A Girl Walks into a Comic Book Store...

When I was fourteen years old, I discovered a tier of geek-dom to which I did not yet belong. Given that I was the girl who re-watched the original Star Wars trilogy with her family every Christmas, this came as something of a nasty shock.

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The impromptu trip to DNA Comics was the suggestion of a boy on our first and last date. Said boy had been pleased to hear that I enjoyed Archie, Beetle Bailey, and a wide variety of manga. As I understood it at the time, those were the two bottom rungs of the comic book hierarchy, largely because they were the easily accessible. Superhero comics, by comparison, were in a league of their own. With most superhero comics spanning decades of history, they weren’t easy to delve into, which was perhaps why, until then, I had never tried. But there I was, in the middle of a shop that specialized in the very genre I’d always feared to touch. While my date chatted with the shopkeepers, I stared in awe at the full-color, 20-page comics that liked the walls and filled box upon box of in the center of the store, feeling like an idiot child among her elders.

 I’m sure you already suspect what might have happened next. The shopkeepers would snicker about the ignorant girl in their midst, make a few jokes, then wait patiently for my date to buy his book and leave. I would shuffle out, humiliated, and decide it was better not to return. That’s certainly the stereotype that has formed about a girl’s experience in a comic book store. Which is exactly why I will be forever grateful that that’s not what happened. 

The shopkeepers were amused, perhaps even a little delighted by someone who clearly knew little about American comics. It was an opportunity to mold an impressionable young nerd, to steer her away from bad storylines and set her on the path to nerdy enlightenment. While one shopkeeper chatted with my date, the other led me around the store, gently asking me what I was looking for.

“Who’s your favorite mutant? Oh, you like Nightcrawler?” he said. “I think we’ve got a few back-issues."

“What about something with really nice art?” I asked timidly. The shopkeeper adjusted his glasses, scrolling through the unseen rolodex of comics in his mind.

“Fathom is good, but I don’t think we have issue one. I bet you’d like Meridian. It’s pretty cool. We’ve got loads in the ten cent bin.”

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I returned from my date with no goodnight kiss and no budding romance, but I did have a bag stuffed with discount comics. Over the next few months, I visited DNA Comics each time I hit the mall. In that time, I didn’t become particularly comics-savvy, but I assume I became “that- cute-high-school-girl-who-likes-the-cheap-comics”, because the shopkeepers always smiled when I entered and even gave me discounts on the already dirt-cheap comics.

A year later, DNA comics closed down and, with it, my budding education in Western comics. All my peers still favored manga so, naturally, I followed suit. But that dim interest remained. So, when a friend introduced me to a new comic book store years later, I had to try it out.

The Fat Ogre wasn’t the sort of place I expected to welcome me. It was largely a tabletop gaming store, and gamers had a reputation for shunning women from their territory. Even though I went with a friend who loved the staff enough to bring them cookies, I crept in like a green warrior seconds away from her first battle. I donned brashness and overconfidence like armor, determined not to be mocked. No. I’d be the other woman. The one so dolled up, so aloof and outwardly confident, nobody would dare approach me much less tease me. After all, I was no longer that cute little fourteen-year-old. The leeway DNA Comics had given me might not extend to the Fat Ogre.

The store was twice the size of DNA comics, with double the trade paperbacks available and, subsequently, double the clientele. What the staff thought of the tense, uncomfortable girl who wandered into their midst, I have no idea. They were far too busy with their regular clientele: the tabletop gamers who overtook half the store. But I bought a Firefly comic and a plastic Green Lantern ring without incident, so they must not have been too bothered. In my subsequent visits, the Fat Ogre smoothed my hackles as a gentle hand calms a wild animal. When I took an interest in Squirrel Girl and they didn’t have comics featuring her, a friendly shopkeeper directed me to a similarly earnest young character, Nomad. When I journeyed in searching for Nightcrawler, Harley Quinn, or Hawkeye, someone was always happy to discuss the character with me. Heck, when I came in on Free Comic Book Day, the male and female staff greeted me and offered me extra swag to take to friends who couldn’t come in.

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On one notable occasion, when I was still in college, I wandered in with a friend discussing my current history major and how it was changing my perspective on comics. In the same breath, I mentioned my growing interest in Black Widow, as The Avengers was due to come out in a few months. As I contemplated buying the new comic Marvel had produced, one of the shopkeepers caught me.

