The Evolution of Comic Con: Nostalgia, Growth, and Exploitation
I've been attending Comic Cons for a while now, and every time I step into one, I feel like that preteen kid watching Toonami again. The waves of nostalgia hit hard, making me forget about the outside world and its problems. My journey into the world of conventions happened organically. Like many, it started with watching Cartoon Network as a kid, which eventually led to Toonami. Being a gamer by nature, the intersection of anime and gaming pulled me into a show called Xplay with Adam Sessler, and from there, there was no turning back.
Now, at 34, I don’t have children yet, but I dream of bringing them to Comic Con one day. I want them to experience that rush of excitement, the energy of the fandoms, the magic of seeing their favorite characters come to life. But lately, I’ve noticed a shift. Anime culture has gone mainstream, and while I appreciate the growth, I’ve also witnessed the side effects of mass adoption.
We now have celebrities like Megan Thee Stallion and Michael B. Jordan openly professing their love for anime, and there have even been rumors of Big Sean being a fan. This kind of exposure is great for the community—it validates what many of us have known and loved for years. However, with mainstream acceptance comes the inevitable: exploitation.
Any industry that can be monetized will eventually attract bad actors—people who see the community as nothing more than a trend to capitalize on. We've seen vendors drastically inflate prices for collectibles, convention organizers hike up ticket costs while offering fewer perks, and influencers who have no real connection to the culture using these spaces purely for clout. Comic Con, once a sanctuary for die-hard fans, is starting to feel like a spectacle for those who just want an experience, much like a night out at the club. who see the community as nothing more than a trend to capitalize on. Comic Con, once a sanctuary for die-hard fans, is starting to feel like a spectacle for those who just want an experience, much like a night out at the club. The history and passion behind it mean little to some, and that’s where the divide begins.
I saw this firsthand at the 2024 Chicago Comic Con. The atmosphere had shifted—there were far more people who seemed indifferent to the culture, treating the event like a social outing rather than a gathering of passionate fans. Vendors were increasingly focused on high-ticket sales rather than meaningful interactions, and some major panels felt more like corporate advertisements than community discussions. The authenticity of the experience felt diminished, making it clear that Comic Con was no longer just for the dedicated fans—it had become something else entirely. In 2022, I was able to purchase my ticket at the door without issue. Fast forward to 2024, and I had to travel three towns over just to secure an overpriced pass. Inside, the division was clear: those who were there for the love of the culture, and those who were just looking for something to do. The energy was different. The prices had skyrocketed. The heart of the community felt diluted.
I still love going to Comic Con. I still appreciate the growth and the new faces it brings. But I can’t ignore the creeping commercialization that threatens to turn it into just another overpriced event rather than the cultural home it has always been.
So, where do we go from here? One possible solution is fostering stronger fan-driven spaces—panels, forums, and independent events where the culture remains at the forefront. Encouraging long-time attendees to mentor newcomers and share the rich history of the community can help preserve authenticity. Additionally, advocating for fair ticket pricing and supporting independent vendors over corporate takeovers can maintain the spirit of Comic Con. How How do we ensure that Comic Con remains a space for true fans while also welcoming new ones in an authentic way?
Let’s brainstorm.
That’s why I decided to do more than just talk about the problem—I took action.
Listen, I’m not just sitting on the sidelines either. I love the culture so much that I started Beyond the Blur—a podcast, a YouTube channel, and a revamped version of my massive Black_Nasdaq IG page—all dedicated to preserving and celebrating the true spirit of anime and gaming culture. While I see anime going mainstream, I’m taking a raw, unfiltered, back-to-the-roots approach—just like Wu-Tang did with hip-hop, keeping it authentic and true to its origins.
If you’re down for the journey with us, follow us on IG and become part of a movement that values passion over profit. This isn’t just about content; it’s about building a community where fans can engage, debate, and celebrate the culture together. Hell, even reach out! I’d love to bring in new panelists for the show. But we can’t just let corporate America win—not in anime, at least.