Community.

Once upon a time, I became an ardent member of an online community.

I was late to the “online community” game, and frankly had no thought — at all — that I would find community on the intertubes. I just thought: Hey, I know how to be funny and smart too!

But it turns out that the people on the other side of the internet are, in fact, people. Whether or not you can lay eyes on them. Whether or not you would know it if you were standing next to them in the Starbucks line (I fantasize about this all the time).

And if those people on the other side of the internet are funny and smart, caring and supportive, and actively enrich your days and your life, they can, if you’re lucky, very easily become a community. A real one, even if it’s not IRL.

I speak, of course, of Jezebel.

Any community, anywhere — whether it numbers two or two million — means different things to different people. To me, my eight months as a regular Jezebel commenter felt like I had signed up for a freewheeling, and fairly random, lecture series, only to find some of the sharpest classmates I’d ever had.

Like any good class, there was the topic at hand, but there was also a lot of active participation by people who cared passionately about the topic at hand. We would spill out into the metaphorical halls sometimes and chat about stuff that wasn’t really in the lecture notes, but hey —  it was Adult Ed. It wasn’t the University of Chicago or anything. We weren’t on a PhD track — it seemed to me that the fact that our very presence was what enabled the lecture series to take place meant that we were junior partners in the program.

The higher-ups disagreed however, and about three months ago, change came slamming down in the commenting section of Jezebel. For some — for most, I think — this mattered very little. Some thought the changes were good, so they were, in fact, thrilled. Others were still having fun, and that was enough. Some liked the higher-ups and wanted to keep hanging out with them, so they adjusted. Others only ever stepped in now and then, so, you know: Whatevs, people. It’s just a blog!

As my own readers know, I personally took off. I felt that the editors were treating me and people I cared for badly, and dude, I don’t do that shit. And because of my age, my family, my professional circumstances, and a deep and far-reaching circle of good and loyal RL pals, I could say “it’s just a blog,” and, mostly, mean it.

It helped immeasureably that some of my best Jeze-pals had already established a message board to which I could attach myself — to return to the the “lecture series” metaphor, it was like the administration had come crashing through our classroom, placing a muffle (or, in some cases, duct tape) over the mouths of those with unpopular opinions or insufficient pedigree, but I was still able to shoot the shit now and then with my friends at the coffee shop down the street. Which is to say: It wasn’t the same, but it was really nice, so every once and awhile, I go to the coffee shop to catch up.

And for me, in my life, that’s been enough. Do I still miss the old Jezebel? Sure — but that Jezebel est mort. Kind of like that guy I loved once, but who later became a dick. I’d still like to be friends with the man who was once my boyfriend, but the current guy? Uh, no.

But I fully appreciate that for some, the communities they find online (whether at Jezebel or anywhere else) fill a much more central role. That, moreover, being hurt and disrespected by anyone, online or off, actually sucks. That when you invest your energy into something, only to be slapped down — you lose something real.

Why do I go on and on about Jezebel again? Because yesterday, the muffle and duct tape got hauled out again, and slapped on a bunch of people, people I like and care for, people who, in some cases, did nothing worse than greet a dissenting opinion with the words “Well said.” (Really. Folks got banned for “well said.” And, if I’m not mistaken, “you are the wind beneath my wings.”)

Jezebel cares not a whit for me, and so they shouldn’t. I’m gone. They have an endless supply of new readers (this is the internet, after all), and the editors there and at Gawker Media have every right to run their site the way that they see fit.

But I can’t help but be angered by petty vindictiveness — and willed ignorance as to the impact of one’s petty vindictiveness — wherever I see it, particularly when both are unleashed against people who do not, by any stretch, deserve it.

Some of the people slapped down yesterday (and generally, since the Big Gawker Change in July) lost little more than a place to liven up their day. Others lost their one real respite from joblessness, or family sorrow, or loneliness and isolation. Whether or not the overladies at Jezebel want to see it, they preside not over a publication, but a community — raucous, imperfect, and very human.

And their behavior has been shabby, and meanspirited. Shame on them. And shame on the commenters who joined in the pile-on. Reasonable people can disagree reasonably — but assholes are just assholes.

Big love to all the folks who have been hurt. As I first learned to say on Jezebel: Internet hugs to everyone.

Posted by emilylhauser on October 15, 2009

https://emilylhauserinmyhead.wordpress.com/2009/10/15/community/