Happy 4th Birthday, Fake Geek Girl!
Four years ago today, the Fake Geek Girl blog published it's very first entry!
FOUR YEARS. That's a presidential term!
Speaking of presidents (and who isn't, these days?), I'm bringing back regular posts Fake Geek Girl blog in honor of Lord Dampnut.
Wait, why would I do anything in honor of Orange Twitler???? Allow me to elaborate. STORY TIIIIIIME!
Like many of you out there, I was appalled - though unfortunately not shocked - by the 2016 election results. Electing an openly power-hungry, aggressive bigot reveals just how racist and selfish much of our country is. I would say "the majority of country" but we all know Donald J. Drumpf didn't actually get the majority of the vote. SHADE. THROWN.
Since then, I've felt anxious. Not, like, "I'm stressed, get me a Xanax and a bath bomb" anxiety. Though that sounds fantastic and I will probably do that later. This is an anxiety that I had heretofore only heard described in books, specifically those written between World Wars I and II. Ya know, the Lost Generation you learned about in high school. Great Gatsby anxiety, where the world is tense and you have no idea what to do.
Luckily, the internet knows what to do. Call your representatives! Make donations! Protest!
I'm loving the protesting. I'm angry and I want to shout and I will shout on the Internet if need be but I prefer to shout outside with other people. There was a #BanTheMuslinBan protest just this morning literally across the street from me, which was great cause I'm almost as lazy as I am angry. An organization in my district is sponsoring a Syrian refugee family who of course have not yet been allowed in the country, so they organized a bunch of speakers to get together in our little neighborhood square. As I have at every protest so far, I teared up. This time, it was the group of little kids standing on the corner with the signs they obviously colored themselves. Every time a car would go past honking in support, the kids would scream and cheer and chant. IT. WAS. BEAUTIFUL.
Then my monster dog started barking at an old lady so I had to leave before the last speaker was done. Now Monster Dog is real tired. He definitely thinks he won the protest. I've tried to explain to him that it's not a contest, but he doesn't believe me.
I digress. Or do I...DOGRESS? LOLOLOLOLOL.
Anyway. So, I've been trying all the things to make my anger and anxiety useful.
It helps that I have my Blood Coven. OH YOU HAVEN'T HEARD ABOUT THE BLOOD COVEN!?! A group of my BAMF ladyfriends have a text chain where we share news, rants, action items, and other resistance plans. #GetEnragedStayEngaged #StrengthifyTheBloodCoven
One of my Blood Coven sisters shared a pamphlet called "Making Art During Fascism" by Beth Pickens. Says Pickens,
Is that a little lofty for someone who writes mostly about pop culture and sometimes about spaceships and always for the LOLZ?
When I take in a piece of entertainment - highbrow or lowbrow or unibrow - my brain relaxes. A relaxed brain is an open mind, and so I'm opening my mind up to the point-of-view of the characters in whatever I'm watching. RN, the majority of entertainment is white and cis male and straight, so as an audience member I'm only opening my mind up to the privileged POVs. [Yes, we're getting a little more diversity, but OOOOH GURL have we got a ways to go.] The more perspectives we see on the page, stage, screen, canvas, WHATEVER MEDIUM, the more perspectives we can empathize with. AND GUESS WHAT!? Empathy makes you less selfish, cruel, greedy...all those cardinal sins rending my country TO TINY BITS.
Though I don't think empathy makes you less orange, so asshole's on his own there.
BUT FAKE TANS ARE BESIDE THE POINT.
The point is empathy. We should be critical of the entertainment that doesn't force us to practice empathy. That doesn't mean every movie needs to be a devastating drama about homelessness in gay youth. I personally prefer explosions and pop soundtracks and superpowers. Because (a) they're cool and (b) the empathy part is sneakier and more subversive*. Take Netflix's Luke Cage. You're watching a show about an unbreakable dude fighting crime, but you're also watching a parable for personal strength in a time of great violence.
Plus, I mean, THIS GUY:
So entertainment = empathy, and if it doesn't, I'm suspicious of said "entertainment." The Fake Geek Girl Blog gives me a platform to dissect the culture I/we take in and provide readers with an analytical look at how I/we can make ever-more-inclusive decisions in the arts/entertainment/media/pop culture/or just regular culture/I'm running out of things to list.
AND THEN HOPEFULLY WE'LL ALL LEARN TO BE KINDER AND MORE PROGRESSIVE AND THE WORLD WILL BE SAVED.
Otherwise I think we're headed for straight-up Hunger Games. And, sweetheart, I do not volunteer as tribute for that shit.
Instead, I'm creating in honor of my anger toward Lord Dampnut. If all the voices he wants to eradicate shout at once, perhaps some checks and/or balances will happen in the short term.
And maybe in the long term, our world will look more like Star Trek: The Next Generation's post-currency Federation and less like Panem.
* Subversive empathy also reaches more people. The Starbucks-chugging, NPR-sponsoring, white liberal will go out of his/her way [let's be real, I'm talking about myself] to see the homeless gay youth movie, but every Joe the Plumber [OMG 'MEMBER HIM!?!?] can sit on his/her couch and binge-watch Luke Cage. Cause there's punching and shooting and sexy times and cool songs.
PS - Watch APB on FOX! I'm there somewhere in the background getting arrested!