The Fandom Rant, Part II
Jan. 23rd, 2005 06:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gaudiorSeveral months ago, I posted an entry about fandom and why I thought sf/fantasy/anime/roleplaying geekery could be a good and life-enhancing thing. I think, though, that that was only half the rant. I've noticed that when people make fun of geeks, I tend to bridle and fuss and be annoyed. Now, I think of myself as having the confidence and sense of humor to be able to laugh at myself when I'm doing something silly (you should have seen me flopping around in the three-foot blizzard snow-drifts today)(wow, that was fun), so I wasn't sure why exactly I have so little sense of humor about this.
Back in the 30s and 40s and 50s (and, to a certain extent, 60s and 70s and 80s), gay people gathered together in bars or at parties, because the only thing they really had to do was to hook up for sex and perhaps to find some company with whom they didn't have to lie. According to books from the time (The Well of Loneliness, The Charioteer, Maurice, etc), these gatherings tended to have a certain ghastly cheer-- the coming together of miserable, guilt-ridden, depressed, sometimes suicidal people to try to have a good time (and some casual sex). According to these books also, there was a real not-quite-hierarchy of exactly how queer one seemed to be. Taking guys (because it's easier to just do one sex), you'd start off with men who didn't sleep with men at all, just wanted to-- but at least they could reassure themselves that they were behaving like decent, upstanding people, even if they knew they were sick degenerates inside. Then you had men who did sleep with other men (often the protagonists of the books), but at least they were butch-- they weren't some of those sissy queens-- so they could keep their dignity and their pride. Then you'd have people who really flamed, and everyone despised them for being annoying drama queens whom you couldn't take out in public, and who couldn't really handle "real life," -- but there sometimes seemed to be a little wistfulness that other people couldn't be as "free."
I see certain parallels with this and geekdom. Because I have known that feeling-- that, "yes, I like science-fiction and all-- but I'm not like those people-- I'm not one of those people who..." fill in the blank. "Dresses up in costumes" or "goes to conventions" or "goes boffing on the lawn" or "inserts random Japanese phrases into their speech." Or even "thinks that vampires are real" or "has fallen in love with a fictional character" or "can't talk about anything but this one comic book series" or "never wears anything except old gaming t-shirts." Or "is thirty years old and lives in his parents' basement and has never had a date and has a collection of Star Trek uniforms." There's even a chart out there of levels of geek-- starting with people who watch a little Futurama or work for Microsoft, I think, and going all the way down to "people who run discussion forums about writing angst-ridden fan fiction in which they sleep with Captain Kirk and both of them are ocelots." The idea, I think, is that everyone can find their place in the chart, and make fun of everyone who falls lower than they, because they may be geeks, but they're not losers.
And I don't see a difference, between that attitude and the one that gay people had before Stonewall. The idea seems to be that there's a prototypical Geek (or Fairy), and to be that person would be a fate worse than death. So people reassure themselves that they're not actually that far gone-- in part by pointing out all the things about their lives that aren't that ("Look at me! I have a full, rich sex life, and I have an interesting job, and I dress neatly and kinda trendily, so I can't be one of those people!"), and in part by making fun of the people who fall "lower" than they do on the geek chart. It strikes me as being internalized self-hatred, plain and simple. "Society," "mainstream people," don't approve, and we hear that message-- "This is not okay"-- often enough to believe it. But we can't deny that, well, we really like Douglas Adams. So we find someone who's clearly more outside the norm than we are, and we point it out and laugh. Because we can draw a line-- "I am acceptable; they are not."
Now, queers eventually had Stonewall, and then the Gay Liberation movement, and we've managed to cram it down the throats of many, many people that actually, gay is okay. I don't think you find many of the really self-hating queers in the young generations-- and so I think that most of us don't despise people who are obvious about their gayness. I don't know anyone my age who really objects to drag queens or very butch lesbians, because most of the people I know who are gay don't see that there's anything wrong with being obviously gay-- because there's nothing wrong with gayness in itself. And anybody who says there is is being a hateful bigot, and we don't listen to them.
