that the writers who read those stories never thought of Robin or Batgirl as essential to the Batman lore, and never considered writing Bruce as a father figure. Even in The Dark Knight Returns, where Bruce does work with Carrie Kelly as Robin, the relationship is more teacher-student than father-daughter. 

Those comics still have profound influence to this day, for better or worse. Christopher Nolan’s trilogy of movies and the Arkham trilogy of video games are generally considered to be “ideal” depictions of modern Batman by some fans, and they are heavily inspired by the comics I just mentioned. In the former, Bruce has no sidekicks to speak of, no parental relationship with Alfred, and he does not act as a mentor or father figure to anyone. In the latter, Bruce has numerous allies, but he is always distant with them at best, rarely working with Dick and outright refusing to work with Tim on multiple occasions. 

Different Takes and Varying Interpretations of Bruce Wayne:

This has led to a sort of divide amongst Batman fans. On the one hand, there are those who find Batman at his most compelling when he’s a lone wolf, and they are entertained by stories such as The Dark Knight Trilogy and Batman: Year One. 

On the other hand, there are the fans who believe that Bruce’s sidekicks and children add a human component to the stories. These fans enjoy products such as Under the Red Hood, Young Justice, The New Batman Adventures, and of course, Wayne Family Adventures. 

What’s interesting is that the writers of DC’s Batman comics are not immune to this dichotomy, and in fact, many of them tend to fall strongly in one camp or the other, to almost ridiculous levels. Batman is a cash cow character for DC, with many titles and spin-offs in circulation at all times, and many of those titles are written by people with vastly different interpretations of the Dark Knight. 

This has made Batman not only one of the most prolific characters in modern media, but also one of the most inconsistently-written characters. Sometimes, it’s in the small things, like how he’ll adopt Tim as his son in one continuity but not the other. Other times, it creates huge discrepancies that are simultaneously laughable and disturbing. For instance, in one of the newer story arcs from Red Hood and Outlaws, Jason attempts to assassinate the Penguin. He doesn’t even succeed, but he gets a beating from his adoptive father regardless. By comparison, the Batman: Three Jokers storyline has Jason point-blank shooting one of the Jokers in the head, and Bruce doesn’t even seem mildly concerned. 

When trying to consider all of these interpretations of Bruce coexisting in just a few continuities, it can make him seem hypocritical or paradoxical at best and outright toxic at worst. All of the traits that make him kind and relatable to the audience, such as adopting the Robins as his children, can be made horrifying and abusive when put in the hands of a different writer, as the above example with Jason shows. That’s not just two superheroes fighting, that’s a hero we’re supposed to root for assaulting his son. 

In Favor of Bruce as a Father:

At the end of the day, I’m biased. I love adoption stories. I love Alfred, all of the Robins, and Cassandra Cain. My favorite Batman stories have always been ones where they play huge roles in the narrative. That being said, I’m going to try to make an unbiased, objective case for the depiction of Alfred as a father figure to Bruce, and Bruce as an adoptive father himself. 

For starters, Alfred being a father figure makes sense in the context of modern Batman mythos. Alfred’s role has slowly elevated, originally being someone who only became Bruce’s butler when the Wayne heir was an adult; to now being someone who knew the Waynes before Bruce was ever born. In this regard, Bruce--a lonely, traumatized child--clinging to his lifelong friend as a father figure makes sense. (If you want a series that portrays this dynamic between a young, traumatized Bruce and a caring, parental Alfred particularly well, look no further than Gotham’s early seasons.)

But I think a lot of us can agree on Alfred being a father figure to Bruce. That’s not a particularly controversial opinion. What is more divisive, however, is the matter of Bruce himself as a father, both biological and adoptive. 

I believe that Bruce adopting Tim, Jason, Dick and Cass feels like the most natural evolution of his character. At the end of the day, Bruce is an optimist despite his cold, grim presentation; he believes the world can be a better place, and it’s his job to help people, however he can. Being Batman is just one outlet for this drive. Taking in these children that so desperately need parental figures is perfectly in-character for a man who knows what it’s like to be orphaned and alone. 

This also ties into the humanitarian depiction of his parents. Thomas and Martha Wayne, in most continuities, are philanthropists trying to better Gotham in large-scale ways: medicine, jobs, technology, transportation, and more. Bruce becoming a father to kids like Jason, Dick, Cass and Tim feels like an evolution of that dream, just on a smaller scale. 

(Now, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not saying adoption is some kind of humanitarian statement to the rest of the world. Adoption is so, so much more than that: it’s a commitment to be a child’s parent, to love them, and to help them anyway you can. There are plenty of ways to be a parental figure or mentor without adopting someone. I’m just saying, with characters like Tim, Jason, Dick and Cass, their existing parental figures are dead or unfit to be parents, and it makes the most sense for Bruce to step in and directly fill that role however he can.)

The presence of sidekicks--and, more specifically, a Robin--creates juxtaposition, irony and levity. Batman is the Dark Knight, an avenger for the defenseless who spends his nights beating up criminals, hiding in the shadows and stalking his prey. Having a brightly-dressed little kid alongside him is frankly hilarious to think about. Many Batman stories that do feature the sidekicks live and die by how well the writers can bounce them off one-another. It’s why animated series and kids shows that do feature a well-written Robin tend to become cult classics, such as Batman: The Animated Series, The New Batman Adventures, and Young Justice. 

