"All my friends had a Nintendo DS when we were little," my sister recalls. It didn't always feel this way, of course. It's not just that women supposedly aren't interested in games it's that the mere presence of femininity defines the games they like out of existence. A mystery thriller like Her Story, a narrative exploration game like Gone Home, bestselling titles like Animal Crossing and The Sims, all manner of virtual pet sites: Not real games! Walking simulators! Boring! Easy! Dealing with women's emotions, not having guns, or simply being enjoyed by women en masse-all of these qualities act as disqualifiers.
It's not hard to find this attitude wherever games are discussed.
The first force is disqualification: It takes into account the fact that girls almost certainly have played video games, but then carefully categorizes the games they're most likely to play as illegitimate. We find that, broadly speaking, there are three forces at work in teaching girls that video games are not for them.
But… yeah, it's everything." Over the following hour, we dissect "everything" as best we can. How did our friends learn it? How did our mother? How do so many women, even today, learn that video games are not for them? This is our reality, and that of so many women, one that is silent, vast, yet largely unremarked upon wherever gaming is discussed. Don't pass me the controller, I'll only embarrass myself. I shrug and sound very much like the dozens of women I have known who protest that their love of Raina Telgemeier and Archie Double Digests does not make them a real fan. When it comes to gaming, however, I am bereft of such confidence. It was a truth I knew in my bones: comics were mine, and no jumped-up fanboy who'd never even heard of Jackie Ormes could obscure my truth. I knew I was not welcome, but I fought for my right to be present, to master the lingo, to insist on entering the conversation. I understand this: it's how I feel towards the world of comic books, where I am comfortably ensconced as both a fan and critic. Which is not to say they feel at ease in gaming, but they at least demanded a space there, and knew it to be theirs. There are girls and women who do not feel this way. And it's just not something we have in us to brave. But where there is a welcome mat rolled out for men, there is only a bloodied stretch of briar for women. Video games aren't for us the way football and finance aren't for us: sure, there are girls who break in, and we applaud them for it at a comfortable distance. You know?" It's difficult to explain why and how she just knows, in part because parsing the roots of any sociological phenomenon is difficult, but also because it's just such an immutable fact for us.įor girls who do not fight to be a part of the club, who are not conversant in that world of quarter-circles and Konami codes, it's as codified as all the other gendered tenets of our lives. "Y'know, the commercials, and… everything. I press my sister to explain how she knows games are a "boy thing," how everyone "just knows this." "I don't know," she answers tentatively. Then we grew up, and an avalanche of qualifiers buried us. Those years we spent swapping DS cartridges were, for the both of us, our only experience of games as uncomplicated fun. But fundamentally, we feel the same: not gamers, not welcome, and not interested in most of what we see at GameStop. I, the frizz-headed harpy, explaining that my half-elf duchess of darkness uses water spells, not fire.
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A teen movie would have a field day: she, the blue-eyed beauty in a LOVE PINK hoodie, blinking blankly as she holds an Xbox controller upside down.
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She dreams of a higher education experience full of tailgating and adorably slouched cardigans. I went to a college where I devoted myself to post-war politics and anime screenings. She received Our Moment, the One Direction branded fragrance. I received a book of essays on The Scarlet Letter for my 16th birthday. It would be easy to cast my sister and I as opposites. Maybe video games just didn't grow up with me."
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