*the bad alliteration is intentional
Queerness, Welshness and geekiness have always had an overlap. Like any large group of people, there are going to be plenty of subgroups, and the subgroup of queer geeks in Wales was never more visible than on the 13th of August, 2013. On this weekend, Pride Cymru and Cardiff Con were both booked on the same weekend. This was a very physical manifestation of the division between “pride gays” and “con gays”, as my friends and I describe it.
So why is there such a visible line?
The Attraction of Fandom
It also stands to reason that queer people would find themselves attracted to media that is highly escapist and fantastical, and also contains themes of secrecy or hiding one’s true self. Reading about the X-Men being kicked out of their homes for being different and having to hide their true nature feels like a very obvious allegory that most queer people can see themselves in.
Fandom, historically, has been seen as a weird thing. Being ‘too into’ a show, or book, or game is often shamed as a childish activity, and worse approached with a lot of ableism with regards to attitudes towards neurodivergent interests and hyper-fixations. Early fandom as we recognise it is known to have been built by 1960s American housewives who were fans of Star Trek, but contemporary fandom has very much been shaped by neurodivergent people. This cross-section of women and disability history, as well as queer history, has made fandom as a whole a very side-lined area in heritage work.
In the UK, much of this history is impacted by the ongoing echoes of Section 28. The immense damage that was caused by censorship and shame towards queer identity has meant that many queer people had to find each other through more covert ways. Fandom has been one of those ways. Due to there being little to no queer representation in media, fans themselves had to create their own representation – either by developing “headcanons” of characters, or by creating their own characters to insert into these stories through fanworks. Queer readings have a significant place in queer theory and feminist literature, and this has been the basis of a lot of queer-centric fanworks in fandom.
Fanworks, of course, have a reputation for focusing on the romantic and sexual relationships between male characters. There is a vast amount of discussion around what is celebratory, what is queer people projecting onto their favourite characters, what is just a far more believable romance due to misogynistic writing in the original media, and what is fetishisation. Regardless, it is significant that this subculture has such a heavy focus on producing vast amounts of queer content.
Though copyright takedowns have destroyed a lot of online fanworks over the years, the work of the Organisation for Transformative Works has preserved a lot of fandom history, and created uncensored and legally protected spaces for fans to share their work. By doing so, this has created a place where fans can create and share queer-focused fanworks without the risk of the original creators or the publishers removing their work.
Though fandom has thrived on many online platforms, much of online fandom in the last 10 years has grown and developed Tumblr. This microblogging website, for most of its life, was very uncensored and unmoderated, which made it a very ideal place for queer people to speak openly about their experiences.
Its multi-media content hosting options was also popular for fans to create and share different types of fanworks all in the same place. This overlap of fanwork and queer activism has led to many people being able to learn more about the diversity of gender and sexuality in a way that was not taught in schools, and often even dismissed in mainstream queer spaces.
The simple action of holding up one’s favourite character, and going “I think this character is trans and demiromantic” in a safe and supportive environment is very important for queer people who are starved of representation in accessible, mainstream media.
The Ianto Jones Shrine
Ianto Jones was a character in the Doctor Who spin-off series Torchwood, which was set in Cardiff. Just 2 years after the repeal of Section 28, he was written into a romantic and explicitly sexual relationship with fan-favourite character Jack Harkness. Jack Harkness was the first queer character to be introduced to the Doctor Who franchise, and for many, this was the first time seeing two men in a relationship on BBC television.
In 2009 Ianto’s character died in the 3rd season, Children of Earth, which prompted public outcry. A memorial shrine was erected on the “front doors” of the Torchwood office in Cardiff Bay, with an official memorial plaque placed by the Management of Mermaid Quay. On the shrine, fans hung fanart, letters, pride flags and objects related to Ianto’s character. The shrine has been maintained by devoted fan Carol-Ann over the last decade.
This shrine is a very physical representation of the queer, geeky Welsh scene, and the way that despite narrow-minded legislation, the public can come together to celebrate queer people as part of their culture and lives.
Roleplay and Self Discovery
Roleplay, in this sense, refers to writing or behaving like a fictional character with one or more people also roleplaying as other characters. This can either be text-based, within a video game, or in-person. The first two are online, and the latter often either part of cosplay, LARP, or TTRPGs.
Online roleplay creates a safe, anonymous community where people can explore gender and sexuality through a variety of characters. Cosplay similarly offers this as a person is able to explore different gender presentation as well, though with less anonymity.
Similar to pantomime and drag, roleplay attracts many queer people who are finding ways of expressing aspects of their gender and exploring their identity in a way that isn’t committed and can be done in not explicitly queer spaces if they’re not safe or ready to come out.
Why Conventions Over Pride?
There are plenty of factors that would play into why someone might choose one over the other (if they are attending a different pride/convention that year, the cost of tickets, where friends are most likely to be), but there are a few specific aspects of these events to consider in terms of the experience of attendees.
Conventions were originally made by geeks, for geeks. Being in a space for shared interests allows people to skip small-talk stages and chat about the thing they love most, making them easier for socially awkward people. The activities also tend to be very familiar, usually to do with cosplay or gaming, and won’t involve alcohol or dancing unless it’s an adult or after-hours event. Most conventions are all-ages welcome, so for younger attendees it’s easy to feel included.
Conventions have become even bigger and more mainstream in recent years, causing a variety of issues within the convention scene. Bigger celebrity guests mean less space for fandom panels, and rising ticket prices. Scrutiny from large media companies towards “knockoff” merchandise being sold. As a result, fanart is being limited or banned from being sold at larger conventions, and more tables are offered to established merchandise businesses instead of artists. However, we are seeing the remaining independent artists selling original works, with an increase in pride-themed merchandise and queer-centric original stories.
There is also an increased demand for smaller, independent conventions, that are cheaper both for attendees and stall runners. Several in South Wales have been run dominantly by queer people and tend to host far more fandom-based guests and focus on the artist alley where artists are safer to sell pride merch, original works and fanart.
For many closeted people, especially those from unsafe home environments, conventions are a safer place to attend, while still able to engage with other queer people and express themselves. Pride, while
necessary, attracts hate groups and protests, which can put vulnerable members of the community more at risk. Similarly, ongoing discourse within the community can cause queer people to feel unwelcome at their own event, and they may find far more acceptance in alternative spaces.
Pride has many issues that may put someone off. For many in south Wales, the memory of the Millennium Stadium event is still fresh, and doesn’t inspire much confidence. Even at the outdoor events, they struggle with accessibility issues as grass is difficult for wheelchairs and other mobility aids. The large crowds, loud noises and dominance of alcohol can make it extremely uncomfortable for younger members, those of faith, and anyone who may have sensory issues or other disabilities.
This isn’t to say conventions aren’t without their own issues, and many discussions and debates are ongoing about accessibility within convention centres, but these points are being presented just to give an idea of how this divide has come to be.
This is ongoing research, in a very alive and ever-developing subculture. There’s no better way to understand this often-overlooked corner of history and culture than to engage with it yourself. There are a variety of wonderful independently published works such as comics, books, magazines and podcasts that all deserve support to maintain this vibrant geeky creativity by queer Welsh people. Smaller conventions may not offer a-list celebrities and panels, but they will be the place you’ll find passionate fans working to preserve the pure geekiness of convention culture. It is, more than anything, a community that relies on support from its own members. Queer spaces like this are created out of love, often with a vast amount of unpaid labour. It is passion and dedication first and foremost that keeps this culture thriving.