“So what will happen if, all of a sudden, it’s cool to be a gamer?”

I originally asked this question in my old college gaming column in April 2006.  Even back then, I had my mind on the social impact of an MTV-style invasion of an otherwise elite culture in which I felt I had earned my “gamer” title.

And then, a few months later, the Wii happened.

“Casual” gamers started coming out of the woodwork and multiplying like jack rabbits on crack in one of those ridiculous “hi-speed” internet commercials.  When my mother’s friends started calling the house, each asking me if I could help them find a Nintendo to buy, somehow the weight of that title I’d “earned” just didn’t seem so impressive.

But the silver lining wasn’t lost on me by a long shot.  I knew, as I watched Nintendo grow into the napoleonic empire it once was, that what I’d lost in exclusivity would pale in comparison to the greater social acceptance of gaming.  Finally, we could stop defending our pastime and start asking the would-be naysayers, “Mind if I play?”

While I can admit that many of my experiences introducing myself to new people lately have been increasingly pleasant – the lady at my bookstore who plays “The Sims” on weekends, the model-esque waitress at the nightclub where I work who admitted she bought “Counter-Strike” and wouldn’t let her boyfriend play – I still notice the hesitance in people when I break out the title “gamer,” and now my question has gone from “what” to the ever-frustrating “why?”

This boom in casual gaming has made my beloved culture so much more inclusive than ever before, but now that the doors to our gaming club are open, why do so many people still insist on standing out in the cold?

I asked this same question while sharing a beer recently with Steve Haske, a fellow game journalist, and I added that, in my mind, I was no different from someone who hung out playing a few hours of “Rock Band” or “Guitar Hero” every week.

“But if all they play is ‘Guitar Hero,’ I don’t know if I’d call them a gamer,” Steve said.

“Ah,” I replied, “but what if they only play ‘Counter-Strike?’”

I know there are plenty of gamers who can identify with social exclusion.  They introduce themselves and offer a similar interest in gaming only to have the other person roll their eyes as their attention begins to drift, as if to say, “Oh, you’re one of those people.”  The problem is that in spite of the rise in casual gaming, it’s still socially acceptable to discriminate against gamers based on their classification as a videogame player, and I think it makes sense that, when one considers the name “gamer” as potential social suicide, a lot of people would hesitate to embrace that kind of a label.

So what do we do about this?  Well, in this first column for Dangerous Kids, I’d like to encourage those who play even the humblest of video games for fun to reconsider the term “gamer” and what it might really mean.  I don’t think the term is truly defined by a passion for video gaming as a hobby or – in some cases – a profession.  In my mind, being a labeled a “gamer” is synonymous with “movie-goer” or “white-water rafter;” it’s simply a way of identifying how a person likes to have fun!

More importantly, I want to spread the message to reluctant would-be gamers that – for the most part – we are not the losers, rejects and outcasts that the current stereotype suggests.  We work, live, love and laugh as much as anyone, and if given a bit of credit, one would likely find us to be a surprisingly social bunch.

Finally, I want to offer a challenge to gamers everywhere: Forget the years of social exclusion, discrimination and ridicule. Go out of your way to show this new class of casual gamer that the “gaming club” is more inclusive than ever, and welcome them with proud and open arms.

If the theme in US politics right now is change, then I say it’s time for gamers to make a change of our own, if only so I can simply introduce myself someday without someone rolling their eyes.