Furaha, Storm’s daughter, has arrived in Storm: Earth’s Mightiest Mutant #4, written by Murewa Ayodele, drawn by Federica Mancin, colored by Java Tartaglia and lettered by Travis Lanham.
Joycelyn Ann Jones was born on March 2, 1947, at Flint Goodridge Hospital, one of the few places in New Orleans where “colored” people could be trained as nurses and doctors, and thus one of the places in New Orleans where a pregnant mother could expect to receive appropriate care. Raised a Creole Catholic in the 7th Ward of New Orleans, mere blocks from the ancestral home of the creole Pope Leo, Joycelyn would eventually be joined by a brother who would become like a son: Her father, one of, if not the first Black mailman in the city of New Orleans (and a running partner of a certain airport’s namesake) died when she was 9; her mother would die when she was 21. Joycelyn was a mother before she became a mother: a mother to her brother, and a mother figure to the reams of New Orleans children she taught at William Frantz School (of Ruby Bridges fame) and Phyllis Wheatley Elementary after graduating from Dillard University in 1968.
Joycelyn would get married once. She would get divorced once. She would have one child, conceived and birthed in love after that divorce from a man with whom I share a large forehead and a hardheaded disposition.
Despite that forehead and my hardhead, she continuously, consistently, courageously poured into me until the end, when complications from a stroke and pancreatic cancer killed her.
I miss her dearly.
I take long walks most days: no phone, no music, just the road, the sun and whatever errant thoughts choose to appear. These walks sometimes take me past the city’s many above-ground cemeteries — memorials to those long since passed, their care entrusted to those who’ve long since passed themselves. Walking past a stone angel that I swear moved with my stride, I wondered aloud to no one in particular:
“If I could bring Joycelyn back for a day, would I?”
My answer was immediate and resolute.
No. No I wouldn’t.
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As you can guess from my preamble, I’m not particularly interested or invested in issue #4 of Storm: Earth’s Mightiest Mutant. The backstory with Storm’s parents doesn’t carry much weight (though Ororo’s father’s reasoning for emigrating to Africa raised my eyebrow — an African writer trying to verbalize Black American pain is … interesting, but no less interesting than a Romanian-Jewish New Yorker creating a country of Africans). The haphazard, bordering on random story with the Greek gods, bartering Wakandan vibranium for access to Earth, felt extraneous. The centerpiece of the story (or at least the focus of the cover), Storm’s “daughter” Furaha, makes little more than a glorified cameo (though, of note: She immediately knows Storm is from another universe and moves immediately to bring her back).
All of this is … fine. You can read my other reviews to get an idea of what I think. All those thoughts still apply; no need to rewrite.
Still, it’s the interaction between Storm and her “mother” from another universe that, ironically, feels most grounded. Storm is lost and angry, frustrated that she’s been (and is being) used by so many. Even her “mother” is moving her though the omniverse, ostensibly to meet her “daughter” as a means of emotional manipulation.
The idea of a mother, for those of us who liked and loved our mothers, becomes enshrined in nostalgic amber: preserved for eternity as an idea we wish to remember. Removing the idea from that amber awakens the possibility that the idea of our mothers may not have been accurate; that our mothers may not have been perfect. This is not Storm’s mother, and Ororo knows this. Still, I bet after this experience, she’ll never enjoy the memory of her own, actual mother the same way. I’m sure it will be sullied and soiled, forever aligned with the misguided (but maybe well intended) misdeeds of a mother from another multiverse.
Sometimes what was just needs to be left where it’s at: undisturbed, preserved, entombed just like those catacombs that lay untouched for generations. Maybe the same could be said about this series. I digress.
So no, I wouldn’t bring my mother back; I want her to enjoy her rest, to grow comfortable and happy in that rest, to speak to me as she has through sunshine and wind gusts.
No more, no less.
I think Storm might feel the same; here’s hoping Furaha doesn’t share that disposition come next issue.
Buy Storm: Earth’s Mightiest Mutant #4 here. (Disclaimer: As an Amazon Associate, ComicsXF may earn from qualifying purchases.)
A proud New Orleanian living in the District of Columbia, Jude Jones is a professional thinker, amateur photographer, burgeoning runner and lover of Black culture, love and life. Magneto and Cyclops (and Killmonger) were right. Learn more about Jude at SaintJudeJones.com.
