I like to think of myself as a serial optimist when it comes to online communities. Apart from blogging, I’ve also been in WriteOn, Google+, Wattpad, 500px, and Dayre communities (apart from the usual Instagram/Facebook/LinkedIn networks). And since I’ve moved to WordPress, I’ve started following people using the WordPress community “Followed Sites” section, which it starting to feel like another community. It’s the sense of newness and the possibility of belonging that enthrals me – this is a place where no one knows me, where no one is hindered by past real-life interactions with me, and where I could, possibly, find an online home.

Over time, though, quite a few of these communities have died. WriteOn and Google+ have shattered, although I have been lucky enough to leave with the contacts of friends that I’ve made. I’m still talking to quite a few of them and I hope to be able to meet up online. Other communities, like Google+ and 500px, are places where I’m always aiming to go back into but never quite have.

And then we have Dayre.

Dayre was, for the last two to three years of my time in Japan, the most important online community to me. I felt free to write down all my thoughts there (although I’m starting to find that using a computer to create a delay and give myself time to process my thoughts it actually more helpful), and I found many friends there. Out of all the online communities I’ve been in, Dayre was probably the one that translated to the most offline friends (because it’s got a sizeable Singaporean community) and even helped me get a job.

But lately, I’ve been getting disillusioned. There have been a lot of events, most notably the closing and then the sudden rescue (but uncertain timeline) of the app, and I angsted about whether to stay for quite a bit, but I have almost gotten used to the wait. The event that has me wondering when is a good time to leave a community is much more recent.

Let me just state a few things:

I believe there is strength in honesty and vulnerability.

I believe that racism and cyber-bullying/doxxing should be called out.

I believe that we should treat everyone, even strangers on the internet, with kindness.

And perhaps a bit more controversially:

I believe in the right for people to maintain anonymous accounts if they feel that best fits their needs. While I prefer to have a name to a face when debating (I am basically attaching every post to myself, after all), I also recognise that this isn’t the case for everyone. There are still areas of society where it would be better to keep your personal life as closed down as possible, and anonymous accounts offer people an avenue to be open and honest with minimal risk to their professional lives and offline relationships.

With all that in mind, I have been greatly disturbed by recent drama. After all this time in different online communities, I know that not everyone will get along. I’ve definitely butted heads with others in the past. But this time, things seem to have crossed a line. It is not just a feud between two users with differing opinions, there is one user (B) who is threatening to dox the other (who is an anon account, let’s call her A) by releasing her private number (given to B by a third party) and claiming that because the other user (A) does not put her real name on the account, she is a coward. To me, this is cyberbullying and a threat to dox someone and it is disturbing that people I follow and generally like are rallying in support of the B (because she is ‘real’) saddens me greatly.

By the way, the reason why B and A are at loggerheads is because A has called out B for her use of a derogatory and racist term last year, something that, as far as I’m aware, B has not apologised for.

Do you understand why I’m disillusioned now?

But even with so much pushing me to go, and my recent attempts to start practicing digital minimalism by choosing only high-value apps and communities (I’m tracking phone use now and will take steps based on the data in the future), a part of me still wants to stay.

One reason is that I have publicly supported the app when people were talking about abandoning it, and I hate to break my word now that I’ve given it.

Another is that I’ve always fallen on the side of “be the change you want to see” rather than “leave ASAP if you don’t like” and I want to see if by continuing to post civilly (albeit much less frequently), I can contribute in some small way to the maintenance of an online community that has given me so much. I am not under the false impression that I am some influential figure in the community, but I believe in the power of many small voices.

I hoped that by writing this post, I would have a bit more clarity on whether to go or to stay, but I find myself as conflicted as when I started. Dayre has been immensely helpful to my mental health in the past, but the recent events have made me wonder if I’ll ever feel safe enough to continue being open on the platform. The ties of the past, however, are still strong and the question of when to leave remains.

Coda: I just read an article from Vanity Fair about influencers in Byron Bay. There was a paragraph towards the end about mom infuencers, but I think it applies to any online community. They “can lead to real connections and alleviate the isolation” but “it enables a false intimacy, too, and a lack of accountability. You can delete someone. You can disappear. The community is a shared illusion that’s real, until it’s not.” I suppose that one thing about Dayre is that I have formed real connections. But the community that I’m mourning – was it real or was it a shared illusion?