Nonconsensual Fandom

Fandom by xkcd

Eventually, I gave up on fandom. I didn’t want anyone telling me I had to watch or read or wear or do something. I pretended I’d never gone to Arisia and I threw away any button that proclaimed anything nerdily hilarious. I swore I’d never ever wear fucking tie dye or colors because I didn’t want that forced on me. I made sure not to read anything that might have been on the shelves at Pandemonium. I didn’t listen to certain music. I gave away things.

I hated myself for what I wanted to read. I was angry and sad about the things I wanted to write, too.

I shoved it away. I didn’t want anything that reminded me of nerdiness, of fandom, of my bad feelings.
I didn’t go to the Faire.
I didn’t want to love anything. I missed a lot. I’m sad about that.

It took a long time for my fandom to come back, for me to be able to own my likes and dislikes and not care. For me, it comes down to knowing that one can hold many things at once. Some people may not like me because I like Buffy, some may not like me because of what I like about Buffy, and some would think it much more radical if I only read or watched Battlestar Galactica. Some may think I am freaky because I go to Faire or because I look like a fan.

Much like life, it’s still not completely safe. However, one thing is true.

No bully—be it a popular person, mundane, or fan—has the right to make me or anyone else feel less for doing something or not doing something.

So, I’ll see you at the fan con, full of love and full of pride.

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