In the Name of Comic Love and Blerdery

Generational Nerdism I’m pretty sure my father was the comic geek in his family. A couple of weeks ago my father dug into his closet to show me the comics he has had since he was a teenager. My father, now in his mid-fifties, has a small collection of 40+ year old comics in the back of his closet. I never knew about them till I turned 20, but to be honest it shouldn’t have been surprising to me. I have distinct memories of when I was seven years old. He would cup his fingers over his eyes and splay his palms downward against his cheeks then walk behind me in a scruffy voice and make terrible Batman impressions. (He still does this to me, in public might I say). Gif credit: Abbey Luck   Sometimes I would like to believe that our likes and interests pass down like genetic material to our offspring. I often look back and judge myself. It seemed obvious that I should have been the ultimate daughter of a blerd. A blerd junior with a Captain America plush toy, and an Iron Man mask, refusing to be held back by the idea of gender roles. I had to unlearn those ideologies little by little, recognizing that my blerd-ness is my form of individuality. I was always into Pokémon and loved video games but, due to my father hiding his comic stash from me, I often judged what being a nerd meant. Society often instilled this belief of a “checklist” I was supposed to have achieved to be considered a true nerd. I came across my first comic when I was sixteen. I was at an organization I pushe…