SAN BERNARDINO, Calif. — Growing up, lots of kids dream of being a superhero, and Kenneth Artry III was no different.
He hoped to one day be a Power Ranger, but it wasn’t in the cards.
“When I realized they did backflips and stuff like that, it really discouraged me,” Artry said with a laugh.
But now, here he is, mightily morphed into a modern-day mega villain. The community health worker is playing the coronavirus, or "Rona," as his character is called. According to his origin story, Artry was just a normal guy working for El Sol Neighborhood Education Center when they approached him with an idea.
"At first, they were like, 'Would you like to be a part of a comic?'" he said. "And I was like, 'Of course! Seeing my face on paper? Duh!'"
But like so many plans, this one evolved from a simple comic book to a full-blown stage performance with Artry trading in his canvassing khakis for an admittedly rather cumbersome coronavirus costume.
“I do love this suit,” he said, admiring the red foam cuffs but recognizing its limitations. “So like, when I’m trying to take a seat, I really feel ridiculous.”
Not that Artry gets to sit much. He cackles at the crowd during the short skit, wielding a menacing weapon: misinformation, especially about the COVID-19 vaccine.
But just when you think all hope is lost, Captain Empath arrives, shouting, “I will stop you, Corona!”
Nathaniel Chavez, a vaccine site coordinator who also thought he was going to be in a comic book, plays Captain Empath.
“They got my molding. They got my face structure, kind of,” he said of his new alter ego. “My beard, my hair, my skin color. They’re like, ‘There you go! We got our superhero.’”
Clearly, El Sol is having a bit of fun but with a serious intention: to reach out to Latino community members and encourage them to roll up their sleeves and get vaccinated. According to the San Bernardino Department of Public Health, as of Aug. 23, 53% of Latinos eligible for the vaccine had not yet received even one dose.
Chavez explained that a lot of it comes from distrust.
“As a child, my parents were always telling me, ‘don’t tell them we’re from Mexico,’ or ‘be careful with the police,’” he said.
To get vaccinated, people need to present their ID. Undocumented individuals may only have a passport, Chavez noted, and they are afraid to show it.
“They hear rumors that the vaccination site is collaborating with the police, that they’re collaborating with ICE, and that’s what we’re trying to educate individuals: that we’re not,” he said.
These are the conversations El Sol’s promotores, or health care workers, have constantly in the community, as they reach out to roughly 1,000 people per week. They have also been holding vaccination clinics and Facebook live sessions with doctors to educate people about vaccines and address some of the falsehoods circulating in the community.
The skit “Captain Empath vs. COVID-19” also addresses misconceptions, fears and reluctance. The group hopes to take their show on the road, performing at community events, festivals and schools.
Sure, it’s a bit comical, but sometimes, laughter is just what the doctor ordered.
“We can hold serious conversations and still be lighthearted about it,” Artry said. “Yes, we are dressed in spandex, and we’re running around on the stage, but that doesn’t make our message any less pertinent or important.”