The Instagram Activist, Article 1
When you click the POST button, what is at stake?
On Monday, May 25th, George Floyd, a man who was making strides in his life to be a better man and father, was murdered by police officer Derek Chauvin (1). This issue is massive and not limited to discrimination based on the color of one’s skin, the corrupt American law enforcement system, and a complete lack of respect for human rights. I am a 19-year-old Indian-American girl who was born into a 9/11 world. The world I’ve lived in has always been infused with hate. And historically, this hate was deeply rooted within the confines of the American experiment long ago. So why does this time feel different?
A new wave of social media activism has been ignited. Racism is being documented and reposted for the world to see over and over again. I reached out to a few of my fellow Instagram Activists to understand their choice to use social media as a tool to fight for justice.
There’s Namu Sampath, a Journalism major at Boston University—it always seems like we’re reposting the same things on Instagram!
Quang Do, a Sociology major with a concentration in Law and Society at UC San Diego who I met while lobbying for the DREAM Act in Washington, DC last year.
And Courtney Conway, a Certified Medical Aid who discovered justice and peace studies in high school and has allowed that passion to drive her ever since.
Is reposting pictures to your story activism?
The three activists agreed that social media is an extraordinary tool to use your voice, but true activism lies with coupled action. Quang explained, “If I merely shared an aesthetic picture of 'Black Lives Matter' in a fancy font once on my story and called it a day, that is not activism.” When posting, you need to determine your intention and the impact you want to make. Activism is nothing if it is not intersectional. For example, Quang explains the difference between expressing sentiments of, “We are all one race, the human race” versus “We are a diverse nation/world of people with differences that should be celebrated.” They both intend to spread positivity and allyship, but one recognizes the intersectionality of race and culture that is necessary to combat racism.
How comfortable are you when sharing your beliefs on a public platform?
All three have learned to become comfortable. Namu navigates the balance between her budding career in journalism, which she defines should be based on facts, with sharing her personal opinions. Quang overcame the image he built of himself as a “cool guy” because he knows “people start to care when other people care.” Courtney grew up in a conservative family with relatives who refused to believe in “bleeding-heart liberal causes” like LGBTQ+ equality, understanding the environment, or racism. Now she proudly identifies with her queerness, stands by her political opinions, and is longer ashamed of her conservative roots. The diversity has allowed her to discuss the hard issues with those who don’t always agree with her.
How we grew up, our family’s beliefs, maybe even the beliefs in the back of our minds that we are afraid to admit because we know they are wrong...they all keep us from being good allies. If you think a thought you are having is racist, introspect or ask your friends. If you believe a family member is being racist, educate yourself on specific reasons why and explain to them why these beliefs are harmful. Allow yourself to create spaces where you can ask these questions. As long as you intend and take actions to better yourself to be the best ally possible—mistakes are forgivable.
When you use your social media platform for social justice, what do you intend for your audience to get out of it?
Namu explained that, “oftentimes people think that they’re above the news or above whatever’s going on in the world, but that’s ignorant and shows people’s privilege.” Namu and Courtney specifically cited education and potential conversation for why they use their platform to advocate for justice. Quang shared that he doesn’t “intend to debate with anyone because I am confident in my beliefs in the realm of social justice,” but he admits he is still learning and open to change. He just wants to have these conversations with people “who share the common goal of empowering and supporting marginalized communities”, not “All Lives Matters [folks] or actual racists/homophobes/misogynists/neo-nazis/etc.” Each of these activists shares why they care and connect to the issue at hand.
I’ve watched as their pages have transformed following the murder of George Floyd. Each of them immediately posted to stand in solidarity with #BlackLivesMatter, but over the course of a few days, they began to realize how important it is to clearly cite your own connection to the issue. Namu has strongly advocated for destigmatizing speaking about racism within South Asian households. Quang has pushed for activists to use language any layperson could understand to explain these issues, as affluenza holds no title in activism. And Courtney has dedicated herself to understanding white fragility and the anti-racism movement by sharing books and quotes that have resonated with her.
