Throughout the pandemic, people picked up hobbies. Whether it was to get their minds off of the whole situation or just make the best out of it, in any case, the mixture of loneliness and confusion about everything had people doing some pretty unorthodox things. Who wouldn’t want to find something to do, when the only other option was to swivel around lazily in front of a Zoom conference or be filled with existential dread?
My younger sister must have realized this when she began shakily replicating a crocheting tutorial on TikTok one fateful afternoon. Maybe that was why my music teacher finally decided to stop trying to kill the hundred-year-old sourdough starter gifted to her by a friend. That was certainly how I found myself falling down the rabbit hole and into the wonderland of customizing mechanical keyboards. Curiouser and curiouser, huh?
It all started with my laptop keyboard.
For my birthday that year, I’d gotten a brand-new gaming laptop that I used religiously during the pandemic. So I guess it’s no surprise that within a few months of use, the alt key snapped off. Weeks after that, it was my A key, and before long, I found myself scrolling through YouTube to find a solution for the precariously wobbly S key. Along the way, however, I managed to stumble upon a keyboard ASMR video.
It was only a few seconds long, but I remember it vividly: a clean, bright environment with a pristine, white keyboard in the focus. Hands appeared from the edge, snapped fingers to test the mic, and then began typing away. The noises that followed had me hypnotized. They were deep, creamy, and soothing: not adjectives I would have used to describe keyboard noises beforehand. The video ended soon after that. I still hadn’t fixed my laptop keyboard, but I had a peaceful afternoon to look forward to, caged inside of my home. When YouTube suggested more, I clicked.
What I eventually discovered was an immense community of enthusiasts who were putting together their own keyboards. It seems that each part of their keyboards is hand-picked to come together and create a specific sound and feel. For instance, the baseplate is the frame that holds all the keys together, and the material it’s made out of–aluminum, plastic, polycarbonate, or brass–can play a large part in the density of the noise. Equally important are the switches, which are the little mechanisms mounted on top of the baseplate that are pushed to register a keypress. These guys are the ones responsible for the noise of pressing down a key, and some of the most crucial parts to consider when crafting a keyboard.
Finally, there are the more aesthetic components: the keycaps, which fit on top of the switches and display numbers and letters. Anything from the physical shape, material, and design can differentiate these parts into a wide range of groups. All these, and even more, can be tweaked and modified to make a completely unique keyboard. People take immense pride in doing so, whether by posting keyboard ASMR videos to showcase the sound or uploading photos of their keyboards matching their pretty setups.
If you’re like me, you must be bewildered. When you think of keyboards, you don’t think of them as customizable, showy items that people hang on their walls. You think of those huge, plastic, black office keyboards that you might use at work or school, and they tend to sound far from ASMR. You might think of the flat keyboards on laptops or Macs that barely have any register at all. So, how did people get around to obsessing over the sound of these devices?
Well, in the 1970s, when mechanical keyboards were first invented, they were loud and clacky. It was meant to replicate the heavy feel and sound of a typewriter since that was what most people were comfortable with at the time–so, not for ear candy yet. Then, in the 1980s, manufacturers began to try rolling out the membrane keyboard. In comparison to mechanical keyboards, these were much cheaper to make and could also withstand debris a little better. The mechanism behind these devices, called a membrane switch, was already being used on buttons on household appliances, calculators, and video games.
But it took a while to convince the general public to start using them for keyboards, because the membrane keys just didn’t provide the same tactile experience as a typewriter would. The way that it works is that the keys are embedded under one membrane sheet, and as a result, the sound is… muted. Maybe that was fine for a microwave oven, but in the eyes of the majority, it wasn’t exactly ideal for keys that would be pressed thousands of times at such a rapid pace. A New York Times article in 1981 wrote, “now the makers of those flat buttons, called membrane switches, are trying to break into a new market… The keyboard makers have yet to convince potential customers that their devices have the proper feel and will be reliable.”
However, where there’s a will, there’s a way, especially when it comes to economic gain in America. If membrane keyboards were cheaper to produce, then they’d be produced. The Grid Compass, one of the first laptops, was released in 1982 with a membrane keyboard attached. Apple released its first membrane keyboard, the AppleDesign Keyboard, in 1994. In 1997, chiclet keyboards, named the keys’ resemblance to the flat, square chiclet gum, eventually evolved into scissor switch keyboards, which could be easily integrated into laptops. Over the decade, such improvements were made that gradually encouraged users to make the switch from mechanical to membrane. By the 2000s, these membrane keyboards became the standard.
Thanks to a group of small enthusiasts, there was a market that still stood firmly with mechanical keyboards. As far as membrane keyboards had advanced, there was no denying the superiority of mechanical keyboards in certain areas. Though membrane keyboards could withstand a little dirt, mechanical keyboards were more durable in the sense that keys could be pressed millions of times. It was also easier to press keys down fully on mechanical keyboards, and this would become crucial with the rise of Esports or those who just wanted to work more productively.
Nobody seems to know for certain why this community began to grow in the mid-2000s, but with its growth came the production of improved mechanical keyboards from companies like Cherry MX, Logitech, and Razer. By the early 2020s, the art was no longer so obscure; practically every streamer, gamer, developer, or anyone who spent lots of time in front of a computer had their own keyboard. The Reddit community, r/MechanicalKeyboards, is over one million users strong. The market increased about 800 million dollars from 2018 to 2021 to 5 billion dollars. As the number of consumers grew, keyboards became more accessible; still pricey by normal standards, but much easier for even high school students like myself to make a decent keyboard on their own.
