Note: spoilers for the second season of Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events, and for book nine of the original series, The Carnivorous Carnival, ahead.
Fandom, as a rule, attracts people who are playing life on Hard Mode. Be they physical ailments, mental illness, or regular encounters with prejudice, many of us come to the things we love as a means of escaping the inescapable. And it’s a wonderful thing. We meet more people like ourselves through our hobby. We’re able to empathize. And we get that escapism we desire.
But just as there are those in the world who would like to ridicule and denigrate us for what is different about us, there are those who go the other direction entirely.
And in an age in which we fight actively to be seen for our passions and talents, it’s sickeningly easy for an unscrupulous person to offer us what we want… with a catch.
I have a latent super-ability that causes me to put off watching something I’m really interested in until the exact time at which its message will resonate. And my delay in finishing Season 2 of A Series of Unfortunate Events meant my return to Count Olaf’s House of Freaks landed squarely in the middle of the most applicable hot mess in recent fandom history: the explosion of Universal FanCon.
Universal FanCon and “A Space for Everyone”
Before you go on, I highly recommend you tab over to this article on Quirktastic. Read even a handful of the accounts there. You don’t have to read them all right now. And honestly, I had a hard time making it all the way through. The accounts are increasingly heartbreaking and increasingly familiar.
For those who prefer not to tab over, just know it is a vast collection of commentaries from former Black Girl Nerds writers and contributors, talking about their experiences with the head of BGN (also a co-founder of Universal FanCon). The commentary is consistent throughout: women who wanted to create a world for their fellow black nerds to engage in, who worked hard with other hardworking women in the brand, but who questioned constantly (and in retrospect) how the whole business was carried out.
It’s a situation I’ve found myself falling prey to:
A group preaches geeky diversity. They reach out for talent and contributors from groups that Just Don’t Get Listened To. But then as time goes on, something seems wrong. Obviously there’s diversity – look around. Look at you there. Right? And yet… you feel used. You’re present in that space, but it’s not what you expected.
It’s easy to fall into because it offers not only something we want, but something we are starving for. And if you’re caught when you’re hungry enough, you’re willing to ignore the things that seem off in order to work for what you were promised.
“We Love Freaks”
In “The Carnivorous Carnival”, the unfortunate Baudelaire siblings find themselves thrown in with a trio of “freaks.” And it’s a pretty sedate bunch by any standards: a contortionist, a hunchback, and an ambidextrous man. The three are called out into the ring night after night to demonstrate how weird they are. In exchange, they have a job and a place to stay. They hate having to display their freakishness. But, they’re glad of having somewhere to be. So glad, in fact, that they’re willing to brush off how much work they do for the circus behind the scenes.
The Baudelaires, as they often do, lay out a good truth:
Just because there’s something different about you doesn’t mean that has to be your full identity. You can bend how you want to. You can wear the clothes you want to and be seen how you want to – not masking what’s different about you, but deciding what it means to you as a person.
Sadly, the message doesn’t quite hit home. Because another, far more attractive one is delivered. Count Olaf’s former student and current clingy girlfriend Esmé Squalor declares her adoration of freaks. She loves them. She wants to be like them. They’re great. They’re so great, in fact, that she’ll take them away from this horrible circus. And she’ll let them do whatever they want… provided they become a part of Count Olaf’s team of henchmen.
Becoming part of that team means engaging in theft, arson, abuse, and occasionally, murder.
But they’re so delighted by the idea of being somewhere where their freakishness won’t be mocked that they accept without hesitation. And even though we’re meant to take it as a face-heel turn and lump them in with Olaf’s hideous henchmen right away, it’s still kind of heartbreaking.
An Unfair Exchange
There is something exhilarating, and relieving, about being told that you’re loved for who you are. And when you’re offered a chance at unquestioning acceptance – representation, even – the urge to jump in with both feet is enormous. It’s an opportunity for us. And we’re potentially working toward acceptance and happiness for others.
But look at these authority figures:
Look at the Count Olafs of the world and ask yourself: are they guiding you toward genuine acceptance and success? Or is that promise of acceptance simply a carrot distracting you from a hidden stick? Are you being given credit and recompense and kindness for what you do? Or is the “reward” for your work that you get to exist in this space? And occasionally have the person in charge remind you that they totally see you as a fellow human being?
For what it’s worth, there’s nothing foolish about falling for this. Because it’s easy. And because when you’ve been at this for as long as some of us, any glimmer of hope at being liked or appreciated is worth the risk. Just hearing someone say they want to make a space for you – for the ignored, the abused, the suffering, the mocked – is a change from everyday life.
There are people out there who do this. And there are people who do it with kindness and honesty and generosity.
But there are others out there who do it because they know that it will draw a certain crowd to them. A crowd that is so downtrodden that they’ll do anything to be considered worthwhile. A crowd that can be unfairly manipulated with promises of what they’ve lacked.
It’s a foul and nasty trick. We as a community owe each other so much better than bartering for our humanity.
The world of geek industries – blogs, businesses, conventions – is littered with Count Olafs and Esmé Squalors. People in power who allege to love the disenfranchised. But, only offer that love in exchange for work and ego boosts. Your humanity is not something to be earned. Follow the people who already like you. Who already believe you deserve respect. Who will give you the credit and recompense you deserve. And let the Olafs and Esmés of the world start their fires on their own.
2 Comments
Love this article‼️
Isn’t it so good?! Kara’s writing is always exactly what I need to hear.