Does successful digital activism depend on social identity? Does it matter who you are?
These past few months, in particular, have seen the rise of vi(sce)ral hashtags: from #JeSuisCharlie and #JeSuisAhmed to #BlackLivesMatter and the infamous, whitewashed #AllLivesMatter. However, as time moves away from their inception, these hashtags begin to lose their original power, which is not a shocker. Trends are always transforming and mutating, inspiring new people in new ways.
But these specific hashtags are not fluidly being taken into new territory, garnering new meaning, or inspiring new acts of solidarity—they’re just losing context and meaning. Powerful protest symbols centered around race are now being appropriated by hipster activism, by which I mean a shallow nod to ‘the movement.’ This nod often comes in the form of non-black folks taking filtered selfies with hashtagged signs and sad, white Americans toting nostalgia for whatever they think free speech actually is.
As we get further into 2015, these hashtags are becoming less nuanced and more cliché. Things get even more complicated and downright scary when the online erasure of context, or history, mirrors the systematic erasure of a people’s history offline.
(It’s at this moment I’ll remind you that three queer black women created #BlackLivesMatter—we cannot forget this.)
And so what are we to make of these hashtags and the so-called “hashtag activism” at large?
For the past six months or so, two specific conversations have dominated my twitter timeline: online is real activism, and powerful work can be done on social media by being present, affirmative, and vocal. I fully agree with this. But what happens to other forms of activism? Now Twitter conversations, calling folks on their problematic behavior, and retweeting our favorite people all become #SmallRandomActsOfActvism, which seems to devalue the kind of activism in which bodies take up space. The broader we define activism the less it seems to mean, too. Even in this paragraph I erased important context that helps clarify this slippery slope: the people for whom said online activism counts and is valuable are trans, are women, are black, are queer.
Does successful digital activism depend on social identity? Does it matter who you are?
My answer is yes.
Many folks, including myself, have a whole lot of privilege that will protect us if we protest with our bodies. I’m white, I’m on the masculine spectrum most days, I take up a lot of physical space (at 6’4”); not many people would mess with me. But if you’re trans and in public, if you’re on the feminine spectrum and in public, and/or if you’re black and in public, you could be harassed and killed if you physically show up. Online activist spaces can be a literal safe havens for those who can’t take any more risks with their lives. These spaces can connect folks to form communities who regularly would not be able to meet in real life because of threats of violence or even just because of geography.
I often wonder if I’m doing enough. Am I making a difference or changing anything by being vocal online? Because at the end of the day, there will always be people who don’t use their privilege in public and instead resort to tweeting, and I don’t want to be one of them. They think they’re allies to black folks if they put their hands up in a photo. But that doesn’t count. It’s easy to be privileged and stay in your digital, remote location, blasting off hashtags. Microblogging has become “lets regurgitate all the things.”
And this blatantly erases difference. When you type #JeSuisAhmed you might be drawing comparisons between the two of you, but you’re also erasing how people can learn from your story and experiences. So how can we show support and help something trend while remaining true to ourselves and not devaluing our words?
To be honest, I’m still thinking this through. If anything, focusing on and unpacking digital activism sheds light on other forms of activism because it brings presence, safety, identity, and action to the forefront. Only when we address these four areas will our activism start to become successful.
Taylor Portela Alumnus of UM—English / Philosophy; Joyce and Woolf and Morrison enthusiast; lover of music, coffee, and queers.
This piece was reprinted by EmpathyEducates with permission or license. We thank the Author, Taylor Portela for his kindness, observations, and thoughts that we share. What we call “Clickable-Social-Consciousness” or “Clickable-Activism” is, we believe a vital conversation. We also wish to express our sincere appreciation for Medium‘s, Culture Club and Curator, Felicia Megan Gordon.
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