Riona (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rionaleonhart) wrote2023-03-09 12:34 pm
rionaleonhart) wrote2023-03-09 12:34 pm
Entry tags:
It's 2023 And I'm Here To Talk About EZboards.
Lately, I've found myself thinking a lot about an online interaction I had about twenty years ago, which really shaped my approach to online interactions in general.
When I was fourteen or fifteen, I was a moderator on a now-deleted online forum called Final Fantasy Fanatics. One day, a newcomer made a post in allcaps. I left a very condescending 'witty' comment about turning capslock off (something like 'okay, you see all those buttons with letters in front of you? now look to the left...') and went about my day.
The next morning, I saw I had a private message from the newcomer, titled something like 'Being rude'. I assumed she was reporting rudeness from another member and opened the message. I was deeply shocked to see she was scolding me for being rude.
I couldn't take it in. Rude? I wasn't rude. I was a polite person; it was something I took pride in. She thought I was rude? I was just trying to be funny. I would have to explain that this was a misunderstanding.
And then I reflected on what I'd said. And, no matter how I looked at it, I had to admit it: I'd been rude.
I apologised, and she accepted my apology. But the incident stuck with me.
From that exchange, I formed principles for online interaction that I've tried to stick to ever since. The people you speak to online are still human, and, no matter how funny a putdown might be, it's still putting someone down. It's always tempting to be funny on the Internet, but it's more important to be kind. I've tried to put kindness first since then when speaking to people online; I hope I've succeeded.
The way she told me off stuck in my mind as well. I'd made fun of her in front of an audience - the other users of the forum - and she could very reasonably have replied in that public thread to tell me I was being rude. But she didn't. She contacted me in a private message; she didn't threaten my reputation by calling me out in front of everyone.
I wonder sometimes if I'd have felt the need to dig my heels in if I'd been publicly called out, rather than reflecting, acknowledging I'd behaved badly and apologising. I think it's a lot easier to resolve things peacefully in a private conversation, where you don't have to worry about looking like you've lost in front of people.
This is something I think about a lot with regard to platforms like Tumblr and Twitter: platforms where it's hard to conduct an argument without broadcasting it to all your followers, which I think stokes a lot of viciousness. On Dreamwidth, if you disagree with someone, you're more likely to discuss it with them in a comment thread in their own space, where nobody else will be notified; it's easier to have a civil conversation.
I don't think that person stuck around the forum for long; I don't remember her username or any details about her, and I'd have no idea how to find her. So I can't thank her personally, but I'm grateful to her. I think, by changing the way I approach online interaction, she had a really positive influence on my life.
I don't know if there's a point to this entry. I think there are discussions to be had about how we treat other people when there's a screen between us, and how modern social media is designed to fan the flames and encourage audience participation whenever an argument breaks out. But, ultimately, this was just something that happened that was important to me, and I'd like to record it somewhere.
When I was fourteen or fifteen, I was a moderator on a now-deleted online forum called Final Fantasy Fanatics. One day, a newcomer made a post in allcaps. I left a very condescending 'witty' comment about turning capslock off (something like 'okay, you see all those buttons with letters in front of you? now look to the left...') and went about my day.
The next morning, I saw I had a private message from the newcomer, titled something like 'Being rude'. I assumed she was reporting rudeness from another member and opened the message. I was deeply shocked to see she was scolding me for being rude.
I couldn't take it in. Rude? I wasn't rude. I was a polite person; it was something I took pride in. She thought I was rude? I was just trying to be funny. I would have to explain that this was a misunderstanding.
And then I reflected on what I'd said. And, no matter how I looked at it, I had to admit it: I'd been rude.
I apologised, and she accepted my apology. But the incident stuck with me.
From that exchange, I formed principles for online interaction that I've tried to stick to ever since. The people you speak to online are still human, and, no matter how funny a putdown might be, it's still putting someone down. It's always tempting to be funny on the Internet, but it's more important to be kind. I've tried to put kindness first since then when speaking to people online; I hope I've succeeded.
The way she told me off stuck in my mind as well. I'd made fun of her in front of an audience - the other users of the forum - and she could very reasonably have replied in that public thread to tell me I was being rude. But she didn't. She contacted me in a private message; she didn't threaten my reputation by calling me out in front of everyone.
I wonder sometimes if I'd have felt the need to dig my heels in if I'd been publicly called out, rather than reflecting, acknowledging I'd behaved badly and apologising. I think it's a lot easier to resolve things peacefully in a private conversation, where you don't have to worry about looking like you've lost in front of people.
This is something I think about a lot with regard to platforms like Tumblr and Twitter: platforms where it's hard to conduct an argument without broadcasting it to all your followers, which I think stokes a lot of viciousness. On Dreamwidth, if you disagree with someone, you're more likely to discuss it with them in a comment thread in their own space, where nobody else will be notified; it's easier to have a civil conversation.
I don't think that person stuck around the forum for long; I don't remember her username or any details about her, and I'd have no idea how to find her. So I can't thank her personally, but I'm grateful to her. I think, by changing the way I approach online interaction, she had a really positive influence on my life.
I don't know if there's a point to this entry. I think there are discussions to be had about how we treat other people when there's a screen between us, and how modern social media is designed to fan the flames and encourage audience participation whenever an argument breaks out. But, ultimately, this was just something that happened that was important to me, and I'd like to record it somewhere.
no subject
I think people take too much solace in the (admittedly decreasing) anonymity of online communication. There's a freedom there that can allow people to be the worst version of themselves, which can create an echo chamber - they only ever see their own worst behaviour reflected back at them. That eventually creates the illusion that it's acceptable, when it absolutely isn't.
I like this post. I probably would have made a scathing anti-capslock joke myself way back when.
no subject
I think you've judged well when it comes to our acquaintance! I definitely remember a moment of realising 'huh, when did Jes start mocking me all the time? ...hey, I think that means we're friends!'
There's definitely a learning curve of - oh, X will not find Y funny, now I know that for next time.
Yeah, I've definitely had moments of making what seemed in my head to be an innocuous joke or comment, realising it landed badly and making a mental note for future interactions. In a weird way, it calls on similar skills to writing fanfiction; you build up a mental profile of someone's character and how they'll react to particular things.
no subject
It was when I figured out you could take it. I may have applied the exact same level of loving disdain I used with my friends in Glasgow - thinking on it now, I'm glad you have the fortitude of a Scot!
no subject
oooOOOH that's a smart take. sucks that when i'm interacting with an actual human in real life i'm devoting too much processing power to attempting to be a person to be able to actually take in what they're doing...