I’m not really into being called a “geek” or a “nerd.” Everyone tells me, “of course you are: you’re in video games for a living.” They roll out checklists, even, a litany of things I like, things I did in high school; skills I’ve got, things I know, or even measures of how much I know about those things or how much I like them, as if to make sure I know how nerdy I am.
I wouldn’t say it bothers me, exactly, but I don’t think the label really applies, either. First, I’m not a stereotype. I’m defined by the things I like and the things I do, sure — but I’m not labeled by them, I’m not consigned or obligated to some group because of them.
Second, being someone who’d be passionate about a few things to the exclusion of all else, who prizes some list of entertainment media over social skills and the human experience, is not something I’d be proud of. I’m proud that I know a lot about a lot of offbeat things. I’m proud that I’ve grown up on the internet. But I never thought I had to choose between that and feeling included among people in the world.
I know that “geekdom” was something a lot of us did in high school because we felt marginalized, we didn’t blend in, we needed safe havens. But dude, I’m not in high school anymore. I spend all my working days talking about how games and fantasy worlds can be something adults can still enjoy. I’m not concerned with the labeling and judgment that teenagers do.
Most importantly, “geek” doesn’t even really mean anything anymore. Someone on Twitter said that the fact I Tweet about Game of Thrones makes me a nerd. Uh, it’s on HBO. That’s mainstream entertainment. Even Lana del Rey can figure out how to use Twitter. None of this stuff is exclusive anymore.
Traditional ideas about geekiness are dying a slow death in the social media age. The socially-awkward computer nerd is not society’s embarrassing chaff, but rather an admired hero driving connectivity and innovation. Steve Jobs has been practically canonized. Video games are, thank god, becoming something that anyone can enjoy and understand on whatever level they choose.
Some say that geekiness or nerddom or whatever isn’t defined by your interests, but how obsessed you are with those things: Like say, it isn’t the fact you have a weekly D&D session or belong to a WoW guild or like Robert Jordan books; it’s the fact you spend hours writing your own campaigns or would rather play WoW than go out or that you own every Robert Jordan book and have read each one at least three times and you submit to a fanfiction forum.
But if geekiness is about degree rather than subject, then the girl who has practically made a part-time job out of knitting animals for her Etsy store is a “geek”. You’re a geek if you go to law or medical school, which require obsessive focus and attention to detail. If you are a banker who plays fantasy football and memorizes player stats, and then routinely meets your league-mates for beer on Sunday, you’re a geek.
It’s just not A Thing anymore, in this world where we have access to endless volumes of information and access to a wider swath of insight into the diversity in other people’s lives than we ever had. You’d think we’d all be happy about it, people like us who grew up putting grocery bags around our books so no one would know we were reading shojo manga in 8th grade health class and laugh at us.
When it comes to video games, I’m psyched — now people from all walks of life will be contributing their talents and experiences to the medium, people who might have gone off and just did movies or something instead, and it’ll be richer and there’ll be more people to have fun with and it’ll just be better.
But for some reason, the normalization of “geekdom”, the fact we now have the freedom and ability for everyone to get obsessed with whatever they want whenever and share it with whomever or not, is super threatening to a lot of people.
And it’s not that I don’t understand: You made a secret fort to hide your heart in when you were a child who was hurting, and now you feel like people are trying to take your fort away.
But part of becoming a damn adult is understanding that shit can’t hurt you anymore. You can keep yourself safe.
You don’t need to judge, label and fight with people because of your stupid video games and fantasy books. I mean, it’s crazy that I even have to say this, even to some people that are presumably adults. But maybe, if “geek” does mean anything, if I had to pick a definition for it, it’d be “person who’s afraid to grow up”, or “person who can’t adjust.”
That’s sure what it looks like to me when I read this article. Sidenote: Forbes has really been batting a thousand lately when it comes to “geek interest” writing; my guess is they’ve hired new writers that they don’t have to pay very much, and relying on the guaranteed forum and Reddit hits that come from telling superfans of “geek culture” what they want to hear.
