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[5.10] Competitive discussion includes argumentative interactions in which fans challenged another's ideas and perpetuated ongoing conflict and/or enforced hierarchy. Common arguments centered on comics- versus MCU-based knowledge, character match-ups (e.g., who would win), or MCU casting. Participants noted seeing these arguments more commonly online, as compared to face-to-face and with friends and strangers.

[5.11] Mary noted that Captain America versus Iron Man was a frequent match-up argument, with interlocutors situating their fan knowledge in the superior source of comics: "in this issue, Captain America did very poorly…but if Iron Man was in that same situation, he might have done better…They're big on referencing back to the comic books. The original originals are comic books and the movies came after…it's the comics or nothing." Peter also touched on comics as the canon: "I refer to my comics as the primary literature…because all the movies are plagiarized mutations of storylines from the comics."

[5.12] Most participants discussed witnessing these disagreements, not partaking. Participants characterized these arguments as subjective, without definitive answers or endpoints. For example, Natalie suggested, "Everybody's gonna have their own opinion of which Marvel character they like…they all each have different strengths." Reed noted, "You can do the long post all you want, but if the person likes Avengers more than Age of Ultron…you can't disprove them." The "long post" is a communication strategy some "negative fans" use in online spaces that incorporates elements of fan knowledge and one-upping another fan through sheer volume of content. Reed explains the "long post seems to carry some authority…this notion of, 'I had written this many words about why this movie is bad, then surely I am right, and surely I am blowing your seven-word comment…out of the water.'" Natalie also noted this domineering tendency of toxic fans approaching discussion with a closed mindset, saying they "don't want to hear anybody else's opinions" and these fans' communication is "actually pushing away somebody who can become a fan."

[5.13] Though character match-up arguments can spiral, participants generally characterized them as civil. Arguments concerning characters' race or gender, however, were more heated. Reed stated that much of the toxic fanship he sees is "very cis-het, straight, white man identity." These fans would post comments about "was Captain Marvel fan service to women because they needed a woman character? Was Black Panther fan service to Black people?," and went on to discuss "homophobic backlash against" shipping (note 4) characters, like Captain America and Bucky. Jane saw similar posts on "Facebook, Instagram commenting on Marvel and Disney trying to be woke and including women and people of color" and that Black Panther was "made only for pandering" to Black people, prompting some toxic fans to say they "won't watch their movies."

[5.14] Character race arguments also tapped into fans' identity and representation. Alex spoke about the casting of a Black actor, Michael B. Jordan, to play Johnny Storm in a Fantastic Four movie. Storm was depicted as white in the comics. Alex recognized that many saw the pushback as "all these white people are upset because their favorite character is becoming Black." He countered with his perspective: "Fantastic Four was a series I grew up with and I collected, and Johnny Storm, who is The Human Torch, he was one of my favorites…how do you justify the change in this from a character that we grew up on?…now suddenly the character doesn't look like the character that we grew up on. Can we even relate to the character?…that is a huge disagreement among true fans is actually casting somebody that doesn't have a likeness to the character that they grew up on." Darcy also rooted fans' casting arguments in their identity, saying "I think that's where you get people who aren't accepting of others, is because you're changing their world." Jane made similar comments about "aggressive fans" and their vulnerability: "They have a very deep attachment to this…even the slightest questionable action towards it, against it, or showing that someone else knows more than him hurts their feelings…they get aggressive because it's really important to them." These comments suggest fans who sense an identity threat are likely to attack and distinguish themselves as true fans, as Alex did.

[5.15] Another stratification technique was gatekeeping, when fans set boundaries on who is considered a fan. Much of this gatekeeping centered on one's depth of knowledge. For example, Scott said, "If you don't know that this happens, you can't call yourself a real fan." Similarly, Peggy has seen others called "unauthentic fans because they haven't watched all the movies or read the comics" and been told to "shut up." While she did not equate it with "give me your fan card," she said, "you can see the defeat on those people's faces, like 'oh, maybe I am not as big of a fan as I thought I was.'" Similarly, when a coworker said they were a Marvel fan, and Natalie said she was as well, the coworker proceeded to ask "certain questions and I wasn't able to answer right then and there, and he was like, 'you're not a fan then,'" prompting Natalie to defend her fanship: "I mean, I don't have my Marvel encyclopedia inside my head…it doesn't mean I'm not a fan though." To Peter, gatekeeping is a form of identity preservation: "[Fans] need to advertise that they're a member of the club…they're proud that they're a member of the club and they get some sort of perverse satisfaction out of not only letting you know that they're a member of the club, but that you're not."