Can you see how much introspection these activists are doing? It’s more than a repost, it’s a lifestyle change.
In light of the recent murder of George Floyd, how has your social media feed transformed?
Each activist reports that their social media platforms have transformed substantially. Some of it they viewed as productive, some not so much. Some productive posts included links to the Change.org petition, different black rights organizations to get involved with, funds to donate to, numbers and emails of local and state officials, and posts that break down racism and what allyship needs to be for different groups in America. Some not-so-productive posts include white people writing “I can’t breathe” across their faces and social media chains.
A chain was started asking people to “Tag 10 people that won’t break the chain” on a post with a black background with the intention (allegedly) of spreading awareness about #BlackLivesMatter.
Instead, the chain’s message has implicitly become 'if you don’t repost this, you’re racist or oppressing black people'. When people do repost and don’t link petitions or productive resources, or at the very bare minimum use the hashtag #BlackLivesMatter...what is the point?
Courtney explains, “Activism isn’t always glamorous and postable.” Courtney has taken the time to sit on hold when calling her local and state officials, carefully crafted emails, and adjusted her approach to suit the office she is speaking to. Yesterday, I was checking in on Courtney because she served as a medical aid at the protests in La Mesa, San Diego county. It wasn’t glamorous. It was cruel. These things aren’t what most people would consider an “insta-worthy” post.
But, as Quang shares, “People who have never posted political things before started doing so.” And that’s exciting. That’s inspiring. That is a movement we want to be a part of. “However,” Quang goes on, “you see a lot of performance activism: activism for the sole reason of attention—clout.” And therein lies the issue with believing solely using social media makes you a good activist.
Racism is being filmed. Exposed. It’s arguable what effects this has on people. What do you do when it makes you feel more dejected and overwhelmed than inspired? How do you take care of yourself?
Namu explains, “I’m not black, and I do not feel the constant oppression from society because of my skin color. I cannot begin to comprehend what that feels like.” Courtney agrees, “I think it is important to understand what dejection means for an ally. White people do not feel the constant grief and anxiety of POC (People of Color) during times like these. Thus any dejection or sadness felt by a white person is coming from a place of privilege.” The trauma we may experience and the trauma we witness has the potential to destroy us. Quang recommends finding ways to cope. What keeps him going is “a light that you keep trying to reach,” and, “[turning his] bitterness into empowerment”—allowing himself the time and space for a break if he needs it. Namu believes discussing mental health in our communities is necessary, but that in black and brown communities it is often a taboo conversation. To anyone who wishes to have these conversations, she extends her hand in any way she can—talking with them or providing professional resources. Courtney explains, “When I start feeling less inspired and more angry I turn to my favorite authors/texts on whatever cause I’m focusing on...Lately, I’ve been rereading Martin Luther King Jr.’s Strength to Love.”
Right now, most of our social media feeds may feel overwhelming. We can delete our apps, but black people can’t just “turn off” the hatred and violence in their lives. Stay tuned in. It’s hard—believe me, I know. But you need to be here for this. You need to be better. You need to do better. Remind yourself that though you have work to do, it is not your voice that needs to be heard right now—black voices do. Use your platform to amplify these voices. It’s okay if you make mistakes, show up in a better way next time. But we can’t let the “next time” be another black man or woman who is murdered.
The change starts with your own heart—and how you decided to share it with others.
A comprehensive list of petitions, funds, and other resources can be found here.
A call/email template can be found here.
Sign the petition for George Floyd here.
Donate to the George Floyd memorial fund here.
Explore the Minnesota Freedom Fund here.
Explore the Color of Change organization here.
Explore #BlackLivesMatter here.
Sources
(1) Ebrahimji, Alisha. “This Is How Loved Ones Want Us to Remember George Floyd.” CNN, Cable News Network, 29 May 2020,
www.cnn.com/2020/05/27/us/george-floyd-trnd/index.html.
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