Beyond Selidor

In the past couple of days, two stories have been making the rounds, discussed as emblematic of the intense toxicity and problems with Twitter, specifically Twitter as used as a marketing tool and social space for the SFF and YA publishing communities (of which there is of course considerable overlap).

The first is an interview with Isabel Fall, an author whose debut short story (under that nom de plume) and very identity were the subject of a hideous Twitter pile on early last year. Content note for discussions of transphobia, dysphoria, misgendering and harassment.

The second is an essay by YA commentator and critic Nicole Brinkley. Its title is 'Did Twitter Break YA?' which I assume speaks for itself.

As you might imagine, as someone who find Twitter pretty close to unbearable, and who wrote an essay last year about the problems inherent in an entire profession blurring the lines between marketing tool and social circle, these two posts resonated a lot.

That being said, putting the blame solely at Twitter's door, rending metaphorical garments about the evils of 'the algorithm' and 'parasocial relationships' and calling it a day doesn't really get to the heart of the problem. Twitter is a tool, and, like all tools used by human beings, those human beings bring the best and the worst of themselves (as individuals and as groups/communities) to the platform. The problems I've witnessed with YA and SFF Twitter certainly reached fever pitch on that platform, but I witnessed versions of the same blowups on Tumblr, and on Livejournal and personal blogs before that. I'm seeing a lot of authors jump ship to Instagram (which is of course entirely their right), but unless there is some serious soul-searching, they risk bringing the same problems with them to the new platform.

The problem with what the SFF community did to Isabel Fall was not Twitter: it was bullying, weaponising/gatekeeping of identity and authenticity (ironic given the subject of Fall's short story), and a discomfort with representation of marginalised identities/experiences that did not toe the party line. Twitter was the medium. There are people who participated in the pile on who have only offered qualified apologies, filled with special pleading, or who have not apologised at all. They hounded a trans woman back into the closet! They tried to police the identities of those who said they enjoyed Fall's story! That's not Twitter's fault — that's people choosing to be awful, to gatekeep and harass.

The problem with 'toxic YA Twitter' is not Twitter (nor is it really the open secret that most YA is bought by adult readers and is therefore written with that readership in mind): it is the fact that publishing has created this fevered atmosphere of scarcity in which it's a prudent marketing strategy to weaponise and gatekeep identity, representation and authenticity and direct Twitter mobs towards the competition. (And this ties into the wider problem of doing away with specialist marketing departments and expecting authors to handle their own marketing using social media.) Twitter, again, is the medium.

I don't have any easy solutions, because many of these problems have sprung from very worthwhile, sincere intentions — a desire to push against structural inequalities in publishing, a desire to create more stories for readers who deserve to see their lives mirrored in fiction more frequently, and to see those stories succeed. But the solution to these problems is not to rigidly define 'good representation' — that leads to people's experiences being erased, identities being policed, and Twitter mobs being directed at those whose representation is deemed to be insufficiently pure.

I do not seek a world absent of critique, negative reviews, or a wide range of reactions to every single story. But I do seek a world in which the first weapon in the arsenal of critique is not identity policing. I seek a world in which the behaviour of people in the SFF and YA communities is given greater weight in determining their character than the community's reaction to the content of their fiction. And I seek a world in which the intentions and moral character of SFF and YA readers who enjoy messy stories, dark stories, morally grey or villainous characters, and the kinds of relationships they'd never enjoy in real life are not constantly called into question.