Ad Feminam: Why the "Fake Geek Girl" Trope Needs to Die

For a couple weeks now, I've been engrossed with Jane McGonigal's Reality is Broken: Why Games Makes Us Better and How They Can Change the World, swapping the book out for all my other required reading whenever possible.  It deals mostly in the realm of gammification, the "application of typical elements of game playing to other areas of activity".  I'd only recently come across the concept, and in stumbling across the book in the library I work at, I was incredibly excited to give it a read.  I'm half-way through the book so far, and I imagine I will be doing a lot more writing on McGonigal's work in the future, and some more research on the topic of gammification as well, but at this point, I would say that my reaction to her work is primarily positive.

Because McGonigal is a big supporter of ARGs, or "alternate reality games", in terms of up and coming applications of gammification, she frequently sites ARGs throughout her work.  The book was written in 2011 - in a sense, a little outdated by today, especially in terms of the video game industry - but before I could get to the end of the book, my curiosity got the better of me - I needed to check out some of these games for myself, to actually verify whether they lived up to the monumental assertions McGonigal was basing so much of her hypothesis on.

So I went in search of a site called "plusoneme.com", an ARG that McGonigal explains functions as a way for people to send "stat updates" to their friends, family, and peers, like "+1 Intellect" or "+2 Compassion", as you might see in an MMO or RPG.  The site sadly no longer exists, so I have no critique to give it, but my search turned up another article as well, titled "Jane McGonigal's Mind is Broken", on a site called "edrants.com".

I could tell this was going to be a critical review, but I decided to give it a go.  I wanted to see the opposing argument.

I'm not going to debate, here, about the author's points on the artifice of video games.  I'll leave that for when I have a better understanding of gammification, and all the studies that have gone into gaming.  Regardless, it wasn't even the author's overtly strong opinions on the disastrous effects of video games that caught my attention in the first place - it was his blatant ad hominem attacking of the author.

I desperately wanted to keep an open mind to this person's critique, because God knows McGonigal's book isn't perfect - I don't believe it pretends to be - but the further I went on, the more uneasy I began to feel, until finally I recognized what it was that truly bothered me about this critic's review.

It wasn't just that he seemed to have such an extreme opinion on the harmful effects of video games.  And it wasn't merely that he seemed to be basing all of his arguments off of ad hominem reasoning, or using criticism of McGonigal's character and her "defects" as his sole premise for her book's failure.  Ad hominem isn't, alone, a basis for logical fallacy, which is what this review seemed to mainly consist of.  People have argued, rightly, that ad hominem is a completely valid argument and essential when debating an issue of morality or hypocrisy - in these instances, an examination of the debater's character is a necessary proof.

What truly unnerved me about this critic's article was that he seemed to derive his proof of McGonigal's hypocrisy, her "moral standing", on the basis of her gender.  Or rather, intrinsic  to her gender.

His writing is rife with wording which attacks, not McGonigal's platform - which he feels strongly is "optimistic", "callow", and "indolent" - but instead makes antagonistic remark to her femininity, frequently thrashing her as a "terrified doe", "typical Pollyanna", or a "Calamity Jane".  He even once classifies her as a "New Geek type", which to me, if it doesn't directly signify a reference to the "fake geek girl" trope, at least implies a necessary hierarchy to being a "geek".

Never once does he refer to her in a tone that is not condescending, and in his one other mention of the feminine in his review - not concerning McGonigal - he is rather vulgar, to say the least.

"Because McGonigal cannot make the case," he opens in his first paragraph, "that a weekend of Halo 3 is any more purposeful than a weekend in Cabo San Lucas drinking margaritas and banging the brainless".

There was simply no way, after reading this comparison, that I could interpret his central argument as anything but "holier-than-thou" and, frankly, bigoted. I was not the only one to feel this way while reading, it seems; in fact other commentators made the same reference to this exact line in their response to his review as well as a myriad of others, but the author made a point to reply to each of these critiques, reaffirming that if his 'weekend in Cabo San Lucas' line was shallow, this was only reflective of just how shallow McGonigal and her book are.

