feminism – I'm Not Doctor Who

Hi Wil,

You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. Apparently I’ve done something to offend you in the past, though, because you have me blocked on Twitter. I don’t know why and I don’t know when this happened because as far as I know, we’ve had no direct interaction on any occasion ever, but I will apologise for whatever it was anyway. I will also express my sincere disappointment that someone I used to look up to as a bastion of what modern nerd culture should aspire to feels somehow threatened or upset with something I’ve done in the past — threatened or upset enough to simply cut me off from the prospect of ever interacting with him.

I was an avid viewer of many of the Geek and Sundry videos when it first launched — particularly Tabletop, which introduced my friends and I to a number of board games that are still in our regular rotation. Tabletop was an excellent show that gave a good flavour of how the various games played — even if there were occasional bits of fuzzing over the rules in the name of keeping things snappy! — as well as providing a great opportunity for some of the most entertaining, fun people in geek culture to come together and have a good time. A good time that was infectious — so enjoyable was the atmosphere on Tabletop that it felt like the audience was right there with you all, sitting around the game table, rooting for your favourite player to win and commiserating with you when you inevitably came lost. (As the resident person in our tabletop gaming group who perpetually comes last in pretty much everything, I could relate to your position quite a bit.)

On a more serious note, nerd culture in general is something that I’ve talked a lot in the past about giving me a lifeline when I needed it. In the case of video games, they’ve provided a constant and much-needed centre of stability in a life that has often been chaotic and beyond my control and understanding; in the case of tabletop gaming, they provide one of the few means of face-to-face social interaction in which I feel completely comfortable, whether it’s with close friends or, as it was for me this Friday evening just gone, complete strangers. I think it’s the fact that interactions over a tabletop game are, for the most part, clearly structured: it’s why I gravitate towards games with clear rules, turn structures and player roles as well as those with strong themes that include flavour text I can read out dramatically to our group. Conversely, those games that require a certain degree of negotiation or freeform interaction are those I feel less comfortable with, since I’m sometimes not quite sure what I’m “supposed” to say.

But all that’s by the by; it’s just a bit of context of who I am. Needless to say, games of both the video and tabletop variety are extremely important to me; as you said in your keynote speech at PAX East in 2010, “some of the happiest days of our lives would not exist without games and gaming. Games are important. Games matter.” I agree entirely, and when I took a risk, flying from the UK to Boston, MA for that PAX East — my first time attending such an event, and only, I think, the second time I’d taken a solo trans-Atlantic flight — I found somewhere that I really felt like I belonged. My life was, at that point, a bit of a mess: my marriage was falling apart — my wife at the time would go on to leave me shortly after I returned from Boston — and I didn’t have a reliable source of income. Games gave me a sense of being grounded; somewhere to retreat to when I couldn’t face the terror that everyday life at the time confronted me with. Games gave me common ground with which I could interact with other people; games gave me something to talk about, something that I could call “mine”.

That time in my life was turbulent. I’ve had ups and downs since then, and as I type this I’m very much in a “down”. Over the years since 2010, I’ve come to recognise the importance of acknowledging one’s emotions, the causes of these emotions and the ways to deal with them. I’m not afraid to cry as I once was back in high school; as someone who sometimes has difficulty expressing exactly what he wants to say verbally, there are times when bursting into tears says more than words ever can; there are others when the act of opening those floodgates allows the repressed emotions to be released in a more controlled manner once you’ve calmed down a bit, letting you communicate what’s really bothering you after the storm has subsided. Crying is important. Crying matters.

Which is why this image you posted on Twitter bothers me so much:

For anyone reading this letter who doesn’t already know, the expression “male tears” is usually used by the more toxic side of online activism as a means of demonising men — usually straight, white men — when they wish to express themselves. It’s largely brought out during arguments between the more militant side of feminism and those — usually, but not exclusively, men — who are tired of all the sociopolitically charged fighting that takes place every day on the Internet, particularly those who fight back somewhat aggressively with foul language, threats and exhortations for people to kill themselves. The “joke”, such as it is, is that all this unpleasantness just bounces off the noble “progressive” types — referred to disparagingly by their critics as “Social Justice Warriors” or “SJWs” for short, an epithet which these people flip-flop between absolutely hating and trying desperately to reclaim in the same way black culture has largely reappropriated “nigga” for itself — and is just interpreted as straight, white men crying about something not going their way for once; the fact that “male tears” is written on a mug allows the “progressive” activist the opportunity to drink from it, suggesting that they relish the opportunity to feed on the tears of their enemies.

