There is an ongoing debate for the past couple years on whether or not online accountability processes are useful- if they are useful, in what ways, and if they aren’t useful, is there any way to improve that, or is it better to replace the tactic entirely.
It was trendy, for a while, to engage in callout culture online. There’s a lot of reasons why- for too long, the responsibility to tell people they’re being oppressive has been laid solely at the feet of those being oppressed, which is a draining position to be in. The internet is a safer place in many ways to call people out than face to face, especially when being called out often comes from a marginalized person to a person with power, and even more so when the reaction can be violent.
Now it seems like “proper activism” is seeking to critique callout culture as being toxic. Why critique without allowing countercritique, says one post. It creates sides, insists on them, an us-versus-them, says another. It can be a type of bullying. It expects that other people, often also marginalized and struggling, have endless time and energy to educate themselves, which isn’t reasonable. And I don’t think that’s altogether inaccurate- I do agree with a lot of the critique, to be honest, particularly this one.
This website started because of callout culture, as a space to gather stories and forge safe space to discuss issues pertaining to abuse in the BDSM community. It expanded to embrace anywhere rape culture had entwined its tendrils, not just in sex-based communities, but in activist spaces, in government policy, in medical regulations. As it grew, it became important to strike a balance of calling out behaviours, and calling in, providing options, positing solutions, exploring what had been done before and what could still be tried.
I find that social justice oriented writing can feel very performative. I have been called upon to state my opinion on various things going on whether or not I have one, as a Social Justice Blogger Who Has Opinions. It can feel very much like you’re expected to be “on” all the time, available to provide information, guidance, references, self-righteous anger, or intimate navel-gazing to anyone who encounters your writing. People feel they know you on a level they don’t, and often feel entitled to your time because of this perceived closeness. I do think that’s a problem, and that it causes many people to burn out. Understandably so. Being angry all the time at systematic oppression is real, and it’s also tiring. When you take on board that there are no allies, only people working in solidarity with, and people not, there is an ongoing pressure to be on message 100% of the time.
However, I disagree that callout culture is fundamentally to blame. Why would asking someone to be accountable for the things they say and do be a bad thing? I suppose it depends on intentions- are you calling someone out as a way to point out they did something hurtful, because you want them to grow and evolve as a person? Or are you doing it to gain a foothold as another Right On Social Justice Blogger?
It’s worth noting that a lot of people condemning callout culture are often people who are being called out, regularly.
I don’t know I have an answer. For me, activism feels kind of like an internship, I guess. I take it on because I believe in it, but it is not something that I benefit from directly. I am not making money from activism. I’m certainly not gaining popularity. I’m not being asked to write books, or speak at universities. The incentive is that I want other people to know more, to ask more questions, because that’s the world I want to live in.
That involves sitting with being called out on stuff, and feeling sad because I’ve hurt people accidentally, or unwittingly. Callout culture is something I respect as a tool, because I learn from my defensiveness. The temptation to clench, to shut down, is a great one, but like a muscle, I need sometimes to stretch, even through it’s sore. It makes me stronger.
This is where I think calling in can also be useful, where providing suggestions, and options, and speaking with compassion is the way forward. Of course the formative piece on this concept of calling in is by Ngọc Loan Trần over on Black Girl Dangerous, and it’s worth reading in its entirity. I appreciate how it calls for compassion, while also acknowledging that people do hurt other people and being angry about that is ok. I don’t think it needs to be an either or. I think both are tools that have their place, just as activism often needs front line warriors AND backstage diplomats.
It’s tempting, too, to lay this on internet activism, to say this is just a lot of twitter or tumblr wars being hashed and rehashed. But there is a reason why the internet has been a tool for this. it provides space for other voices to be heard, not just by society at large, but by other people feeling the same way. It’s created areas of solidarity that I don’t think should be dismissed. It’s provided opportunities to organize. It’s provided up-to-date, play-by-play news when the media can’t be trusted. Internet activism is vital, and it’s important, and it’s useful. It can be manipulated, sure, as can any tool, but that doesn’t mean it’s not still practical for many things.
As long as trans women, people of colour, sex workers, people with disabilities, people with mental health issues, and other marginalized groups struggle to be heard at conferences, in academia, in activist spaces, online activism is necessary. If you want to fix that, may I recommend not taking a seat at the next panel you’re invited to, offering the space to someone who is heard less often than voices like yours?
There’s an excellent piece on the frustration with how toxic online activism can be, while also recognizing its value, on Feministing:
Calling folks out in good faith – or calling in – is absolutely necessary. We cannot stand by as people leave the most marginalized folks in our communities out of the conversation, say things that are hurtful, and create projects that continue historical legacies of oppression. It’s important not just because folks need to be educated, but because the ways we organize and the stories we tell affect the lived realities and material conditions of everyone around us. To not confront oppression when you’re in a position to do so is to be complicit in its perpetuity. But it’s also important to ask ourselves why we’re jumping in. It’s cool to be angry – I’m angry as hell, and in a world in which there is so much to hate, I tend to be a hater – but when we’re trying to advance a conversation, it’s important to think about what’s going to be constructive. On the same tip, we need to learn how to react when being called out – how to meaningfully apologize, and how to move forward with new knowledge. To realize that making a mistake does not make us the living worst, and that we can move forward if we take critiques seriously and acknowledge the serious hurt our mistakes have caused.
-On cynicism, calling out, and creating movements that don’t leave our people behind, Veronica Bayetti Flores
Here’s the thing. This isn’t just happening on the internet. People in real life are starting these conversations, and in my opinion, it’s great. I’m feeling more and more comfortable getting out from behind the computer, because I no longer feel alone in saying something when I witness something fucked up. People are beginning to see that silence can come across as complicity, whether or not it is, and people with privilege are starting to actually take ownership and action. I think that to condemn callout culture, rather than condemning the behaviours of people who misuse it, is to ignore the very real value it’s provided. It’s throwing the baby out with the bathwater.
It reminds me of when Consent Culture started. I noticed that kinksters, especially dominants, rarely discussed when they fucked up, when they miscalculated a tie, or misunderstood body language. People were so scared to be judged for fucking up, they became wildly defensive when it was suggested they might’ve, silencing those trying to start even the gentlest discussion about it. Slowly, as more people have come out and said “I’ve fucked up, and here’s what I’ve done to learn from it and apologize”, other people have felt safer doing the same. They know that it doesn’t even usually mean banishment from the community, but an opportunity for growth. I think the same can happen in activism, if we let it. And sure, there are some assholes who are in it to hurt people, and yeah, cutting them off makes sense, of course it does. Having a sustainable, kind, yet firm personal ownership expectation tends to expose those people pretty quickly.
If some people use the internet to explore these ideas, why not? We use it to explore sexual fantasies, academic constructs, media messaging, and everything else, after all.
I’m grateful to callout culture, and call in culture both. It’s taught me a lot, because i’ve chosen to learn from it. I truly believe accountability is strength, and trust, and a healthier community. Isn’t that worth striving for?
The post Calling Out, Calling In: Why Internet Activism Matters appeared first on Consent Culture.