“Oh no, you don’t want to read that if you’re not familiar with her,” he said, and led me to their trade hardback section. “Try this. Sting of the Black Widow. I’m afraid we only have it in hardback, but if you really want to know her history, this is what you want to read.”

It was easily the most expensive comic I’d bought to date, so it’s a testament to the trust I put in the Fat Ogre staff that I said “Okay!” and bought a hardcover trade compilation of comics for a character I hardly knew. While I was checking out, the shopkeeper laughed and told me about some of his favorite Black Widow moments. Like the time she showed up in the bed of blind Daredevil, or her remark at the funeral of Hercules.

“So then Black Widow says, ‘Yeah, he was a great lay’. And right then, every other female in the room nods and says ‘Oh yeah’. Like, all of them.”

What he said: Black Widow has some funny, sex-related situations and she’s not ashamed about them.

What he did not say: What a tramp!

By this point, I’d almost forgotten there even were guys who scorned women in comics, which was probably why the universe saw fit to remind me. Just as the shopkeeper launched into an explanation of who the comic version of Hercules was, a teenaged boy in a dark hoodie wandered up to the counter. He must have heard the story about the funeral, because he laughed and snorted.

"Slut."

Now, when I was 9, I’d been roughhousing with a boy on the playground. Well, I say roughhousing. Really, I was teasing and pestering him because, back then, I didn’t understand that what your brothers will put up with, a boy at school might not. The boy in question tried to shove me off and, in so doing, accidentally rammed his elbow hard into my stomach. The air hissed out between my teeth. I dropped to the ground, tears springing to my eyes as I struggled to breathe. Of course, the boy was instantly apologetic and when everyone made a big fuss about it, we reassured all of them that it wasn’t a fight. But after that day, I knew what it felt like to be rammed in the gut, and I stopped pestering him. 

Standing in the Fat Ogre, I felt like that teenager had just slugged me in the gut. I sputtered, to angry even to speak. The shopkeeper shot him a glare, but said nothing else. After all, half his store was packed with teenaged boys competing in gaming tournaments. He was used to it.

At last, I found my voice.

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“Actually, Hercules is the one that slept with everyone,” I argued. “Tony Stark, too. Black Widow just-"

“She’s just a slut,” he guffawed. "Look at her. She's only there to have sex."

Then, with the swagger of an idiot, he sauntered out the store. I turned back to the shopkeeper, a sour taste in my mouth. He didn’t say anything as he sold me my book. I didn’t say anything as I shuffled out the door, feeling strangely off balance. For so long I’d assumed the stereotypes about comic book stores were wrong. I’d believed they were perpetually safe, tolerant places where we all met to escape a harsher, less forgiving world. It seemed that they, like any other community, could be infiltrated by the rude and close-minded.

Of course, one bad experience wasn’t enough to tarnish my love of a good comic book store. I moved to Austin and fell for ABC comics next, where I met with a similarly diverse and welcoming staff (“Oh man, if you’re interested in Winter Soldier you have to start with the original appearance. It’s hands down one of the best I’ve ever read.” “Hm, I’m not familiar with X-23, but so-and-so knows all about her.” “Well, we haven’t got the new Firefly trade, but our sidekick store does. Here are their hours. Wait until you read it!”). A life-sized Hulk and Silver Surfer guarded the back issues. Shelves stretched so high, the shopkeepers needed ladders to reach the tops. It seemed as though every comic ever printed was available in that monstrous store. From within that haven, it was hard to imagine that there was anyone on earth who didn’t want to read comics.

Of course, I’ve run into my fair share of bad comic book stores. There were run-down shacks with yellowing walls and grimy carpet, dusty stores with shopkeepers who fussed at you for flipping through a comic without buying it. When there were no specialty shops available, I bought my comics from Amazon and Half Price Books just like anyone else, but there’s nothing quite like the comfort of walking into one of my stores. It’s like coming home. But even home can sometimes feel unwelcome on the worst days.

Even now, I can’t help remembering that off-hand comment from an idiot boy, particularly when I hear the story of someone who’s felt unwanted in a store or a convention. The words hiss in my ear like a little shoulder devil with a hoodie and bad acne.

