The rapid expansion of what once characterized ‘nerd’ culture, like video games and comic books, into the mainstream has transformed nerd identity from stigmatized to desirable. Nerd communities formed around interests provide valuable social capital. As Anastasia Staler writes in Toxic Geek Masculinity in Media: Sexism, Trolling, and Identity Policing: “Over the last two decades [geek] has shifted significantly to become an insider label: a self-identified term that brings with it a connection to an apparent subculture that is increasingly dominant both in popular media and in US economic and cultural structures.” (pg. 5) The ‘geek’ label, which was once used as a tool of ostracization, has become desirable and even cool, all while geek communities are constantly growing in size. This has encouraged gatekeeping within these communities, including, among other things, the question of whether those claiming geek status are ‘real’ geeks. Women, already marginalized and undermined within geek spaces, are easy targets. “For women within geekdom, the only available spaces are contested and marginalized: fake geek or fan girl? Sex object or feminist bitch? For women, there’s often no answer that doesn’t lead to further pigeonholing and silencing, and either extreme can be used as an insult or excuse for marginalization.” (pg. 12)
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| "Gamer girls" are at once mythologized and idolized and put down and ridiculed. |
Stereotypes about video games and who plays them are ingrained into our society. Growing up, I was always drawn to video games; some of my fondest childhood memories are of playing split-screen Halo in my friend’s basement or annoying my cousin to let me play Mario on his DS. But unlike my male peers, I was never really encouraged to play video games, since gaming wasn’t seen as a normal hobby for me to have. Casual games, however, were accessible to me even as a young girl. My grandparents, who would have never in a million years given ten-year-old me Call of Duty or Halo, bought my sister and me a Wii for Christmas one year with Disney Sing It and Wii Sports. My mother, who did not want her daughter playing ‘violent video games’ even when I begged to buy them with my birthday money, begrudgingly allowed me to purchase Minecraft for our old PC after I made the ‘educational game’ pitch. As ‘casual’ as these games were, they meant so much to me and allowed me to explore the world of gaming on my own for the first time. Minecraft, for example, pretty much introduced me to online multiplayer and allowed me to play replicas of other games that I didn’t even know existed yet (I had probably logged around 400 hours in Hypixel’s Quake replica minigame, Quakecraft, before even becoming aware of the original game).
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| Shoutout to my cousin Kyle for letting me play on his DS |
These kinds of games don’t just have to be childhood favorites, either. I know plenty of people, women especially, who had never really picked up a video game before Animal Crossing: New Horizons. In the midst of the pandemic, that game spawned a huge community of gamers and non-gamers alike, introducing a diverse range of people to the world of gaming. Even if these games aren’t just an entry point into the broader world of gaming – even if all you ever play are farming sims – who cares? The subject material of these games doesn’t make them any less worthwhile than the grimiest military sim or FPS. There are huge communities of dedicated players and fans surrounding these games. People really enjoy them, and isn’t that what games are for? (Plus, anyone who says Animal Crossing is too simple clearly hasn’t looked up turnip pricing algorithms.) So why are these types of games constantly belittled, and why is there a stereotype that those who play them aren’t ‘real’ gamers?
The truth is that much of this attitude is rooted in misogyny. Whether it’s a disdain for cutesy aesthetics for their proximity to girlhood, or a simple desire to keep gaming a male-dominated hobby, the fact that these games are devalued simply due to their subject matter is not coincidental. The large percentages of nonmale gamers in their fan bases create a cycle that, fueled by misogyny, devalues the games and gamers involved; these gamers aren’t ‘real’ gamers because the games they play are ‘casual’; ‘casual’ games don’t require skill and aren’t respectable games because their communities include nonmale gamers, et cetera. A text post eventually made into a copypasta but initially shared around in earnest exemplifies this attitude well. It reads, “No, you’re NOT a real gamer… DEAR ALL WOMEN: Pokémon is not a real game. Animal Crossing is not a real game. The Sims is not a real game. Mario is not a real game. Stardew Valley is not a real game. Mobile games are NOT.REAL.GAMES. put down the baby games and play something that requires challenge and skill for once. Sincerely, all of the ACTUAL gamers.” This association of casual games with women, and therefore with ‘fake’ gaming, furthers the idea that women are not ‘real’ gamers and are therefore worthy of harassment and shunning from gaming communities.
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| Gatekeeping is alive and well in the gaming community. |
The integration of geek culture into the mainstream has brought elevated attention and importance to issues within the community. Gamer spaces have become an important battleground for a culture war playing out online; one that masquerades as a desire to preserve community and protect ‘integrity in games journalism’ but is rooted in reactionary misogyny. ‘Casual’ games have been undermined and devalued as nonmale gamers have their validity questioned and been forced out of gaming communities. Although gatekeeping in gaming may seem innocuous, it deepens the gender divide and turns away new members of the community. It’s time to put away the pitchforks and accept that even ‘casual’ gamers are gamers too.
Sources:
1. https://sea.ign.com/pc/166340/opinion/youre-not-a-real-gamer-exploring-gatekeeping-in-gaming
2. https://twitter.com/Stealth40k/status/1113636360680878085
3. Toxic Geek Masculinity in Media: Sexism, Trolling, and Identity Policing, Anastasia Staler
