From this week's readings, I chose to read Nora Khan's "Empty Models, Flattened Language."
The introduction of this article where Khan describes herself walking pass numerous homeless encampments to attend a conference of the future definitely stuck with me. It reminded me of my own experiences of walking past the transients of Westwood while heading to class, heading to spend time with my friend and experience the same shameful twitch Khan mentions. However, we experience less regard for others on these flattened interfaces. This is reminicent of an anecdote in Jenny Ordell's article "How To Internet" where Ordell juxtaposes her interaction with a military vet with what could've happened if it were instead a chat online. Ordell states that being in-person forces us to look each other in the eyes and interact civilly, but in an online chat room, things may have been very different. But as more and more people feel comfortable speaking to each other in-person the way they speak in comment sections and chat rooms, Khan's conversation of technology changing how we speak and interact becomes increasingly important.
During the aftermath of George Floyd's death and admist the pandemic, I recall the pressure to post and partake in the movement on social media platforms. It again goes back to the shameful twitch Khan coins, but this time with the extra pressure from the peers and strangers of the internet to do something, to post something, to display the political identity that may have once been completely hidden from your followers. I remember thinking in circles about how I could contribute to the movement and express my point of view while being respectful of other voices. I spent the days crafting a hand-animated lyric video for a song relevant to the BLM movement. I remember the hesitation to post: How will my peers take it? Will my caption be taken the right way? Is this just another act of performative activism they warned against? What will this mean for my online identity? But I posted in hopes of opening up conversations with my peers and with the privilege of having a platform.
However, this period of political activism as a part of my identity online dwindled as the posts and the news become overly overwhelming and triggering. This decline in my own digital activism felt like I was a fraud, sitting behind a screen, painting a false version of myself. Was I just another person who posted a black square and called it a day?
A sudden desire to be no one and to not be percieved always fills me when thinking about my presence online. However, I'm reminded through Khan and Ordell's articles that my identity on the internet is flattened, reconfigured, and ill-contextualized. The flattening brings about a pressure to keep describing myself, but I feel that I'll never achieve a full picture of myself, so is it even worth it to keep trying?