I'd like to see geeks do the same thing. It's true that, as I've said before, some geeks have appalling social skills. So did some queens (not drag queens, just folks who were ever-so-gay, darling), back in the day. So do some of any group you care to name. I think that geeks are seen as having worse social skills than other groups in part because we are, often, smarter than average. That means both that a) we find things interesting which other people find incomprehensible, and b) we're a threat (it's always nice to think that there's something horribly wrong with people who are more athletic than you, richer than you, more famous than you, etc). I don't think that the social skills of all geeks are so appalling. It's just that, like with queers, those who have enough social savvy to do so can go underground-- into the closet-- and don't talk about their geekish interests to people who don't share them. They're just as much geeks as anyone else-- they're just less visible.
So I suppose the reason I don't like to see people mock geeks-- especially when the mockers are geeks themselves-- is that I see it as internalized self-hatred, an unwillingness to see their geekdom as something which is perfectly fine and should be socially acceptable. It's not that I don't agree that there are geeks who are very, very lacking in social skills-- there are. There are queers who are totally lacking in social skills, too-- I dated one of them, come to think of it. But she didn't make me squirm the way that really geekish geeks seem to make some people squirm. Because yes, she was very enthusiastic about the whole gay thing, but... well, I was gay myself, and I quite liked it, so I could understand the passion there. I feel it myself, I just don't talk about it as much.
I'm repeating myself, so I'll stop. But the point is-- geek is okay, I think. I don't think there will ever be a "Geek Liberation Movement," because I don't think we're really suffering that much real persecution and discrimination. But I would like to see people take a lesson from the queers, and try to develop some pride in their geekdom. Having passion and seriousness is always harder than cynicism-- but it feels so much better.
--R
Back in the 30s and 40s and 50s (and, to a certain extent, 60s and 70s and 80s), gay people gathered together in bars or at parties, because the only thing they really had to do was to hook up for sex and perhaps to find some company with whom they didn't have to lie. According to books from the time (The Well of Loneliness, The Charioteer, Maurice, etc), these gatherings tended to have a certain ghastly cheer-- the coming together of miserable, guilt-ridden, depressed, sometimes suicidal people to try to have a good time (and some casual sex). According to these books also, there was a real not-quite-hierarchy of exactly how queer one seemed to be. Taking guys (because it's easier to just do one sex), you'd start off with men who didn't sleep with men at all, just wanted to-- but at least they could reassure themselves that they were behaving like decent, upstanding people, even if they knew they were sick degenerates inside. Then you had men who did sleep with other men (often the protagonists of the books), but at least they were butch-- they weren't some of those sissy queens-- so they could keep their dignity and their pride. Then you'd have people who really flamed, and everyone despised them for being annoying drama queens whom you couldn't take out in public, and who couldn't really handle "real life," -- but there sometimes seemed to be a little wistfulness that other people couldn't be as "free."
I see certain parallels with this and geekdom. Because I have known that feeling-- that, "yes, I like science-fiction and all-- but I'm not like those people-- I'm not one of those people who..." fill in the blank. "Dresses up in costumes" or "goes to conventions" or "goes boffing on the lawn" or "inserts random Japanese phrases into their speech." Or even "thinks that vampires are real" or "has fallen in love with a fictional character" or "can't talk about anything but this one comic book series" or "never wears anything except old gaming t-shirts." Or "is thirty years old and lives in his parents' basement and has never had a date and has a collection of Star Trek uniforms." There's even a chart out there of levels of geek-- starting with people who watch a little Futurama or work for Microsoft, I think, and going all the way down to "people who run discussion forums about writing angst-ridden fan fiction in which they sleep with Captain Kirk and both of them are ocelots." The idea, I think, is that everyone can find their place in the chart, and make fun of everyone who falls lower than they, because they may be geeks, but they're not losers.
And I don't see a difference, between that attitude and the one that gay people had before Stonewall. The idea seems to be that there's a prototypical Geek (or Fairy), and to be that person would be a fate worse than death. So people reassure themselves that they're not actually that far gone-- in part by pointing out all the things about their lives that aren't that ("Look at me! I have a full, rich sex life, and I have an interesting job, and I dress neatly and kinda trendily, so I can't be one of those people!"), and in part by making fun of the people who fall "lower" than they do on the geek chart. It strikes me as being internalized self-hatred, plain and simple. "Society," "mainstream people," don't approve, and we hear that message-- "This is not okay"-- often enough to believe it. But we can't deny that, well, we really like Douglas Adams. So we find someone who's clearly more outside the norm than we are, and we point it out and laugh. Because we can draw a line-- "I am acceptable; they are not."
