“Wait.” I said to the boy, “Let Doc have a
sniff.”
Doc sniffed the dried dog urine patterns on
the wall, aligned himself and left his mark. I explained
that he was leaving a message for the other dogs, “A bit like Twitter?” the boy
said. Yes a bit like Twitter. I love Twitter.
I’m not saying that it’s like trails of
dried dog urine on a wall, though when it comes to things like
#FeministsAreUgly there is a case to be made for the analogy. Having read the
comments @CCridoPerez has to deal with dried dog piss might be appropriate after all.
Never the less, Twitter is better than the
news, if it’s not hash-tagged it’s not happening. Without Twitter I wouldn't have known about the Baltimore riots, I wouldn't have known about the #WorstCrisisSinceTheAbdication”
which for one tweeter was akin to using semi skimmed milk instead of full fat.
What I like best is that twitter allows
people to openly fight, not just one another, but the system, it allows them to
spray these virtual walls with neon signs screaming to be heard.
Here there might be a big society,
individuals determined; for example not to let go of the Grenville Janner
injustice. I've seen those individuals work relentlessly to raise awareness of
this situation. I've discovered investigative journalism that cuts and picks
through the mindless dross and presents hard facts. I've read the pain in Black
Lives Matter and I have seen people fighting for what they belief in.
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| http://www.exaronews.com |
Some people are fighting for justice and an
end to the killing. Some are fighting for truth, pulling the curtain from cover
ups: revealing the detail and yelling to be heard. Some tweeters are fighting
depression, some are fighting for our vote, others to find work, to promote
their books, to get somewhere to be someone, to do feminism properly.
And we group together with a little press
of the follow button. Then you realize you are part of a community, you are
communicating with others that enrich your life through their knowledge, their
passion and their sharing, and in unity there is power.
So many of us fight alone, we’re not
comparing scars here, but it’s hard alone, just battling to keep your head
above water, to put food on the table, to apply for another job, to get through
the day.
Last week I responded to a facebook group
seeking donations, a local mum was moving out of a hostel and into a flat with
her little boy. I was genuinely excited that I might be able to help. I sorted
through my boys clothes, we pulled bags of toys from the attic, we eagerly
awaited her message. As did so many others, I was astonished how many people
were happy to give, no questions, no judgements, no asking for sponsorship or
recognition, not even on the condition that we read a leaflet, just helping.
The internet, our internet is pulling down
boundaries, letting us scream and it’s listening, listening and responding. I
love it.
Some of the fighters:
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