This is a normal part of the identity development, and usually must be passed through before getting to a more balanced and constructive place. Unfortunately, it can be as annoying as hell while people are in it.

I was playing with one that I’d still like to throw out for consideration. It revolves around a thought exercise concerning video games.

—–

I think we can both agree that western society, definitely American society, has reached a point where playing video games in and of itself is not a point of embarrassment. Perhaps I’ve spent to much time in the echo chamber, but I think this is probably a safe assumption.

Given that assumption though, if we map out interests in gaming, with one end being a complete casual gamer who doesn’t own their own system and the other end being a hardcore gamer who has to have all the hottest games on release day and obsesses over every detail. Where on this hypothetical map does one become a nerd or a geek? Or, if we allow that the terms are self defining, at what point does one find acceptance as a nerd/geek from others based solely on their relationship to gaming?

I’m not arguing that the line doesn’t exist on this graph, I’m just curious about where it is. Is it purely the external action of being picked on? Are there different gauges depending on if you were picked on?

In the manga Genshiken there’s a character, a guy, who is traditionally beautiful and stylish, but is also obsessive about manga and anime. Would this character, assuming his looks kept him from ever getting picked on, have a different, higher, standard to meet then the other characters in the manga who are the more traditional otaku?

I’m not sure if I have an answer to that question at the moment.

—–

Oh and,

“At this point, I think that the component of geek culture as a self-aware subculture that listens to nerdcore and grapples with “what does it mean to be a geek” is not really a proxy or microcosm for geekdom more broadly so much as one more facet of the diverse array of different “geek cultures” that only have a little bit – mostly, stigma and enthusiasm – in common.”

What I’m thinking about is larger then just the nerdcore scene or even folks who are grappling with the questions, but save the rest of that comment for the next essay. Hopefully this weekend.

Personally, my take on Patton Oswalt’s piece (upon a quick first reading, at least) was that it read like your typical “the subculture needs to be destroyed to be reinvented” piece that just about every subculture and art movement has, at least until the piece veers off into a kind of comedic vision of “a-pop-aclypse.” By the end, I got the impression he wasn’t actually advocating anything so much as turning away from reflection and commentary and into a joke, but maybe I just missed the point.

This post, though, kind of goes beyond Patton’s point to tackle this larger issue. I think a large part of what makes these questions so difficult to answer is that there’s a range of opinion on whether the “entrance requirements” for geekdom/nerddom should be the same as the “membership requirements.” For so many people, being a geek or a nerd is synonymous with having been mocked for being a geek or a nerd. So much of geek culture arises from and is sustained by the need for people to connect over things we’re theoretically supposed to feel embarrassed about.

At this point, I think that the component of geek culture as a self-aware subculture that listens to nerdcore and grapples with “what does it mean to be a geek” is not really a proxy or microcosm for geekdom more broadly so much as one more facet of the diverse array of different “geek cultures” that only have a little bit – mostly, stigma and enthusiasm – in common.

(I find it fascinating that Patton Oswalt claims to have never felt like an outcast, but also writes derisively of weightlifters and implies having had a tough time with dating. Looks a lot like what the outcasts are writing. I’m just saying.)

There’s anime geeks, and sci-fi geeks, and computer geeks, and as I think one of you said at some point, folks like us have basically become geek-geeks. Given all the variety, I think it’s kind of a self-defeating exercise to try to come up with definitions at all for geeks and nerds, as such conversations almost invariably lead someone to cop an “us/them” attitude sooner or later. Part of the reason I never settled on a single definition for my dissertation was that it’s just good ethnography to let others define themselves; part of the reason, though, from a personal standpoint, is that vague definitions are practically more inclusive by nature, and I’m the kind of nerd who doesn’t mind that at all.