Why We Need Black Female Superheroes: The Rise of Omega-Level Women Protectors
Black Female Superheroes: Why I'm Building My Own Cosmic Universes
I remember being a little girl, watching Jayne Kennedy play a character inspired by Nubia on the Wonder Woman TV series in 1977.
I felt proud.
That moment mattered. Seeing a Black woman standing alongside Wonder Woman (even in a single episode) told me something the world rarely said: we belong in these stories.
But here's what I've learned in the decades since:
The truth is simple: I was never really waiting for permission.
Black female superheroes have existed in comics for over 50 years. Storm debuted in 1975 and became the first Black woman to lead a major superhero team. Monica Rambeau held the Captain Marvel title and led the Avengers in the 1980s. Nubia, Wonder Woman's twin sister, appeared in DC Comics in 1973 as a powerful Amazon warrior with equal divine heritage.
What I learned watching that single episode of Wonder Woman as a child:
Representation can spark something. But sparks aren't enough. That one episode didn't lead to a Nubia spinoff. Jayne Kennedy's character didn't get her own series. The moment was beautiful, and it was brief.
And that's the pattern I've watched repeat for decades.
So today here's the facts, only 12% of superhero film leads feature women of any race, and Black women represent an even smaller fraction.
I'm still waiting on Marvel's Storm solo film which was announced in 2022 (no word yet) or DC's Nubia to really show-up in any live-action projects despite existing in canon for over 50 years.
The Video That Didn’t Shock Me: It Clarified the Assignment
Let me switch hats, recently, I saw a video and I won’t link it (because ignorance doesn’t get free promo from me). It was a group of white teenage girls smearing Black spray paint on their faces, laughing, spitting racist slurs, recording their cruelty like it was stellar content.
Later, of course, it came out they’d been bullying Black students. Weaponizing their white privilege. Performing learned hatred. Watching it was sickening. Not because I needed a reminder of what racism looks like, but because it exposed something deeper:
Those children didn’t invent their hatred. They inherited it.
And here’s the generational truth:
When we (GEN X) were teens, my white GEN X peers swore they’d be different from their parents and grandparents. They promised the cycle would end with them. They claimed they were “the woke ones” even before being "woke" was a thing.
But the majority lied. Time revealed their truth. And now we’re watching their legacy in full view: remixed, emboldened, and passed down to their children and grandchildren.
This is why representation matters:
Not just because we need correction from them, but because Black girls deserve the storyworlds that reflect them and because those white girls need to see that all women are to be revered and respected not just ones that look like them.
Representation is not a request. It's a must have for us all to be good humans.
So I can't say that things haven't improved because they have in certain ways. I have enjoyed Riri Williams (Ironheart) in the Black Panther universe. Her series has been highly engaging, and I'm loving seeing the tech mix with magical systems and lore.
And then there was the CW's Naomi show, which flopped after one season because the character felt too weak, too tentative, too safe.
But the truth is that audiences want to see more.
The Numbers Don't Lie AND Neither Should We
When Storm finally regained her powers in X-Men '97 (2024)[LINK], Black women across social media celebrated not just the character moment, but what it represented: seeing ourselves as limitless beings whose power can be stripped but never permanently diminished.
The search data reveals what audiences actually want:
- "Storm Marvel" generates 9,900+ monthly searches
- "Black female superhero" pulls 3600+ searches monthly
- The question on Quora that asks "Are there any black female superheroes besides Storm from X-Men?" receives over 350 plus searches.
- "Nubia DC" attracts 5,400+ monthly searches despite minimal mainstream media presence
People are actively searching for Black women in cosmic roles. The demand exists. The representation doesn't match it.
Why I Stopped Waiting For Mainstream White Media To Create Black Women Omega Superheroes
I grew up hoping. Hoping for more characters like the one Jayne Kennedy played. Hoping Storm would get the screen time she deserved. Hoping DC would remember Nubia existed.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped hoping and started creating.
Independent creators and Afrofuturist authors like me aren't waiting for Marvel's or DC's permission to center Black women as Omega-level beings. They're writing entire universes where Black women don't just have a seat at the table—we ARE the table, the throne, and the cosmic force itself.
And, readers get to experience those worlds right now.
Consider what "Omega-level" actually means in superhero canon. Omega-level superheroes possess theoretically unlimited power.
They can:
- Alter planetary ecosystems (like Storm)
- Manipulate cosmic energy at will (like Monica Rambeau)
- Rewrite reality itself (potential unrealized in most Black women characters)
What Representation Actually Does (Beyond the Optics)
Let's be precise about what's at stake.
When Black women occupy Omega-level space in fiction, we're not just creating "positive role models" or "diverse representation." We're correcting the cultural blueprint that teaches both Black girls and their peers that Black women's power has limits.
When Black girls grow up seeing more characters like Storm command weather systems with a thought, Monica Rambeau lead Earth's Mightiest Heroes, and independent creators building universes where Black women are the gravitational center—it rewires what's possible. Not just for Black girls, but for everyone consuming those stories.
And when white children grow up in worlds where Black women are normalized as the most powerful beings in existence? They don't learn to perform cruelty. They learn to recognize power where it actually lives.
Stories are blueprints. Omega women rewrite the blueprint entirely.
I don't have to wait for Hollywood to give me permission to show myself as being limitless.
Enter the Silver Soldier: What I Wish I'd Had as a Little Girl
Remember that pride I felt watching Jayne Kennedy on Wonder Woman? I wanted more of that feeling. I wanted stories where that feeling wasn't rare—it was the baseline.
So I created Aisha, the Silver Soldier—an armored Omega-level Black woman whose power cannot be dimmed, capped, or controlled.
She is:
- Cosmically significant: Her choices affect planetary survival
- Ancestrally connected: Her power draws from generations of Black women's survival intelligence
- Narratively centered: She is not the sidekick, the sacrifice, or the supporting character
The Silver Soldier Collection exists because I refuse to wait for Storm's solo movie or hope that Nubia gets proper screen time. I'm creating the merchandise, the stories, and the universe where Black women are already the standard—not the exception.
👉🏾Explore the Silver Soldier Collection: built for women who understand their own cosmic authority. [LINK]
Also be sure to check out her Bedtime Story on YouTube. [LINK]
Alicia's Final Word: From That Little Girl to the Stories I Create Now
Black female superheroes at Omega level aren't coming someday—they're here now.
That little girl who felt proud watching Jayne Kennedy in 1977? She grew up. And she got tired of waiting for someone else to write the stories she needed.
So I write them myself. And you get to read them.
- I'm not over here hoping mainstream studios catch up.
- I'm not over here waiting for the "right" representation.
- I'm not over here explaining why we deserve to see ourselves at cosmic scale.
I'm choosing to write the stories that already center us.
Because when you read a Black woman written as infinite, when you wear merchandise celebrating our cosmic authority, when you support fiction that positions us as the narrative baseline rather than the exceptional case—You're participating in the shift.
You're saying what I learned to say decades after watching that Wonder Woman episode:
I see myself as limitless. And I'm done waiting.
Ready to see yourself at full cosmic power? Sign-Up for my list, explore stories and merchandise where Black women don't ask for space—we command it.
Alicia McCalla is an award-winning speculative fiction author and worldbuilder who centers Black women as cosmic, courageous, and powerful heroines. A Marine Corps veteran and retired librarian, she blends Afrofuturism, superhero fiction, and mythology to create storyworlds where Black women don’t ask for permission—they rewrite the universe. Explore her stories and Badass Superhero community at aliciamccalla.com.
Relevant Blog Posts
