People are not black and white
How algorithms hack our compassion
Fellow human,
It is ironic that someone like me, who has a black and white disposition, be critical of polarity, but I guess the ways of being we come to know most intimately are the ones we end up analysing from all angles. Just like there is no black without white, light without dark, there is no convergence without polarity. In its essence, polarity - or divergence - is not a bad thing. We are all different, we all contain within us infinite capacity for good and bad and navigate polarising feelings everyday. I may have to look for the grey more consciously than some, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there.
Aside from my neurotype, I feel it is becoming more difficult to find the grey. It won’t be the only reason, but I suspect the internet and online culture plays a role. It’s no secret that content online performs better, therefore making more money for the platform and the creator, if it is divisive. The way to attract eyeballs is to say or do extreme things whether that be to do with culture, politics, individuality, etc. I notice this as both a creator and a consumer.
As a creator, especially of ‘content’ that I used to publish on Instagram and TikTok, and still publish on YouTube, it becomes quickly obvious what does well and what doesn’t. In my case, sharing about neurodivergence was the thing that attracted thousands of eyeballs to my content. To begin with, this was an organic process and not a result I was pursuing. I was discovering new things about myself and learning about autism through the autistic community. It felt good to share my experiences and perspectives. But at a certain point, I’m not sure when, I started to feel uncomfortable.
There is always a certain level of discomfort when publishing anything online because you are opening yourself up to potentially millions of people’s views, opinions, and criticisms. But this was different than that. I felt like I had become part of the machine. What had started out as a genuine urge to share my lived experience turned into a game of numbers. Even though it didn’t always feel natural, I knew the types of things I needed to share to find more eyeballs. It’s embarrassing to admit because I never thought I would be sucked in like I was.
As soon as I saw it in myself, I saw it in other creators - especially those who rely on the creation of content for their living. This isn’t just the case for neurodivergent creators, but everyone - and I’m not intending to throw shade. You do you. I am simply explaining how naive I personally felt that I hadn’t put two and two together.
These platforms are powerful; the rewards of social approval through likes and comments are validating and are intentional tools used by big tech companies to keep us locked in. Without realising it you can get wrapped up in creating more and more divisive content to maintain a steady influx of new subscribers. This makes it sound like I was planning out my content with this specific aim in mind, but it wasn’t like that - it was so much more insidious and hard to spot. It was more of a compulsion to excavate more and more in order to share it. Even if I didn’t feel like sharing I would find something. And if people like me, who had genuine intentions going in, can get sidetracked, think about the people who purposefully make divisive content with the intention of attracting subscribers to certain ideas, ways of living, or ways of seeing the world in order to sell their paid courses or e-books.
As a consumer, I have been unknowingly fed into these types of pipelines before - whether it be as seemingly lighthearted as the recent “looksmaxxing” trend (which in actual fact is not lighthearted at all), or emotionally charged content pitting neurodivergent people against neurotypical and allistic people (as if every neurotypical and allistic person is the same). I caught the former pretty quickly, but the latter was a little more camouflaged. The algorithms fed me so much content about “why neurotypical people don’t get it” that I found my compassion for neurotypical people being rapidly eaten away. As someone who has felt misunderstood most of her life, this type of content gave me someone to blame. Even better - someone without a face, or their own story. Just, a “someone who is neurotypical or allistic”. It felt good to think of myself versus them, especially now I had found an online community of people like me who seemed to be equally emotionally invested in this stance.
But when I pause to think rationally and logically I know it is not as simple as this polarised perspective. It is a sweeping generalisation that ignores the grey. My husband, for example, is neurotypical - is it as simple as him versus me? What about my some of my best friends? In fact, I very literally rely upon community with neurotypical people to survive in this society. Sure, they don’t always get it as right as I hope they learn to, but what human is perfect? I am certainly not.
This is not to say that there are not some neurotypical people who are ableist - trust me, I’ve met some - but the truth of the matter is that it is an incredibly nuanced and complex topic that is intrinsically dependent upon a host of factors that require an assessment of the grey area. And grey doesn’t sell online. Online culture plays such a large role in real-life culture these days so I fear it can be easy to lose sight of this, especially those of us - like me - who are already wired to see in black and white categories. The polarised nature of online discourse can, and I think does, have a very real impact on people’s real lives.
Since I left Instagram and TikTok for my six-month detox, I have noticed my capacity to hold space for the grey expanding. I still have to remind myself of it in day to day life - it hasn’t changed my neurotype after all - but I no longer waste my time in dangerous rabbit holes that represent black or white. Of course it is important to listen to different perspective, look at both sides of the coin, but there are much safer and more informative ways I can do that than in the extreme echo chambers of internet algorithms where my eyeballs equal money.
With love,
Charlie xoxo
P.s. To date, I’ve shared monthly Q&A podcasts. Whilst they will continue quarterly I think it’s important to carve out a space here where your questions are answered by a variety of voices from within this community. So from next Tuesday I will be hosting Community Threads (delivered to your inbox every other week) sharing a reader’s question for us all to contribute our own answers to. The Community Threads will be for the inner circle of paid supporters, a protected space in which we can reflect on and journal through our experiences, ideas, and advice in community with each other. If you’re currently a free subscriber and want to be a part of this inner circle I’m offering a 30% discount on membership ahead of our first Community Thread on Tuesday. I’m excited!
This made me think of a quote from the 19th-century education writer Charlotte Mason: "The ideas we admit become our opinions; the opinions upon which we take action become our principles; our principles and our opinions are ourselves, our character, the whole of us for which we are responsible."
Thank you, Charlie. What an important topic to address—especially in 2024, given the polarization online.
Even though I'm AuDHD, I tend to see more grey than black/white. I believe this inclination results from my professional training as an integrative health provider and university professor, emphasizing evidence-based research and the importance of diverse perspectives over the past 25 years. Being a late-diagnosed neurodivergent helped me see more grey through all the various academic debates, scholarly research, assisting patients/clients through some challenging health issues, and my own lived experience going through various personal challenges. I constantly forced myself to see different angles on any topic we'd discuss in the classroom. I was ready with questions and discussion points from various points of view.
My thinking was different in my 20s. I recall going through a university course forcing us to watch TV as homework. We had to watch critically and write long papers about the various biases, points of view, power dynamics, and ways that race, ethnicity, class, gender, orientation, sex, nationality, etc., were portrayed. Through that course, I learned how much I was missing when I "just" watched TV. Because of this course, I began questioning what the media told us. That was nearly 30 years ago before all the social media platforms existed.
Now, I try teaching critical thinking to all my students and play the devil's advocate when someone makes a point in class--regardless of my personal view on the topic.
We need more media literacy courses and discussions, and this is a great place to start. Thank you again for bringing this up as a topic.