The Fault In Our Star Wars: Why Aren’t More Women In Fandom Supporting Each Other?
In fan communities, underrepresented voices need to rely on each other to thrive. We’re not doing that enough.
Fandom isn’t a new concept. People have gone to the edges of the galaxy to show their passion and support for the people, shows, movies, and games they love for decades.
Whether it’s standing in seemingly endless lines for movie tickets (movie theaters! Remember those?), dipping dangerously into your savings to snag a first edition of that one book you’ve already read 17 times (stop looking at me like that), or hoping your favorite actor will spell your name right when you finally get that personalized autograph you’ve always wanted, fans are called fanatics for a reason.
We’re passionate. Sometimes, we’re loud. And many of us are constantly on the lookout for ways we can combine our favorite fandom material with our other skills and interests.
The exponential growth of online fan spaces has done wonders for pop culture enthusiasts in just about every niche imaginable. Not only are Swifties and Trekkies able to create their own inspired art, fanfiction, and the like — always with the possibility of sharing it with the masses and maybe getting a few retweets — but they’re also able to connect with fellow fans around the world with minimal effort.
The ease with which fans of a particular franchise can now interact with one another on a daily basis has its benefits. But if you’re reading this, you’re likely already aware that it also has its drawbacks.
Sometimes, those drawbacks are enough to lead someone to consider leaving an online fandom space for good. Many people have, and will continue to do that as they personally discover the costs outweigh the rewards.
I wish it didn’t have to be that way.
This is not the first time I’ve written about the dangerous faults in fandom culture — the Star Wars fandom in particular. But before I launch into my latest concern about this space I’m so fortunate to be a part of despite the existence of sinister corners, I have to admit … past me hasn’t always done the best job of appropriately addressing these issues.
Because, contrary to things I may have tweeted and rants I may have published previously … this is not a “men are the worst” problem. It’s also not a “trolls are ruining our fun” problem.
It’s not even wholly a “the powerful are targeting the less powerful” problem.
One — not the only, but important — pain point I’ve come across time and again in the past year isn’t men harassing women or the majority attempting to intimidate and silence the minority.
It’s members of an underrepresented segment of the fandom bullying, criticizing, and excluding other members of underrepresented segments of the fandom. Sometimes the same ones.
In my case specifically: Women in the Star Wars fan community plain and simply being awful toward other women in Star Wars.
Which is, I can honestly admit, not something I ever expected to see here. Even though, looking at it through a wider lens, I now realize I really should have.
When we launched Project Stardust at the tail end of August 2020, we were overwhelmed with a variety of criticisms from hundreds of strangers, most I don’t feel are worth mentioning again. But several particular types of pushback stick with me even still.
- “I’m a woman and have never had a negative fandom experience, so you’re either exaggerating or making this up.”
- “You’re going on about women being mistreated in fandom, but what about every other underrepresented group struggling to make their own spaces so they can enjoy Star Wars too?”
The first point is a phenomenon I never saw coming when I initially decided to start building this project — the perspective that an experience you haven’t lived through does not exist. Like fandom culture itself, it’s not new, and it’s not exclusive to pop culture niches. It’s an unfortunate but very real psychological entity, and for the most part can be ignored.
The second point, however, cannot be overlooked.
Project Stardust began as a female-led Star Wars website for female Star Wars fans — created by and built by women. This was based on my experience as a woman in fandom and, as the larger team was formed, the experiences of others involved in developing the site and brand.
Even though we’ve since changed the wording and messaging on our site and social media profiles to be more inclusive — as we should have from the start, but part of this whole experience is learning and growing, and that’s OK — a lot of related feedback on this front did and continues to come from women who just hate that Stardust exists.
And they have a right to. You can like or dislike anything you choose as long as you’re not hurting anyone else as you do.
But it’s the explanations I’ve gotten over time that catch me off guard. Things like: “We’ve already been talking about female representation for years, why are you making a website about it?” and “Why are you creating a space for women when the point of feminism is that we’re supposed to be equal to men?”
It’s not the comments themselves that bother me. It’s the meaning behind them. The message is loud and clear. We don’t support you. And hey. We might even be able to do this better than you.
The lack of support isn’t personal — I’m not here to be liked, I’m here to do good wherever I can and hope it motivates others to do the same. But it really shook me in the beginning to realize there were women completely incapable of supporting other women for reasons I suppose are their business, not mine.
Because I identify as a woman, I’m speaking mostly to that specific perspective in this piece. However, this topic can and should continue to be discussed amongst all underrepresented voices in fandom, not just mine, and not just in a galaxy far, far away. I simply cannot, and would never attempt to, speak for everyone, especially to those experiences I have not dealt with firsthand.