Overall, the author of this review seems to imply that because he characterizes McGonigal as lazy, naive, shallow, and fake - and relates this in terms of being "feminine" - this in itself proves that she is a hypocrite, and that her theories and opinions on the benefits of gaming are therefore not to be taken seriously; especially since she is, as he classifies "a New Geek".

I can find no meaningful definition for this term, so I assume that what he means by this is a "fake geek".  He's not the first one to assert this sort of terminology, especially on women, nor will he be the last.  The "fake geek girl" meme has been a thing for years now, and shows no signs of stopping, if this man - a self-prescribed feminist, by the way - and his article are any indication. In our society, because we so strongly associate "geek" culture with masculinity, we assume that only men are conditioned as children to appreciate things like comic books, video games, or sports.  When a woman seemingly expresses a similar interest in these same things, many men naturally seem to assume that these woman could not have possibly been conditioned to adore the same things they do, and so they must be "faking it", ideally for the attention of a man.

If not for the male gaze, but evidently for their own interest and incentive - as McGonigal exhibits - then clearly they must have some sort of alternate agenda.  Probably malicious.

I want to assume that this is a rather obvious logical fallacy, something that most people can recognize as being laughable.  My fear now is that this is not the case, and that the ever-continuing existence of this trope is not merely harming gender equality or the feminist movement, but other movements as well.

I believe that McGonigal's book is an inspiring call to action, encouraging a radical change in game design which focuses game consumers like us less on entertainment value and more on a sustained humanitarian effect - an increase in empathy, a decrease in pervading mental illnesses like anxiety and depression, and the growth of communities and collaboration in a population of people who already exist, and will continue to exist whether people like edrants.com criticize video games or not.  The possibility of motivating a group of people like gamers to make such a radical change - not just to increase their own happiness, but to better the world - is too important an opportunity to simply dismiss it with such trite, ad feminam criticisms.  Jane McGonigal's theory for the application of gammification if valid, and deserves to be considered with respect, even if the objective of this consideration is to refute her.

I am tired of seeing important developments, theories, and discoveries tossed to the wayside because they are presented by women, on subjects which our society still insists on defining as "masculine".

I am tired of seeing women undermined on the basis of their gender, and having their passions and expertise invalidated when put under the male gaze.

If games are going to makes us better, and make a better world, here's at least one place where they can start.  If women aren't welcomed soon into a space where their skills, their proficiency, and their voice are valid and accepted, industries like gaming will continue to evolve at a crawl, just on the basis that they are literally overlooking the views and opinion of half of their consumership.   If we're going to make games more empathetic, than we must empathize more with the people which make up the other half of this equation.

The invalidation of women in this way is more than just a "meme".  It's not just a harmless trope.   The damage this satire does is not inconsequential.  As long as it continues to be laughable, and a part of our common vernacular, it will maintain the standstill that exists in industries like video games today.  We will not advance.

It's time that people understood that gaming "like a girl", is still gaming.

Why the World Needs Hunger Games

 For the past several years, in YA literature especially, "dystopian" has become the new "supernatural romance".  The sub-genres have their own official sections at Barnes and Nobles, as well as a line-up of some critics from Generation X standing ready at their podiums to dismiss the legitimacy of these novels; though personally I feel this has more to do with invalidating young adult literature than a legitimate disapproval of the genre's content.

It's easy to see where critics of this new wave of YA are coming from, and I certainly agreed with a lot of them at the start of it all.  When the Twilight series came out,  I was ready to say, "Okay, I'll bite", but soon after the market was flooded with seeming "Twilight clones", novels packed to the brim with angsty teenagers, love triangles, and monsters from mythology that had been modernized into something more erotic than horrifying.  It seemed to me that after Twilight's incredible commercial success, authors were scrambling to hop on the bandwagon, producing the most sloppily put together romances that otherwise might have spent the entirety of their shelf-life on the discount aisle of a Walmart.

But then people made the same criticism of the Hunger Games trilogy, a series I had thoroughly enjoyed, and so naturally it was only then that I realized the mistake I had made in judging the Twilight series and its inspired waves of clones so quickly.

