Marvel Comics has always been known for its human touch – for its focus on continuity before capes. Spider-Man wasn't born of Krypton, but Queens: your average boy next door. The Fantastic Four were fantastic, yes, but a family first. Before getting his act together, Tony Stark, Iron Man, drank more than my dad on a Monday. They're human.

It's that touch that has drawn readers (and conglomerates) to their pages for 70 years. Man before Super, Woman before Wonder.

In 1963, the X-Men blasted, flew, bounced and ice-slid into the comics world as character first – but also social commentary.

Before this, superheroes were always different – "special" – but with few exceptions, praised for it. Any minority could enjoy them next to the majority, perhaps identifying with their differences: but what about their acceptance? Could they identify with that?

Spider-Man was often looked down upon by the city he protected, but his powers were the result of circumstance. Bruce Wayne was feared for his differences – but he had elected to become Batman. (Not to mention that, by day, he was a millionaire. Tough life.)

But the X-Men – that was it. That was the key. It wasn't choice that made them who they'd become. It wasn't circumstance that had made them different.

It was birth.

This article appears in Dec 2-8, 2000.