Pretty unpleasant however you look at it, and while the original intention may not have been to reinforce traditional ideals of what these same people call “toxic masculinity” — stereotypes such as “big boys don’t cry” and “be a man for once” — I can’t help but look at it that way. Speaking as a (straight, white) man who does cry, isn’t ashamed of the fact that he cries and, in fact, has cried quite a bit over the last few months due to his own life situation and the suffering of the person he loves most dearly in the world: to see the idea of “male tears” used so gleefully and indiscriminately as a means of oneupmanship, of proving one’s “progressiveness” feels grossly distasteful and insensitive. To have it proudly promoted by someone I once looked up to as almost an idol; someone I thought I could aspire to follow in the footsteps of; someone who proved that a person with my interests could find success and a place for themselves in the world? That just feels like a stab in the back, with a few good twists for good measure.

I don’t deserve to feel like that, and I’m pretty certain I’m not the only person who feels this way. Some may express their disappointment and upset with this more eloquently or more aggressively than others, but however they choose to register their discontent and however much or little I agree with their methods of expressing it, I understand it completely. As someone who, now 35 years of age, was often ostracised and ridiculed for his interests and hobbies in his youth, was subsequently delighted when geek culture started to become fashionable over the course of the last decade and most recently has noted with a growing sense of discomfort that the things he finds most relatable, most important to him are those that are getting relentlessly torn down in the name of being “progressive”? It hurts. A lot.

I haven’t done anything wrong. I haven’t hurt anyone. I just want to be left alone to enjoy the things I enjoy with friends who also enjoy those things, and likewise to leave those who are interested in different things to do what they enjoy. I don’t care about this perpetually raging culture war that has all but destroyed meaningful online discourse around video games in particular over the last five or six years, and put a serious strain on a number of friendships. I don’t believe in a “one size fits all” approach to inclusivity and diversity, which is what many “progressive” types seem to argue for; I instead subscribe to a “many sizes fit many” ethos, which makes for a more vibrant, interesting and cross-pollinating culture in the long-term. And yet somehow, at some point, I’ve been branded with a scarlet letter, thrown in the pit with all the other social rejects. I’ve also been called a paedophile, a pervert, a misogynist and plenty of other things besides. My crime? I like Japanese video games with pretty girls in, and frequently argue against the misrepresentation of these games as soft porn in the mainstream press by those who won’t take the time to engage with them.

Frankly, the whole situation makes me want to cry, but now I feel I shouldn’t, because it will just, apparently, give you some sort of satisfaction. And that, to be honest, seems like the very inverse of your own credo, your own Wheaton’s Law, of “Don’t be a dick!”

You almost certainly won’t read this, Wil, because having blocked me on Twitter I’m not sure there’s any way you’ll see it outside of someone you haven’t blocked directly sharing it with you, and I don’t see that happening. But I wanted to post it anyway; even if you don’t read it, hopefully it will bring some sense of comfort to those who feel the same way I do about all this; put some feelings into words; provide a sense of solidarity.

As you argued in your speech, this feeling of solidarity, of belonging, is extremely important. We should all strive to help each other feel like we belong doing the things we love with the people we love in the places we love. With photos like the one posted above, you deliberately block off people from feeling like they can engage with this part of culture they adore, and people they might well otherwise get on with. And whether or not you believe that “male tears” only applies to men who don’t know how to behave themselves politely and appropriately, know that it can — and will, and has — been interpreted in a way that just comes across as exclusive, combative and gatekeeping: the exact opposite of what you yourself argue we should aim for.

This whole situation needs to stop, as soon as possible. I hate it. Everyone else I know hates it. Can’t we all just get around a gaming table and settle this the old-fashioned way: with dice, cards and chits — maybe even some fancy miniatures?

Thank you for your time, and thanks for reading, whether you’re Wil Wheaton (unlikely) or some random passer-by who just wanted to see what I had to say.

Love & Peace
Pete

Stop talking. Sit down. Be quiet. And listen. Listen.

I think we can all agree that the concept of “rational discourse” in video games on social media is rapidly going out of the window with each passing day. But it’s not too late! Everyone can work together to save this. But you’ll all have to do different things. Are you up to the challenge? Let’s take each of you in turn.

Those advocating for social justice

You’re fighting the good fight. You know this. Ultimately, there are plenty of human beings who are decent folk who believe in what you are fighting for. Many of them don’t speak up for various reasons, but that doesn’t mean they’re not there. Some of them don’t want to speak up for fear of ostracisation. Some of them believe that, from their personal experience, things are fine the way they are. Some of them simply don’t want to get involved.

Your cause is just, and some weight is lent to it by the unpleasant behaviour others display towards you when you stand up for what you believe in. That does not, however, mean that you need to stoop to their level. Dial back on the “neckbeard” and “virgin” comments — disagree without insulting, otherwise you’re simply doing the exact same thing that those who use “SJW” as a pejorative are doing — and you might find more people taking your points more seriously. Likewise, deliberately poking the fire by posting things like that Beyoncé “Feminist” picture that did the rounds recently and saying how much you’re looking forward to the “nerds” getting angry over it really doesn’t help, and just makes you look rather childish.

