Support in Unexpected Places

      I spent this last weekend in Seattle attending Geek Girl Con.  I went because I am essentially a nerdy person, with interests ranging from Star Trek to Star Wars, from fantasy novels to anime, and from video games to cosplay.  In other words, I went to find other women such as myself: I went to feel like a part of a community.

      Women are under-represented or exploited in much of geek culture.  We're often hyper-sexualized, as brilliantly highlighted in The Hawkeye Initiative.  In movies and novels, we're often slotted as support characters whose main purpose is to back-up the male protagonist.  Or worse, we're often redshirted or fridged as a means to further the plot.  The purpose of Geek Girl Con is to identify, discuss, and support healthy and positive use of female characters, and the women who work in geeky industries such as computer science or the comic industry.
      I am happy to report that I got what I wanted out of the experience.  Every minute of the convention, I was surrounded by other people who shared not only my interests, but were willing to be brave about it.  I'm even happier to say that the support was not limited to just women--not by a long shot.  This was a convention that takes pride in being a voice of social justice: ethnic minorities, LGBTQ minorities, religious minorities, and all body types and abilities were being supported, loud and clear.
      I learned about so many wonderful aspects of nerd culture I'd never known before.  I discovered the Gaymer community, and learned about how they're working to eliminate homophobia in video games at every level.  I learned about organizations that support differently-abled individuals in accessing video games, both for pleasure and as a means to support physical activity.  I learned about women taking control of their bodies and drawing healthy boundaries by enjoying cosplay without being victimized.

      But I was most deeply stirred when I learned about "Blerds." The term refers to self-identified Black Nerds who are building a community of their own, and calling out for strong and positive representation.  In the last panel I attended, I got to hear Blerd journalist Valerie Complex describe her experiences of being shunted to the side again and again, not taken seriously as a writer or a geek.  She talked about how businesses and organizations would claim to be diverse--then she would show up, and find that she was the only non-white person there.  She also talked about how these same groups would bemoan how "no minorities every show up, no black people every apply!"  Her answer to this was so simple and yet so profound: she said that these same organizations don't reach out.  She asked why they had not attended meetings, festivals, or job fairs in the Black community.  She said, "If you don't go to their party to show your interest and support, why would you assume they would want to come to your party?  Why would they feel safe doing so?"
      It immediately struck me how this was true for so many groups, not just employers or conventions.  It's true for political groups.  It's even true for social services.  Outreach is essential in every area, and that's true of individuals as well.  I hope to be more mindful of this concept myself, moving forward on my own journey to being a better Ally.