When I was younger, I watched the movie Footloose in the movie theatre. It hit theatres on my birthday. It was POWERFUL, a big screen, thundering music, romance, dancing, and standing up for what you believe in against all odds. I have to admit I didn't do a lot of deep thinking about all the subtext of a story at the time. I had enough to think about with homework, friends, and teenage self-doubt. Now, and many years later, I am one of two women trying to run a small business that will sustain itself. I watch a lot fewer movies, and in the current political climate, I can’t escape the subtext in everything.
One thing that has been occupying my mind from Footloose was the music, especially the song “Holding Out for a Hero.” Back then it spoke to the romantic me. For my young self it was a song about longing for someone fearless, who would stand up to bullies and injustice (and maybe be kind of hot at the same time). I daydreamed about my version of the perfect romantic partner.
“Holding Out for a Hero” is still a great song — it has that positive energy that makes you want to get up and dance. But now, the meaning feels different. I’m no longer searching for romance. My vision of a hero has shifted. Today, a hero would be any man or woman in government who is willing to stand up for the average American. We need representation in government of people who defend the existence and respect of people of all backgrounds and beliefs. Heroes are those who defend decency in a time when it feels under constant attack.
In some ways, that’s the journey of growing up. The soundtrack that once fueled our crushes can, years later, speak to our civic hopes and responsibilities. A song I once blasted in my bedroom while imagining holding hands with Kevin Bacon’s Ren now makes me think about who we trust to hold the line on truth, equality, and democracy.
That shift isn’t just about politics; it’s also about life experience. Running a small social justice business, I’ve learned that heroes aren’t only the ones who make speeches or pass laws. They’re also the people who show up when it’s hard. They’re the customers who choose to support local businesses over big-box giants. They’re the colleagues who don’t just talk about fairness but embody it in how they treat others. They’re the quiet leaders in our communities who extend respect and compassion without needing recognition.
And still, I can’t help but want the tidy, happy endings I once loved in movies. The reality is that life doesn’t resolve itself so neatly — challenges don’t disappear when the credits roll, and injustices don’t vanish after one defiant dance in the town square. Yet maybe that’s the point. Maybe adulthood teaches us that while we might not always get a perfect ending, we can still fight for the good moments: the victories that matter, the relationships that last, the communities that grow stronger when people step up with courage.
When I hear Holding Out for a Hero now, I find myself smiling at the memory of that younger self who longed for her Ren McCormack. But I also feel a renewed sense of urgency. The heroes we need today are not mythical figures in capes or flawless romantic leads. They are ordinary people who, when faced with hard choices, choose to do what’s right instead of what’s easy. They are leaders who refuse to let fear or greed dictate policy. They are neighbors who defend each other’s dignity.
And maybe — just maybe — we don’t have to hold out for them forever. We can become them in small ways, in our families, in our businesses, and in our communities.
Because the truth is, the song still rings true. We are all still holding out for a hero. But the older I get, the more I believe that the hero we’ve been waiting for might just be us.