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The first time it happened, it was with a woman I met at a science fiction convention. "One time, my boyfriend and I went into a store to buy some cards. We always played together. We actually met through gaming. The clerk asked if he let me win. We were both so shocked we just left without buying anything."

Slut.

Then there was the professional cosplayer. "The first time I walked into a comic book shop, totally scared and intimidated, the man behind the counter greeted my boyfriend, but not me. My boyfriend at the time asked where the gaming accessories are, and he pointed him in the right direction. I asked for help with comics, and he told me that there was a new Lady Gaga comic that had just come out. Condescendingly."

Just look at her.

And the sales woman. "I work at comic conventions. But every time I work I get asked if I'm a 'booth babe' and then they always seem astounded that I even know what the comics are about. Let alone be able to actually sell them something they might want to read. It usually leads them to take a picture of me saying I'm a 'rare breed'. Which is really just downright rude and I'm normally scowling for the picture."

She's only there to have sex. 

Even the computer programmer. "Guys get it too, though. Apparently I'm not 'geeky' enough because I only play Magic and don't fawn over comics."


I can feel the elbow in my gut every time a friend describes one of these experiences. How is this possible? How have I had such good luck when so many have felt marginalized and unwanted? What kind of a businessman knowingly alienates a potential demographic like that? Don’t they realize they’re stopping a fan before they can even start?

The theories about this sort of behavior are rampant. Some boil it down to basic sexism: some men in these communities can’t separate women from sex, and other women would rather renounce a newcomer than risk being labeled “fake”. But it happens to men, too. In this community, to be fake is to be a pariah. It is the spy exposed, the villain outed, the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Yet in all my years of attending conventions, visiting comic book shops, and attending clubs, I have never met a person who did not want to be exactly where they were. Who on earth would spend their precious time and money on comics, costumes, movies, and merchandise if they didn’t like the core subject? What sort of person could possibly think someone would?

Perhaps it’s a superiority complex. These individuals pride themselves on their vast knowledge, blaming their passion for comics or gaming for their poor social skills. As such, they take on the behavior of a cornered cat when their safe haven is suddenly invaded by newcomers with less knowledge and experience: people who must not be real nerds, geeks, or fans. The invaders must be cast out!

For all that I’ve been accepted, I suddenly find myself raising my guard when I enter a new store. Will I pass the test? Is my hair sufficiently frizzy, my glasses thick enough? Should I have worn that geeky Star Wars shirt instead of my business blouse? I peruse the shelves in one of my stores, watching out of the corner of my eye as unfamiliar men pass by. My heart thuds. My mouth goes dry. I pray he will leave me in peace. When he does, I breathe out a sigh of relief. For one more day, I am accepted. I am not a part of a shameful statistic. 

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Still, sooner or later I’m bound to face the accusation of fraud. What happens when someone is rejected from a safe haven? We nerds on the fringes of the social jungle. Sure, such hits as The Avengers and The Walking Dead helped to bring nerd culture to the mainstream, but it remains that last refuge for the flotsam and jetsam of society. If we won't take them, they have nowhere else to go. Whatever happened to basic courtesy, regardless of a person’s gender or experience? Comics are a safe place for me. They should be a safe place for anyone.

This growing fear of the “fake” geek echoes with an ignorance reminiscent of the Red Scare. If I wander into the wrong store at the wrong time and fail to produce some obscure bit of superhero trivia as geek identification, will I be blacklisted? I envision storm troopers crashing into my room, ripping down my Doctor Who posters, burning my comics and DVDs.

“Should have made your date take you shoe shopping instead,” I can almost hear one of them say. “Shouldn’t have gone where you weren’t wanted.”

Of course, I have a flair for drama, but I like reading about people who dress in bright costumes to fight crime. It comes with the territory. Still, it’s frightening to look back and realize how close I might have come to passing up one of the great loves of my life. One rude word from a shopkeeper would have robbed me of the chance to know the Winter Soldier or Black Widow, the heroes of Saga or the villains of Knightfall. I wouldn’t know any of the dozens of fictional figures who have been a source of comfort for me in hard times.