(And that’s not to say introducing Robin has to change the tone or atmosphere of a DC comics storyline. Just look at The Dark Knight Returns, the most critically-acclaimed Batman story of all time. Carrie Kelley is a central figure in that story, and while she sometimes brings levity, other times Frank Miller contrasts her childish naivety with the horrors she witnesses for exceptional dramatic effect.)

Depicting Bruce as a father invites character development. It forces Bruce---someone who spent years traveling the world alone---to cooperate with others in a way he isn’t used to. It puts Bruce, an orphan himself, in the foreign role of a caregiver. And it puts Bruce in a position where he has to open up to others and be emotionally vulnerable in a way he hasn’t been since the days before his parents were gunned down. 

But above all else, the depiction of Bruce as a father has one simple, effective purpose: it creates an emotional core for the narrative. 

Bruce is, by his very nature, a dark and tragic figure. His obsessiveness often renders him cold, serious, and unfeeling. But rather than embracing that darkness, some Batman stories play with it by introducing the Robins and Batgirls as characters for Bruce (and us) to care about. They become the heart and soul of the story, and they act as an anchor to keep Bruce from going over the edge and sinking into the darkness. The sidekicks and adoptive children add emotional range to a narrative that might otherwise feel one-note, allowing Batman to appeal to a broader audience. 

Many of my other favorite stories have started off as grimdark action pieces only to acquire much more personal meaning once they added such “emotional core” characters. I know I’m biased, because it’s my favorite manga of all time, but I’m going to use Berserk as an example. For those that don’t know, Berserk is a critically-acclaimed, long-running dark fantasy series about a mercenary named Guts. Initially a story about revenge, Berserk’s narrative evolved: Guts gave up revenge to protect his lover Casca, and eventually, he led nearly a dozen warriors to the mythical land of Alfheim in a story arc that continues to this day. Many consider Berserk’s best writing to be in some of these more recent arcs. 

To use an example specifically about fatherhood and not just leadership or mentorship, look to God of War. The Greece Saga is a great series of games, no doubt, about the pitfalls of revenge, the destructive consequences of pride, and the pain of losing one’s family. But the new Norse Saga starting with God of War (2018) has been praised as one of the best games of all time specifically because it focuses on fatherhood so much. I guarantee that if 2018’s God of War focused on only Kratos, with Atreus nowhere in sight, it wouldn’t be nearly as praised as it was. 

While there are obviously ebbs and flows in the quality of DC’s most iconic hero, I think it’s safe to say that Batman has undergone a similar transformation, and we are better off for it. It has slowly transformed from the narrative of one man fighting against criminal forces, into the epic saga of a father and his children banding together to face injustice. 

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Those reasons are also why I think Wayne Family Adventures is such a breath of fresh air in the comics world, and an absolute necessity for DC’s fans. It’s first few chapters became the most-read comic at that time, which clearly shows that a demand exists for this sort of thing.  I get that a big part of its readership comes from the fact that it’s free, but WebToons aren’t exactly known for their…high levels of quality, to put it bluntly. For everyone to flock to Wayne Family Adventures, it must be because it’s giving the people what they want. 

And my god did we get what we want. Wayne Family Adventures is one of my favorite comics I’ve ever read. It’s a Batman story with nothing that typically characterizes a Batman story. In a way, it’s almost an experiment, as if DC asked itself “How much of the Batman formula can we strip away while still getting a good story?”

And it turns out, quite a lot! Even after stripping away onscreen conflicts with adversaries, references to the larger DC mythos and setup for crossovers or whatever; Batman has such a large, emotionally-rich cast with so much backstory that Wayne Family Adventures still totally works as a slice-of-life family drama about a single dad trying to manage his six children. It doesn’t just match mainstream Batman in quality, it surpasses it by finally giving us a version of Bruce Wayne we can relate to and look up to. I often find myself shocked at just how…normal everything feels, in the best way possible. Bruce struggles to balance his commitments to his city and his children; Dick is an emotionally-intelligent older brother who wants to help his siblings; Jason teases his younger siblings at every turn; Cass is the soft spoken, quiet family favorite without being outright stoic; it all just feels so right. 

On top of being hilarious and lore-heavy in the best way possible, Wayne Family Adventures is the embodiment of everything I’ve discussed thus far. It portrays the Batfamily and Bruce Wayne at their absolute best, and if you want a laugh or a smile, I recommend going and reading it. Trust me, it’s worth it. 

Final Thoughts:

In closing, I want to reemphasize that I don’t dislike stories where Bruce is childless and a loner. In fact, I have a soft spot for them myself. They touch on different ideas and themes that can be just as engaging. But I do believe that, with regards to the comic continuity and certain adaptations, the best direction for this franchise moving forward is to emphasize his role as a father as much as possible. 

Bruce Wayne as a father adds depth, thematic weight, relatability, levity, and emotional range in ways that simply aren’t possible otherwise. While I still see a division within DC Comics on how to approach the character, I’m thankful that the newest generation of writers seem far more willing to embrace this side of the character, and I hope we see more of it in the future. 

Thank you.