Upon the Burning of our House

Recently, I read a very interesting article on the Woot.com blog. The inciting incident: because there is some nominal cultural cachet associated with the 'geek' identity, more and more people who wouldn't have claimed it before are doing so now. The message from the author: Cut it out. The sentiment resonates with me in low and sturdy places, and I'm uncomfortable with how much I want to chastise anyone who disagrees.

To begin with, I reject the fundamental idea that geek is cool. It's no more fashionable now than ten years ago to be, say, a person who debates dubs vs. subs in the middle of a Paranoia game on Usenet, all while cosplaying unpopular Star Trek characters in a barely lit basement apartment. It's acceptable to play Call of Duty, watch Battlestar Galactica, or have played D&D in high school. But these are all more things that intersect with nerd culture, if such a thing exists.

Here's the thing: before the modern era of about five years ago, there was not a "nerd culture". Nerds from different spheres often don't get along with each other, or consider others too below them. Consider the classical text, courtesy of the Brunching Shuttlecocks:

Uncomfortable, but true. The Venn diagram of geek is a near-infinite number of spheres, barely intersecting. This loose confederation is united by the accumulated derision of a lifetime of unpopular choices. Some are hardened by it, some are damaged, some take it as a call to rise above, and some barely notice it, but it changes their perceptions. In a world where their pursuits had mainstream acceptance, there wouldn't be a common ground between a Warhammer 40K player and a furry MUD user. Geek culture without rejection isn't a culture.

But is that a bad thing? This is where my argument falls into hesitant hand wringing, because I'm not even a little sure. I can't try to extrapolate who I'd be if geek had been cool when I was small, and the me that would be produced by that experiment would probably have a different outlook anyway. Geek culture would be more like a series of tribes than the current loose alliance bound by a T-shirt-based hanky code. What is the opportunity cost of unpopularity, measured in wedgies?

I know I lack the objectivity necessary to confidently answer to that question. The thought that my culture is being infiltrated by carpetbaggers leaves me queasy. Some actor claims in an interview to be a "huge nerd" because they play Modern Warfare with their friends, and it feels to me like they're wearing some kind of blackface. Our culture, as it is, exists as a shelter against these people, and now they're co-opting it.

The phenomenon fills me with odium, but I don't know if it's a fair response. A lot of hipsters are at the front of this wave, but a decent proportion of them have authentic claims to citizenship in Geek Israel. Maybe it's like gay people coming out of the closet in the 80's and 90's: now that the water's a bit warmer, everyone's willing to take a dip. See, this paragraph is pure rhetoric: I put a positive counterpoint at the end of a series of negative sentiments, trying to make myself appear hopeful. But I'm not. I dislike people taking advantage of the only culture I've ever been able to call my own, and I want them to get the fuck away.