Part of me wants to paint a huge sign to plant in front of the Fat Ogre or ABC Comics, reading “Safe for All: No Jerks Here!” just so the next fourteen-year-old girl who wanders by knows that, contrary to the stereotype, she’ll be welcome. I certainly was, and my life is better for it.

Chelsea Smith is a writer based out of Houston Texas. When she isn't writing, she's teaching in a Montessori school. When she isn't doing that, she's strategically building friendships with people in a number of disciplines in the hope of someday putting together a team for the first ever time travel expedition. Once the physicist and engineer friends get the time machine working. Find Chelsea's work? Wide Open Spaces ★ Minerva Rising ★ Parallax Digital Media

Spoiler Alert: How to Talk about Geekery Online

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No, not that Spoiler.

I’m a pretty busy person.  Between school and work, I have very little free time to spend playing games, watching television, or going to the movies.  As a result, I don’t play through games as fast as most people, nor do I always catch shows or films when they are first aired or released.  Since I spend a lot of my time on the internet due to the nature of my work, I am in constant danger of the dreaded Spoiler.

Spoilers are pervasive in internet culture.  They’re especially frequent in social media, where individuals will live blog or tweet shows, chronicling what happens as it happens. It’s a completely natural reaction to things—as a fan, I often feel the need to talk to someone about something on a show immediately.  While you can find spoilers on just about everything, most of them are just a natural part of the excitement and enthusiasm of fandom.

This is not meant to excuse spoilers, but to make us better understand why they happen.  Sometimes people post spoilers out of malevolence, but that’s extremely rare.  Instead, we can prevent spoilers and being spoiled through common courtesy and due diligence. 

And this.

If we take responsibility on both sides, and think before we click or post, we can win the battle against spoilers.  Here's some advice to avoid posting spoilers, and avoid reading them.  It takes both sides!

To Keep From Spoiling:

• Never talk in specifics. You can post something like "Game of Thrones was unbelievable tonight!", but stay away from statements like "I'm so glad they finally killed him! I hated that character!" Definitely don't get any more specific than that, either.
• If you want to talk about an event, text or call a friend who watches the show (or watch it with your friends). Don't throw a statement out into the ether of the internet that could spoil things for others.
• If you're posting a review and want to talk about something that happened in the show/movie/game, then make sure you warn readers abut spoilers. You can also put a spoiler tag over the part of the article that would give things away.
• Start a conversation with sentences like "Have you watched the last episode of Sherlock?" If they say no, then you can't accidentally spoil them. 
• Be courteous to the people around you, and think before you say things.  I've had to stop myself on the verge of giving spoilers for a new show or movie without even thinking about it.  Don't be a jerk, and don't be that guy.

To Keep From Being Spoiled:

• Be careful on social media.  Don't go on sites that are notorious for spoilers (i.e. Tumblr, Twitter), and make sure that you don't look under any show-specific hashtags.
• Avoid news articles or reviews.  They're likely to talk about major plot events -- the things that everyone is talking about at the water cooler (figuratively speaking) -- so you may end up reading something you don't want to read.
• Catch up quickly. There's a statute of limitations for internet spoilers that spans about one week. After that you can be disappointed, but you shouldn't be mad about being spoiled. 
• Let people know you're not caught up. Especially if you are consuming older media for the first time, you can be accidentally spoiled! Mention at the start of the conversation where you are at so others can avoid spoilers.

Do you think that these steps could work to prevent spoilers? Do you have any other suggestions, or things you disagree with? Leave your thoughts in the comments!

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As a card-carrying member of the Justice League, honorary Star Fleet ensign, and a Ph.D student in political science, Amanda doesn't have much spare time on her hands. But when she does, she spends it gaming, nerdcrafting, marathoning shows on Netflix, debating Tolkien online, sewing costumes for cosplay, and writing on Geekphoria.net. Find Amanda? Twitter ★ Tumblr ★ Blog

Mean Geeks: Bullying Between Nerds

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"It's not about you, it's about them. They're hiding their own insecurities by making you feel bad about yourself." 

Anyone who's been bullied has heard something like this, usually in an attempt to cheer you up or make your feel better. It's practically become an adage that often pops up when people talk about bullying. There's even a video where Wil Wheaton, nerd royalty, promotes this point of view.