Still, this is a universal experience among those of us who aren’t white cisgender men in the Star Wars fandom and beyond. Which is why I’m sitting here writing this, and you’re reading (or skimming) it.
Outside of Stardust, I’ve had my fair share of near-fights with other women who’ve had the same “well actually” attitude we often pin on men (honestly, sometimes I’ve been the one doing it — I can own up to that). I’ve watched passive-aggressive female podcasters deliberately not invite certain women onto their shows or bash other female creators on the air.
Don’t even get me started on subtweeting (again — I’ve done it too. I’ve also been in the wrong here).
Why do we do that to each other? Instead of lifting each other up, cheering each other on, and all joining this quest for equality and safety and civility, we constantly try to one-up each other, only cheer on the people we know can boost our egos (and our follower counts) and, whether intentionally or not, create our own cliques with unwritten “you can’t sit with us” rules that discourage other women from even daring to participate in discourse.
Something I’ve come to deeply admire about Stardust is the positive, supportive environment we’ve created over the past year. We help each other reach our goals. We listen to and contribute to each others’ ideas. We feel safe asking questions and giving empathetic, informative answers.
I’m not saying we’re the best or only model for how fandom should be. Sometimes I fear that we’ve unintentionally created our own closed-off social circle without enough room to invite others in and that’s really something I’m aiming to improve in the months to come.
But I’m in awe of how effortlessly we accidentally created a space for ourselves where there is no fear of judgment, no pressure to perform, and no expectation that anyone shows up as someone other than exactly who they are. I have to believe that if we can do it, others can too.
Using Twitter as an example (because, let’s be honest, I spend an embarrassing amount of time there) … some online spaces just aren’t like that. Even if it’s part of my personal insecurity, I often feel intense pressure to impress my peers when it’s likely none of them are even paying attention, because the real world really is just like high school and we all just wanted to be approved of I guess? I know I’m not the only one struggling with this.
More than anything, I want more people in the Star Wars fan community to find spaces like Stardust, whether by creating their own or joining one that fits their particular interests and needs. Because even though I’ve made and will likely continue to make and learn from plenty of mistakes in attempting to celebrate a galaxy far, far away, I HAVE learned something extremely important.
It may not be my job to “fix” the faults in our chosen space. But I do want to dedicate as much of myself and my energy and my time to helping others find where they belong within the larger fan community.
I want to believe that’s possible. But it will mean that more of us — myself included — must make an active and continuous effort to not shut people out without cause. To celebrate others’ small wins. To reach out to people who might need it. To not just stay within our small comfortable circles, but to broaden our horizons, to welcome new people in. To truly be the light this fandom really does need.
Women need to show up for, support, and encourage other women. This isn’t a competition to see who can make the most men angry, it’s not a race to see who can make the most impact, have the most viral tweet, write the most successful articles, get the most exclusive interviews.
This was never what standing up to fight for female representation in any sense was supposed to mean. Feminism isn’t about stomping on the patriarchy and showing the fanboys who’s boss (most of the time, anyway). It’s about all of us feeling we have equal opportunities to succeed and express ourselves and exist in spaces where we feel safe and included and welcome.
I’m going to do what I can to be a better supporter of the people in fandom who are struggling to feel the sense of belonging we all crave. Because though we’re all different and wonderfully unique, we do have at least one thing in common: Somewhere along the way, whether we knew it or not, we said we loved something about Star Wars, and someone else looked down on us for that. And that’s sad.
We can all do better. We can all make this fandom better.
Start by, at the very least, remembering that someone who isn’t being nice to you (when you don’t deserve it — if you’re being a bully or worse, congratulations, you’ve earned it) probably doesn’t feel great about their place in fandom or in their life outside of it.
Also keep in mind that you and the rest of us? We’re going to mess up. We’re going to say and do the wrong things even when our hearts are in the right place. Try to be patient with each other and not jump to conclusions. We’ve all been hurt before. But even if we don’t trust every stranger or offer our respect to every mutual, kindness is always free and simple to give.
The best thing women — all underrepresented individuals — can do in their respective fandoms is be here for each other. We can’t create a healthier environment if we’re not all working together to build and maintain it.
If it’s your intention to be a lifelong fan of something, then you’re going to be in spaces like this one for a very long time.
Don’t waste your energy fighting with and stepping over others who want to exist in the same spaces you do. If that’s all you do, you’re just as toxic as the individuals we’re all doing our best to mute.
If you want to be supported, you must be a supporter. You don’t have to like or even get along with everyone you meet. But we gain nothing from tearing each other down.
We must move forward. And it starts with reminding yourself that those fighting your cause need your help just as much as you might need theirs.
