Choosing to see what we don't have to
How social media can help us understand our positions of power
I was in my car, about to enter a turn lane, when I realized I needed to pay more careful attention to my surroundings. The turn lane shared space with the bike lane, and, while I hadn’t observed any cyclists, I wanted to make absolutely sure my maneuver wouldn’t cut off or hurt anyone. An oversight on my part could be disastrous for a bike rider, so some extra effort was merited.
In that moment, I was not only aware of my power — protected as I was inside layers of metal — but also of my responsibility to ensure the safety of those less protected than I.
I wasn’t always so aware of the power cars wield over cyclists. I obviously didn’t want to hurt anyone when driving, but I assumed the road was for cars primarily and everyone else secondarily. I was born into a group for whom car ownership was a given, so I didn’t have to pay attention to concerns of non-drivers. But ideas and experiences I encountered in digital spaces helped me see things I didn’t have to.
My changing perspective on cars started with urbanists: John Olsen, a local landscape architect and urban designer who I first met on Twitter years ago and have been privileged to encounter through various community projects over the years, and Brent Toderian, an internationally known city planner (formerly the chief planner for Vancouver), who I once saw speak and have followed on Twitter ever since. Through their content, I learned about the lethality, environmental impacts, and sheer inefficiencies of auto-centric city design as well as alternatives to auto dependence.
Here are two of the images I’ve seen from them that have helped me understand how and why cities designed for humans, not cars, make sense.
When I first encountered urbanist thinking, I never envisioned myself being a cyclist in a city landscape. I didn’t have to see what they were sharing, but their posts opened my eyes to new-to-me perspectives.
Years later, I realized that one of my children may never drive. Suddenly, I was a person who needed to know how to get around without a car. Thanks to following the urbanists, I was equipped with ideas of how to do that. We moved closer to our downtown to have more ready access to public transit (paltry as it is), and my kids and I are learning to use our bikes as modes of transportation.
Riding on our city streets scares me, though. They’re not particularly bike-friendly, despite an avid cycling community in our area. Now, I’m hyper-aware of how much cyclists are at the mercy of car drivers looking out for the well-being of those they’re sharing the streets with.
Perhaps that’s why this passage from Having and Being Had by Eula Biss, jumped out at me:
A bicycle in traffic must be predictive to the point of clairvoyance, must know the cars better than the cars know themselves, must understand their motivations and their common blunders. Cars don’t always signal their intentions. And cars aren’t always nice to each other, though they usually show each other some respect in deference to the damage they can do to each other. They are like important men in conversation with other important men. Bicycles are sometimes kindly accommodated by cars, often ignored, occasionally respected, sometimes nervously followed, and frequently not even seen. In this sense, riding in traffic is not unlike being a woman among men.
I understand that passages like this make some men feel maligned. Likewise, I realize that discussing gender in binary terms overlooks the existence and experiences of non-binary individuals. I ask for grace in recognizing that neither are my intent in sharing this passage: it’s something that resonates with me as a woman and a relatively new urban rider. In board rooms and on city streets, I frequently have to think from the perspective of others in order to stay safe, be seen, and command respect.
Cultural norms and societal design mean in most situations cars (and men) don’t have to anticipate what anyone other than their own category is doing or thinking. In The Utopia of Rules: On Technology, Stupidity, and the Secret Joys of Bureaucracy, the late anthropologist David Graeber explores these kinds of power imbalances through the concept of “interpretive labor”:
Those on the bottom of the heap have to spend a great deal of imaginative energy trying to understand the social dynamics that surround them — including having to imagine the perspectives of those on top — while the latter can wander about largely oblivious to much of what is going on around the, That is, the powerless not only end up doing most of the actual, physical labor required to keep society running, they also do most of the interpretive labor as well.”
In other words, if we aren’t aware of or interested in the perspectives and lived experiences of others, we’re likely occupying a position of power in relation to them.
“[P]ower is all about what you don’t have to worry about, don’t have to know about, and don’t have to do,” says Graeber.
Much of my writing and speaking focuses on using social media to see others — those we’d likely never encounter in our physical spaces … and those communicating thoughts and aspects of themselves in digital spaces that they don’t always feel able to share in person.
By deliberately choosing to see others, social media can help us identify spaces and issues we have the power not to worry about or know about. When we find ourselves wondering why someone feels the need to post about something that isn’t important to us or that we think doesn’t belong in digital spaces, it’s a signal to ask ourselves whether our reaction is because it’s an issue we simply haven’t had to think about.
As my daughter replied when I rhetorically asked why a product that seemed pointless to me existed: “If you don’t know what it’s for, it wasn’t meant for you. It’s an accessibility thing you don’t need, but someone else does.” She succintly reminded me to be curious when I encounter something that doesn’t make sense to me, rather than hastily making judgments based solely on my own perspective and experience.
On the flip side, sharing our experiences can help others become more aware of their positions of power. We can show people things they never had to think about, influencing the way they see the world by adding our stories to the online catalog of human experiences.
This is how we learn, grow, and build a better world together: by choosing to see the things we don’t have to and carrying our evolving awareness into everything we do.
"Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.” -Maya Angelou
What is something social media made you aware of that you now choose to think about even though you don’t have to?
What is something you have no choice but to think about that you use (or can use) social media to share with others?
MISCELLANEA
I just finished watching Beef on Netflix. A friend raved about it, but around episode 3 of the 10 episode series, I was close to giving up. It was like watching social media ugliness come to life (sprinkled with laugh-out-loud funny moments). But there’s so much depth and nuance, I’m glad I suck with it to earn and appreciate the exceptional ending.
Summer-like weather has arrived in my part of the world, and I’m thrilled to be able to spend more time outdoors!
In the last written edition of this newsletter (Subtle Revolts) I gave some suggestions for using social media platforms in whatever ways are meaningful to us. In discussing that post afterwards, I was reminded of how a Twitter-turned-physical-world-friend defied Twitter’s limitations to continue using the platform in a way she deemed important. During a wildfire in Colorado Springs, Wendy (then using the handle SpringsAlliance) acted as a hub for sharing vital information. Because of strong connections to so many in the physical community, her tweets ensured information from official sources was widely amplified. But Twitter decided Wendy was tweeting too much, and put her in Twitter “jail.” Wendy knew her voice mattered, so she quickly made a second account, explaining in the description that it was where she could be found when Twitter locked her other account out. Because of her credibility and unique personality, the second account quickly accumulated followers as well and vital info continued to be disseminated, despite the difficulties created by Twitter.