While I was growing up, I never bought into this idea. Even now, I frequently have trouble accepting it. Do people feel the need to pick out an individual and constantly berate them because they feel sad? Maybe. But does it hold true for everyone? Is bullying just one persons's attempt to make themselves feel like they're better than at least one other person?

I bring this up not to try to make sense of school-yard bullying - or similar scenarios - but to address the recent rise of inter-geek bullying.

Many of us geeks have a history of being bullied, but it seems like some of us have embraced the opportunity to become the bully. We see it everywhere, but it's definitely most prominent online. Some of us are chastised for being "fake" geeks, particularly women. Others are criticized for liking the "wrong" series or characters. Some people are deemed "not geeky enough" because they like a movie more than the books or comics it's based on (or - God forbid - haven't even read the source material). 

These days, it seems like more names and insults are being flung from geek to geek than come from outside the geek subculture. Why do some of us feel the need to put others down? I think this is where the type of phenomenon Wil Wheaton discusses really rears its head. Geeks who have until now been bullied for their hobbies are able to set themselves up as "better" than others who are interested in the same thing; they're able to increase their own self-worth at the expense of others. Sure, a lot of this existed before now, but the internet has made it much more visible, if not more common. 

So here's the big question that I'm opening up to dialogue: How should we respond to bullying in geekdom? Do we ignore the mean geeks? Try to have a rational discussion? Chastise or shame bullies? Punch them in the face? (Please don't punch them in the face.) Do we try to be non-confrontational, or should we try to make the geek world friendlier and more inclusive?

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As a card-carrying member of the Justice League, honorary Star Fleet ensign, and a Ph.D student in political science, Amanda doesn't have much spare time on her hands. But when she does, she spends it gaming, nerdcrafting, marathoning shows on Netflix, debating Tolkien online, sewing costumes for cosplay, and writing on Geekphoria.net. Find Amanda? Twitter ★ Tumblr ★ Blog

You Can't Read That: Book Shaming and Nerd Culture

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What was the last book that you couldn’t put down? Personally, I’m making my way through The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer, and I haven’t been able to put them down. The books are fun re-imaginings of fairy tales amidst political intrigue, plague, and the threat of war. They’re also very much Young Adult (or YA) fiction.

If you’ve read the article by Ruth Graham that’s been making its way around the internet (or any of the billion responses), you’ll know she thinks I should be ashamed to read YA fiction. Graham disparages YA for its “pleasurable” reads, its reliance on the teenage perspective, its frequently satisfying endings (where has she been that she thinks this still happens?), and its ultimate failure to be “literary." As someone who is now in my late-twenties (shudder), I shouldn’t be entertained or entranced by anything written from the perspective of a teenager.

Graham argues that I (alongside teenagers and other literarily stunted adults) should aspire to more “grown-up” reading. YA novels, in her perspective, are unable to teach us anything about life. But let’s ignore the argument over whether YA is valuable, and instead focus on the core of her argument: it is not worthwhile to read for any reason other than the pursuit of sophistication. And, Graham asserts, YA fiction is supremely unsophisticated.

Well, I say screw that. We have few enough individuals in this country who read for pleasure anymore—and shaming people for the type of book they choose to pick up isn’t helping the problem. There are thousands upon thousands of legitimate reasons to read Young Adult fiction, but by far the most important is this:

Because you want to.

So, in the spirit of fighting against this type of bigotry and shaming, here is my list of YA books and series that you should definitely pick up this summer! Some of these books share “deep” stories that rival many of the adult fiction that Graham lauded, but some are definitely more fun romps in sci-fi and fantasy. All, though, deserve a read!

Note: The lines of “Young Adult” literature are frequently blurry, but all these books are usually, if not always, considered YA. 

The Forest of Hands and Teeth series by Carrie Ryan 

Looking for Alaska by John Green 

If I Stay by Gayle Forman

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams

His Dark Materials series by Philip Pullman

The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare

The Lunar Chronicles series by Marissa Meyer

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by MarkHaddon

The Gemma Doyle Trilogy by Libba Bray

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie

Dune by Frank Herbert

The Song of the Lioness Series by Tamora Pierce

Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card

Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell

(Superheroesque gets a small kickback if you purchase through this link. Thanks for your support!)

Do you have any YA recommendations? Leave them in the comments!

