I remember doubting my memory because a post I had saved on Tumblr suddenly disappeared. The post—a queer creator’s explanation of their asexual identity—hadn’t obviously broken any rules. In the post, the creator, @cloversplace, had explained that they felt like an outsider in a society where sexual attraction is the standard. In the post’s place was a Tumblr message that said the moderation system deemed the post inappropriate and harmful.
That moment, when I realized Tumblr had removed a piece of LGBTQ+ content without a clear explanation about why it was harmful, stuck with me. As a member of the LGBTQ+ community, I feel like the internet disproportionately silences queer voices.
In the past, Tumblr broadly blocked LGBTQ+ posts under vague adult content policies. In 2016, HuffPost reported that Instagram unfairly regulated certain variations of LGBTQ+ hashtags like “#lesbian” and “#bi” because the platform considered the hashtags to be linked to adult content. In 2021, Pink News reported that Instagram was disproportionately censoring posts featuring transgender people’s physical bodies.
When social media companies filter out posts about LGBTQ+ identities under the guise of safety, young people develop a limited understanding of themselves.
I have found the internet to be a valuable resource in understanding my identity. I once found a YouTube Short by a creator who talked about not having a “type” in terms of romantic interest. The creator explained that they aren’t attracted to a specific gender identity or set of expectations. The creator helped me understand pansexuality—the attraction to people regardless of their gender identity. Until that point, I heard about people just being gay or straight, and I had never quite related to that idea.
Seeing that video helped me understand that I, too, identify as pan. I didn’t have a dramatic realization then, but the short video helped me clarify my identity. My experience watching Youtube Shorts that day may seem small, but a few minutes online can make a difference when you are trying to understand yourself.
Even at schools dedicated to diversity, equity and inclusion like GDS, students who are exploring their identity often need an external community. Online LGBTQ+ spaces, like in Reddit discussions or on TrevorSpace, can provide support to youth that is different from support found in everyday relationships.
Among supportive friends, conversations about gender and sexuality can still feel limited, and people often rely on assumptions or incomplete information. For instance, I have heard people say that bisexuality simply means liking “boys and girls,” but the identity can also mean attraction across a broader spectrum of gender.
In online spaces, people have in-depth conversations about identity and lived experiences. Instead of having to start every conversation by explaining basic concepts, I can jump straight into deeper discussions. For example, I can look into why different audiences are drawn to certain kinds of queer representation in media and what those trends say about culture and identity.
Diversity, equity and inclusion do not stop at the edge of campus. If we believe in affirming identity and amplifying marginalized voices, we should pay more attention to the digital spaces that shape our society. We should discuss the ways in which platforms moderate content, advocate for transparent content moderation and ensure our own spaces counteract online erasure by continuing to affirm LGBTQ+ stories and identities.