teohjiatian

[teohjiatian]

Is streaming really social—or just another performance?

Game live streaming has become a major part of gaming culture. Platforms like Twitch and YouTube Gaming aren’t just where people play games—they’re where people build communities. Research shows that many viewers watch streams not only for entertainment, but to feel connected with others. Li, Kang, and Sohaib (2023) found that younger audiences are drawn to streams for social interaction, relaxation, and learning, especially during and after the isolation of COVID-19.

But not all streaming spaces are welcoming. Some streamers, especially those from marginalized groups, face harassment through things like “hate raids.” Cai et al. (2023) highlight how these coordinated attacks use bots and real users to target and overwhelm creators, showing the limits of platform moderation. While platforms promote community, they also open doors to new forms of digital abuse.

Streaming communities often form around shared interests and knowledge. These are called “knowledge communities”—groups built on shared learning and collaboration, not just geography. That’s true for gaming, but some communities also push people to act a certain way to fit in. Kongrit and Kiattisin (2023) showed how streamers can influence gaming behavior and even identity in audiences.

So while streaming does create community, it also creates pressure. Many streamers feel they must always be entertaining or “on.” This can blur the line between authentic self-expression and performance. Social gaming has real value—but it’s not without its challenges.

References：

Cai, J., Chowdhury, S., Zhou, H., & Wohn, D. Y. (2023). Hate Raids on Twitch: Understanding Real-Time Human-Bot coordinated attacks in live streaming communities. Proceedings of the ACM on Human-Computer Interaction, 7(CSCW2), 1–28. https://doi.org/10.1145/3610191

Kongrit, T., & Kiattisin, S. (2023). Live streaming contents influencing game playing behavior among Thailand gamers. Journal of Mobile Multimedia. https://doi.org/10.13052/jmm1550-4646.1946

Li, L., Kang, K., & Sohaib, O. (2023). Analysing younger online viewers’ motivation to watch video game live streaming through a positive perspective. Journal of Economic Analysis. https://doi.org/10.58567/jea02020004

[teohjiatian]

Are filters freedom—or just another form of control?

Pretty pastels, flawless skin, glittery highlights, perfect symmetry. With a swipe, anyone can turn into a doll, a dream, or a digital goddess. But is it really you anymore? Social media filters don’t just enhance beauty—they reshape it. They decide what’s worth showing, and slowly, silently, they teach us what we’re supposed to be.

Platforms like Instagram and Snapchat rely on beautification filters that erase flaws and conform to Eurocentric ideals—lighter skin, thinner noses, plumper lips (Miller & McIntyre, 2022). This is not just “fun.” It’s the quiet enforcement of sameness. Even on Tumblr, a platform known for niche subcultures and creative freedom, we see a filtered aesthetic—curated softness, ambient edits, and visual conformity hiding behind “individuality” (Lavrence & Cambre, 2020).

Are filters empowering? Maybe. Some use them to explore gender or create fantasy personas. But this “freedom” often happens within narrow limits—ones that tech companies and cultural norms define. As Coy-Dibley (2016) argues, digital tools can be both liberating and regulating, inviting users to play while subtly disciplining their appearance. Filters sell us beauty, but also surveillance: they deskill users (Fisher, 2020), reduce creativity, and normalize facial edits so ambient we forget they’re there.

So who do we become in filtered worlds? When we see ourselves only through enhancement, we lose the raw, the real, the irregular. Filters don’t just alter faces—they reshape self-worth, especially for young users still figuring out who they are.

We need to ask not just what filters do—but what they undo.

References:

Coy-Dibley, I. (2016). “Digitized Dysmorphia” of the female body: the re/disfigurement of the image. Palgrave Communications, 2(1). https://doi.org/10.1057/palcomms.2016.40

Fisher, T. (2020). The smooth life: Instagram as a platform of control. Virtual Creativity, 10(1), 93–103. https://doi.org/10.1386/vcr_00022_7

Lavrence, C., & Cambre, C. (2020). “Do I look like my selfie?”: Filters and the Digital-Forensic Gaze. Social Media + Society, 6(4). https://doi.org/10.1177/2056305120955182

Miller, L. A., & McIntyre, J. (2022). From surgery to Cyborgs: a thematic analysis of popular media commentary on Instagram filters. Feminist Media Studies, 23(7), 3615–3631. https://doi.org/10.1080/14680777.2022.2129414

[teohjiatian]

I’ve seen too many friends tighten their jawlines in selfies, filter out acne, or obsessively crop their feeds to look “perfect.” But these are more than vanity moves—they’re part of aesthetic labour and microcelebrity culture pushing unachievable beauty ideals on visual social media.

Recent research confirms my concerns: a 2023 study of 16–18‑year‑olds found higher body dysmorphic symptoms among teens who used image-heavy platforms like Instagram or TikTok, especially when driven by appearance-focused motivations (Gupta et al., 2023). In Bahrain and Saudi Arabia, large‑scale surveys (2024) also link heavy social media use to BDD and increased interest in cosmetic procedures—24% of Saudi adults scored high on BDD when spending 4–7 hours daily on Instagram or Snapchat (Ateq et al., 2024).

