Daredevil is going through an identity crisis in Daredevil: Born Again, grappling with whether he wants to be Daredevil anymore after his friend Foggy Nelson died at the hands of Bullseye.
My first real encounter with Daredevil was in Amazing Spider-Man No. 396, part of the "Back from the Edge" storyline. Daredevil’s arc in this was wild; he was dealing with an identity crisis of his own. “Back from the Edge” is about Spider-Man at a pretty low point — he's got this weird virus that’s slowly killing him, and on top of that, he’s pushing away the Peter Parker part of himself. He’s struggling hard with grief, guilt, and just being mentally and emotionally drained. He shuts out people like Aunt May, who’s sick, and Mary Jane, who's got her own mess to deal with. In this heavy, fragile state, Spider-Man teams up with Daredevil to learn how to bury Peter Parker for good and just be Spider-Man 24/7.
At this time, Daredevil wasn't in a much better place. He had recently staged his own death and was shutting himself off from everyone. His dark turn was huge, with the introduction of a new armored suit, plus a whole mess of stuff like secret agents, chemical mutagens, ninjas, cyborg mercenaries, and even guest stars like Venom, Morbius, and Captain America. Daredevil’s secret almost got out, so to cover it up, Matt Murdock faked his death using the body of his evil twin, Hellspawn. He came back under a new name, Jack Batlin, a con artist. The new suit was Daredevil's way of stepping up, trying to move from being a neighborhood hero to playing in the big leagues. But the gritty, darker world of '90s heroes—where Venom was eating brains and all kinds of messed-up stuff was happening—wasn’t a place for Matt’s sense of justice. It felt like the classic heroes from the ‘60s were out of place in that world and they felt like they needed to catch up.
Looking back, it was kind of a weird time to get into Daredevil, but I was all in. As a pre-teen, you’re constantly dealing with those thoughts like, “Why do I feel so different?” or “Why don’t I care about the same things anymore?” (even if we're not conscious of them). We all go through that internal conflict—trying to figure out who we are or who we want to be, or even trying to escape the version of ourselves we don't like. The angst Spidey and DD were going through mirrored my own. I guess that’s why superheroes hit so hard. They don’t just fight villains we can all agree are bad guys; they also tackle the big, messy stuff we all wrestle with inside. Each one of them has some kind of theme or metaphor hidden under that mask, making their stories feel personal—even though they’re bigger than anything we could imagine.
Superman embodies immigration and the American Dream. Batman explores trauma and justice. Spider-Man is about responsibility and adolescence, while Wonder Woman represents feminism and pacifism. The X-Men reflect civil rights and marginalization, and Captain America grapples with patriotism and American identity. Iron Man tackles war, capitalism, and redemption. The Hulk delves into anger and the duality of man. Thor is rooted in mythology and destiny. The Flash explores time, legacy, and second chances. Aquaman highlights environmentalism and leadership, while Daredevil wrestles with justice and Catholic guilt.
The best thing about these characters is that even if we don’t connect with every part of their story, there’s always something about them that resonates. But with Daredevil, I hit a wall—I’m not a lawyer, and I don’t practice religion, so it’s harder for me to find that personal connection. So when I hear justice & Catholic guilt, I don't know what I'm supposed to connect to. In the others I listed, I can find myself finding something I can relate to. I suppose I could relate to justice, right? We all want justice to be served to the guilty. But even then, I have never experienced something I needed justice for to that extent.
But I recently read every single Daredevil issue ever, and I am watching Daredevil: Born Again, and I don't know if Daredevil's motivation for justice and his Catholic guilt mean what we think it means.
Daredevil's struggles are human
We’re all caught up in this need for righteousness, especially with the pressure from social media to always seem perfect or like you're doing something meaningful. It's kind of like Daredevil’s constant battle with his own guilt and identity—always feeling like he’s not doing enough like he’s failing somehow if he's not Daredevil. How we all feel we're not doing enough if we're posting enough online, liking everyone's comments, getting a promotion every year, getting the new iPhone, having a new hustle, etc. I think a lot of us can relate to Daredevil, which is probably why you see so many “I am enough” signs at HomeGoods. We're all one positive affirmation away from a nervous breakdown. But that pressure leads to harmful consequences. When we idolize this idea of “living your truth” or always striving to be the best version of yourself—being unapologetically you (or, in the parlance of Daredevil, "fighting for what’s right")—we often forget to check in with how this affects us mentally and emotionally, or how it impacts the people around us.