[5.16] Stratification also manifested as one-upping, when a fan tried to assert a higher status via claims of having more knowledge or engagement, which often requires extensive investment. Dorma said some people, upon hearing someone else likes The Avengers, will interject with, "I went to the midnight premiere of Avengers and then I went and saw it six more times in theaters. Or that cosplay's cute but look at my 100 percent replica, $500 Captain America shield." Some participants were the ones positioning themselves higher in status. When a friend told Miles they were a bigger movie fan than him, Miles responded, "'Are you sure? Because I have paid attention to the slightest of details. I have watched all the YouTube videos over the Easter eggs'…They're like, 'Oh, wait. Easter eggs?'" Miles then made the status differential clear: "You're not a bigger fan. You're a fan, but just not bigger than me."

[5.17] Name-calling, which featured the use of diminutive labels, was mentioned infrequently by participants. Some examples include Reed calling fandom newcomers "Johnny-come-lately" or Dorma calling her friends who are overzealous fans "stalkerish" and stating that "stans (note 5) ruin everything." Sometimes name-calling and one-upping coincided, like when Stephen said, this "guy who was that exclusive fan, who was like, 'I am more into this than you.'" Similarly, Zoe said the following dynamic between newer and older fans occurred often, with more experienced fans saying, "Well, I'm a bigger fan than you. You're a baby. Welcome to the world. Let me guide you."

[5.18] While name-calling was focused outward on other fans, participants also used labels to self-categorize. A person's relative self-perception of fanship impacts their sense of belonging and agency within fandoms. Natalie said she did not consider herself "a deep fan" because she mostly engaged Marvel via film. Similarly, Tom said he would not call himself a "diehard per se, but has always very much been excited when I see a new Marvel project…but [I don't] stand in line at the theater at midnight for a movie release." Participants Harry and Stephen cautiously distinguished themselves from die-hard fans. Further, Stephen said "there are people who take their fandom more seriously than I do. I know that there are people who…sort of live and breathe this stuff." Conversely, some participants like Peter used terms like "fanatic," stating, "I'm really quite obsessed and have been for a long time." Additionally, Miles asserted he is "borderline obsessive" with Marvel. Overall, participants self-disclosed where they place themselves on the "hierarchy of fandom," implying Marvel fans are keenly aware of their status.

[5.19] To avoid toxic/negative fans or challenges to their fanship, participants engaged in strategic avoidance, which included purposely avoiding certain types of communication, spaces, or fandom subsets. Dorma conceals her fanship as a form of avoidance, saying, "I'm not super overt with what I am a fan of because then people get sort of a one upmanship with you about it." Sharon described a different use of strategic silence by stating how the silent treatment can effectively shut down toxicity: "The adults there recognize that if you don't engage with the person who's spitting nonsense and instead just leave it alone and let it die, it will go away."

[5.20] Agatha participates differently in different spaces, saying, "I never interact on Twitter. I follow, but I don't act…[because] it'll just go sideways, real quick…But Facebook groups tend to be…less likely to go off in contentious direction[s]." Peggy "usually stick[s] to the more Disney-esque fandom" groups of the MCU because noncinematic fan groups can "be a little judgmental, because they want you to be all about the comic books." She also does not "engage with super fans who have read comics way more than I have, because I don't want to feel that I am not authentic, because I am authentic to me." Other participants explained that fans are more likely to have their knowledge or identity questioned in online settings (e.g., Reddit or Archive of Our Own) as compared to face-to-face contexts, prompting some Marvel fans to leave certain groups and become more particular about which ones they join. In turn, fans practice strategic avoidance to shield themselves from hostility and protect their identity.

6. Discussion

[6.1] The findings indicate Marvel fan groups can generate a social economy via monologic communications strategically employed to translate resources into privileges, thereby stratifying the group. Following Weberian frameworks for social economies, this section links symbolic resources to stratifying communications and extrapolates knowledge of the fandom based on these linkages.

[6.2] Fans often indicated that participation in competitive discussion could increase their status and was an integral part of overall Marvel fan communications rather than a by-product. The most common strategy was simple expression of direct disagreement, which generated overt conflict. This is similar to Reinhard (2018), who found that differences of opinion were the most common cause of fandom fractures. In our study, such conflict had varying degrees of seriousness, but the stakes of winning these arguments—even when initiated playfully—could include a fan's credibility. Being willing to initiate or respond to fan arguments draws on the symbolic currencies of connection to the fandom (e.g., confidence in knowledge relative to the fan group) and/or privileges associated with race and gender. For example, the comics information accepted in competitive fan discussions often focuses on white characters in the superhero canon, and movies emphasizing women and characters of color referenced in fan arguments were often dismissed as pandering. As Pande (2018) and others detail, gender and race are often minimized within fandom conversations.

