By Mars Robinson
November 29, 2024
The nature of the internet makes it the perfect place to find support, but can that support go too far?
Consider what it takes to set up a traditional support group. You need to have a place to gather, enough people in one geographical area to sustain the group and those individuals must be able to have the means and courage to show up. Even if you can get a group together, how many different experiences can those from the same area really bring to the table? Depending on your identity, is it even safe to hold a group meeting?
In the age of the internet, never before has it been so easy to find people to support and affirm your identity. Even just looking at Facebook, you can type in any topic followed by “support group,” and suddenly, there are hundreds, if not thousands, of people like you. A quick search shows me a support group for those with prosopagnosia (also called face blindness), one for those with colorectal fistulas, one for avid The Sims builders, one for those with knee problems, one for those with diabetic cats and even one for those with geriatric Shiba Inus.
Fifty years ago, an individual seeking a niche community was out of luck if there was not one in close proximity. People felt completely alone in who they were and many hid out of fear, not wanting to disrupt the norm.
While this may not matter for people with cats with feline diabetes, it means a world of difference for those in marginalized groups, like the queer community. For much of history, being queer has been looked down on and shunned, and even just misunderstood.
Thanks to the internet, queer individuals can find refuge in digital support spaces. Within these communities, members can seek advice and education as well as build meaningful connections with people like them.
In my own queer journey, I found a tight-knit online community with others just like me, people I consider close friends. This helped me come to terms with who I am, and I met some incredible people along the way. The space we created together has shaped me and my friends into the people we have become and has given us a safe space to continue to grow.
Tyler (he/they) started our group in the heat of the COVID-19 pandemic, when many of us felt completely isolated. This space was an open forum for us to share our daily highs and lows. Without designated meeting times, we could communicate and connect when it made sense for each of us in our own busy lives. Tyler, an aspiring musician from New York, describes our group as a place where “even through all the horrible things that [he’s] experienced, [is] experiencing, and will experience”, he will always have a community who loves him just as he is.
Other members of our group feel similarly. Jax (any pronouns), a student from Illinois, told me that “finding queer communities online allowed [them] to explore [their] identity and queerness in a way that didn’t have any consequences on how [they were] perceived in real life.” Soda (he/him), a college freshman based in Spain, felt “much more confident in being who [he is] and not just hiding away” after being in community with “people that understand how it feels to be left out or shamed because of being different.”
This can only be a win, right? Digital spaces give individuals more freedom than ever to be the people they want to be. Having support to fall back on enables us to be bolder in our identities, and underrepresented groups can finally unite beyond geographical and time constraints.
But what happens when hateful groups are given this same unadulterated support? What happens when a homophobe takes to a digital space and they’re affirmed and supported in their cruelty, just the same as the vulnerable youth who needs that support just to exist as they are?
Prejudice on a small person-to-person scale is already a traumatic experience. Experiencing hate like that from friends, family members and even strangers on the street can have lasting effects on those who hear it. These digital spaces and the bigots who cultivate them allow hateful ideas to spread not only within the online communities they originate from, but also outside of them. The nature of the internet additionally enables faceless bullies to spread hate, anonymity shedding their shame.
Support from digital spaces enables us to be bolder in our identities and to make claims that we never would’ve felt we could before. For many, this saves lives, but for others, it emboldens their hate. Those who could be ostracized in some societies for their opinions about others can now find safe spaces to ruin lives.
Take the American Family Association (AFA), for example. Via the internet, the group was able to acquire 2 million followers, as well as 180,000 subscribers to its online journal to spread its hateful message condemning the queer community. Numbers like these just aren’t feasible in face-to-face gatherings, but thanks to the internet, this hate is allowed to run rampant. These supportive communities turn into echo chambers for individuals with cruel and evil motives, bouncing hate back and forth and amplifying it for all to hear.
While many social media platforms have done work to restrict this hate, there are no rules or laws banning it from the internet as a whole. Groups like the AFA and many others, large and small, continue to exist and breed hate.
Additionally, homophobia being normalized in this fashion has encouraged lawmakers to pass legislation that openly discriminates against queer people in America, including more than 32 anti-drag bills being introduced just in the past two years. Hate from digital spaces doesn’t remain confined to the internet; it grows as a whole, normalizing dangerous beliefs and negatively affecting marginalized communities in life-altering ways.
While the rapid growth of online spaces helps many become exactly who they want to be, this can be true for those who should and should not be celebrated. These groups carry real and tangible weight, going far beyond the screens that we see them on. Be critical of the spaces you engage with; are you giving too much support?
Mars Robinson is a sophomore majoring in Public and Professional Writing and minoring in Queer Studies. He spends his free time hanging out in online queer spaces, online window shopping and playing Roblox with his best friend.