The short version of this blog post basically enforces a truth that I hold dear—different people like to nerd out over different things, and it’s never brave or cool or responsible to condemn people for enjoying things that you may not personally enjoy. Let’s ignore the Slate author and talk about ourselves for a moment. We’ve built this nerdy community, and within it we should support each other and our passions. As Wil Wheaton said, “Being a nerd not about what you love, it’s about how you love it.” I won’t be shamed—you can’t take my books from me.

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As a card-carrying member of the Justice League, honorary Star Fleet ensign, and a Ph.D student in political science, Amanda doesn't have much spare time on her hands. But when she does, she spends it gaming, nerdcrafting, marathoning shows on Netflix, debating Tolkien online, sewing costumes for cosplay, and writing on Geekphoria.net. Find Amanda? Twitter ★ Tumblr ★ Blog

A Pledge for...

I have a group of 4 geek girls that have been my best friends for years. We’ve always embraced our weirdness together, never feeling the urge to hold back when it came to just how geeky we could get as a group. We’ve embraced geek-centric groups together, such as becoming Nerdfighters or becoming Iggles (members of the International Geek Girls Pen Pal Club). All of our tastes vary, and it makes us a varied group, and I would never trade them for anything.

However, recently I experienced something with one of my friends that caused me to think about those geeks out there that don’t have the same support system that I have, and it’s caused me to look at a few things differently.

As the excitement around the release of The Fault in Our Stars loomed, I couldn’t wait to firm up plans to go and see the film with my 3 best friends (one is currently living in London ON). My TFiOS survival kit had just come in the mail, so I had my pack of “Okay? Okay” tissues, a rockin’ pair of shades, and even some candy cigarettes; I was prepared.

That is, until one of my friends surprised me in saying that she wanted to see it with just two of our friends first, and then as a full group later, because the three of them would get more out of the experience than the two of us leftover.

This confused me; I read the book last year, and like so many others, I loved it. So I asked her if it was just because I never cry at sad movies (I’m talking never – I am made of stone.)

And her response was that she and two of our friends would enjoy it more because I’m not as much of a Nerdfighter as they were.

Here the confusion continued to pile on. Was I missing something? Were there certain leveled memberships of Nerdfighter-dom that I hadn’t heard about? For whatever reason, even though this is a reasonably small thing, hearing my friend say this hurt me a bit.

I told her that what she’d said had been a bit insulting, and while she believed she was elaborating as she explained herself, to me she only continued to pile on. The thesis of her argument was that she, Jessica* and Grace* had been Nerdfighters for a lot longer, that they had been there “from the beginning” with regards to TFiOS. The way she made it sound made me feel like I wasn’t worthy of attendance to an advance screening with my closest friends and had to wait for general admission, when the reviews were already out and the excitement had almost completely died down.

I’m know she didn’t mean to sound that way; I’ve known her since kindergarten, and her heart is always in the right place. However, it got me thinking: Was she right? Could I be considered less of a geek because I was out of the loop during the early years that my friends were flashing Nerdfighter gang signs to each other?

Eventually I figured out the answer was no. But I’m glad for this experience, because it brought this issue to my attention.

Has this feeling of superiority, this sense of elitism, always existed in the geek world? I may have already known that these sorts of feelings exist when it comes to the online world, if Mia’s article about “How To Be A ‘Real’ Geek” is any indicator, but I hardly expected to experience this in real life. It goes to show you that this sort of exclusion exists everywhere, not just online and not just among fandoms.

I feel like we as geeks need a strong sense of inclusion within our groups, perhaps even more so than the average Joe. We need to be in a safe place where our voices can be heard and where we won’t be judged in any way whatsoever. Whether we like to say “Allons-y!” or “Alohomora!” shouldn’t make any difference.

Nerdfighteria got it right. Just like it says in this video, Nerdfighters are just people made up of awesome instead of typical organic matter. If you want to be a Nerdfighter, you are a Nerdfighter! Nowhere can you find any rules about getting there first.

I believe that we should pledge to ourselves, and to the fellow geeks around us, that we are all equals! No matter what fandoms you like, no matter what kind of person you are. Even if we arrived late to the buffet like I did with Nerdfighteria, they should be welcomed with open arms and considered equals.