[6.3] Additionally, participant Reed referred to a competitive communicative strategy called "long posts." The strategy is monologic and aims to exhaust others into submission rather than engaging in dialogic discussion. Reed described long-posting as a way for someone to show off their fan knowledge and time commitment. Accordingly, this strategy draws on fan knowledge, multimodal media engagement, and time investments as symbolic resources to empower stratification.

[6.4] Finally, some participants mentioned that appealing to the authority of comics storylines was the most commonly accepted evidence within competitive Marvel discussions. This communication prioritized certain conservative members with long-standing interests in Marvel characters and garnered a sense of legitimacy by giving them a means to justify backlash against progressivism in MCU productions. For instance, participants saw a character's race as integral to a hero's identity and questioned whether white people could "even relate to the character" if a historically white superhero were portrayed by a POC, similar to concerns voiced by Martin (2019). These participants used calls for "canonical fidelity" (Proctor 2018) to legitimate antidiversity perspectives and privilege whiteness (Woo 2017). Collectively, competitive discussions tapped symbolic resources such as comics knowledge, engagement, and masculine and racial privilege. Given that one cannot easily overcome gender and racial barriers, competitive discussion in this form creates and reinforces strata.

[6.5] Explicit gatekeeping was also employed to curb newcomers' attempts to assert status. Gatekeeping generally involved an experienced, high-ranking member providing some sort of knowledge test for newcomers, similar to Hadas's (2009) examination of Doctor Who fans. In our study, someone's ability to argue their case could be undermined by a perceived lack of (comics) knowledge. Members with strong group privilege could hone in on specific limitations of their opponent (e.g., if you haven't read X, then you don't know what you're talking about). In Weber's (1947) framework, gatekeeping maintains the privilege of certain members by appropriating opportunities for influence and monopolizing resources.

[6.6] Women tended to bear the brunt of these impromptu tests and frequently reported being quizzed about their comics knowledge regardless of their degree of interaction. Men were usually only quizzed when intentionally engaging other fans. Women explained that their mere presence in comic book stores and virtual fan spaces operated as a de facto invitation to be tested. It appears that women must demonstrate worthiness by correctly answering whatever questions the interrogator deems sufficient, whereas men achieve worthiness by being the monologic interrogator. These attempts to gatekeep rely on masculine privilege, which is communicatively maintained via regularly circulated myths casting women as casual/bandwagon fans and/or exclusively interested in hypersexualized content (e.g., collecting beefcake covers). Ironically, women characters in comics are often highly sexualized for male hetero consumers (Stabile 2009), further emphasizing the hypocrisy of masculine judgment against women fans.

[6.7] One-upping also served as a speech act generating social strata by drawing on resources like comics knowledge or group traditions. Although similar to arguments, one-ups do not necessarily invite response. If someone has authority in the group, then their comments can be treated as an end-all claim and shut down competitive responses—creating a "power play" intent on silencing (Reinhard 2018). Given that authority is over someone, one-ups perpetuate the perception that some fans should have higher status. Notably, Miles referred to paratexts like deconstructive YouTube videos to increase fan knowledge and one-up other competitive fans. Whereas some fans can claim significant knowledge from personal comics readings or show off financial investments, other fans like Miles can learn extensively from more accessible resources like online videos, which somewhat resists the traditional means of hierarchical advancement.

[6.8] Another communicative behavior is name-calling, which often constitutes a direct attack on the fan's identity. Other work shows fans commonly use labels for stratification (e.g., Edlom and Karlsson 2021; Fiske 1992; Yodovich 2016). This study uncovered that not only was name-calling applied during direct arguments, but anticipation of being negatively labeled motivated some participants on how (not) to act, which meshes with Weber's (1947) work on how norms are propagated. Participants had high awareness of stigmatizing labels, yet many deployed those labels in their explanations of bad behavior and thereby perpetuated hierarchy via labeling (e.g., "baby," "Johnny-come-lately"). Further, interviews revealed that fans who exemplified higher devotion outside the norms set by high-ranking group members would be conceptualized as stalkerish and stans. Other work has shown that fans do not realize they are part of the problem when they engage in boundary policing (Reinhard 2018). This socialization serves to sustain current group strata and brace it with a sense of enduringness.

[6.9] Additionally, participants provided self-stratifying labels to mark how and where they belong to the community. Many fans hedged, saying they were not die-hard and that other fans may take Marvel more seriously. These labels were often accompanied by a discussion of their lack of symbolic resources, such as comparatively limited knowledge. Such qualifiers help situate their fan identity and demonstrate awareness of how resources relate to status. These labels may also enable fans to inoculate themselves against potential attacks on their identity (e.g., I never claimed to be a superfan, so it is okay that I do not know that character). These qualifying labels provide a defense mechanism in monologic communication settings. A smaller subset of participants placed themselves in the superfan category and emphasized their abundance of symbolic resources—rooms upon rooms of Marvel paraphernalia—and used these to bolster their high-ranking status.

