Today at the anime convention I was approached by a patron wearing a ninja costume. He thought I was registered for the tattoo convention next door. Why? We will get there. He said, “You don’t look like someone who is into anime.” I looked myself over and found no visible tattoos. Everyone from the tattoo convention was covered in ink. I shrugged and said, “Well, I am into anime.” This wasn’t enough for Ninja-Karen-Man. He asked me what I was into and I paused, deciding whether to answer, assault this man (as I was extremely tired and had had enough of the world this day), or remain silent. Before I could answer he added, “From your era.”
Yes, I’ve already admitted to being an oldhead. Apparently I really look the part. Also, he was racist as he continued to assume an older black man wouldn’t be about that life—as if anime was somehow restricted to nerdy white kids. Newsflash: It isn’t, despite the growing lack of black characters in anime, I still love the stuff. Yeah, I said growing. It is easier to find someone pink than someone brown and that is clearly a choice. Either you’re Japanese or German or occasionally American, which to the writers and artists means white. But I digress…
I told him about Robotech and wanted to drop the matter there. Unfortunately he kept talking and, given that my partner makes me a better human, I chose the silence option—even after the dude suggested I would really like Afro Samurai. Such is life… and parts of the anime community.
In the end, I kept my cool and wrote this blog and internalized the looking old part. See, I can grow old gracefully, but in order for that to happen I have to look my age—not twenty years older than I ought to. I need to get it together. I’ll start with the hair.