I’ve always found that the geek girl community I have at my fingertips with Twitter always has a way of understanding with regards to these situations, so I sent out a couple tweets explaining my dilemma. I got quite the response back, which I appreciated immensely.

My friend shouldn’t be blamed or villainized; I should actually thank her for making me more aware of the problems of exclusion, alienation and elitism among geeks and the rest of the world, and she also made me aware of exactly how it feels.

Don’t wait to find out how all of these things feel yourself before you make the change to equality. If somebody on Twitter doesn’t know what DFTBA stands for, help them out while reminding them that they Don’t Forget To Be Awesome! If somebody who is new to the world of the Doctor spells it “Dr. Who”, don’t be cross with them, because at least they’re trying. If you see somebody post online that the first shot was not made by Han Solo, then . . . okay, then you’re allowed to tear them apart ;)

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Kacie is a Canadian geek girl who splits her time between being an English & Writing major, working at am bookstore, vlogging, reading, playing video games, online role playing and keep up her own blog. She hopes to one day be an editor at a publishing house and eventually a novelist. Kacie also hopes that her claim to fame will be more than owning 300+ volumes of manga. Find Kacie? Twitter ★ Facebook ★ Blog

The Lovers, The Dreamers, and Me

Dallas Comic Con 2014 started on the 24th anniversary of Jim Henson’s death. I mention this bit of trivia because I saw a picture that morning while I was getting ready. It was a poignant piece, with Kermit The Frog touching the outstretched hand of Jim Henson in a photograph. I thought about that photo a few times over the course of the weekend and a line from one of my favorite movies of all time - the original Muppet Movie.

"Well, I have a dream too, but it's about singing and dancing and making people happy. It's the kind of dream that gets better the more people you share it with. And I found a whole group of friends who have the same dream. And that makes us sort of like a family." 

For those who haven’t seen The Muppet Movie (shocking as it is, such people do exist), Kermit The Frog says this line to the film’s villain at the dramatic climax of the movie. He’s speaking about the collection of oddballs he’s befriended over the course of the movie. But the speech is also Jim Henson’s way of expressing how he felt about the creative people he surrounded himself with in his own work, using his most popular character as a mouthpiece.

That speech always stuck with me because it’s reminded me of the special bonds I’ve shared with other creative people who share a common craft. Actors. Artists. Writers. Costumers. Even computer programmers and game designers all share this creative impulse. And we’re bonded together by the love of our art in a way that goes deeper than friendship. The only word I can think that truly describes this feeling is familial. I know that comparison may upset some people and I apologize for that. But for those who have never been particularly close to their blood relations - all the outcasts and outsiders who have never had that sense of belonging to something greater or that sense of connection to other people - I think the feeling of being part of a community of fans comes closest to capturing that sensation. At the very least, I’ve seen several displays of the sort of affection usually associated with families at conventions. Heck, I’ve even been a part of a few of them, on both ends of the exchange.

Case In Point: Several years ago, a group of friends I play role-playing games with embarked on a mad plan - to go to Dragon Con on a few weeks’ notice. Those of you who know of Dragon Con realize why I describe this as a mad plan. Still, they did it. And the entire brood was soon on the road. Everyone except me - the one person who couldn’t get time off from work on so short a notice.

I wasn’t devastated but I was a little depressed. The big attraction that year was an autograph signing by most of the cast of Firefly. The trip of a life-time and I missed out on it. But when they returned they had a present for me - an autographed picture of Alan Tudyk. Because in the weird alchemy of our group - which had once been likened to the crew of Serenity - it had been determined that I was Wash. Whether it’s because I’m the techie smartass or have a love of warrior women I’m not sure. But I’m not arguing the point either - the point being that they had spent four hours waiting in line to get me something since I couldn’t go with them.

It’s a gesture that left them without time to score any autographs from themselves. I didn’t forget that. And I promised I’d get everyone in the group then an autographed picture of their respective crew members in return. This year, I finally made good on that promise for everyone.

My friend Jeremy, whom I befriended while waiting in line at one Comic Con event, had similar arrangements with several of his friends and his roommate for that DCC weekend. We spent the vast majority of Friday and Saturday wandering from one line to the next getting various bits of swag, loot and booty autographed. The rest of the time was devoted towards taking pictures and posing for pictures.