Also, stopping this silly behaviour where anyone who doesn’t agree with your viewpoint automatically occupies the diametrically opposed extreme ideology would be a great idea, too. (Someone who disagrees with your progressive views on gender is not automatically a men’s rights activist, pick-up artist or red piller, for example.) By extension, neither your overall ideology nor your interpretation of something is automatically, fundamentally 100% correct. Both are open to criticism, discussion, disagreement and debate. Those who do so are not “wrong”, nor are they necessarily “attacking” you — though some may be. Engage with the discussion and help people understand each other — even if you’re not able to change someone’s mind — rather than escalating arguments.

Those advocating for the growth of feminist criticism of games

As someone — I forget who, I’m afraid — pointed out on Twitter the other day, the growth of feminist criticism of games simply mirrors every other art form out there. It’s not a bad thing.

What is less good is that there’s not a sufficient diversity of voices. Feminist criticism is all very well and good, but we should also take other viewpoints into account. Opinions from different sexualities, positions on the gender spectrum and different socioeconomic backgrounds should be welcomed, sought out, embraced. And that means taking the white, cissexual male viewpoint as seriously as that of anyone else. While it’s easy to argue that this is the “default”, “easy mode” position to write from, given gaming’s history, it doesn’t make it any less valid. We should also take care that a single ideology — most commonly feminism right now — doesn’t start to take over sites intended to cater to a broad, mainstream audience from a variety of backgrounds. Otherwise you get the opposite problem that the feminist critics are, in many cases, fighting for — and that’s when people start to push back.

There’s a place for feminist criticism of games, then, but there’s also a place for people who subscribe to different ideologies and want to read things in different ways. We should embrace all the different, diverse ways of looking at things rather than treating one as the “correct” way.

Those who have expressed anger at the above two groups

I understand where you’re coming from. It’s easy to feel threatened when someone from outside your demographic starts to criticise something you’re passionate about — particularly when they do so in a manner which feels like you’re being personally attacked for the things you love.

The smart thing to do is to write or record a well-considered rebuttal. The smart thing to do is to engage with the discussion. The smart thing to do is to respectfully disagree, outline your beliefs and take things from there. Or, in some cases, the smart thing to do is to walk away and simply continue enjoying that thing you enjoy, safe in the knowledge that you like it and it doesn’t really matter what some stranger somewhere on the Internet thinks about it.

The un-smart thing to do is to start yelling, using abusive language and saying that you hope someone you disagree with dies, gets raped or has something otherwise unpleasant happen to them. What happens when you do that is that they then become aggressive, too, start publicly shaming you, calling you a neckbeard virgin and setting their own pack of (dick)wolves on you. From there it escalates, with what was once a simple difference of opinion becoming campaigns of harassment on both sides, the conclusion of which is something along the lines of the whole Zoe Quinn debacle which unfolded recently, in which no-one on either side particularly comes out smelling of roses.

Those who wish we could just get back to enjoying games

I understand completely. However, one thing to note is that the “good old days” you want to return to were a very different time from now in many ways. In 2014, we’re in a situation where it is possible to do an in-depth literary-style analysis of a narrative based game, or to pick apart the artistic influences evident in a more abstract title. That doesn’t mean it’s always appropriate to do so, of course, but saying we should just stop trying to take games so seriously isn’t the answer, either.

Rather, much like what I mentioned regarding feminist criticism above, we could do for greater diversity of voices. There’s still a place for light-hearted ’90s style games journalism, in which the sheer joy of being a gamer is expressed. There’s a place for helpful, “objective” buyers’ guides. There’s a place for in-depth, chin-strokey dissections of creative works. And there’s a place for criticism based around a specific ideology — though as noted above, it’s important to ensure we have numerous different ideologies represented, not just those perceived as “the right one”.

The trouble we have at the minute is that the amorphous blob that is “games journalism” clumsily lurches from one thing to another, never quite managing to get that balance perfect. What we need is for outlets to distinguish themselves from one another more strongly, with each ultimately becoming a good home for those who enjoy different types of coverage. At present, however, sites end up with in-depth feminist criticism clumsily rammed up against coverage of the latest DLC for Minecraft and “do you remember?” retrospectives of games from years gone by. Vastly different groups of readers are constantly butting heads with one another, and while there’s value in making people step out of their comfort zone and confront viewpoints that they might not share, this is not the optimal means of doing so.

What’s the answer? Bollocksed if I know, but then I’ve washed my hands of the whole affair. If I had my way, I’d just relaunch PC Zone with its original team, in the ’90s, and exclusively read that until the end of time.