Thanks for the insightful responses to my previous post on fandom, academia and "coming out." I will respond to them individually as soon as I've got these damn edits done. In the interim, I thought this old Henry Jenkins piece from Harper's, on the Whitewater juror who wore her Starfleet uniform to court, was relevant.
As someone who has been a Star Trek fan for more than twenty years, I've often thought that a strong analogy can be drawn between the queer community's politics of sexual preference and the fan community's politics of cultural preference. From the point of view of mundane mainstream culture, both groups provoke discomfort concerning their "scandalous" tastes and "shocking" behavior. Like gays, fans often speak of "coming out" as a fan or being "closeted" at work. Fans tend not to disclose their cultural preferences, afraid of what their officemates might think about their hobbies, their friends, or how they spend their weekends. I've known many fans who have had to hide fanzines from unsympathetic eyes or lie to their spouses about a convention. And most of us have been snickered at and subjected to endless harangues against fans in the popular media. That's why many Trekkers, including myself, automatically cringed when we saw pictures of Barbara Adams wearing her Starfleet uniform. We feared that her appearance on the evening news would reinforce all the horror stories about fans, give new credence to the stereotypes, and confirm the mundane world's worst suspicions about us.
But when I compared this issue with current debates in the queer community, I started to rethink my response. ... Assimilationists criticize drag queens and bare-breasted lesbians in the gay-pride parades for feeding homophobic stereotypes, just as fans are embarrassed by the pervasive images of pimple-faced geeks in Starfleet uniforms and rubber Spock ears. The International Federation of Trekkers denounced Adams, saying that she had "condemned us all to continued marking as immature wackos," and suggested that next time she adopt a less flamboyant expression of her fan identity - perhaps a Trek lapel pin on a business suit. Yet, as queer activists have argued, this kind of conformist attitude buys tolerance on someone else's terms. It forces gays and lesbians to police their own ranks, punishing violations of middle-class decorum rather than embracing with pride what makes them distinctive. Similarly, to insist that fans took and act like everyone else is to suggest that there is something shameful about being a fan. Queer politics tells us that we are free only when all of our members - even the most extreme - are able to make their own choices and give public expression to their preferences.
... [Adams] appreciates the power of art - especially popular art - to transform how we live in the universe. As her comments to the media show, she sees her gesture in political terms, as an expression of Star Trek ideals: celebration of diversity, optimism about the future, and a commitment to public service.
Such beliefs might seem strange indeed in the context of the Whitewater trial, where both sides appear to be governed more by political advantage and self-gain than by any higher ideals. Yet for that reason, it was important for fans to make a public statement about what Star Trek's philosophy might offer to America. In such circumstances, the Vulcan salute is as much a political symbol as the Black Power fist or the pink triangle.
... When I saw her picture in the newspaper as she awaited jury selection, I assumed that neither the prosecution nor the defense would find her acceptable, because, as a Trekker, she would be seen as abnormal, unpredictable, and excessive. Instead, the lawyers probably thought that they would be able to control her with their rhetoric, that as a fan who couldn't tell the difference between TV and real life, she would be gullible and easily manipulated.
The woman we saw on the news fits neither stereotype. She is thoughtful, moderate, and articulate. She also happens to be a Star Trek fan. Get used to it.
As someone who has been a Star Trek fan for more than twenty years, I've often thought that a strong analogy can be drawn between the queer community's politics of sexual preference and the fan community's politics of cultural preference. From the point of view of mundane mainstream culture, both groups provoke discomfort concerning their "scandalous" tastes and "shocking" behavior. Like gays, fans often speak of "coming out" as a fan or being "closeted" at work. Fans tend not to disclose their cultural preferences, afraid of what their officemates might think about their hobbies, their friends, or how they spend their weekends. I've known many fans who have had to hide fanzines from unsympathetic eyes or lie to their spouses about a convention. And most of us have been snickered at and subjected to endless harangues against fans in the popular media. That's why many Trekkers, including myself, automatically cringed when we saw pictures of Barbara Adams wearing her Starfleet uniform. We feared that her appearance on the evening news would reinforce all the horror stories about fans, give new credence to the stereotypes, and confirm the mundane world's worst suspicions about us.
But when I compared this issue with current debates in the queer community, I started to rethink my response. ... Assimilationists criticize drag queens and bare-breasted lesbians in the gay-pride parades for feeding homophobic stereotypes, just as fans are embarrassed by the pervasive images of pimple-faced geeks in Starfleet uniforms and rubber Spock ears. The International Federation of Trekkers denounced Adams, saying that she had "condemned us all to continued marking as immature wackos," and suggested that next time she adopt a less flamboyant expression of her fan identity - perhaps a Trek lapel pin on a business suit. Yet, as queer activists have argued, this kind of conformist attitude buys tolerance on someone else's terms. It forces gays and lesbians to police their own ranks, punishing violations of middle-class decorum rather than embracing with pride what makes them distinctive. Similarly, to insist that fans took and act like everyone else is to suggest that there is something shameful about being a fan. Queer politics tells us that we are free only when all of our members - even the most extreme - are able to make their own choices and give public expression to their preferences.
... [Adams] appreciates the power of art - especially popular art - to transform how we live in the universe. As her comments to the media show, she sees her gesture in political terms, as an expression of Star Trek ideals: celebration of diversity, optimism about the future, and a commitment to public service.
Such beliefs might seem strange indeed in the context of the Whitewater trial, where both sides appear to be governed more by political advantage and self-gain than by any higher ideals. Yet for that reason, it was important for fans to make a public statement about what Star Trek's philosophy might offer to America. In such circumstances, the Vulcan salute is as much a political symbol as the Black Power fist or the pink triangle.
... When I saw her picture in the newspaper as she awaited jury selection, I assumed that neither the prosecution nor the defense would find her acceptable, because, as a Trekker, she would be seen as abnormal, unpredictable, and excessive. Instead, the lawyers probably thought that they would be able to control her with their rhetoric, that as a fan who couldn't tell the difference between TV and real life, she would be gullible and easily manipulated.
The woman we saw on the news fits neither stereotype. She is thoughtful, moderate, and articulate. She also happens to be a Star Trek fan. Get used to it.
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Though the idea of someone showing up to court dressed, say, as Spike still makes me cringe.
To me it's really a question of appropriateness. Is a serious legal procedure really the time and place to proclaim your fannish zeal? It would be a bit like the drag queen who works a conservative day job showing up to work in platforms and a glittery wig. Or, in a less loaded comparison, a scuba diving aficionado arriving in a wetsuit and flippers.
There's nothing wrong with having hobbies, or even taking those hobbies to an extreme level. But we have to keep some perspective on our passions. Much as I adore him, Spike (or Lex, or Captain Picard, or whomever) has no place in a jury box.
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