Now, queers eventually had Stonewall, and then the Gay Liberation movement, and we've managed to cram it down the throats of many, many people that actually, gay is okay. I don't think you find many of the really self-hating queers in the young generations-- and so I think that most of us don't despise people who are obvious about their gayness. I don't know anyone my age who really objects to drag queens or very butch lesbians, because most of the people I know who are gay don't see that there's anything wrong with being obviously gay-- because there's nothing wrong with gayness in itself. And anybody who says there is is being a hateful bigot, and we don't listen to them.
I'd like to see geeks do the same thing. It's true that, as I've said before, some geeks have appalling social skills. So did some queens (not drag queens, just folks who were ever-so-gay, darling), back in the day. So do some of any group you care to name. I think that geeks are seen as having worse social skills than other groups in part because we are, often, smarter than average. That means both that a) we find things interesting which other people find incomprehensible, and b) we're a threat (it's always nice to think that there's something horribly wrong with people who are more athletic than you, richer than you, more famous than you, etc). I don't think that the social skills of all geeks are so appalling. It's just that, like with queers, those who have enough social savvy to do so can go underground-- into the closet-- and don't talk about their geekish interests to people who don't share them. They're just as much geeks as anyone else-- they're just less visible.
So I suppose the reason I don't like to see people mock geeks-- especially when the mockers are geeks themselves-- is that I see it as internalized self-hatred, an unwillingness to see their geekdom as something which is perfectly fine and should be socially acceptable. It's not that I don't agree that there are geeks who are very, very lacking in social skills-- there are. There are queers who are totally lacking in social skills, too-- I dated one of them, come to think of it. But she didn't make me squirm the way that really geekish geeks seem to make some people squirm. Because yes, she was very enthusiastic about the whole gay thing, but... well, I was gay myself, and I quite liked it, so I could understand the passion there. I feel it myself, I just don't talk about it as much.
I'm repeating myself, so I'll stop. But the point is-- geek is okay, I think. I don't think there will ever be a "Geek Liberation Movement," because I don't think we're really suffering that much real persecution and discrimination. But I would like to see people take a lesson from the queers, and try to develop some pride in their geekdom. Having passion and seriousness is always harder than cynicism-- but it feels so much better.
--R
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(no subject)
Date: 2005-01-24 03:13 am (UTC)As you know, I value the business of laughing, of making mock. It's a bit of a . . . creed? No, that's not the word. Worldview, habitus -- somewhere in there. I look to laughter to tell me what the laughed-at will not say. When it's about me, or something that's close to me, then it's even more important, because that's where I look for truth, for what I couldn't otherwise perceive. So that's why I listen particularly to those who mock. Laughter is power, and you have to take it by being the one who's laughing.
I really do believe in the power of geek. Even since we were kids, geeky pastimes have become accepted more and more in the wider society. Should we keep from looking at our own follies and excesses, just because we love who we are and what we do?
(no subject)
Date: 2005-01-24 03:43 am (UTC)Take me, for example.
I am a Star Trek fan, I read science fiction and fantasy, I write fanfic, I've gone to cons, I run an RPG, I speak in MST3K references, etc. I have no problem with laughing at myself for how obsessive I am. I have no problem with people I know who do those same things laughing at me, or getting together with them and laughing as a group. We are geeks and we know it.
When someone who watches Star Trek, reads science fiction and fantasy, and plays RPGs points and laughs at me because "People who got to cons and write fanfic are pathetic" then that's not so okay.
I'm not a furry, but I wouldn't go laughing at any (besides, I've got a few furry friends), because it's not my thing, and who am I to point and laugh? It's sort of like the old "your kink's not my kink, but your kink's okay" deal. "Your geek's not my geek, but your geek's okay."