The first error I'd made was in supposing that YA "supernatural romance" was "new", or a genre that Twilight had invented.  That would certainly be giving Stephanie Meyer way too much credit.  Authors had been writing this sort of fiction for years, and Twilight  had merely popularized it, opening up the market to old as well as up-and-coming writers of the genre, and finally paving the way for their success.

That being said, I have personally never read any pre-Twilight supernatural romances myself.  I am supposing this concept is correct crucially on what I know of the genres which are dearest to my heart - fantasy and sci-fi/dystopian.

We all know The Hunger Games did not invent a genre.  There are hundreds of sci-fi authors that came before Suzanne Collins, dating back to the 19th century and beyond, but who no doubt had an influence in developing her work.  I don't suppose Hunger Games is comparable to Nineteen Eighty-Four, or that Katniss Everdeen is equal to Rick Deckard of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep.  Though I believe in the merit of Hunger Games as literature, and personally feel it is well-written, immensely imaginative, and incredibly gripping, I would not begrudge critics for saying that, especially by comparison, the series is not as innovative as Collins' fore-bearers.  I don't expect them to.  Not everyone will find it as satisfying as I did.

The real mistake in their criticism lies at the heart of all criticisms made of our Millennial generation, the same mistake I've seen made in every snobbish comment about social media, every commentary on "the dependence of technology" today, and pretty much any remark ever concerned with the "end of intellectual thinking".

What Generation X and baby boomers might not understand, is that in modernizing themes and concepts of the past, we are not "dumbing them down", but restructuring them for a changing time.  The impact that the Millennials are making is not on the "death" of intellectual thinking, but on the accessibility of it.

Twilight is not widely regarded as a well-written book.  But during its genesis, I saw entire grades of middle school students, floundering in school systems that were struggling to raise their reading levels any higher than 5th grade, suddenly turn into avid readers.  They devoured the series overnight - books which were all well over 500 pages in length, if not much more - and desperately longed to get their hands on something more.  And they weren't left disappointed, as surely a new clone was being published every coming month.  An entire generation of readers produced, who otherwise would have never in their lives touched anything more dense than a magazine - and I am speaking from experience.

The reason that Hunger Games is so absolutely essential, not just to my generation, but to the sci-fi and dystopian genre, is not because it is an "epic" or the next "great", but because it has made the ideas and concepts of this genre attainable to the average reader.  Many may not like it, but with every coming generation, Brave New World and Frankenstein will become less approachable for consumption.  This does not invalidate these novels, or make them any less remarkable.  But what our world needs now isn't a new, pretty edition of Nineteen Eighty-Four.  The world needs Katniss Everdeen.  It needs authors that can convey concepts that a wide variety of people can understand, and never has this been more important than in genres like sci-fi and dystopia, because these genres are more than just fiction.  They are the blueprints we build our society on, and expressions of how we are experiencing injustice in our everyday world.

Look at history.  Nazi Germany and Stalin's Russia both started as utopic visions quickly turned sour.  Look at the news.  Look at Ferguson, and the protesters who tagged the Hunger Games' quote, "If we burn, you burn with us" on the St. Louis Arch, or the ralliers in Thailand who were detained after using the Hunger Games salute.  As a society, as a world, we constantly strive for utopia but fall treacherously short of it, time and time again.  Our times inform our literature, and our literature informs our times.  The rise in popularity of YA dystopian novels has proven itself to be a powerful symbol for those struggling against oppression, and calling out the suffering that occurs within unjust systems and cultures.  Even more importantly, by conveying what it is we do not want for our budding world - by challenging real-life dystopia for what it is - we attain a firmer grasp of what it is we do want for ourselves, and our future.  We build a concept that is nearer to utopia than ever before.

I do not believe in the formal idea of utopia.  Personally, I feel that a true utopia cannot exist so long as we have memory of dystopian systems.  That is why I feel that utopia, in practice, is not a particular place, but a destination.  It exists as a concept to empower society to transformation.  It cannot be reached, but it can be striven for.  Without overarching concepts such as these, society does not continue to evolve.

If every new generation is to be more informed than the latter, than we need a "dystopian YA" section in Barnes and Nobles.  And we need it to stay there, or at least until the next generation evolves a genre far more accessible to them.  Our future depends on it.