Skip to Content

Massively looks at the best free to play games

The Geek Beat: How To Make a Fangirl (A Belated Mother's Day Card)

Filed under: Fandom, Comic/Superhero/Geek, The Geek Beat



Mother's Day was Sunday, making this a little late. But come on – one day out of the entire year for Mom? That's still 364 that she spends worrying about us, so I think it's safe to say that she deserves an extra nod past the official holiday. Mine certainly does, because as a geek mom, she works overtime. All moms do, but geek moms have it a little harder since their children are usually oddballs. So while this column is about my mom, I really want to salute all the geek moms out there. From the ones who didn't protest when you wanted to be MadMartigan, to the Sarah Connors and Maria Starks who inspire heroic offspring, they deserve our undying thanks.

My mom hails from the first generation of geeks. Her yearbook makes mention of Star Wars. She lined up with her then boyfriend (and my future dad) to see The Empire Strikes Back, and remembers discussing "What did Yoda mean when he said 'There is another?'" with people in line for Return of the Jedi. (For the record, she thought Han Solo would be the other Jedi.) She is the only "older" woman I know who is actually incensed by the idea that Greedo shot first.


Basically, I had no choice in my becoming a nerd: it was in the genes. And if it hadn't been, external forces came into play when I was still in-utereo. My parents were broke when they were expecting me, but the one thing they indulged in was going to see movies -- and one of them was Raiders of the Lost Ark. I endlessly grill Mom on how she heard about it, and she only remembers that they went to see it "because it had Han Solo from Star Wars, the previews were everywhere, and it was by the same guys, and it looked old." To add to the excitement of a new Lucas-Spielberg film, the local theatre had just installed the latest Dolby surround sound. When the boulder came down, the theatre shook, and I apparently freaked out and did flips. My mom was certain she had killed me or rendered me retarded. I think I was just saying "Oh my God, get me out of here, this movie sounds awesome!!"

Every time we watch Raiders, this story is brought up, although my mom has expanded upon it. Mom has been long convinced that I became a full-fledged historian due to this prenatal dose of Indiana Jones. But even more than giving me a penchant for searching out medieval tombs (I have!), she proudly informed me that "Raiders made you what you are. It gave you all the -- I don't know, terminology for what you became."

"A fangirl?"

"Yeah. A fangirl. You and your sister's love of film came from me and your dad; you were born with it. You were raised on movies and we didn't shelter you, we just plopped you in front of more. I figured if you had nightmares from their faces melting, I'd know you were too sensitive for that kind of thing. But it's more than that! Raiders did something to you." And then she burst out laughing. "I really messed you up! This is where you developed your problems with men. I made you into Marion Ravenwood! And unless Indiana Jones walks through that door, you're screwed! Still, I'd rather you be Marion Ravenwood and be able to clock Indy in the jaw for screwing you over than some girl who would just take it. I like the way my girls turned out."

Awwww. So, this column is to say thanks, Mom. Thanks for making me into Marion Ravenwood, Lara Croft, Dana Barrett, Temperance Brennan, and all the other geek chicks you say "That is so you" about on a daily basis. I owe it all to you. Other moms would have told their second grader to be a princess or a cowgirl – you made me a Star Trek: The Next Generation captain's uniform. (I know that was largely your idea, but I do remember the rank was mine, and you said "Of course girls can be captains." Eat your heart out, Janeway, I was first.) Thanks for doing my Scully make-up, encouraging me to go ahead and buy expensive Croft New Rocks, and suggesting I wear the skimpiest of Queen Gorgo dresses. Never once have you told me to grow up, spend my money on something else, or say "Are you ever going to get tired of this stuff?" I know you wouldn't, because you enjoy too much of it yourself.

Thanks for letting me watch Lethal Weapon as a toddler, Space Camp and The Goonies until your brain wanted to melt, and not making fun of me when Signs kept me awake for two weeks straight. Oh wait, you did. Scratch that.

I appreciate you accompanying me to Iron Man last week, even though you detest comic book movies, and even when they star Hugh Jackman. The fact that you thought Tony Stark was "really very sexy, more girls should see this" convinces me that you will be suckered by comic books eventually, even if you do hate the costumes and Wolverine's hair.

Mainly, I hope I can do you proud, and turn your future grandkids as fiendishly nerdy as you made me.

Related Headlines

 

Reader Comments (Page 1 of 1)

Sponsored Links