Geek Girl See, Geek Girl Do
Opinion
The “Gamer” Tag
Jan 12th
A couple months ago, I was with some of my English buddies and I used the word “ninja.” I did not use it as a noun, I used it as a verb–meaning “to steal,” saying something along the lines of “I totally ninja-ed that cupcake.” I gasped and covered my mouth.
My gamer girl was out.
I apologized, saying that my gamer lingo came out, and a friend asked, “Who do you know that games?” I looked around a bit sheepishly, pointed to myself and said, “Me?” At that point, it was her turn to gasp, and cry out, “Kelly! Don’t tell me that! Gamers are people who don’t know how to socialize! You’re so much better than that!”
Although, intellectually, I know and understand that there are people who still view gamers as anti-social dorks, I have difficulty understanding how that phenomena (which is what it really is) exists. WoW alone has over 10 million subscriptions. That’s not including the millions of people who have bought the game but unsubscribed. That also doesn’t include the other various MMOs out, which net a few hundred thousand subscribers each, or the myriad of console games out there. How could anyone actually believe that gamers are so anti-social?
Most people believe that the term “gamer” doesn’t mean “one who games or plays games,” but rather view it as a tool for identification, with binaries as simple as “male/female,” “black/white,” or in this case, “gamer/normal.” To identify yourself as a gamer typically invokes the image of the hard-core gamer, those who have headsets on while playing CoD4 in a dark room, talking to imaginary avatars on their screen. Yet so many forget that gaming includes things like those iPhone games you may play while waiting at the doctor’s office, or joining your friend in a rousing match of Guitar Hero. If you enjoy playing Text Twist on a web browser, you, too, may be a gamer.
In 1993, the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) made an addendum to the term “gamer,” adding that it means “a participant in a war-game or role-playing game.” Given this definition, one can see how the stigma may have formed. In ’93, Role-playing included LARPing, D&D, Warhammer, and the like. If you know what those things are, you can probably guess how the whole anti-social tag became associated with gamers. We didn’t have the hugely popular casual gaming sect like we do now.
But that doesn’t mean that things should stay the same. After all, I’m not a linguistic pundit who vies for the purification of English; I believe language is almost a living thing–changing with the times. As such, the “gamer” tag needs to change. The stereotype of the basement-dweller has changed, and while there is certainly a sub-culture of gaming, it is not isolated. Conventions such as PAX, BlizzCon, E3–even Comic Con–all draw in thousands of people. San Diego Comic Con, while not being exclusive to the gaming culture, even drew in a bevy of celebrities. And given this change, I truly think the term CAN become acceptable.
I didn’t mean for this post to be didactic, but sometimes I feel like it needs to be. I’m sure several of you know what my experience feels like–it was as if terming myself a gamer made me into a different person. Now, my friend and I have hung out several times since then and there are no issues between us. But for one evening, I was the anti-social basement dweller to her, as opposed to the successful, extroverted person I am–simply because I acknowledged my gamer-speak had come out. This prejudicial stereotype exists, but hopefully, much like other prejudices, this one will end over time.
So…What IS a Geek Anyway?
Oct 28th
A friend linked a PHD comic strip in Facebook today, and, having never seen or heard of the comic before, I spent a decent amount of time reading them. Nothing like a new webcomic for me to add to my list 
As I went through the comic, I found a strip that defined “geek” versus “dork,” and I was interested in seeing what it said. Please note in a previous strip, the character mentioned the contention involved with the words “geek” and “dork.” Here’s the strip:
Courtesy of www.phdcomics.com.
This made me go back to Fantasy Freaks and Gaming Geeks by Ethan Gilsdorf. This book is not only a self reflection on the author’s attraction to the fantasy genre, but a cultural study of the ever increasing acceptance of the “geek” subculture. Gilsdorf defines “geek” as such:
Terminology time: the words geek and nerd are often used interchangeably. “Geek” once stood for “General Electrical Engineering Knowledge,” a leftover scrap of U.S. Military lingo. A geek was also a circus performer who ate the heads off animals. Hence the science-math-freakazoid association. [...] But the term geek has recently come to mean anyone who pursues a skill or exhibits devotion to a subject matter that seems a bit extreme: movie geeks, comic-book geeks, theater geeks, history geeks, music geeks, art geeks, philosophy geeks, literature geeks (Gilsdorf 51).
Because of the “groups” of geeks that are out there, there seems to be a greater acceptance of geekdom. Literature geeks will not only accept one another, but they will accept geeks of other subdomains because they will understand the difficulty associated with being a geek. Being a geek in many subjects ultimately comes to a similar end–a Ph.D. in your field of geekdom. I have the most amazing medieval literature professor: a man clearly brilliant and skilled in the field of language. But you know what? The fact that he talks with glee about how a word changed from Persian to Italian to French to English? He’s a geek! All of us who dream of being professors are geeks in particular fields. It’s no longer a stigma but a stamp of pride.
However, there is a dichotomy of geekdom that causes a serious rift in the idea of “extreme” devotion to subject matter. Some areas are considered worthy of studying and are considered what I call “professional geekdom”–literature is a noble pursuit, for example. Other areas are considered a waste of time, those that I call “leisure geekdom.” This binary creates a huge gap between the professional and leisure geek.
For example, we have gaming geeks, a subdomain that you cannot get a Ph.D. in, cannot have such “pride” in (yes, a dangling preposition–deal with it). These geeks, while also being close to one another and generally accepting one another, begin to branch into the “dork” that PHD brings up (although Gilsdorf defines nerd with a similar definition). Without having a source or an outlet for “real life” success, gaming geeks win their victories on the battlefield, in the virtual world. To those of us who are not contained in that virtual world, these “successes” are trivial. And while becoming increasingly social within their own demographic, until online communication is fully integrated into socialization, gaming geeks will still have this mythical “basement dweller” stigma attached to them. “Normal people” seem to think that you cannot be friends with someone you have never met face to face; marrying someone you only met in a game is considered irrational by most.
Geeks are just as diverse as different religions, which is why there is so much debate over the term. Much like a particular sect of a religion may question the authenticity of a different sect in the same religion, we as geeks question what a geek is. Many do not consider me to be a geek because I’m popular, bubbly, blonde and wear pink (and not in a gothic way). I was a cheerleader, a dancer, and many other non-geeky things. However, I am comfortable calling myself a geek. Why? Because although I don’t fit the quintessential stereotypes of the geek (which really are more stereotypes of the dork/nerd attached to the word geek), I still have a strong passion–brinking on obsession–with literature, with writing, with words. I also have a strong interest in games and fantasy. Do I incorportate these things in EVERY aspect of my life? Well–I’m going to academic conferences, I’ve gone to NYCC…but I’ve also never LARPed or CosPlayed. Would some people scoff at my lack of geekiness? Yeah probably. But we need to support geeks–of all shapes, colors, sizes, beliefs, and so on. Perhaps eventually, a professional and leisure geek will be considered equal. Perhaps eventually, a cheerleader can be a geek if she wants to be.
