In Costco magazine, the writer, Hope Katz Gibbs, reviewed a YA series of books titled the Dork Diaries.
The review was kind – interesting – the usual thing. What struck me though was the biography of the reviewer. “Hope Katz Gibbs is a freelance writer in Arlington Virginia, who, despite being the president of her senior class and captain of the cheerleaders, was a closet dork.”
No. I’m sorry Hope Katz Gibbs. But you cannot be a retroactive dork. You cannot join any group after the fact and you are particularly not allowed to join the science geek/dorks just because they are finally having their day.
If I remember correctly, just as two solid objects cannot occupy the same space, a person cannot be both the captain of the cheer squad and a dork. A person cannot win the presidency of the senior class and claim she wasn’t popular. Unless you really did survive years of silent humiliation during the Valentines flower sales (during which, no flowers were delivered to certain people), when the only dances you attended were the Sadie Hawkins dance because the girls could ask the boys (best dates for me were my closeted gay friends), then you cannot say, twenty years later, “If only I tried out for the annual school play.”
You, Ms Gibbs, balanced at the top of the food pyramid. The crowds parted for you in the cafeteria. Isn’t it enough to have been privileged and lovely and popular? You have to move in on the one area that was uncontested when we were all fifteen?
And rather uncontested now?
So, from all of us dorks, all of us who were too smart, too tall, too uncoordinated, too shy, too loud: you had yours. I am glad for you. But this time, you are not allowed to join the club.