Moderators, Rangers and Elders: Oh My!

The internet is on fire after a woman was threatened on the internet with rape and violence after successfully persisting in petitioning the bank of England to get a woman on one of their banknotes that didn't earn fame due to the luck of whose uterus she came out of. I'm not going to link to the current discussion or the petition that arose out of this latest all too familiar incident. But I will say I signed it but I left a comment.  This post is meant to elaborate on my comment.

I am 46 and sent my first message across the internet in 1986. I was a young university student studying math and taking a mandatory computer science course at the now quite well known for technology University of Waterloo. I didn't know that I was on the internet at the time and that term wasn't even coined yet. I was on an inter-university-governmental communication system that was spread all across North America. After 1986, when I was taking further courses in computer science (I ended up minoring in it, it fascinated me), I was exposed to vast repositories of knowledge and discussion on these systems. After graduating with my first degree and working for a year, I knew I had to come back and learn more. I chose to go into an engineering program at the same university that specializes in understanding systems. From 1991 - 1999 I pursued graduate work in the Management of Technology. I completed a Master's degree and am ABD on a PhD in the topic.

So I basically have over a quarter century of lived and studied experience in this space we now call the internet, or just the net. That's a fair amount and really makes me an elder.

I cringe using this word, elder. Inner voice: Who gives me the right to call me that? Newfound Voice, Calmly: "Your education and experience are legitimate, own it. Just because no-one is paying you to say or write this stuff doesn't mean it doesn't need to be said."

My personal growth in the last few years has taken me on a fascinating journey of self realizations and awakenings. The personal has become political in all sorts of ways. My longevity on the net has made me afraid of ego. I've been victimized online. I've only been not anonymous online for the past 8 years due to cyberstalking that occurred in around 1997. That terrified me and shut me up.

Even after I removed my anonymous shield I've been leary. However, my recent journey has led me to the point of I just don't care anymore. I will say what I want and if you think my motivations are ego driven I can assure you, with the core of my being, that they are not. What I see is driven by my raison d'etre, driven into me in my youth and surfacing regularly throughout my life:  I want to see the world left in a better condition than when I arrived. I don't want to be part of the problem anymore, I want to be part of the solution.

Pussyfooting around egos is not working. Ego is not part of the solution. Ego = ME. Community = WE. I have come to the point in my life, with Daughter grown, that I am willing to actually die for this belief in the necessity of community.

I see a lot of ego in Social Media. I might even argue that it is literally out of control. This latest fiasco over rape threats has highlighted this fact because some of the detractors to the abuse button petition are people who have benefitted from calling out abusers. If their 'skill' is replaced by a button, how will they garner attention? They don't say this, of course. There is a new Newspeak and many internet users are expert at it.

Back in the discussion board days there were moderators appointed that had experience and longevity and were respected by board group members. This doesn't exists in the mainstream social media sites of today and if it does on the lesser known platforms (like on reddit or 4chan) the sites themselves are still largely patrolled by men who think 'post your local weather girl pix' are fine. If I were to call that out I would be called a prude and told to get over myself. I have backed away from these environments long ago because as a woman I have been targeted for too long. 27 years is a long time and it is most of my adulthood. I am tired. But now I'm seeing that a critical mass of women is developing online and perhaps now is the time we can try and put measures in place that ensure online spaces are safe.

I believe all communication systems, throughout millenia, need appointed moderators. Moderators that might be paid but are appointed by users not shareholders in the capitalistic marketplace. Moderators that have a full understanding of the limitations and strengths of healthy terms of service agreements and can work with employees to improve them. In the early 90s there were tons of people kicked out of discussion groups for behaviours that today get called trolling and laughed off. A rape threat would have incurred banning them for life immediately.

I fear that our ego celebrity driven world is making the online space too toxic for women. I also fear that the online space is the only way women can gather enough in numbers to truly liberate future women from human trafficking and violence. Men run everything, still. Everywhere, still. Twenty years ago on the fledgling internet there was a much greater understanding of inappropriate behaviour online. The community was so small that 'policing' it was manageable. It is now out of control (like I said before).

I hope some social media company somewhere takes this suggestion to heart. We need moderators. If they are looking for a current very successful model in order to develop a strategy they could look at the Ranger community at Burning Man. It has long fascinated me and as with many things Burning Man, it is quite innovative.

Stand By Me

In the summer of 1984 a friend of mine had an abortion.  In the Canadian mid-eighties this was considered a radical thing to do.  It involved the exchange of money and a trip to a clinic that may or may not have had pro-life protesters marching in front of it on the day of your appointment.

A further complication for my friend was that we were catholic so the whole mortal sin thing was hanging over our heads.  I say our heads because I lent her money for the procedure.  So, in fact, I aided and abetted the committing of the sin that was to prevent my friend from going to heaven directly upon death.

I now know that I was what we call book smart nowadays but man, I was a long way from being life smart that summer I was 17.  And as a mother of a now 17 year old girl I see the mirror reflection of this reality.