(no subject)
Date: 2005-01-24 04:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-01-24 05:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-01-26 06:29 pm (UTC)I'm not sure that fandom is as important to me as my sexual orientation-- but I'm also not sure it isn't. I mean-- I'm a writer. I hope, at some point, to publish lots of books and short stories and make a career of what is, essentially, fandom-- thinking about fictional characters *lots*. I think that I can write things that change the ways people think, the way they see the world. I know books have done that to me, sometimes, and I'd like to think my books will do the same thing. So... yeah, I'm not willing to laugh at myself for being obsessed with it.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-01-26 06:20 pm (UTC)I think that that is very true and very worthwhile and that you're very cool to hold that as a creed. But I also think that there are different kinds of laughter. C.S. Lewis has this wonderful bit in The Screwtape Letters about how there are different kinds of laughter, from the Joke Proper to the merriment of good friends (a kind of enjoyment of each other, even when nothing appears actually funny) to flippancy. And he made a good point, I think; that if one is being flippant and cynical, one doesn't have to actually find something that is funny-- one "assumes the joke has already been made," and that anything one says on the subject is worth laughing about. I think that that kind of laughter doesn't have much truth to it-- it's just a means of showing power or anger or fear. And I see that kind of laughter often when people talk about very-geeky-geeks.
So I think that if we're laughing at ourselves-- at our foibles and excesses-- and it's actually funny, then yeah, that's a way of keeping ourselves balanced and in-perspective, and it's very worth doing. But if there's not actually a joke, if there's not actually an unexpected connection or a piece of irony or whatever else jokes are, if it's just a "omg, can you BELIEVE her?", I don't see much value to it.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-01-24 04:31 am (UTC)i started to write a longer reply about what i meant by this, but i realized it was getting quite long and off-topic, so i decided to make it into an entry of its own, which can be viewed here (http://www.livejournal.com/users/q10/136550.html).
(no subject)
Date: 2005-01-24 04:45 am (UTC)*hem* now that that's out of my system...
You've made a number of interesting points. Some I agree with, others not so much.
Most of the geeks I know are quite open about their geekiness. This has its good points and its bad points.
Being comfortable with what we like and being able to just walk away from people who want to make an issue out of our choice of literature/TV/games/pastimes/etc. is a great thing. (Problems arise when these people are our blood relatives, but that's a different issue.)
At the same time, we need to recognize when we are being extremely serious about trivial things and we need to learn to laugh about this aspect of our personalities. Especially if the things we're being serious about seem trivial to the group we are currently with. Does this mean everything we're serious about is trivial? Heck no! It just means that we need to keep tabs on the dynamics of the group we're currently in and if everyone there looks glazed and confused then we need to switch to a more accessible topic of conversation.
This, of course, brings us back to the sticky subject of social aptitude. I'm not sure if this holds true for everyone, but the majority of Americans have been socialized with a very specific idea of 'the geek'. [EDIT: description removed due to length and virulent bitchiness on the part of the writer.] Some geeks chose to subdue their inate geekiness while around non-fen. Others manage to be completely open about their geekly passions without offending/irritating non-fen. And then there are those who are actually described by the stereotype, right down to the lack of personal hygene, and don't notice when they do something to make everyone in the room, fen or non-fen, cringe (either from disgust on embarassment by proxy).
While I am aware that geeks are not the only subculture who have this last group of people, I have to wonder if we have an unfair percentage of them. Or perhaps this is merely a matter of perception because the vast proportion of people that I've met who are like this have been geeks?
*rereads comment*
Methinks I should stop typing now because I seem to have gone from discussing your post to ranting about a related subject.
PS: tangential question: How did the word 'geek' go from describing a sideshow performer who bit the heads off of live chickens (and presumably other similarly sized fauna) to describing members of a subculture devoted to technology, fantasy, and similar pursuits of the mind?
PPS: I did proofread this, but I fear a number of typos may have slipped through anyhow. My apologies.
Heh heh heh, beer-guzzling ocelots...
Date: 2005-01-26 06:44 pm (UTC)I think you've hit the nail on the head-- I meant to say that, but didn't say it as well. Last time I ranted about this, someone pointed out that a key part of "having a life," as fans are often accused of not managing, is to be able to talk about lots of different things-- to have diverse enough interests that you can interact with most of the people you're likely to run into. And some geeks do this very well, and some just... don't.