Now this gem. Here’s an author tired of what she views as an epidemic of “fake geek girls” who are, in her view, emulating “geek culture” in order to gain male attention. I’m not really sure where this supposed phenomenon is centralized; she says “girls”, so maybe she means “in high school,” but then she says she is married, so presumably she is an adult woman who is here to … police young women?
If you believe that your interests define your identity, then our present-day environment, where it’s suddenly easy to access obsessive reams of information on anything and to connect with the like-minded, means it’s easier than ever to be anyone you want. Anyone can own a popular Tumblr or flirt with YouTube stardom or have hundreds of followers and plenty of people try. People are fascinated with building identity through participatory online media.
That’s probably why the wider Western culture seems obsessed with authenticity right now: A word as prevalent as “geek” is “hipster”, an equally overblown term that refers to someone deeply concerned with appearing cool in an authentic way — even if it means inauthentically borrowing superficial signifiers, like fashion or music, from other cultures or eras.
The author of the article takes great pains to establish her own authenticity and attack the authenticity of others, for… why again? Presumably she feels threatened, like her “geeky” pastimes should remain secret forts that everyone needs to know the password to get into. It’s a weird, sad way for an adult to behave.
It’s true we’re fascinated with authenticity and the lack thereof these days. But here’s a little news flash to the author: Curiosity about other societies and people, and a desire to be included, is a perfectly valid reason to adopt or espouse a new hobby. If the acne-clad pungence of the basement stereotype around certain hobbies has now been dissipated, it’s totally logical that new faces would be attracted to our culture, hoping to get involved.
Yes, probably they want to be liked. Probably they will try hard. This does not make them “fake.” It makes them human. It’s normal. Everyone, whether they will admit it or not, secretly wants to be liked.
And didn’t you hide inside your computer games and fantasy books because when you were young you tried to be liked and you failed? And now even though that was years ago you’re going to make sure you get your revenge? Seriously, how old are you?
Also, to the author: Girls have always pretended to like things in order to get boys to like them. In ninth grade I paid a dollar for an older girl’s cigarette so that I could be seen holding it (unlit) by this kid I liked so that he wouldn’t think I was too goody-goody for him. I did not even smoke. Was I being fake? Yes. Was I being normal? Duh. (The gentleman involved was not fooled, incidentally.)
Boys often pretend to be a little cooler or smarter about this or that than they are because they want girls to like them, too. That the author genders her argument against “fake girls” makes it really, really weird to me. Does she think her male friends are so stupid they will be misled by truly false people? Does she have a deep-seated insecurity that makes her feel the need to be the most authentic girl in the room?
When we were kids being a geek girl made us feel sort of rare and special. It was all boys and then us, and for some of those nerdy boys, we were the only girl they really talked to. We were the center of attention. Maybe this girl is still acting on the subconscious need to keep other women away so that she can still feel special. Clearly she has some misdirected anger, and a paucity of self-awareness.
This is the worst kind of thing to me, because not only is it sad for her, but it sucks for all of us. Women in our space, having once been something of a scarcity, face particular challenges. We lack for companions and mentors. We regularly experience sexism. We are constantly having our authenticity undermined by people who assume we can’t possibly be competent, knowledgeable or genuine. We don’t need other women to actually try to make it harder.
Whoa, wait. Does the author’s bio really say that she works with a mentorship org and runs a tech group for women? That’s scary.
The article even presents a Venn diagram that shows that “geekdom” lies at the intersection of intelligence with social ineptitude and obsession. I think it leaves out “arrested development,” because again, when I look at the argument from this girl — and from any “geek” with an unsettling refusal to accept growth and diversity — all I see is people who think they are still in high school, who are afraid of losing their safety fort to girls who go shopping, because going shopping is something something only fake girls blah blah.
I mean, really?
Tara “Tiger” Brown is worried about fake geek girls. Tara, you are a woman now, okay?
And incidentally, if you’re going to start articles with aggressive lists of proof of your authenticity, I wouldn’t brag about the Sierra Quest games. That’s kinda entry-level stuff. And Transformers? Didn’t Michael Bay make a movie about those?
Yeah. If being a geek is just about competing to see who can be the most obsessed and unpleasant, fuck it, I’m not that.