This abortion was quite necessary for my friend.  Her parents were staunch roman catholics and she would have been kicked out of the home and goodness knows where her life would be today. One thing is for certain though...it would have been a much rougher ride for her and that yet unformed child.

My musings of this time are brought on by my recent Linkedin re-connection with the religion teacher I had that year.  He is now a principal of a catholic high school.  I wonder, in his prior role of a religion teacher/counselor, how many young women he had to discuss abortion with.  Because he did with me.  My friend's abortion caused a major moral dilemma in my life.  The first voiced dilemma of what would turn out to be many fruitless hours spent worrying and wondering if 'god' would be happy with my earthly actions.  This young religion teacher, at the time of this moral quandary, was fairly new in his career and not too far removed from the hippie protests I know he participated in against things like nuclear arms.  At this point of his new career he was also leading bus loads of people to the very pro-life protests my friend could have faced on the day she went for her 'secret' abortion.  I don't remember much of what he said regarding my moral quandary but I do remember he pleaded with me to support my friend in her decision, in whatever form that took.  This advice had the effect of soothing my conscience - at the time.  Many years later I felt outraged that he had managed to bypass the whole pro-life debate with me and for that I am sure he was quite grateful.

Seeing his name pop up this morning as a new connection on Linkedin floods my mind with these thoughts.  Thoughts of incongruent teachings by the church of my birth.  A church that provided many opportunities for moral quandaries in my life.  Parents separating/divorcing/annulling?  Check. Not going to church regularly?  Check.  Not going to confession/communion regularly?  Check.  Eating meat on Friday?  Check. Not giving up something for lent?  Check. Masturbation?  Check.  Pre-marital sex? Check.  Shacking up before marriage?  Check.  Marrying in a different church?  Check.  Using birth control?  Check.  Raising my child in the church?  Check.  A homosexual sibling?  Check.  Husband abandoning marriage and infant child?  Check. Wipe slate clean with an anullment?  Check.

Looking back on all those life events that shackled my moral compass for years I feel exhausted.  I feel exhausted because the years I spent under the duress of the obligations of mother church were so futile.  I can not take on the church.  Any church.  But as a parent I am proud to report that these shackles have been removed from my child.  Her moral compass lies within and my hope for her is that this freedom will allow her to channel her youthful energy into making the world a better place.  Because, you see, for too many generations my family has been segued through life with the roman catholic church observing and directing from the moral rafters.  Enough is enough.  I severed the cord and claimed complete moral responsibility for my child early on in her life and am almost ready to release her into the world.  She will have complete freedom to choose whatever tools she needs to nurture her own moral compass and I will support her as best as I can with her choices.  For isn't that the best we can do?  My high school religion teacher thought so too and made sure I heard that above all else.  I think I might send him this blog post as a thank-you.  I hope he 'gets' it.

Mice and Men.

E. and I were walking beside the St. Jacob's Railway tracks after attending our duties as long term Teaching Assistants for an Organizational Behaviour course.  We were both PhD students in the Faculty of Engineering, Department of Management Sciences at the University of Waterloo.  I was walking towards my car to go home and he was walking towards  the married students residences that were a very short distance from the campus.  The very same residences that I had lived in as a newlywed, earlier in my career as a graduate student.

My husband and I had moved out of these married student quarters just before finishing my master's degree.  I had applied for funding to do a doctorate and we were uncertain as to whether we would be able to stay in the residence and besides which we were ready for a non-student dwelling after many years of living the student life.

As it turns out, I did get funding for that doctoral research.  I also started teaching sessionally at Wilfred Laurier University.  So, a mere year after moving into our first 'real' apartment, my husband and I were able to purchase our first home in Waterloo knowing that we would be having a baby and I would be finishing up graduate work and this would take a few years.

But as the saying goes, the best laid plans....

By the time E. and I were walking alongside those tracks I had had my baby and my husband had left.  I was basically an emotional and intellectual trainwreck yet I clung desperately to the original plan.  This particular afternoon walk took place within a year of my husband leaving and I was suffering also from great shame.

E. and I had worked together for a number of school terms by this point.  He was a mature married student from Thailand and our department had many social gatherings embracing the myriad of international students so we were on good casual terms with each other.  In fact, we may have both served on our student council team.  We were both outgoing and involved.

I think this walk was the first time I was alone with him subsequent to my baby and then marriage fiasco.  I have noted the casual and friendly nature of our relationship yet he felt it necessary to ask me this:  "Do you think that the fact that you chose to have a baby during your doctoral research might have been the reason your husband left you?"

You know what?  16 years later and I'm still gobsmacked by the question and the emotional rollercoaster it sets off in me.  Researchers look for tidy answers to explain the lack of female representation in STEM.  This story is one of my contributions (yes, there are more) to the not so tidy answers I suspect litter the STEM landscape for women.