To say that Black Twitter has changed my life would be an understatement.
To the outside world, it’s a myriad of misplaced opinions and funny, screenshot-ready micro-anecdotes. For us, Black Twitter is an invaluable virtual community tied together by common threads of interests and experiences. When we got wind that Elon Musk was the new owner of Twitter, it felt like the beginning of the end of our little big communal space. And in true Black fashion, I felt it right to give a meaningful place a proper goodbye.
Twitter has been a part of my life since 2009. With it, I’ve been able to curate an amazing community that’s helped me crowdfund for dozens of people including myself. I’ve also been able to grow my graphic design business, expand my OkSoBoom brand, and even made my daughter a viral success in 2016.
To me, the platform has become more than a social media site—it’s been a healthy escape from a sometimes harsh reality. The idea of Twitter, more specifically Black Twitter, becoming obsolete brought a lot of heavy feelings. But not too heavy to laugh about.
On November 10, I was riding home on the CTA’s Blue Line train. I was doom scrolling and taking the sight of my mutuals proverbially throwing themselves on Twitter’s casket. Were we being a bit dramatic about it? Probably. That’s the fun (and sometimes scary) part of Twitter: you can be whatever you want.
So in true Black Twitter fashion, I made the app’s descent a joke. I hopped on Canva, put the Twitter logo in some clouds, added a sunrise-sunset stamp, and posted it. I can’t think of a better way to describe the public reception than unreal. As a designer, you’re never really sure how your art will be received, but my community did not let me down. Before I knew it, there were dozens of “who did the body?” tweets, people were asking who was bringing what to the repast, and potential officiating ministers were discussed. We had come together to joke while we mourned.
One thing I love about being Black is how we celebrate, even in the midst of grief. The o-Twit-uary brought more than jokes about who was making the potato salad. It helped along a pre existing conversation about what this app had done for us. Some of us found lifelong friends on the app. Others of us found their life partners, created families, businesses and brands. The reach of Twitter has been astronomical. It’s nearly impossible to measure the impact it’s had on our lives.
In the span of a few weeks, Twitter’s new owner has done irreparable damage to its employees and its users. They’ve been forced out of the very thing they’ve built for years by a tyrant who I think is having a public, expensive tantrum at all of our expenses. As a result, large brands have started pulling advertisements, new apps have been built at rapid speed and we’re also leaning on apps that already existed (hello, Mastodon.) I’m confident there will be other online places where we can gather. We’ll just have to build it, brick by brick.
As a former contract employee receptionist at Twitter, I truly pray that the employees who #LovedWhereTheyWorked find another place to exercise their geniuses. I worked alongside amazing people who came in every day hoping to maintain this innovative corner of the internet. I thank you all for giving us the foundation and the tools to find ourselves and each other.
As we continue to log on and touch our neighbors like, “Are we safe? We all still here?,” I realize that none of us know when we’ll hop on to see ERROR 404 on our screens. So with the time we have left with each other, let’s continue to appreciate what this app has done for us; and what we did for it. No matter what you think about Black Twitter, it’s changed how we take in news, the accessibility of journalism, political engagement, connecting with artists, entertainment and so much more. It’s changed the world. We have changed the world.
And when Twitter’s long gone, we’ll all fondly remember the time we held each other and laughed during the wake.
