Words like tribbles, holodecks, and warp speed were staples of my teenage lexicon in the ’80s and ’90s. I proudly identify as a Trekkie, and here’s why.
For starters, I can utter a few phrases in Klingon. I learned to play chess using a three-dimensional chess set. Halloween saw me donning a Starfleet uniform, and I often dreamt of being Counselor Troi, while simultaneously fearing the Borg. My teenage heart raced for William Riker, and I wished for the possibility of holodecks. I’ve even witnessed a live Klingon blood drive and attended over 20 Star Trek conventions, where I’ve met icons like William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy, and Patrick Stewart, all of whom have signed memorabilia in my collection. Interestingly, I was named after one of Captain Kirk’s romantic interests.
While I can discuss my Trekkie identity openly now, it was something I kept tucked away during my formative years. My friends didn’t ridicule my love for sci-fi, yet they didn’t share in it either. My detailed knowledge of Starfleet protocol did little to boost my social standing in school; if anything, it solidified my position near the bottom of the social ladder.
However, those memories of my sci-fi obsession evoke a sense of nostalgia, particularly because I shared them with my mother. She was a dedicated Star Trek fan from the very beginning, having watched every episode of all five original series and every film multiple times. She’s read countless books on the franchise and even crafted a few original stories long before fan fiction became a trend.
My mother is a fervent collector of Star Trek memorabilia. Our finished basement is a treasure trove of collector plates, signed photographs, phaser replicas, and even Starfleet-themed toys, all of which felt perfectly normal in my upbringing. Christmas for us included two trees: a traditional one and another entirely black, adorned only with white lights and pewter starships that my dad would buy from Franklin Mint as birthday gifts for my mom.
Kudos to my mom for her commitment; when she’s in, she’s all in. We enjoyed typical mother-daughter activities, like shopping and having “girl weekends” while the boys fished, but it’s the more eccentric moments that linger in my mind the most. How many daughters can say they jammed to a Geordi La Forge music video or stood in line for Terry Farrell’s autograph, all with their mother?
I cherish the memories of attending events where Leonard Nimoy spoke about his heritage, or watching Patrick Stewart perform as Prospero in The Tempest. I even had the unique experience of being selected from the audience to help out with a live Star Trek auction while my mom cheered me on.
My teenage years, Star Trek, and my mom are uniquely intertwined in a way that I now embrace wholeheartedly. What once felt like a secret I needed to hide is now a source of pride, amusing my students and puzzling my friends. The series has offered me invaluable life lessons—strong female role models, a celebration of diversity, an adventurous spirit, and a respect for literature, particularly Shakespeare.
Yet, the most profound takeaway for me is the joy Star Trek continues to bring my mother. Witnessing her enthusiasm is truly inspiring. I used to resist my Trekkie roots, but I now find a sense of peace in the words of the Borg: “Resistance is futile.”
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In summary, my upbringing as a Trekkie, intertwined with my relationship with my mother, has shaped my identity in ways I now fully embrace.