Respect Your Juniors

Originally published in Fall 2021

It’s been 55 years since Star Trek first hit the airwaves, and January 2022 will see the 50th anniversary of Trek conventions. This is one of the oldest and most enduring fandoms. I find it especially impressive that several people who were writing letters and publishing fanzines in the 60s, then hosting and attending cons in the 70s, are still active in the fandom today… sometimes bringing their kids and even grandkids along with them. This is truly a multigenerational fandom. Unfortunately, that fact brings with it some pitfalls.

Back in 2009, when Star Trek hit the silver screen for the first time in seven years, it reached a new demographic – it was a Star Trek film intended to attract moviegoers who weren’t already fans of the franchise. Shocking, I know. But many long-time Trekkies dismissed it (and the two Kelvin-universe films that followed) as “not really Star Trek,” and, by extension, dismissed their fans as “not really Star Trek fans.” And then, in 2017, Star Trek: Discovery generated the same problematic “discourse.” Lather, rinse, repeat.

Over the last decade or more, I’ve watched the gatekeeping behavior of the fandom mainstays get worse and worse, especially towards fans perceived to be new – “You’re not a true fan if you can’t recite Spock’s service record;” “I don’t consider Discovery to be Trek, so you’re not a Trekkie;” “If you haven’t seen every single episode, you’re not really a fan.” (It is worth noting that this behavior usually comes with the added element of ageism: It’s assumed that new fans of the franchise are all young, therefore all young people in fandom are “new,” and they all discovered the franchise through the most recent incarnation. While any or all of these things can be true, and there certainly some overlap, this is not a hard and fast rule.)

Sadly, this schismatic behavior is not a new phenomenon – just one that’s been amplified on the internet. I’ve been attending Star Trek conventions for nearly 28 years. At my very first one, I was having a conversation with my family while waiting in an autograph line, and I made an incorrect statement about some point of minutiae with the confidence of an overly-excited geeky pre-teen. Upon overhearing this, a grown adult stepped out of line, walked over to us, and berated me for my lack of knowledge. I was eleven years old. My father said something – I think calling the behavior inappropriate – and the very angry fan moved on, but I still felt sick for the rest of the day (and still do, whenever I think about it). I was so excited to be part of a community and share some intangible connection with people who cared about this television show like I did… but I wasn’t good enough.

So, here’s my question: Why would you want to make someone feel that way? Why would you want to keep someone out?

We’ve all misspoken, made mistakes, or thought we knew everything there was to know about a complex subject. We’ve all probably been made to feel bad about it, too. But nobody’s born knowing everything about Star Trek. We were all new to this at some point. Maybe someone who’s just stumbled upon DS9 today will one day become the next Larry Nemecek and learn everything there is to know about the show. But that takes time. Or maybe our hypothetical friend will be more interested in character development than trivia. Or maybe, for them, it’s the allegories. Or fanfic. Or art. It’s all valid, and it’s all fandom. There is no test to pass and there is no minimum knowledge required to ride this ride.

I can’t help but feel that this is something that the wider fandom really needs to reckon with, and very soon. Less than two months from now (as I type), Star Trek: Prodigy will premiere – the first Star Trek series specifically for kids. Nothing would make me happier than to see a huge influx of kids in the Trek fandom, who will not only be quite young, but brand new to everything about the Star Trek multiverse. And those of us who’ve been moving in these circles for decades need to welcome them, encourage them, and make sure they feel like they belong. We need to become Fandom Elders.

I’m not talking about the religious Elder who helps serve communion, or the “listen to me simply because I’m older than you” elder. I’m talking about the kind of elder who is a leader in their community; the person who has the knowledge and experiences of many years and is willing and able to support and guide future generations.

In a fandom context, our elders might be the editors who published fanzines from their basements; the letter-writers who inundated a television studio with so much mail that their demands were met with an on-screen message; the volunteers who answered letters for the Welcommittee and connected new fans to local fan clubs, and the organizers who created media conventions from scratch and then published instructions so others could do it, too. These created the community that we now enjoy, and gave us the templates, framework, and instructions to keep it all going.

So, what do we do to take up the mantle and become fandom elders ourselves? That’s a question with highly individualized answers. I’ve been a Star Trek fan for over 30 years and during that time, I’ve gone from writing terrible fanfic on a small listserv to hosting a podcast, writing articles, speaking on panels, and organizing events. Because I have a platform, of whatever size it may be, I have the ability – and perhaps responsibility – to hold space and amplify new voices, especially those with fresh takes on Trek, and make sure they feel seen, heard, and valued.

But that type of platform isn’t required to act as a fandom elder. Some of the most powerful moments I’ve had with other fans have been one-on-one, and created mentorship relationships that have lasted throughout several years and multiple Trek series. So, what can you do? First of all, don’t test anyone’s knowledge with impromptu quizzes – fandom is not a competition. If someone expresses interest in a niche topic you happen to know about, share their excitement and point them to where they can learn more. Compliment cosplay you may see from newer series. Understand that some Trek may not be for you, but it could be someone else’s favorite. But above all else: Be kind. Listen. Entertain new ideas.

There is a direct line from the activities of the Star Trek fandom of the 1960s and ‘70s to the new Star Trek content we’re getting now, in the 2020s. In many ways, the fandom is what pushes Star Trek forward. But no group can survive in perpetuity if new members are driven away by gatekeeping and division. It’s up to us to make sure our fandom reflects the ideals of Star Trek that we claim to espouse.