11/14 (late)
How do online communities serve as safe spaces?
This seems like an easy question, but I argue that creating a comfortable space is one of the most difficult things you can do. There is an ideal image of a community that aims to be inclusive to all. However, in every space, there are certain people who inevitably do need to be excluded, removed, banned, or managed in some way in order to promote comfort and safety. For example, if you want to create a place that feels safe for queer and trans people, you cannot allow people into these spaces who are openly bigoted against them. I think that’s a struggle I have seen in a lot of online spaces. They say that everyone is allowed, trans people are welcome, and they have no rules that exclude them in any way. But if there are even a handful of people who are allowed to be in that space, who can openly insult and tear down queer and trans people, it means that it isn’t a space that is truly meant to be comfortable for them.
What are my experiences with online communities that feel safe?
This blog post will consist only of these two questions this week. I believe this is an important enough topic for me to expand on my experience in significant detail. I have had relatively unrestricted internet access as a kid, and I chose to spend a lot of that time just hiding in communities, seeing what people would talk about, but remaining relatively quiet in these spaces. For a while, it was just because I didn’t really have an interest in engaging. As I got older and as I continued to form a stronger sense of identity, my reason for staying silent in these communities began to lean towards fear and discomfort. I may not have had the vocabulary to ever voice it when I was younger, but I think I figured out that I was queer and nonbinary when I was a kid still. That would be a really important factor when trying to find communities I felt comfortable in. I remember joining random chat groups and Discord servers. I remember being stunned by the way people spoke in general chats. More often than not, people in these communities would shout slurs, openly be homophobic, openly be racist, and no one seemed to mind all that much. I was rarely in these spaces for more than a few days. Eventually, I found an online community that I joined because it was centered around one of my interests. It was really nice, and I was active within it for around a year. However, while it may have been more welcoming in regards to aspects of my identity, it suffered from another really big problem: cliques and member conflicts. It was a pretty big community, I think cliques were unavoidable; however, it reached a point where I found out that apparently there were people who began to dislike me PURELY because I unknowingly befriended someone who was part of a specific clique. I didn’t last much longer in that community. Currently, I’m only active in one online community. It started off as a rather big community, managed by this artist I had followed. However, it imploded, and a friend of mine started a much smaller group with people who were much closer to us. I didn’t expect it to last, but the community has been wonderful. There’s unfortunately some cliquey behavior at times, but I think there is only so much that can be done about that. I think what made that community work so well was the way it was moderated. It was a lot different than what I’ve seen before. The moderator’s goals were to “need to moderate” as little as possible. They were open, and they tried to gather community input for every little change to the rules or environment. They were constantly checking in on individual members. It was nice. I wish more communities were like this. Despite an extremely diverse group of people, wildly different beliefs, there's never really disrespect. At worst, misunderstandings? But even those have been minimal. I wish I could describe what makes it work so well, but unfortunately, I think it might be luck. The members are all united by a common interest, people stay involved with one another, the mods don’t really feel “above anyone,” but I don’t know if those are even the things that make this place seem so secure.







