An oldie but a goodie from 2003.
From Wellman, B. Salaff, J. Dimitrova, D., Garton, L. , Gulia, M. and Haythornthwaite, C. (1996). “Computer Networks as Social Networks: Collaborative Work, Telework and Virtual Community”. Annual Review of Sociology, 22, 213-238.
Although contemporary people in the western world may know 1000 others, they actively maintain only about 20 community ties (Kochen 1989). Easy access to distribution lists and computerized conferences should enable participants to maintain more ties, including more strong ties. Communication also comes unsolicited through distribution lists, newsgroups, and forwarded messages from friends. These provide indirect contact between previously disconnected people, allowing them to establish direct contact. Newsgroups and distribution lists also provide permeable, shifting sets of members, with more intense relationships continued by private e-mail. The resulting relaxation of constraints on the size and proximity of one’s personal community can increase the diversity of people encountered (Lea & Spears 1995). Thus the Net facilitates forming new connections between people and virtual communities.
The relative lack of social presence on-line fosters relationships with Net members who have more diverse social characteristics than are normally encountered in person. It also gives participants more control over the timing and content of their self-disclosures (Walther 1995). This allows relationships to develop on the basis of shared interests rather than to be stunted at the onset by differences in social status (Coate 1994, Hiltz & Turoff 1993, Jones 1995, Kollock & Smith 1996a). This is a technologically supported continuation of a longterm shift to communities organized by shared interests rather than by shared neighborhoods or kinship groups (Fischer 1975, Wellman 1979, 1994). When their shared interests are important to them, those involved in the same virtual community may have more in common than those who live in the same building or block (Rheingold 1993). Indeed, people have strong commitments to their on-line groups when they perceive them to be long-lasting (Walther 1994). There is a danger, though, that virtual communities may develop homogeneous interests (Lea & Spears 1992). Furthermore, the similarity of social characteristics of most current Net participants also fosters cultural homogeneity.
This emphasis on shared interests rather than social characteristics can be empowering for members of lower-status and disenfranchised social categories (Mele 1996). Yet although social characteristics have become less apparent on CSSNs (computer supported social networks), they still affect interactions. Women often receive special attention from males (Shade 1994, Herring 1993, O’Brien 1996). In part, this is a function of the high ratio of men to women on-line. “Reveal your gender on the Net and you’re toast” claims one (fictional) female participant (Coupland 1995:334).
Although this piece predates blogging (as we now know it) by at least three years, I find that it offers an extraordinarily prescient analyisis of how text-based computer supported social networks (CSSNs) influence and shape digital communities. Despite the authors’ failure to specifically tailor their analysis to racially and ethnically homogenous virtual communities, the idea that CSSNs can provide an avenue for creating strong personal communal ties is especially interesting to me when one considers the role of black bloggers in the blogosphere.
First, a bit of history: I’ve maintained an online presence in some form since 1993, when I created my very first “homepage” on GSU’s servers. I bought my first domain name in 1996, and at some time after that, I became a member of the Digital Divas (are they even still around?). When I posted some of my earlier diadactical writings online, I never expected to reach an audience; I mainly used it as a way to teach myself how to write HTML. Yet in the back of my mind, I believed that women’s voices — especially the voices of black, feminist, queer-identified women — were not being heard (or aired) in the vast amount of communication happening online. So while I didn’t really expect an audience, I felt a sense of duty to join the fray.
In 1996 or 1997, a young woman from North Carolina e-mailed me and told me how much she enjoyed my writing. Little did I know that this woman would later drive for hours just to attend my wedding in 2001 — even though she and I had never met before. Other black women reached out, providing me with my first real sense of a loosely-organized network of black women whose lives were somehow connected through wires, circuitry, and a desire to say to the world — just like Miss Celie did — that I’m here.
Skipping ahead a few years, it was quite a long time before I became aware of any brother bloggers. I wasn’t sure if it was just that I didn’t know any black men who had the same compulsion/desire/ambition/sense of obligation that the sisters did, or if brothers, being brothers, believed that they had to affect the same cool pose online as they do in real life. Then G. showed up in my inbox, and, well, we all know how much he’s changed not only my life, but how he’s touched countless others. After G. broke down that fourth wall, brothers started coming out of the woodwork, stopped in, said hello, and extended a “soul-dap” of comraderie. They’re here, too.
We’ve clearly arrived — just look at the link lists of any black blogger, and you’ll see a number of other black bloggers linked. Still, the question remains: what exactly is the role of the black blogger? In my mind, the role is as difficult to classify as we are but I believe that the one motivating factor that ties most of us — if not all of us — together is a desire to put an end to the notion that cyberspace is colourblind. Regardless of our politics, sexual orientations, and personal motivations, our very presence adds — if you’ll forgive me — a dash of colour to the normalized “whiteness” that exists online. For some of us, our racial identity is paramount. Others may prefer to live a somewhat deracialized existence, and offer few if any clues that indicate any sort of racial or ethnic allegiance. Yet we’ve somehow created this rather loosely organized network where we link to (mostly) the same people, and read (mostly) the same weblogs. Individually we decided upon the degree to which we’d disclose the details of our personal lives. We create relationships online and off, and by and large, we’re a convivial group of geographically, sexually, politically and ideologically diverse individuals who share not only melanin, but a desire to see (ourselves) and be seen (by ourselves and others).
The degree to which we interact with each other varies widely. In that sense, it may be absurd to think of black bloggers as a virtual social network in the way that we may view MetaFilter, Television Without Pity, or Rate Your Music members. Those communities are organized in a central location and based on a common interest. In my mind, community takes different forms, and in a healthy community, people have the option to participate to the degree that they’re most comfortable, even if that means that they don’t participate at all. Whether you’re on the margins (by choice or by chance), or right there in the middle of things, your very presence makes you a part of this community. G. said once that his definition of “black” is anything that is done by a black person - an explanation that leaves room for a plethora of interpretations. One must first ask “What is a black person?” In our post-Tiger Woods “cablinasian” multi-culti reality, how can we begin to make sense of what it means to be black in this millennium? If we can’t come to a consensus on what or who is a “black” person, how can we even hope to give significance to the term “black blogger”?
Where some might see a challenge, or a confusing mish-mash of identity politics, I see hope. What is different about this community is that our community standard is very loosely organized, so loose in fact, that one might say that the only ticket of entry is the one drop rule. The freedom that comes from online interaction has enabled this community of black bloggers to take steps away from essentialist notions of blackness that can be at once stifling and nurturing. Blackness is whatever the individual says it is, and if we don’t come up with an acceptable answer that conforms to “community” standards, well then, that’s okay.
Discuss: what does it mean to be a black blogger?