I don't know about the social skills. I've been working with a number of people lately who, because of mental illness or substance abuse (or possibly vice-versa) have appalling social skills, and none of them are remotely geeky. They also, however, don't have much of a social network at all-- some of them have family, some of them have people they've met through their group homes or mental health programs, but most of them have very limited groups of friends or other close connections. Maybe there's something about geekdom that makes it easier to enter than other groups/subcultures? Maybe it's that there are so few people who fill the criteria of "watches/reads the same thing I do, and cares/thinks about it as much as I do" that other criteria fall by the wayside? Members of other subcultures have a wider range of people to choose friends from, and so are able to be more selective? Because there will be, I think, people who would like to be members of just about any group you can name, but other people can be more picky. Anyone, I think, prefers to have friends with good social skills, but that's not as important as being able to relate to them.
And I have no IDEA about the chicken-chomping-transition. Fun for a linguist to find out, I suppose.
--R
(no subject)
Date: 2005-01-24 06:55 am (UTC)I've met quite a few twentysomething people who do.
I think that there is a hierarchy of weirdness, but I wouldn't quite equate that with geekiness. Most people tend to try to play up their geekiness, but subdue their weirdness. Unless, of course, they're in the closet about a particular geekdom of theirs.
No, I'm not just commenting so I can use my weird new Cuckoo icon. ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2005-01-26 06:46 pm (UTC)I've met quite a few twentysomething people who do.
Yes, you're right, I phrased that badly. I meant to say, "any queer people my age."
And I'm all curious now about the weirdness and the Cuckoo-- what is that?
--R
(no subject)
Date: 2005-01-26 09:57 pm (UTC)It's a fantastic, fairly recent movie set in Lapland during WWII. A Finnish soldier and a Russian soldier escape their respective horrible fates and end up staying with a Saami widow. None of them speaks any but their own language, so all kinds of hijinks ensue--some funny, some upsetting. It's a slow, lovely, detailed movie. With reindeer! And polyamory! And a silly jokey reference to one of the actors.
The icon I made isn't strictly true--she does do the laundry! I think that's why he's wearing her skirt.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-01-24 03:29 pm (UTC)For me, fiction is a pretty powerful and sometimes dangerous substance. Throughout my life I've tended to use it as a way of escaping from my problems rather than confronting them. (And conversely, the times that I am happiest with my life are the times when I have the least desire to read, watch tv, or imagine.) This is a tendency that I've recognized and am trying to control, but it's difficult. For me, being present in my life (in the Buddhist sense, or at least the way Americans discuss Buddhism) is very important and fiction is the opposite of that.
Now, I realize that like alcohol and pot, it's possible to enjoy fiction responsibly. But that's difficult for me, and from conversations I've had with some friends I know that I'm not the only person alive who uses fiction to escape. So when I see people devote enormous time and energy to such pursuits, it's hard for me to view it with unqualified enthusiasm.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-01-26 10:06 pm (UTC)Or maybe I would have just been even more depressed and lonely than I was. I think the analogy to alcohol or pot is an apt one-- like them, people can use fiction to self-medicate, trying to find a way to numb the pain of their real problems. But I don't think that's its purpose. Actually, I would argue that one of the points of fiction is that one can use it to learn how to deal with one's real problems. After all, a story is about some of the most intense events in a character's life (and probably reflects those of the author as well) and how s/he deals with them. Hopefully, if they're well-written, the reader can learn methods to cope with those events if they ever actually happen to him/her. If they're really well-written, then a reader can generalize from how the character dealt with those specific events to others which happen in the reader's life-- possibly even with life in general.
I agree that it's important to be present in your life-- otherwise, you don't change, you don't grow, you don't experience things for yourself. But I would like to also have other people's lives present in mine, whether real or fictional. It can be a tricky balance, but I think it's worthwhile.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-01-26 10:17 pm (UTC)Really, though, it seems a little extreme to compare it to a drug. It's more like sleep or food. You need it (in this society), and yes, it is possible to use it too much or use the wrong types or use it to avoid other things--but there are no intrinsic harmful or addictive properties, as there are with nicotine or alcohol.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-01-24 04:51 pm (UTC)