It makes me sad—emo-kid sad. Why do so many self-proclaimed geeks hold so much disdain for so-called hipsters?
Geeks are—by most definitions—obsessive. Sure, there are garden-variety geeks who are interested in computers, videogames, and science fiction, but we've generally come to accept that people can geek out on just about anything: sewing machines; exobiology; turnip farming. To geek is to love.
Hipsters are—by most defintions—dismissive. They sort through the detritus of pop culture, appropriate what they find appealing in its quirkiness, cultivating an aesthetic that considers all but allows surprisingly little. To be hipster is to hate.
Unfortunately, neither of those stereotypes are terribly useful when it comes to judging individuals—a lesson one would think geeks would have taken to heart, especially if their obsessiveness made them outcasts when they were younger, before they'd found likeminded people in real life or online.
I think about this a lot, because depending on how you slice it, I am both a geek and a hipster.
I play a lot of games, both electronic and tabletop. I like indie pop. I brew my own beer. I also go out of my way to track down exotic beers from other countries and brag about my discoveries. I wear thick glasses. I have floofy bangs and have been known to wear vintage clothing. I think bicycles are one of the greatest inventions of mankind, second only perhaps to bicycles that have more than one gear.
And while few of my more hipstery friends couldn't give a rat's ass about my geekier hobbies (let alone occupation), I continue to amazed at how readily we've accepted the rise of a categorical brush-off that demeans and trivializes a person's choices. The term "hipster" can be dashed off without a second thought and is accepted by most as a reasonable critique, even if those same people would bristle at the use of "dumb jock" or "geeky weirdo".