[6.10] The final stratifying strategy was avoidance, drawing on the resources of knowledge, engagement, and sense of belonging. Some fans expressed making conscious choices to circumvent certain fandom spaces, such as internet sites deemed to be particularly toxic, or to sidestep potential arguments. Intentional avoidance was enacted in three ways: sectorizing, code-switching, and facing other fans. Agatha described sectorizing as engagement with other fans on certain social media but not others, choosing to splinter into groups in which she felt most comfortable—similar to MacDonald's (1998) study in which fans created women-only digital spaces to communicate "without fear of male censure" (149). Other participants described code-switching in terms of learning when and where to talk about or downplay fanship. Finally, several interviewees noted they were more likely to express their fanship in face-to-face versus virtual settings, where anonymity or distance enables more toxic or reactive spaces.

[6.11] Although avoidance is a useful defensive strategy in potentially hostile environments, sidestepping toxic speech acts also enables hierarchical systems to persist. Avoidance elides challenges to authority figures monopolizing symbolic currency and may be viewed as "accepting your place." Even so, scholars must remember that strategic avoidance may also be complicated insofar as some fans may not have the authority, status, or symbolic currency to challenge higher-status members and would be rightly hesitant to expend high energy on a low-reward endeavor. Future research could examine how and when fans expend their currency to voice dissent, and under what conditions such efforts are perceived as successful.

[6.12] Our data suggests several lessons regarding fan communication and stratification, including insights into Marvel fans' collective epistemology and axiology. The epistemology of a given Marvel fan group will shape acceptable currency. In this case, comics knowledge was widely accepted as a representation of the truths of the fandom, the "original originals." As such, group members generally believed, within the fandom, that there were truths to be absolutely known about characters and stories in the canon, similar to Proctor's (2018) findings about "what is deemed 'factual' within the imaginary world" (160). Attempts to reinterpret stories or characters were largely met with contempt. At the level of axiology, those who have the easiest path to acquiring resources are those who already have privilege in society: cis-white-hetero males and those with leisure time and financial resources. This exemplifies Woo's (2017) contention that fandoms led by majority groups feed into their own identity ideals. Several of our participants mentioned being subject to gender-based gatekeeping, one-ups, and labeling in addition to the fact that only women participants reported using the avoidance communication strategy. One's ability to tap into symbolic resources can then be restricted by comparatively immutable qualities external to Marvel fandom such as gender, race, or finances, which are yet embedded in the values of many fans.

[6.13] In turn, if a fan with a marginalized background has comprehensive knowledge, it may never be deemed good enough to be considered a superfan by the old guard, who may always see them as an intruder, subjecting them to harsher gatekeeping or name-calling. While a fan can self-identify however they choose, it is important to consider that being a fan often includes enacting that fanship in external, social ways (Reinhard 2018). As such, one's fan identity is often shaped by a negotiation of internal and external judgments. This does not mean that all marginalized fans construct their fanship based on veterans' appraisals, but our findings indicate that some marginalized fans, specifically women, feel the weight of these external appraisals when they enact their fanship. Additional research examining marginalized fans with varying intersectional identities is needed to better understand this constant negotiation in fanship and how it affects fans' identity and communicative strategies.

[6.14] Another implication is the tendency for those with higher status to invoke shame as a means of protecting their social position. Virtually all stratifying communication can result in shame for the targets, but especially name-calling, gatekeeping, and one-upping. According to Scheff (2003), shame occurs when a norm is established, breaking the norm becomes taboo, and people who violate the norm are made to feel poorly such that they either deny the shameful behavior or become silenced in any meaningful social arena. Fans' behavior or knowledge, or lack thereof, is marked, and their fan identity is called into question. We suggest that these fan-shaming speech acts, involving accusations that the other person does not belong in the fandom, are a key mechanism for maintaining social strata and worthy of additional investigation.

[6.15] Our study makes three notable contributions to fan scholarship. First, as we have noted throughout, other studies have identified various symbolic resources within different fandoms. Our study brings these resources together and documents them in one space, helping to standardize the field. Second, our study specifies monologic communicative strategies, as well as speech acts to avoid monologic communication, providing a more unified typology. Finally, our study demonstrates how fans use communication strategies to link resources to social strata. By bringing resources and communication strategies together in one study, we can more clearly articulate the communicative processes that reinforce fandom hierarchies and communicatively enact shame. Further, while other studies have found some of these resources and/or strategies present in their fandoms, our study found each one present in Marvel fandom, demonstrating that different fandoms rely on a range of resources and communicative strategies, with some fandoms, such as Marvel, incorporating a robust combination of resources and communicative strategies. As fandoms evolve, fracture, and/or heal, continued study of their communicative processes is well warranted. Our study provides a valuable framework for this important work.