I dig this guy . . . he converses fluently about the rule of the nemesis. Not many people do. Unfortunately, I wasn't skipping Existential Psychology to argue the possibility that a nemesis could verify one's own intellectual existence, as much as I wished to. Nor was I hoping to discuss the subtle, yet essential differences between what constitutes an arch-enemy as opposed to a nemesis. I couldn't be sidetracked; I had prior intentions to fulfill. My visit to this subcultural majordomo's office was dualistic in nature. One, I wished to know the man behind the poster of Paul Simonon irreverently smashing his bass, and secondly, to discuss my favorite subcultural phenomenon of this decade: the emo.
Although the emo movement has faded away, and teeny bop fashion has progressed into "scene" (which I'm being told is being supplanted by the dirt bike look in SoCal, although I sense a vampiric countersurge coming about, considering the inane popularity of Twilight), there have been lingering effects within American culture that are a direct result of the emo. Two different conditions of the emo have recently emerged, one that is a continuation of various undercurrents of past social dynamics, what Prof. Gumbhir described to me as "variations on a continuing motif," and second, the stylistic innovations of the emo that question the norm. The latter condition is better summarized as the attributes that make emoism into a subculture.
First, we (Prof. Gumbhir and I) spoke about what makes a subculture, well, a subculture. For Gumbhir, a subculture consists of a group of people who defy the cultural norm. I offered chess club as an example, he countered with the high school football team. Each is an acceptable representation. Now, we shouldn't confuse a subculture with a counterculture. A counterculture is all-encompassing. Members are contained inside a totalizing lifestyle, a subculture pushed to its extremities. Hippies, Hare Krishna, Purple-People Eaters, polygamous Mormons, they all fill the bill. So, emo isn't so much a counterculture as it is a stylistic refuge for those who don't perceive themselves as part of the social norm.
What does it mean to be emo? What are these 16-year-old reincarnations of Robert Smith wearing Elvis Costello's horn-rimmed glasses attempting to portray?
Once we delineated the differences between the sub and countercultures, we strived to answer these questions.
As far as I know, emo is short for emotional, but that hardly encapsulates what it means to be an emo. In fact, the origin of the emo has been lost in the ether, and now "emo-ness" is defined through style and social disposition. To refer back to my conversation with Dr. Gumbhir, he informs me, "Every subculture expresses a physical style of their values or their distinctiveness." The emos use their physical appearance and disposition to show their deviance from the social norm. (Apparently, their deviation is dressing like bulimic females in skintight garments. Well, as I am fond of saying, "To each their own.")
Now, the emo culture is hitting the mainstream. The emo look has become commoditized and the black sweatshirts and tight blue jeans are available to every Pete Wentz wannabe. As emo comes to the social forefront, it clashes with the pre-existing cultural norm, which in the realm of social dynamics is the alpha male.
We all know the alpha male. Captivating, domineering and outspoken . . . think Tom Cruise or Tyler Durden, they demand the center of attention. Consider the bar or party scene, which I'll label plastic cup politics (a term I affectionately appropriated from a Less Than Jake song). The alpha male is the guy who looks like he would be comfortable playing beach volleyball with guys named Iceman and Goose while shirtless and sweaty.
Now, juxtapose the Tom Cruise persona next to the emo. The emo is the alpha male 180'ed, if there is such a term. In plastic cup politics, the emo's vulnerable disposition offers the sensitive refuge that the alpha male omits. Thus, they gain social status by offering an alternative cool, a sanctuary for those unable to display themselves as confident alphas.
As the two main forces of social interaction, each contains a different form of appeal. Some enjoy the company of the alpha because they exhibit assertiveness and simple-mindedness. Others opt for the emo lifestyle due to their mysterious nature, their sensitive mindset and their unconventional standoutishness. Each camp uses their style as a means to achieve social status, the alpha being the conformist candidate, and the emo is the outsider. Think of the 2000 presidential election. The alpha male would be Al Gore, the obvious political insider, and the emo would be George Bush, the outsider. Although, in reality, alpha males would associate themselves with Bush and the emos associate with Gore.
ANYWAY, what awes me about the emo movement is this odd attraction of the non-emo for the emo. I call this the Juno effect, after the point in the movie when Ellen Page's character points out jocks don't really obsess over the cheerleaders, but the bookish girls who are outside of the jock norm. A friend of mine was quick to recognize this, and in a conversation with me, he pointed out, "People like you and me are lucky the emo movement came about, otherwise we would never be lucky socially. The emo kids offer an alluring dynamic us skinny, nerdy kids can subscribe to and use to challenge the status quo."
After some time, I realized that my friend was right. Emo, the supposed dark side of culture, has the same allure the Dark Side of the Force does. Of the two roads, it's the despondent road less traveled. Instead of refusing to indulge your emotion, as the Light Side advises, the emo embraces emotion and lets it flow forth, like the Dark Jedi. Darth Vader was emo. Don't believe me? Watch Episode II. And let's be honest for a second, the Dark Side is so freaking appealing. Who doesn't want lightning to rain down from their fingertips? It makes anger so much more tangible and electrifying. Ha!
Moving on . . . What the emo offers is something more enticing than the ho-hum interaction between two Tom Cruises, and requires less time spent at the gym. So, those who can't be Tyler Durden, or can't bring themselves to socially interact with Tom Cruise, displace their affection onto the emo. But the emo is nothing new, it's nothing rebellious. The emo theme has been with us even before Woody Allen and F. Scott Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald, Allen, Rivers Cuomo, Pete Wentz, all have been exemplary variations on the anti-alpha motif. Fitzgerald isn't Tom Buchanan, Rivers isn't Gene Simmons (no matter how much he wishes to be) and the emo is not a unique form of rebellion. They're all variations. So, my question now becomes: What's the next variation? Who is the next Woody Allen?
Tyler Huggins is a senior at Gonzaga and Opinion editor.
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