FIRST PERSON
by Alex Belisario
I have always been a fan of the quiet hero. In the cartoon “Phineas and Ferb,” Perry the Platypus lets the world think he is only sitting around chattering when in reality he is saving the tri-state area in almost every episode. Marvel’s Groot doesn’t always have a lot to say, but what he does to protect his friends speaks volumes. Grogu, the Minions, the little aliens in “Toy Story,” and other supporting characters all play critical roles in their worlds, and they have places of honor in my office. Indeed, the idea of providing help and support for people in need is a large part of why I chose a career in higher education.
If the previous paragraph didn’t cement it, I’m a nerd. Always have been. And knowing that my interests weren’t necessarily cool could have made me a little lonely as a child. It turns out that not everyone was excited when their dad built a computer that let them play the touch typing game or spent time reading the Reader's Digest books at their aunt's house during parties.
On the other hand, present-day me appreciates past me in that I can see and understand some of my students’ struggles when they get to campus and attempt to make connections with others. Past me never would have imagined finding kindred spirits in colleagues who would walk the streets of Seattle to play Pokémon GO between ACUHO-I sessions, remotely group-watch “The Mandalorian,” and create trivia games when the pandemic kept us separated. This, in part, is GeekEd. It’s a collection of geeks and nerds working in a variety of areas in higher education, who talk about our interests and how we incorporate them into our work to benefit students. We have spoken at WACUHO and NASPA conferences but were most geeked (pun intended) when we presented our panels at WonderCon and San Diego Comic-Con (SDCC).
At first, the concept of presenting at SDCC seemed unimaginable. But having already been enthusiastic attendees of SDCC, two of our founding members, Tyler Miller and Ryan McRae, figured it wouldn’t be any different than presenting at one of our usual conferences. They enlisted myself, Emily Sandoval, and Alfred Day to join their ranks (“Avengers Assemble!”), and Jess Pettitt expertly moderated our conversation (unfortunately, Felicia Day was not available). In that first session in 2011, with an audience of a few hundred attendees, we felt the joy of being in community. There were high school students who came up to us after the presentation to say they didn’t know there were people like us (in my case, women of color with nerdy interests) working in higher ed. One student revealed that she was part of an organization on her campus that was struggling with “mean girls” and wanted advice. Others were higher ed professionals who wanted to bring geek programming to their campus. It was glorious!
Sure, we may focus on fantasy, but it connects to our work in real-world ways. For example, Emily Sandoval, my fellow GeekEd founding member and friend, focused her dissertation and continues to center her work on the topic of belonging. She enjoys shaping the student experience and providing spaces where students can find their community. Our panels have progressed from simply explaining that geeks exist to how we can use our interests to better reach students when discussing identity, mental health, sense of belonging, career development, e-sports, and much more. By adding to and updating our panels, we have developed more complex offerings that include topics of importance to people’s intersectional identities. We use these opportunities to talk about representation in the genres we love and dedicate a great deal of time to consuming. We also discuss the myriad ways our work matters and how we are superheroes in our everyday lives.
During the pandemic, we took to Zoom to present and connect. It served its purpose in less-than-ideal conditions, but when we got to come back in person this summer, the energy was palpable. People were craving connection. And although the Comic-Con crowd was smaller (135,000 instead of up to 250,000), the energy, the pageantry, the displays, and the cosplay (costume play) were a welcome return. Every interest and medium was represented, making it easy to find new material to consume (“Paper Girls” looks like something I want to get into) or talk with people about existing favorites (“Severance” had a giant overlay on the Hard Rock Hotel, so it was impossible to miss).
The night before our panels, core member Brian MacDonald organized a pre-presentation meet-up at a local hotel. Since our last in-person panels, we had expanded families, taken new jobs, started doctoral programs, and persevered through a host of life experiences. Our combination of presenters from the first GeekEd panel in 2011 and those who had never been to Comic-Con before found kinship in our fandoms and bonded like we’d known each other forever.
The next day, we gathered at the central library to talk about infusing our fandoms into our work, creating frameworks for divisive fandom (and real-life) conversations, how to bring geeky passions into any line of work, and the importance of parasocial relationships. We highlighted the importance of the work we continue to do and how, in both quiet and public ways, sharing our geek identities can be an act of heroism. Then, as quickly as it began (not a Jeremy Bearimy), our panels were complete, and we were back to our everyday lives.
Alex Belisario is the executive director of college student life at the University of California Santa Cruz.
