Of Geeks, Greeks, and Narratives of Oppression

In case it hadn't become patently obvious to whichever generous souls have been checking this page over the past week or so, the whole idea of updating this daily seems a tad unrealistic, or at least a pattern that has to be eased into rather than initiated...what's the opposite of cold turkey? Boiling turkey? Anyhow, I'm juggling too many other things, logistically and Big Picture-wise, to beat myself up over it, so I'll just say three figurative Hail Mary's (in my book...maybe read three new poems? Really liking the idea of poetry as an alternative way of accessing Things Bigger Than Us) and get on with life, until I have something that strikes me as so interesting and worthy of dissection that I can't help but write (and, in all likelihood, mildly rant) about it. Which, surprise surprise, is what brings me here today.

This morning, I was minding my own business, waiting for the new Crash Course to load on my atrociously slow connection while reading through a few blog posts I'd pulled up before I drifted off last night. If you're not already in the habit of it, I'd definitely suggest getting *in* the habit of reading internet comments whenever you get a chance. I tend to find that they're a much more immediate, unfiltered tap into the dynamic of conversation around whatever issue happens to be raised, and though they can range from the mind-numbingly terrifying (Any major news site, most celebrity sites, 98% of Youtube; a la Bartlet, "These people don't vote....do they?") to the quirky and genuinely engaging (Vlogbrothers videos of the non-Giraffe-sex variety, niche online news magazines, etc) they always tend to be a good show. The article in question addressed a problem with which I was very much familiar, both in practice and in theory: the particularly brand of misogyny that infests certain corners of "Geek Culture".

All in all, the article itself was rather rote - not because it wasn't well-written or intelligently argued, but simply because I was familiar with the debate, and had heard the perspectives before. When I scrolled into the comments, however, I opened the door onto a fascinating discussion of the psychology of geek culture, and the way that a particular (intelligent male) experience of real or perceived oppression created a virulently defensive and often highly insular subculture. Thanks the perspectives of a few comments in particular I began linking some of the very convincing analyses of geek culture to a set of discussions I'd been mentally considering as a topic for some time: the ways that binary stereotypes of smart/popular, isolated/engaged, oppressed/oppressor, etc - especially when it came to female role models - really warped my thinking growing up.

Ever since I can remember, the main notable thing about me was precocity: I read early, spoke early (and, unsurprisingly, profusely), loved to write, and genuinely loved the challenge of school subjects, whatever they might be. I was a genuine Hermione, which I say not to brag, but just to crystallize the way that the world saw me, and the way that I, in turn, saw myself. I was also, at least until about 10 or so, very self-confident: I would protect those in my group, stand up for myself, position myself as the leader of groups, etc. Throughout this whole time, I was what you might call a proto-hipster. Since I'd been reassured since birth that my role in this world was as a Smart Girl, I had come -with a now-embarrassing degree of self-righteousness - to view anything mainstream or  "pretty" or "popular" as intrinsically antithetical to anything Smart, and, as every well-meaning piece of kids TV and children's novels had told me, in the end, the Smart ones would win. I recognize now that just as some other kids might have picked up on that dichotomy and gravitated towards the "popular" end through mimicry, I did the same thing, except in a different direction, since it seemed closer to my initial starting point. I may have been playing the more "desirable" role from an adult's perspective, but I was buying into that stereotypical dichotomy just as wholeheartedly as those I looked down on had.

Unfortunately, around the age of 12, some inscrutable combination of stressors led my self-esteem to plummet, and led me into a self-destructive spiral where I controlled my world via my weight. Even as I still thought of myself as a "smart" kid, I subconsciously thought everything would be perfect if I looked a certain way, and I was determined to get there. By the time I hit the other end of that roadbump, around 13, I was in a new town, without close friends, and stuck with a devilishly untreatable metabolic disorder that made looking like the "ideal" of beauty pretty damn impossible. I say all this not to load you down with TMI, but just to give you an idea of how I started out my teenage years: frustrated with the world, resentful, lonely. It was here that the poisonous stereotype that I'd previously embraced in endearing, but ultimately not-too-damaging ways really took its toll. Just as popular culture emits, on so many wavelengths, that the way to happiness is through money, fame, beauty, friends etc, the stereotype of "popular," the signals emitted by geek culture offered a counternarrative, one that said, to those who weren't "popular," that they were, instead, smart, isolated, oppressed, but ultimately righteous and Better Than all those people who found dates to prom and liked going to football games.

