I love geek gatherings. Any time a drove of dweebs or a herd of nerds congregate to celebrate their freakishness in a safe place among like-hearted humans, I want to be a part of it. Although I don’t get to go as often as I’d like, this weekend I had the chance to attend a fan run convention in the Dallas area called All Con. It had been several years since the last time I went to All Con (more on my first trip in another post) and this time I took my 15 year old daughter who dressed up as Madoka Kaname from the Japanese anime Madoka Magica (I’m doing my best to raise her up right, the anime stuff notwithstanding).
All Con is a relatively small convention that was celebrating its 15th anniversary this year. The “All” references that idea at the heart of the convention – to support, encourage, and bring together geeks from any and all fandoms. There is no emphasis on Star Wars, Star Trek, steampunk, or anime. Come one, come all.
I was sans costume this time around for reasons that totally have nothing to do with the extra pounds I’ve put on, thank you very much, but I still had a good time people watching, sitting in on panels, and, of course, getting inspired by all the amazing costumes on display. It’s always a truly wondrous thing. This time, however, there was an added wonder; I got to see my teenage daughter shine in a fairly decent costume (I cut my teeth in the 501st so my standards are a bit high). She was hit up for pictures, experienced her first creeper, and even ditched her mom and I to hang with a group of anime girls. She had a great time. Watching all this unfold, I was constantly taken back by how much fandom and nerdistry has changed since I was her age.
Being a geek in the 80’s was nothing short of nightmarish. There was no community. There was no acceptance. There were no anti-bullying campaigns. No one was woke. The first time I realized I was a nerd was in middle school. I went to a small, rural, very white school where the students did not tolerate non-conformity. If you were not like them, you were a pariah. And I was not like them. I was terminally introverted. A good half of my school life had been spent in homeschool for mostly religious reasons so I was not adapted to life among kids my own age and I was acutely unaware of what was cool and what was not. As it turned out, I breathed uncool on a cellular level. I had to learn to hide the doodles I drew in my notebook after one classmate saw the epic Endor space battle scene that took place in the margins of my history notes. I was instantly branded a nerd and took my whooping on the playground as a result. That nerd branding never goes away, either. It was a scarlet N worn right on my chest and a wrong look or a wrong word would have painted me a target for another playground ass whoopin.
High school wasn’t much better for me. Although the early nineties were slightly more tolerant, my levels of nerdery outpaced the speed at which society was comfortable accepting. I started reading fantasy novels as a way to rebel against my religious parents, which then became a gateway drug for Dungeons and Dragons. While school age kids might have been willing to accept a Star Wars obsession without too much judgment, D&D was still an unforgivable misdeed. I lived through the Satanic Panic as a child growing up in Maine, and Dungeons and Dragons was a straight ticket directly to the burning heart of Hell, but goddamnit, I wanted to play. So I found a couple of older guys who played and I joined. They were woefully incompetent, but I still had a great time.
So when did this all change? When did it become acceptable to be a nerd? Then, when did acceptable morph into normal? These aren’t just rhetorical questions. I’ve been working this over for the last few days. Of course the normalization of the Internet, that tool of early geekery, helped a great deal. It enabled nerds to meet anonymously without fear of public humiliation, but there needed to be an essential catalyst. Something to speed up the process. For all its faults, for all the problems I have with it, for all its fucking straight up cringe, the catalyst had to be The Phantom Menace. Nerds like myself went apeshit for it. We knew it was coming in 1996 when the first of the Special Editions of the original trilogy hit theaters. Kenner put out a new line of Star Wars action figures. Leaks fueled speculation, and speculation fueled hope and we had three years to salivate and anticipate. We were delirious. Star Wars message boards popped up everywhere. We checked TheForce.net for our daily dose of Star Wars news and spoilers. Some of us learned the art of costuming and prop making so when the magical opening day finally arrived we could show up to the theaters dressed as a Jedi Knight. When the movie ultimately came out, despite its actual letdown, it was a huge financial success. Filmmakers and movie studios knew this is the direction that popular culture was headed and the Era of the Geek had begun.
Now this is not meant to diminish the contributions of other franchises. 1989’s Batman movie was wildly popular and for the first time in my life I saw the cool kids wearing geeky t-shirts. The bat symbol was on every trendy chest. The Harry Potter books linked the old generation with the new. Parents who grew up as closet nerds bonded over it with their kids. Parents who picked on nerds growing up struggled to understand this new phenomenon. Many of them finally learned acceptance.
Despite its somber beginnings, nerd culture is now thriving. I suppose, like many of its original disciples, it was a late bloomer. At no place is this evident more than at a convention, and never does it hit home harder than watching your own kid geeking out in costume, fitting in with a unified group of misfits, soaking in all the positive attention that comes with excelling at something that’s completely normal. I have to admit, a part of me is jealous. I have to stifle the sanctimonious urge to shout at all the costumed teenagers, “You haven’t earned any of this! Only by the blood, sweat, and tears of those who came before you is your fandom now safe!” but I push it out of my mind and move on. Jealousy and envy are ugly things and have no place in this community we’ve all built.
