itions, and testimonials we share on social media inure us to actual, offline violence? While I am generally skeptical of critiques of so-called “arm-chair activism” or “slacktivism” (Cabrera, Matias, & Montoya, 2017; Jones, 2015), it is increasingly clear that simply sharing news on social media is not enough (though I emphasize, it is extremely important.)
Rather, I hope we can reinvigorate some of the early dreams for social media, allowing us to connect and build community with people we may never meet in person. Rather than surrendering to the seemingly constant flow of bad news across our screens, what would happen if we were inspired by the very algorithms used to categorize our content to reimagine what the LGBTQIA+/Queer community can look like? What if we participated more actively in this feedback loop, taking cues from suggested articles and friends, posts from friends of friends, and even targeted ads to rethink our connections to one another? In the age of social media, how can we grapple with being constantly reminded of the inequality faced by LGBTQIA+/Queer people around the world when the causes of so much misery seem systemic and out of our grasp?
More than anything, we ( ‘we’ here is a person with both the knowhow and the resources to access social media) can no longer claim ignorance. We—especially those of us most privileged within the community—can no longer tolerate offhand statements about the “inherently” queerphobic nature of certain countries and regions, while ignoring the US’ abysmal history of violence against queer people; we can no longer separate the epidemic of police brutality against Black people and other POC in the United States from increased police presence at Pride celebrations across the country; we can no longer accept events held by and for our community that do not meet basic accessibility standards; and we can no longer pretend that trans and non-binary issues are categorically separate from those that affect gay, lesbian, and bisexual communities. I propose that we might think of social media, despite its many ethical problems, as a kind of queer cartography, demonstrating and bringing into being the possibilities for a kind of queer connection that both learns from and looks beyond the algorithmic. That is, we might come to understand ourselves as deeply connected—as social media already knows we are—along unexpected axes, and take up the issues facing LGBTQIA+/Queer people around the world as our own. Whether we read, share, like, retweet, donate money, or start a petition, this affective orientation to each other requires us not only to bear witness; it requires concrete action.
Johana Medina León’s death was not the first death as a consequence of ICE detention, and it will almost certainly not be the last. Alirio Andrade was not even the last queer Chilean to be attacked that week. While social media has no doubt helped to publicize cases like these, which would otherwise likely have been swept under the rug, these technologies can be crucially important to social justice fights in other ways as well. The juxtaposition—by a faceless algorithm—of their deaths with news of other queer-phobic attacks in our communities and in distant parts of the world, lays bare the logics of racism, misogyny, and queer-phobia that continue to oppress LGBTQIA+/Queer people and other marginalized groups around the world. Despite its many limitations and ethical dilemmas, social media—taken as an inspiration for new kinds of queer sociality—can be part of the solution.
Cabrera, Nolan L, Cheryl E Matias, and Roberto Montoya. 2017. “Activism or Slacktivism? The Potential and Pitfalls of Social Media in Contemporary Student Activism Activism or Slacktivism? The Potential and Pitfalls of Social Media in Contemporary Student Activism.” Journal of Diversity in Higher Education.
Costanza-Chock, Sasha. 2008. “The Immigrant Rights Movement on the Net: Between ‘Web 2.0’ and Comunicación Popular.” American Quarterly 60 (3): 851–64.
Crenshaw, Kimberle. 1991. “Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Id