We’re all obsessed with perfection these days—whether it’s on social media, trying to show off how successful we are, or constantly promoting ourselves, just look at everyone who boasts a new job announcement on LinkedIn (guilty, btw). It's like we’re stuck in this never-ending loop of fixing everything that’s wrong, from cancel culture to feeling invisible in work meetings to personal issues (like feeling like we’re never good enough for the people we care about), constantly editing our faces or profiles hoping that someone we want to see us finally sees us. It's a lot like Daredevil chasing criminals down, always obsessed with righting every wrong (justice) and not feeling like you're doing enough (catholic guilt). And just like Matt Murdock’s struggles with his Catholic guilt and the toll his double life takes on his relationships, we forget about the mental health cost of always trying to be the perfect version of ourselves.
We keep pushing for more and more, forgetting that there are people who already accept us and accept our messy selves. We get so caught up in the pursuit that we forget to take care of ourselves or others. Born Again and Daredevil, in general, show us that sometimes, to truly heal, you need to hit rock bottom first—to recognize when you’re breaking yourself down and finally allow room for change instead of just pushing through, saying, "It be like that." That always reacting to tweets, social movements, political divides, personal conflicts, bad days, and uncomfortable emotions isn't always the right response; maturity is knowing everything doesn't deserve a reaction. What is the true cost of this fight? Am I doing this out of a need for validation or out of a genuine desire for change? The black-and-white thinking that pervades so much of our society—whether it's good vs. evil, left vs. right, or activist vs. apathy—mirrors Daredevil’s approach to justice. We often don’t allow for the complexity of human experience and the grey areas where true justice (or, in other words, balance) and growth can happen. In striving to be "right," we sometimes fail to see that real change requires understanding the complexities of human nature and the flaws inherent in every situation.
In a world where everything feels more divided and difficult than ever, we’re all dealing with mental health struggles on top of trying to live up to impossible standards. In some ways, that "Back from the Edge" storyline is never more relatable. As someone who grew up in a more idealistic time, the '90s, when things felt more possible and accessible for people, I often struggle with society today, feeling lost in a society I no longer understand or can thrive in, and I wonder if this is the time when I have to craft my own metaphorical black and red silver armor suit. Matt Murdock’s journey as Daredevil shows us something pretty rare. It’s a guide for how to juggle who we are, what we’re responsible for, and the messy ethical questions that come with it. Even though Daredevil is a superhero story, it’s really more of an allegory for the human experience. It’s about figuring out who we really are while trying to survive the constant pressure to meet everyone else’s expectations.
I can’t keep track of how many times Matt Murdock’s quit being Daredevil or switched up his whole persona in the comics, his reinventions are all over the place. But if we’re talking about a more recent example where you can really see him trying to juggle all the pressure life throws at him, that shot with the helmets in Born Again says it all. It’s a perfect shot to show how his whole existence is him constantly trying to figure out who he’s supposed to be.
In a previous article I wrote how all comic book stories are middle, and Spider-Man suffers in that regard, constantly never being allowed to grow up and fix his wrongs. Whereas, Daredevil's whole existence has been about reinventing himself. Making him truly a character worthy of being all "middle," as that's what we're supposed to do throughout our lives
Why Daredevil is so relatable to people
Daredevil's father didn't want him to be a boxer like him, so he pushed him into a less physical job in being a lawyer. But in the end, Matt ended up a brawler like his father. No matter what he does in a courtroom, it can sometimes never amount to the true good he does putting on a mask and taking over where the law fails (which is often), especially since the game is not on the level, with people like Fisk in power.
Daredevil resonates with us because he represents the struggle we all face. We often take jobs just to pay the bills, but deep down, we know our true passions lie somewhere else. You can only hide who you really are for so long before it comes to the surface. This plays out in many aspects of life—whether it’s gender, sexual identity, or the roles we’re forced into for survival. The job you do doesn’t define you; it’s just what you do to get by. Just like Daredevil, his sense of justice isn't just about the law—it’s about becoming who he’s truly meant to be. It’s about finding that balance, juggling his identity with the weight of societal expectations, and surrounding himself with people who accept him for who he is without needing to constantly explain or prove himself. It’s a reflection of the struggle many of us have with feelings of guilt or inadequacy—like the pressure of Catholic guilt Daredevil often feels.
The most daring thing you can do is actually embrace vulnerability—not just being unapologetically yourself but allowing yourself to show up raw, uncertain, and open to growth. Maybe that's what it means to be "born again," constantly unlearning everything you think is right. It’s easy to claim your truth or point out everyone else’s flaws, but to genuinely be vulnerable, to be able to admit maybe you're wrong, in a world that often demands perfection? That's balance, and balance is bold.