It was the line I thought I would never cross.

I’d go to the comic book store once a week to pick up my new issues. I’d go to the conventions to meet the artists, find rare books, and get autographs from the superstars. But under no circumstances would I be a grown adult dressing up in costume. That I could leave for the fanatics.

“Cosplay” (costume play) was a term first coined by Nobuyuki Takahashi in 1983, but that wasn’t the start of the custom. The true origin of dressing up and imitating characters (other than Halloween) dates back to the first kid who asked their mom to safety pin a towel around their neck for a cape and made “swooshing” sounds as they ran all around the yard. Cosplay was always popular and fun. Takahashi just gave it a name.

Giving it a name and editorial coverage, however, made it a “thing,” and the practice of cosplay took off, to the point that it is now a central aspect of every comic, sci-fi, anime or fantasy event in the world. Most have contests for real money, judged according to the International Costumers Guild Guidelines (of course). Costuming has its own TV show, “Heroes of Cosplay,” – now in its second season on the Syfy network—and there are whole clubs devoted to cosplay. There are even those who’ve made cosplay a profession—they actually earn a living designing and wearing the most amazing handcrafted costumes you can imagine. They have names like Callie Cosplay, Ivy Doomkitty, Xailas, Abby Darkstar, Knightmage, Annisse Damefatale, and the undisputed cosplay queen Yaya Han. That’s to say nothing of the clubs devoted not just to cosplay, but to specific kinds of costuming, like Star Wars or HALO characters, G.I. Joe, Anime, or Serenity devotees.

The popularity is easy to understand. For viewers, it’s a spectacle, one that typically draws news photographers from all around whenever conventions come to town. For participants and competitors, it’s about spending days or weeks perfecting costumes to the last incredible detail, getting attention, and just walking around and having fun.

I knew none of this before 2013. I was only vaguely aware of cosplay and the passion behind it, and quite content to remain outside it.

That was until I showed up at Free Comic Book Day, a national event observed by thousands of comic stores and millions of fans across the country on the first Saturday in May, and met the local chapter of the Avengers Initiative. They were out in force doing publicity stunts at comic shops, so I took my kids out to meet a few superheroes.

As the kids chatted up War Machine, Darth Vader and Supergirl, I picked up an Avengers Initiative brochure, and learned this was no mere geek club. One of their primary missions is to visit kids in hospitals who might benefit from being cheered on up their favorite heroes.

That struck a huge chord with me. I’d been a volunteer in the children’s ward at my local hospital years before, and now as a father of two kids, one of whom spent several unscheduled days in the hospital right after being born, I can understand what those kids and their parents are all going through.

The Avengers Initiative is more than posing as heroes. It’s about really being heroes to those kids. I had to be part of it.

Joining wasn’t as easy as I thought. There was a whole application process, and I had to have my own costume. I’ve been into archery since college, so I had the props to play Hawkeye, and I found a seamstress who could make the costume. With the right haircut and sunglasses, I was sure I could pull it off.

It took several months, but I finally submitted my application and photos, and got the news a few weeks later – I was in. Free Comic Book Day rolled around again in 2014, and I got my big debut as a member of the club.

It wasn’t a visit to Shriners, but the publicity stunts are good for raising awareness of the group and its work. I hadn’t really told anyone I’d joined this group yet—I’d frankly planned on keeping that quiet. But my fellow cosplayers had other plans. They outed me.

Whatever rightful claim I might have had to still being somewhat cool was either lost forever, or validated in the extreme. Within days, photos of me in costume were tagged, shared, liked and commented on by most of my Facebook friends. I got the expected amount of grief from a few friends, but lots of new friend requests. I had fans.

I must confess, it was kind of liberating, and despite the fact that I was now someone who wears a costume for fun, I felt oddly grown up. There was a time when I spent a lot of energy being concerned with what was popular and cool in the eyes of others around me, but with this, I was really happy just doing it for me.

I had crossed the Rubicon into cosplay, but it had only added to everything I enjoy about comics and heroes and what they teach us about honor, sacrifice, fighting the good fight, and believing in a world where, no matter how hopeless the odds, the good guys still win in the end.

If that makes me a geek, or just reveals me to be the geek I’ve always been, well… I’m good with that.

Story: Superheroes visit UCD Cancer Center