As a feminist studying communications, I find my academic interests occupied by the ways in which issues of discrimination intersect with how we use and develop technology. For our purposes, let’s focus on the Internet—specifically social media.
To be clear: I LOVE the Internet. It’s the coolest thing to grace us since sliced bread and the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. However, that is not to say we shouldn’t think critically about it. I encourage you to consider that there is a huge difference between negative thinking and critical thinking before reading on.
I’d like to propose the Internet is not only a gendered platform, but it also has a gender identity. In order to understand this, we need to stop looking at the “real world” and the Internet as separate entities. The two are not mutually exclusive.
Just like our patriarchal society, the tech field is male-dominated. The views and biases of these men inevitably get encoded and programmed into their work—the same social norms, behaviours, and rules that are generated in the offline world get perpetuated, reproduced, and disseminated on social media platforms.
If we can accept this, then it’s no surprise that things like racism, sexism, and a plethora of other forms of discrimination also reside on the Internet.
For those of you who think we’ve overcome these issues as a society, I encourage you to visit the website NoHomophobia.com for a glimpse at the kind of “casual homophobia” that occurs on Twitter every day. If you think sexism is passé, why is there still no female equivalent of Grindr for bisexual, lesbian, and trans* women? And why do men feel entitled to infiltrate safe online spaces for these women trying to “convert” them “back” to heterosexuality?
Consider that up until February 2014, anyone wanting to register for Facebook had to select their gender identity from a list of two options: male or female. Imagine being someone who identifies outside of the gender binary. Though its mandate claims to make communication and interaction accessible to all, the world’s largest social networking site only recognized two gender identities as legitimate. Someone’s narrow perception of the gender spectrum was translated into a site that has 757 million users daily.
Now, I’m not a misandrist, and I’m not suggesting that all men hold such biases. I’m proposing that if we have a more diverse set of voices contributing to the production process of sites like Facebook, technology has the potential to be insurmountably more inclusive than it currently is.
Subsequently, as users of the Internet, we have the capacity to shift the power dynamic of technology and online relations, and a responsibility to interfere whenever we see hateful behaviour.
If the key to stunting discrimination offline is through bystander intervention, we need to start doing the same online. Ignoring violence and discrimination on your newsfeed is no different from watching it unfold on your street. Why is the same online behaviour considered any less awful?
In a TED Talk by Toronto activist Stephanie Guthrie, she argues that we need to stop justifying discriminatory behaviour online by dismissing people as “trolls.”
We need to start identifying them for what they truly are—bigots. Every time we’re told or encouraged not to “feed the trolls,” we’re sending a message to that person, and everyone else who is watching (because nothing on the internet is done without an audience), that their hateful behaviour is okay. Tolerable. Normal.
To quote Guthrie, “It is through our collective silence that racism and misogyny remain so prevalent in our society.” In many ways, they are the norm, making it all the more difficult to identify instances of discrimination if you’ve never personally been subject to them.
We need to fight for a new status quo, and the Internet provides us with the unique ability to generate social change. The first step is user engagement. Don’t sit on the sidelines next time you see someone make a homophobic status. Don’t be afraid to call someone out for making a racist comment on Twitter, because chances are you’re not the only person fed up with that behaviour. And, really, how awesome does it feel to have your opinion reaffirmed by a “like?” Speaking of, even if you don’t feel comfortable engaging in a debate online, a simple like or retweet shows solidarity and support.
Technology might be gendered, but with enough social pressure, we as users have the power to demand technological reform. Look at Facebook—with enough persistence, LGBTQ activists and supporters convinced the site to restructure its gender category to encompass a more inclusive model.
In my experience, the Internet is usually a white, misogynistic, and racist dude, but that doesn’t mean we can’t change his behaviour. We just have to be willing to participate in the discussion.
