The Fragility of Our Digital Worlds

I remember the first time I realized that virtual spaces—these sprawling digital kingdoms—could crumble. It was the early 2000s, and I was deep into World of Warcraft, pouring hours into raids, guild chat, and the sprawling social network that was Azeroth. My brother mentioned one day, offhandedly, that the servers wouldn’t last forever. Eventually, the game would be taken offline.

The thought hit me like a gut punch. Not because I was worried about losing my character or loot, but because of what those things represented: the friendships, the shared experiences, the space we had all co-created.

That memory resurfaces now with an alarming sense of déjà vu. Twitter is collapsing into an ad-riddled, misinformation laden trash fire. Facebook is little more than a corporate swap meet, where “connections” are drowned out by AI-curated garbage. And now TikTok is under a U.S. ban, a move that uproots entire communities, businesses, and movements that have made the platform their home. Everywhere our data is being sold to the highest bidder at the same time we're being charged more to consume lower quality information.

We’re watching, in real-time, as the spaces we’ve spent years building crumble—not through natural decay, but thanks to greed, corporate mismanagement, and government power plays. And let’s be clear: this isn’t just sad or inconvenient. It’s enraging.

These Aren’t Just Apps—They’re Communities

The tech industry (backed by other industries such as Research with a capital-R) has sold us the idea that platforms like TikTok, Twitter, and Facebook are mere tools, convenient distractions from the “real” world. But for millions, these platforms are where life happens. They’re where movements are born, marginalized voices are amplified, and communities—especially those excluded from traditional spaces—find connection, support, and power.

When platforms implode, we don’t just lose data or followers. We lose shared histories, collective memories, and entire ecosystems of connection. For many, these digital spaces are lifelines—especially for disabled folks, queer folks, people of color, and other marginalized groups who have used these platforms to carve out spaces of belonging and resistance.

And what makes it worse? This loss isn’t inevitable. It’s the direct result of tech billionaires squeezing platforms for maximum profit, legislators leveraging bans to score political points, and a society that treats digital spaces as disposable, instead of essential.

Fighting Back: Practical Steps Toward Digital Liberation

The erosion of these digital spaces is not happening in isolation. It’s part of a larger pattern of silencing dissent and dismantling spaces where marginalized voices can thrive. From the violent suppression of protests to the increasing reduction of free speech on social media platforms, we’re witnessing a coordinated effort to control the ways people organize, speak out, and resist. These struggles are interconnected, and protecting digital spaces is a critical part of protecting free expression and the right to resist oppression.

So, what do we do about it? Sitting back and hoping for the best isn’t an option. Neither is quietly mourning the platforms we’ve lost while billionaires and politicians divvy up the scraps. It’s time to fight back—and here’s how we can start:

• Advocate for Digital Protections: Become informed. Support policies that treat online spaces as public utilities, not private playgrounds. Push for net neutrality, user protections, and laws that safeguard free expression and community-building online.
• Build and Support Alternatives: Open-source, community-owned platforms like Mastodon and PeerTube might not have TikTok’s reach or Twitter’s simplicity, but they offer something even more valuable: autonomy. Learn about alternatives. Invest in them when you can. Help them grow.
• Demand Accountability: Tech companies shouldn’t be allowed to burn communities to the ground in the name of profit (sometimes even literally). Push for greater regulation of Big Tech, including antitrust measures to prevent monopolies and enforce transparency around algorithms and decision-making.
• Organize Online—and Offline: Just as we’ve fought for fair housing, labor rights, and access to education, we need to organize for digital rights. Join movements like the Electronic Frontier Foundation (EFF) or Fight for the Future. Spread the word, build coalitions, and use the platforms we still have to push for systemic change.
• Reimagine Digital Spaces: Stop treating these platforms as inevitabilities. We need to dream bigger than Twitter clones. What would a truly equitable, inclusive digital space look like? What would it take to build something that doesn’t just survive, but thrives for everyone?

Conclusion: The Urgency of Fighting for Our Digital Homes

The digital spaces we’ve built together are too important to abandon to the whims of tech oligarchs and power-hungry politicians. If we want to protect these spaces—not just for ourselves, but for future generations—we have to act now. Because these aren’t just apps. They’re homes, ecosystems, and battlegrounds.

And just like any home worth keeping, they’re worth fighting for.

Many thanks to the other scholars and community members who have shared their thoughts and engaged in conversation with me over the last year on this topic. Special shout out to Tessa Eagle, Elin Carstensdottir, Bhavani Seetharaman, the other members of the Misfit Lab, and my friends from ARMY Twitter/Bluesky (especially my adorable gc, you know who you are).

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