New Media

Finding spaces like San Junipero — spaces of at least partial escape, happiness to be found on unwatched street corners, on timeless dance floors — is still a radical enough feeling for queer people.

If we want to keep engaging in the way we already do on the Internet, we must work to maintain it as such, whether through online outreach, protests or dialogue.

Social networks, including Twitter, are supposed to change in order to grow and survive, and we as a culture are supposed to adapt that change.


In my mind, there is a correct and incorrect way to apologize to someone, period. This, folks, is the incorrect way.


As concerning as Facebook’s news platform is, I don’t see the $500 billion corporation scaling back any of these new features anytime soon.

I keep thinking about how we, as women, are constantly having to wrestle with ourselves in situations like this, negotiating between private whispered warnings and public shouts. Because the stuff in the middle — the obligatory self-aware Billy Cosby jokes at award shows, the semi-ironically given statistics on late night TV, the hashtags that get us banned from Twitter — none of it ever seems to make a difference. And more often than not, in this struggle to choose to go big or go home, going big doesn’t make much of a difference either.

The best of times and the worst of times. This is the world we’re living in, one anxiety-inducing headline after the next.

It’s OK to sometimes use social media as an escape, but once in a while, make sure to escape from social media.

Since the beating of Rodney King in 1992, recording videos has become a powerful weapon in documenting injustice.


How have I become so conditioned to compulsively check social media?