Social Media Activism: A Force for Good or Evil in the Fight for Antiracism?

TW: Police Brutality

In the wake of George Floyd’s murder last summer, there was a noticeable shift in my Instagram feed. It was like nothing I had ever witnessed; after previous police violence tragedies, there would be one or two days of posts or Instagram stories about the event, but nothing further. This time around was different: almost a year later we are still seeing the ripple effects of the 2020 resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement in the ways it has changed virtually every social media platform.

One of these changes was the normalization of ‘calling out’ (or calling in) people who don’t seem genuine in their activism. In today’s social media climate, these people are sometimes referred to as ‘performative activists.’ At first, I was unquestionably in support of calling these people out, especially as I noticed ‘friends’ of mine becoming extremely disingenuous in their activism. However, my entire perception of performative activism was shaken when Angela Davis came to speak at an event sponsored by my university. When asked about how she viewed this phenomenon, Davis shocked many people (myself included) by saying that she was not bothered by performative activists, so long as they don’t get in the way of the actual work.

This revelation made me sit back and rethink my entire perspective on the subject: why do we draw so much attention to these kinds of people? Is it worthwhile to devote so much of our time and energy to them in an attempt to draw a distinction between ‘good’ and ‘bad’ activism?

Before going into this, a bit of history on the term “performative activism.” Many people who have been active on social media lately may be surprised to find out that the concept of performative activism was actually considered a good thing until a few years ago. In fact, the meaning of the phrase was utterly different until about 2017, and even after that, it took a while for the new definition to catch on. A quick search of the literature proves that, historically, the use of performative activism as a pejorative term has had little significance in feminist literature and theory. In the past, performative activism has been understood as activism that calls on artistic expression and performance to work towards sexual and gender justice (Jouet 2018). Today, the concept of performative activism is defined as doing ‘activism’ to gain social capital rather than make real change, and is associated with other terms such as “slacktivism.” From a genealogical perspective, this change in definition is interesting because it shows the development of what it means to be genuine in one’s activism, illustrating evolution in the ways we are critical of and perceive feminist, antiracist solidarity.

The sad truth is that privileged individuals and groups of people still often occupy activist or social justice spaces to make themselves feel better about themselves and the privilege they hold, rather than demonstrating a genuine interest in the issue. Take the 2013 #HijabUppropet (#HijabOutcry) movement, for example (Berg and Carbin 2018). In this call-to-action, Muslim women in Sweden initiated a collective response to the racist hate crimes that hijab-wearing Muslim women face regularly. These women encouraged their ‘sisters’ to temporarily wear a veil in solidarity with women who wear them daily. The movement was successful, primarily due to the viral nature of social media and the speed with which people could spread photos and stories of the protests. However, an unexpected outcome of this protest was famous white non-Muslim women joining in veiling themselves and posting pictures of themselves in the scarves on social media.

However, their involvement in the movement, facilitated by social media and technology, significantly shifted the discourse of the call-to-action. Rather than centering feminism, anti-racism, and the opposition of violence against women, the physical piece of clothing became the topic of conversation. The media instead discussed whether or not women should wear hijabs, erasing the central message of the movement (Berg 2018, 124).

In the United States, this phenomenon occurs rather often, to the point where there are too many examples to mention here. Remember the black squares on Instagram that clogged everyone’s feeds for two days last June? What was initially meant to be an act of antiracist solidarity quickly evolved into a check-list item for white people to prove their ‘wokeness’ and incidentally prevented resources from reaching protesters and communities in need. Sara Yazdanfar describes these movements as being co-opted by white women (and other privileged groups) looking to reconcile their privilege and fulfill the desire to feel like a good person (Berg 2018, 127).

All this being said, however, social media can be a powerful force for change; it has the power to spread ideas across borders and has become key in building feminist and anti-racist communities (Pruchniewska). The development of social media has allowed for a type of activism and solidarity that is more practical and enables individuals to personalize larger social justice movements. People can generate their own content and personalize it to how they feel best describes their experience with racism (as well as sexism, classism, and ableism). As such, social media has become a platform for all individuals to contribute equally to a movement, regardless of who they are or where they come from.

The bottom line: if you are an individual with any type of privilege posting in support of a movement or solidarity, think about your motivations for posting that content. Do your actions offline match those that you’re promoting online? Is there any social capital or credibility to gain from your post? Of course, you can take this all with a grain of salt — I realize that I am a white woman who may or may not be (but hopefully is not) standing on my soapbox. I believe that under the right circumstances, social media can make a difference in social justice movements. Still, it is crucial to hold ourselves accountable and remain critical of our actions and whether or not they contribute to building genuine feminist, antiracist solidarity.

Bibliography

Berg, Linda, and Maria Carbin. “Troubling Solidarity: Anti-Racist Feminist Protest in a Digitalized Time.” WSQ: Women’s Studies Quarterly 46, no. 3–4 (2018): 120–136.

Ihaza, Jeff. “A T-Shirt Is Not a Protest.” The Outline, February 1, 2017. https://theoutline.com/post/982/opening-ceremony-protest-shirts-are-not-an-actual-protest.

Jouët, Josiane. “Digital Feminism: Questioning the Renewal of Activism.” Journal of Research in Gender Studies 8, no. 1 (2018): 133–157.

Photograph. April 1, 2021. GreenBiz. https://www.greenbiz.com/article/companies-say-black-lives-matter-investors-say-prove-it.