I can’t think of any word that better describes our relationship than brotherly, simply because only brothers indulge in the same manner of good-natured ribbing that we do. I take a picture of him posing with a My Little Pony figure. He snaps pictures of me proposing to Princess Batman.

But there were other examples of familial love that weekend. Consider the Cosplay Hideaway organized by Jacob Long and other members of North Texas Cosplay, which offered cosplayers a home away from home. Literally, as the Hideaway offered not only a secluded place to rest a moment without fear of being asked to pose for a photo but it also offered costume repair services and resources as well as a changing room.

This may not sound like much, but having some place to kick up your feet, relax with fellow hobbyists or leave your belongings without worry means a lot in the middle of a long day at the convention. And it is also a fine example of the way that members of a fandom look out for one another and try to help each other out. I’ve saved my best story from the weekend for last. I think it shows not only how cosplayers treat one another like family but also the funny way that synchronicity works. Like Dr. Peter Venkman once said, “For whatever reasons...call it... fate, call it luck, call it karma, I believe everything happens for a reason.” Because I think this story is too magical to be written off as mere coincidence.

While wandering the dealer’s room on Friday night, I happened across a particularly ornate sword at one of the shops that sold display weapons. It had a wolf’s head carved into the hilt. Knowing a few people whose favorite animal is a wolf (myself included - my nickname years before I became widely known as Starman was “Wolf”) I took a picture and posted it on Facebook, joking that they would have to fight over who would possess such a magnificent blade.

I thought no more about it until I got a message on Saturday. It was one of the aforementioned friends, asking how much the sword was. I found out and told him. He told me the sword in question was a replica of Jon Snow’s sword Longclaw, from the TV show Game of Thrones.

He asked if I would pick it up with a promise to be paid back the next day. I said I didn’t have the cash on me then but that I could try and get the sword tomorrow. I was telling the truth about not having the cash but the bargain hunter in me couldn’t resist popping on-line once I got home and doing a quick search to see if I could find a better deal. I couldn’t. In fact, the sword seemed to be going for thousands of dollars on ebay rather than the dozens it was selling for at the con.

Later that Sunday, I was in the Cosplay Hideaway talking with another cosplayer I had met at a different convention several months earlier. She had, to put it mildly, perhaps the worst week in her life. In fact, she had barely made it to the convention.

All weekend long I had seen people who barely knew her - and then only through her work as a cosplayer - stopping by to say hello and ask how she was doing. Making sure she was okay. Asking if there was anything they could do to help. Small gestures, yes, but sorely needed at a time when this woman was doubting that there were any decent people left in the world.

By chance, I told her the story about how I posted a picture of this wolf sword on-line and wound up helping out a friend who was working on a Jon Snow cosplay without meaning to do so. She got quiet all of a sudden and asked me if I knew just how rare that sword was. I had an idea given how much it sold for on-line now but I confessed I didn’t know the precise number of swords made or just how rare they were. It turned out that she had been looking for that particular sword for quite some time herself. And that was when I remembered something from when I bought the first sword - it was one of two of that model the dealer had. Which meant there might still be one left.

We made for the dealer’s room with all speed. The sword was still on display, as glorious as when I first saw it. Her excitement over the hunt quickly turned to sadness, as she realized she couldn’t afford it. Not then. Not now.

So I bought it for her.

Why? Partly it was sympathy - I know what it is to have fate throw you a bad hand at the worst possible time. And I know what it is like to chase a collectible only to have it denied to you. Mostly, I did it because it was within my power to make her feel a little better. To remind her that there were people - a whole group of strangers who became old friends you just met - who cared about her and her happiness. And that whatever bad things happened that week did nothing to change that fact.

That’s my story. What are yours?

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Matt ''Starman'' Morrison is an American graphic literature critic, web comic writer and essayist. He is also, occasionally, a wizard, a superhero and a Time Lord.  When he isn’t being the World’s Finest Teen Librarian, Mr. Morrison writes for the pop culture news site KABOOOOOM! & No Flying No Tights. Morrison also has a personal website - My Geeky Geeky Ways - where he writes about all of his nerdy interests and maintains an episode guide for the television series Arrow. Find Starman? Twitter ★ Facebook ★ Blog