Friday, November 4, 2022

My thoughts on Twitter's turn for the worse



Twitter took a turn for the worse last week when an incompetent billionaire took over. It has always been an imperfect and faulty tool, but my experience had always been more positive than negative. I've had an account there since 2008. And since then it's been a site of serendipitous discoveries where I also keep up with the news. My mutual followers are a network of loose ties, people I'd like to meet in real life but haven't yet, digital acquaintances who are almost friends. Since the takeover, their numbers are dwindling every day.



We used to do our own thing on our own websites but now we've been corralled into social media platforms run by obscenely wealthy out-of-touch techbros where we're rewarded for creating the discourse on what everyone else is doing. We're cast in the role of the Greek chorus in the theater of life, always commenting on what's going on, attracting marketers to the marketplace of ideas so they can pay to advertise to us. So many of us artists were lured away from our own personal corners of the web by stories of fame, riches, and overnight success on social media. Blogging became passé. The blog into book deal into movie adaptation or tv series pipeline had been diverted into social media instead. Every conference I went to from 2009 onward had at least one session devoted to social media marketing strategies for artists / designers / writers. It was supposed to be the key to discoverability. Every tweet was a chance to "go viral." (Since the pandemic began, I've come to loathe that metaphor.)

Of course there's no one right way to use Twitter. We all have our own reasons for being there. Some users revel in the discourse. Some use it as an opportunity to heckle public figures they don't like. Others use it as a public diary. Others were a silent presence. Personally, I was never interested in using it as a platform for debate or discussion. It's always been a billboard for me. I prefer to communicate with other people online one-on-one or in forums. I felt more comfortable using Twitter to make announcements about upcoming shows and things I'm selling. I learned from witnessing the nightmarish experiences of other Black women online that abuse was always lurking just out of sight, in hidden replies. I was well aware of the constant infestation of grotesque cruelty. Being outspoken about injustice inevitably leads to hateful trolls coming out of the woodwork.

And yet, somehow in spite of it, we found a sense of community. The medium is perfect for the call-and-response communication style of Black American culture, which helped Black Twitter flourish. I have fond memories of watching tv shows and reading tweets about them, sharing common memories and funny moments, consoling each other during times of great strife, which have occurred with a terrible frequency in the past few years. I think the collective grief of the pandemic era has led to a sense of irritability that's brought out the worst in Twitter users, made worse by its algorithm. Mundane statements seem to be intentionally served up to audiences that will meet them with the most hostility possible. After an angry mob of random people went off on a woman who posted about how much she enjoyed her morning routine of sharing coffee and conversation with her husband in their garden, I realized that maybe the reason my tweets weren't getting much traction is that much of the userbase is seeking posts that confirm their misery. They don't want to read about things that make other people happy. 

But in spite of this, I stayed. There were certain features that I found useful. I see Twitter as a sort of Swiss Army Knife in terms of its utility because I can post text, links, images, and videos and be found in public searches. I'm sure some people would say, "You're an artist, so why not just use Instagram?" But Instagram isn't built for sharing. You need third-party apps to do that. It's not good for sharing links, either. And don't get me started on their recent obsession with video. Video takes time that I just don't have. That's why I don't make lots of videos for YouTube, either. Twitter has allowed me to post things that only take a few minutes to put together and cultivate an online presence in my spare time without making a big production out of it. I prefer to save that big production energy for my real work. Twitter was a website that up until now has been far too useful to turn away from.




Now the site has been purchased by a petty tyrant with too much money. Implorations to "give him a chance" and accusations of being hysterical and alarmist sound all too familiar after the 2016 presidential election. I know how this story goes. I know this time the outcome won't be different or better. It's a shame that the major social media sites are run by morally repugnant manchildren with an insatiable urge to "disrupt" and "move fast and break things." Their pathetic acolytes have nothing to contribute but ugly memes and hate. As an artist struggling to find an audience, I can't help but resent them for being entrusted with seemingly infinite sums of money to burn. An indispensable marketing tool is now subject to the whims of the edgelord who owns it. Will it end with a bang or with a whimper? Will he nickel and dime us into oblivion or will he just have a rich boy temper tantrum and shut the site down in the middle of the night out of spite?



We all had our reasons for joining, and now we all have our reasons for leaving. For so many, staying is unconscionable. So many hate speech accounts have been emboldened to use racial slurs, and what advertiser in their right mind would want their organization's logo to appear next to such vile posts? Others have endured threats of violence and are departing for their own safety and sanity. It's a shame because I'm going to miss these people. And it's a shame because it was such a great resource for people who needed help and set up crowdfunding campaigns. Not to mention small creative enterprises and grassroots organizing.






I'm sure that was intentional, though. The best way to silence those who threaten the powers that be is to seize control of our means of communication. And that's why I want to stay. I am not resigned to ceding control to a tyrant. I joined Twitter in 2008 before I'd ever heard of Elon Musk and I intend to keep posting no matter what foolishness he tries. No matter where I go, there will be racists and sexists trying to make my life miserable. At least on Twitter I can block them. I don't want to see a site that's been a home for so many types of interesting and talented people become overrun with the worst that 4chan has to offer. I have no idea how long the site will last, though. It feels like an era has ended. It's why I take solace in having my own web presence outside of social media. I'm so glad I never stopped blogging.




get involved:

Stop Toxic Twitter

related articles:

I LIKE FREE SPEECH SO MUCH I’VE DECIDED TO BUY IT

Elon Musk's "blue check" debacle: His brain has been broken by whiny incels

Twitter may have lost more than a million users since Elon Musk took over

 Elon Musk's epic bumbling is a daily reminder that America is not a meritocracy

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