Even though geek culture thrives on its self-image as a haven for the outcasts, I think that its own self-conception of that to which being "cursed" with intelligence in high school inevitably leads is just as limiting as its counterpart. Looking back, I can recognize that even as I felt frustrated and insecure, I turned that into some warped sense of validation, and, worse still, was so resentful of those who seemed to magically form the relationships that I lacked, that I eschewed forging close relationships "IRL", or becoming deeply involved in social circles, and every time I failed socially, rather than trying again, I would just go back to my own little world and justify it through my weird sense of social martyrdom, "Yes, you're lonely now, and it's Their Fault, but one day you will Conquer the World!". This is what linked me in from the initial misogyny article. Geek culture seems to me to existentially thrive on its perception of its own oppression -sometimes actual, sometimes fictive - and, therefore, has trouble recognizing when it's doing some oppression of its own: to recognize itself as the perpetrator of harmful and misogynistic stereotypes/modes of behavior (girls as sexy toys with guns, women as victims, women as marginalized in the narratives of some of the Founding Texts of geekdom, with Tolkein a good example) would fundamentally challenge its raison d'etre.

As an aside, and an explanation of this title, it fascinates me the way intelligence is "coded" (i.e. molded into easily digestible stereotypes) by society. On one end, you have "geek smart," (computers, socially awkward, a smidge obsessive, adorkable, often typed as not upper-class) and on the other, you have what I'm calling "Greek smart," (smug, intelligent, generally well-off, popular, suave, less science-focused). Being someone who tries to avoid pretension as much as I can (in myself and in others) I'm inclined to lean away from Greek Smart, but for a variety of reasons - my never having been into comic books, my crippling lack of gaming skills, that pesky extra X chromosome- Geek culture never fit either.

One significant counterweight to this was Harry Potter fandom, which I think, in the long run, helped me recognize that friends aren't just the spoils of evil popularity, but can be the fruits of genuine, emotionally-satisfying, and, yes, intelligent interaction, but not when intelligence is held up as some kind of sainthood. Also, it recognizes literary, analytic, and conceptual intelligence in ways beyond 1s, 0s, and XBoxs. Another was Nerdfightaria, an incredible community that, even though I still haven't engaged with it was completely as I should, really introduced to me the value of community, and the ways that being a self-rightous isolated "Smart Person," really sucked, and very rarely made you happy (which, in the end, is sort of the whole point).


What I've learned since coming to Tulane, and, more generally, since I grew up quite a bit is
A) That being judgmental makes no one, leastwise you, happy.
B) That girls, contrary to popular conception, can be beautiful, sexy, popular, engaged, smart, geeky, and compassionate, all at once, with none of those things being mutually exclusive.
C) Intelligence is not an end in itself. Forging connections, understanding the universe, perpetuating kindness, solving problems, advocating to end social ills, those are ends. Intelligence is only a means. Hermione knew this, but I guess it took time and maturity for it to sink in with me.



One significant corollary to all this (linked enough to justify inclusion, but disparate enough to baffle my powers of transition):
I've always been frustrated by the It Gets Better movement, and I've recently become able to coherently explain why. When the movement became popularized by Dan Savage and others, I was going through a period of depression: I felt isolated, incompetent, etc. It was tough, painful, and not particularly easy to solve. I hadn't been bullied, but at the same time, I had few truly close friends, and I always ended up on the edges of whatever social circle I was near. It was no one's fault, no one targeted me, but I always  seemed ended up excluded. Although in its own right, and in context of the purpose for which it originated, It Gets Better was admirable, I think its popularity highlights a divergence in the way we treat modes of social agression primarily directed at males (outright bullying), and those directed at females (subtle exclusion, inability to meet cultural standards). The victims of bullying championed/memorialized by It Gets Better were primarily gay males, who had been pushed into their decision by atrocious and indefensible taunts, threats, and insults. These problems are real, and they deserve attention and empathy. But, troublingly, by focusing simply on bullying - an external, individualized threat to young people's self-image and emotional stability - and marginalizing the other, similarly real and troubling routes that lead a person to depression and self-harm, routes that are far more psychological, with your own worst instincts beating yourself up for not meeting some standard of beauty, or intelligence or popularity, set by culture and ingrained to become a vicious internal weapon, I think we dangerously marginalize a group - primarily female - for whom depression cannot be easily tracked to an external threat, and risk further reinforcing the impression that those who self-harm for less comprehensible reasons are weak, are the agents of their own suffering. Though you do see groups addressing these issues - the most well-known being "To Write Love on Their Arms," they never got the kind of attention and widespread appeal that did It Gets Better (Come on, can you imagine the President filming a video for a cause as stigmatized as drug abuse and self-harm, similarly destructive as they are?). While I think the gender dynamics of these problems are part of the issue, I also think they speak to a larger discomfort with blaming a endemic cultural virus rather than an easily individualized, targeted, and eliminated (at least in our perception) threat.


I should probably stop Soapboxing and get some work done, or, at the very least, stop reading analyses of the healthcare verdict. If anyone's still reading this, I'd really love to hear any comments you have on anything I brought up: like I said, I have a soft spot for them!

Quote of the Day: "Damn truth, always resisting simplicity!" - John Green
Arabic Word of the Day: "Sabaahah" - Morning, from the root Sa Ba Ha, "to become", "the becoming".

Stay cool, everyone (particularly if anyone's reading from Colorado!),
Cody