Gatekeeping refers to the practice of ranking fans of a book, movie, game, or franchise as either “true” or not. Gatekeepers think of themselves as bearing the correct opinion of pop culture and insist that others memorize a vast amount of trivia (even if they themselves don’t do so) in order to prove their fandom.

What gatekeeping reveals in its perpetrators is the ultimate attitude of entitlement.

Usually, these completely arbitrary assessments fall along gender lines, with male geeks “cred-checking” female geek con attendees or asserting that females don’t know a lot about the things of which they’re fans. “Girls” can’t be true fans, because “girls” don’t really like video games. “Girls” aren’t really into Marvel. “Girls” can’t understand the cultural significance of Ghostbusters. (Tellingly, males of this persuasion almost exclusively refer to members of the opposite gender as either “females” or “girls,” even if the female in question is three times their age, as I suspect was the case in my scenario. They infantilize women and consider their opinions to be childish and uninformed.)

What gatekeeping reveals in its perpetrators is the ultimate attitude of entitlement. Whether it’s assuming that everyone intelligent thinks the way you do, outright insisting that anyone with different opinions is stupid, or casting your dislike of a film as “just bad filmmaking,” it’s incredibly entitled to assert that only your perspective is valid and earns you the coveted “fan” identity — one in which others are expected to bask in your knowledge and expertise, admire your dedication, and emulate your worship (and exorbitant merchandise spending) of the franchise at hand.

The question is, why is the fan identity coveted? Perhaps, in the case of my grade-school Reddit bully, he felt like he needed to justify his interest in nerdy stuff by overcompensating, and so convinced himself that he was the world’s leading expert on the topic at hand. It’s true that geeks have historically been a favorite punching bag of mainstream society, even as “geeky” movies and TV shows soar high in the ratings, make millions of dollars, and enjoy a generally wide audience. That’s salt in the wound for these beleaguered geeks, who have their lunch money stolen out of their Marvel backpacks by bullies and used to purchase tickets to Avengers. How dare the “normies” enjoy superheroes and wizards? Ergo, they must be fake fans.

By the same token, these gatekeepers assume those dastardly “girls” who decline to sleep with them are obviously just trying to gain attention by pretending to like geeky things. The ultimate tease, in their mind, is a “female” pretending to have shared interests and then refusing to put out. I guess friendship just isn’t appealing to these guys, who sometimes identify as, or at are at least sympathetic to, incels — short for “involuntary celibate”—who believe that they aren’t having sex because women are too shallow, superficial, or empowered by feminism to be attracted to geeky, ugly men.

Whether it’s criticizing female-led reboots of geek staples or alleged “SJW”-ification of beloved geek franchises or asserting that “females” have no valid opinions on geek culture or fandoms, incels and gatekeepers have a lot in common.

The two identities intersect at the point where geek culture is considered an exclusive club for those who like to have a pity party for themselves. These people, despite clinging to the coveted fan identity, actually consider being a geek shameful and seem to only find it empowering as long as they can hold it over others’ heads. Because their attachment to the fandom is what makes them feel unique and special, they demand narrow, ultra-specific criteria to define what makes someone a fan so that they can shame others for not being “true fans” and keep that special feeling for themselves. It’s a shame — because geek culture can indeed be very empowering without the need to bully or ostracize.