In an era of grimdark reboots and convoluted multiverses, Raising Dion (2019) remains a refreshing anomaly. It’s a superhero story about holding hands, not throwing punches. It’s a reminder that the greatest power in any universe isn't flight or invisibility—it’s the fierce, unbreakable love between a parent and a child.
In the modern golden age of superhero entertainment—dominated by the Marvel Cinematic Universe and the gritty reboots of DC—it takes a unique angle to stand out. Netflix’s Raising Dion did exactly that in 2019. Though its original run spanned only two years (2019-2019 for the first season, with a second season following in 2022), the show’s debut season remains a landmark in family-oriented genre storytelling. It asked a simple, profound question: What happens when a superhero origin story is seen not through the eyes of the hero, but through the terrified, loving eyes of a single mother? The Premise: Grief Meets Galaxies The series, created by Carol Barbee and based on the 2015 comic book by Dennis Liu, begins with a tragedy. Nicole Reese (Alisha Wainwright) is a widow struggling to raise her young son, Dion (newcomer Ja’Siah Young), after the mysterious death of her husband, Mark (Michael B. Jordan, who also serves as an executive producer).
Wainwright delivers a grounded, vulnerable performance that anchors the fantastical elements. When Dion accidentally destroys a playground, Nicole doesn't lecture him about heroism; she holds him and whispers, "We're going to figure this out together." That quiet intimacy is the show's secret weapon. Raising Dion -2019-2019
★★★★☆ (4/5) – A heartfelt, visually charming debut that proves the best superhero origin is often a parenting story.
If you missed it in 2019, Raising Dion is well worth revisiting. Just keep tissues nearby. And don’t watch the last episode alone in the dark—The Crooked Man is genuinely haunting. In an era of grimdark reboots and convoluted
Nicole’s journey becomes the emotional spine of the show. She isn't a trained S.H.I.E.L.D. agent or a billionaire with a suit. She’s a grieving, working-class mother terrified that her son will be taken away by scientists, villains, or social services. Where Raising Dion truly excels is in its refusal to sideline the parent. In most superhero tales, parents are either dead, absent, or mentors. Here, Nicole is the protagonist. The series dedicates as much time to her navigating single motherhood, financial strain, and trust issues as it does to Dion learning to control his powers.
The show wisely prioritizes character over spectacle. The central conflict is not about saving the world from an alien invasion, but about saving a child’s innocence. The villain—known as The Crooked Man (a terrifying motion-capture performance by Sammi Haney)—is a stormy, shadowy entity born from the same energy as Dion’s powers. It’s a brilliant metaphor for grief and trauma: the idea that loss can literally manifest as a monster trying to consume the light left behind. Although Raising Dion ’s first season aired in late 2019—just months before the world shut down—it struck a chord with audiences hungry for hopeful, diverse storytelling. The show features a Black single mother and a biracial son as leads in a genre that rarely centers such perspectives without tragedy being their sole identity. Nicole is strong because she is vulnerable, not because she can punch through walls. It asked a simple, profound question: What happens
The sci-fi twist arrives gently. Dion begins to manifest incredible abilities: telekinesis, energy projection, and weather manipulation. But unlike Tony Stark or Clark Kent, Dion is a sweet, imaginative, easily distracted 8-year-old who just wants to play with action figures. The show’s genius lies in grounding cosmic power in suburban reality—Dion’s powers flare up when he sneezes, gets angry about homework, or feels lonely.