T-shirts are one of my love languages

I just returned from Gamehole Con, an annual TTRPG convention in Madison, WI. It was a great experience, as usual. I got to fly my freak flag freely. I, like many of my peers, use the t-shirt as the main expression of our freakdom.

As a kid, I loved the made-to-order heat-transfer t-shirt shops. Every mall in America had one during the 70’s. I had one with a picture of the starship Enterprise, one with The Incredible Hulk warning that “This shirt belongs to Andy,” and one that, said "Dynomite!" in an exploding, sparkly font.

Eventually, the t-shirt shops gave way to record stores, head shops, concerts, and conventions. Then came the internet, and everything exploded. I could get a shirt on any topic I could imagine and even make my own.

When I was a kid, it was about celebration. I proudly wore my Dr. Who tee because I loved Dr. Who, and I wanted to share that with others. I quickly discovered that the number of Dr. Who fans (during the 80s) was a small and persecuted group (see Dr. Who destroyed my life), but it didn’t stop me.

Celebration morphed into protest. If the kids who picked on me were normal, I was happy to be “different.” Then, after a couple years of ostracism, when the testosterone kicked in, that protest against my peers turned toward authority in general. T-shirts of my favorite punk bands got me sent home from high school more than once.

Later, it was about community building and ranking. The subject of your t-shirt signaled what you were into and, more importantly, how plugged in you were to what was “cool.” Even during my most paranoid moments—during the identity struggles of my 20s—when I feared that what I was broadcasting about myself was, at best, socially handicapping me, I couldn’t resist. I had to be me and let others see it—a situation that always brought The Country of the Kind by Damon Knight to mind. I’ve calmed down a lot since all of that. Now, I’m back to the beginning—celebrating what I love. 

I feel naked if I’m not wearing a tee with some nerd-culture commentary, obscure band art, or political slogan emblazoned across it. As a functioning adult member of society, the act of hiding my identity under a button-down “work shirt” is an indignity. I did it for years, but I’m done with that phase of my life. I don’t see how looking like your mom dressed you for picture day is mature and professional, but choosing your clothes based on what is comfortable and brings you joy is not. I prefer to look like a teenager in jeans and a t-shirt than mommy’s big boy in his church clothes. I understand the idea that caring about your clothes is a distraction from being a winning winner. I just find that a simplistic perspective no more deserving of respect than the idea that wearing a suit is a sign of competence.

But also, I just love t-shirts.