So, put simply, the reason why mechanical keyboards became such a hit is because the membrane keyboards, the industry standard, just weren’t good enough. When put that way, it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal at all. The difference between a $10 membrane keyboard and a $100 mechanical keyboard is palpable, sure, but they both work. Not only that, but such mechanical keyboards have to be built, which takes up lots of time and lots of money.
So, how did millions of people find themselves taking plastic devices so seriously? Based on my personal observations, it’s a simple answer. There’s something about being able to take things apart with your own hands and build something substantial, especially in an age where everything is prebuilt and prepackaged for you.
When companies produce things, they don’t always have the interests of everyone in mind. Membrane keyboards were detested when they were first released, but did that stop computer hardware companies from selling them? Still, the crimes of these companies pale in comparison to the fast fashion industries. Generating 1.2 billion tons of greenhouse gas emissions per year as well as mistreating and underpaying factory workers, fast fashion is far from ethical, yet still a trillion-dollar business. Clothes have become almost disposable due to the poor quality of manufacturing. No attention is paid to designs either, not when 10,000 new ones are being made a day at Shein. It’s not just what we wear, but also what we eat: about 58% of the calories Americans ingest are ultra-processed foods. Packaged food, like bread, ice cream, ham, yogurt, and drinks are so processed to the point that it’s almost pre-digested and absorbed easily into our bodies, increasing the likelihood of obesity and disease.
We could be content buying insufficient keyboards. We could be content to order new clothes with just a click of a button. We could just grab that frozen dinner off the shelf. It’s all so convenient, but at what cost? In many cases, what we buy isn’t being made for us, it’s being made because it is the more profitable option. As a result, quality keeps diminishing until the worst becomes the standard. Can we just let this keep happening to us?
The individual can only do so much about the homogenizing forces of mass production. Of course, everyone has to make trips to the grocery store. Sometimes you can’t help but purchase something nice for yourself and have it delivered immediately to you. Sometimes, people just don’t have the resources—time and money—available to make changes to their lifestyles. But even while doing these things, we still fight against conformity by pursuing our own endeavors and projects. How did we escape the monotonous period of quarantine? We picked up hobbies. The way I see it, having small, seemingly insignificant interests–like knitting, baking, painting, or gardening–is a celebration of diversity, the rejection of mass production despite all its convenience, for something individualistic. We consume so much, so why not dedicate a little more time to creating?
Copious amounts of research have shown that craftsmanship can bring us a sense of accomplishment, boosting our mental health and creativity. During the pandemic, we needed that more than anything.
Once, for days, my sister painstakingly labored over a crochet Spiderman beanie. I suddenly became interested in the franchise, and off-handedly I mentioned how I saw a Spiderman beanie somewhere as I was scrolling through Instagram. Without question, she gathered up her needles, yarn, and a video tutorial to get to work. When she presented it to me proudly a few days later, I was ecstatic beyond words. In the back of my mind, though, I was also very touched. As much as I loved the beanie itself, I found it more valuable that she had gone out of her way and genuinely used her skills to make it for me.
Anytime my music teacher walks by with a small brown bag, all the students snap their heads. Our eyes trail the prize, knowing what treasure it holds. Whenever there’s a game or some kind of competition, we all know that the prize is going to be a sweet loaf of sourdough bread, and the game is on. Once, with all my wretched knowledge of music theory, I’d won myself a piece of that infamous bread. I came home from school, buttered and toasted a slice to perfection and my mouth finally tasted its heavenly flavor. I couldn’t help but feel honored that I’d somehow experienced such a rare talent for myself. On the other hand, if another teacher tried to entice the class with a bag of sourdough from Costco, I highly doubt that any of us would feel as enthusiastic. There is an unmistakable difference in knowing that the sourdough made by my music teacher’s hands was kneaded out of the pure joy of creation. It makes receiving it all the more special, even if Costco sourdough is a little less labor-intensive.
My obsession with mechanical keyboards didn’t just stop at ASMR videos, evidently. Since quarantine, I’ve compiled two mechanical keyboards, one of which I’m using to type this out. The baseplate is made of aluminum, which gives the keyboard a higher pitch but a more solid sound. I decided on implementing Akko gray switches for the uninterrupted keypress, important for whenever I play video games and to adjust to my quick typing pace. Finally, the more aesthetic components–the keycaps–are a collection of white and blue chunky letters and cute animals, which I just found cute. This, and many more mods, are what make me take pride in how uniquely mine my keyboard has turned out to be.
I find it interesting that we had all picked up our hobbies during the pandemic. I suppose it was a time when we had to block out the outside world for a bit and think a little more introspectively. We wanted to entertain ourselves, express ourselves, and take our minds off of things, and what better thing to do than to just make something? No matter how little, I believe that all our weird interests and niche hobbies are ultimately beneficial. In many ways, our society is oppressively homogenizing, and it’s a testament to our innate desire to be seen, to care, and to express ourselves that we continue to create even when we no longer need to. It’s what makes us human.