Worse yet, a 2025 systematic review led by Simon Fraser University reveals that social media intensifies delusional distortions—like “delusion amplification”—affecting people with BDD, eating disorders, and narcissism (SFU News, 2025). This supports the idea that microcelebrity pressures—camouflaged as personal branding—can actively harm mental health.

I believe calling out aesthetic templates isn’t complaining—it’s digital citizenship. If we keep scrolling without critique, we silently endorse the idea that your face needs polishing before it’s share-worthy. Social media’s subtle nudges don’t just influence behavior; they can warp self‑perception into something clinically concerning.

That’s why I work to counter this by posting unfiltered selfies, sharing research about filters’ effects, and promoting body-positive creators. It’s not enough to post awareness once—this resistance requires consistency.

So next time you snap a filtered selfie, ask yourself: am I presenting a version of me that’s mine—or one shaped by someone else’s algorithm?

References:

Ateq, K., Alhajji, M., & Alhusseini, N. (2024). The association between use of social media and the development of body dysmorphic disorder and attitudes toward cosmetic surgeries: a national survey. Frontiers in Public Health, 12. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpubh.2024.1324092

Gupta, M., Jassi, A., & Krebs, G. (2023). The association between social media use and body dysmorphic symptoms in young people. Frontiers in Psychology, 14. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2023.1231801

SFU News. (2025, March 11). Social media use amplifies delusional disorders: SFU study. https://www.sfu.ca/sfunews/media/media-releases/2025/03/social-media-use-amplifies-delusional-disorders--sfu-study.html

[teohjiatian]

Why Mending Clothes Is My Climate Protest 🧵

Mending clothes isn’t just nostalgia—it’s activism. With fast fashion producing 92 million tons of textile waste annually and contributing up to 10% of global greenhouse gases, something is seriously broken (Yalof, 2025). I believe that choosing to repair, rather than replace, is an act of resistance.

Major shifts are happening. The European Union is pushing laws to force brands to make durable, repairable clothes—and even pay to recycle them (Chan, 2023). That’s huge. Policy is finally meeting prevention. Meanwhile, in the US, shops like Eva Joan Repair are popping up—celebs and everyday people are bringing their jeans and jackets back to life (Yalof, 2025). Mending isn’t niche. It’s a movement.

Repairing extends the lifespan of our garments and reclaims quality, both materially and emotionally. A Scientific American piece notes that fast fashion not only pollutes but also makes us feel disconnected from what we wear (Carbone, 2024). When I stitch a rip or reinforce a hem, I’m personally investing in that piece, making it mine, not just another consumer item.

Digital citizenship means using social media to challenge the culture of discarding. When I post my DIY patches, I’m not just showing off handiwork; I’m calling out the fashion machine. As Vogue argued, consumer behaviour—not just durability, drives waste. So, it’s on us to build a mindset shift.

Mending is quiet, but it’s loud in values. It says: I care. I resist. I won’t be fooled by fast fashion’s fleeting trends. Instead, I’ll choose care, connection, and clothing with history.

✨ If you want to protect the planet—even sew a bit—grab a needle and patch your world.

References:

Carbone, P. M. (2024, November 26). Fast fashion affects climate, exploits workers and creates enormous textile waste. Scientific American. https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/fast-fashion-affects-climate-exploits-workers-and-creates-enormous-textile-waste/

Chan, E. (2023, July 25). Could this really be the end for fast fashion? Vogue. https://www.vogue.com/article/could-this-really-be-the-end-for-fast-fashion?

Yalof, R. (2025, February 7). Can fast fashion be more sustainable in 2025? Earth.Org. https://earth.org/will-fast-fashion-be-more-sustainable-in-2025/

[teohjiatian]

Hashtag Activism and Digital Citizenship – The Case of #FreePalestine in 2023–2024

The resurgence of the #FreePalestine movement in 2023–2024 exemplifies the evolving landscape of digital citizenship and the formation of hashtag publics. Social media platforms became pivotal arenas for political expression, community mobilization, and the dissemination of alternative narratives challenging mainstream media portrayals (BBC News, 2024).

A notable instance was the viral spread of the AI-generated image bearing the slogan “All Eyes on Rafah,” which emerged in response to the Israeli offensive in Rafah. This image was shared over 47 million times on platforms like Instagram and TikTok, symbolizing global solidarity and drawing attention to the humanitarian crisis in Gaza (BBC News, 2024).

Furthermore, the #SwiftiesForPalestine movement highlighted the role of fan communities in digital activism. Fans of Taylor Swift utilized concerts and social media to advocate for Palestinian rights, urging the artist to speak out on the issue. This grassroots initiative demonstrated how online communities can leverage their collective influence to raise awareness and prompt action (Time, 2024).

However, these digital efforts faced significant challenges. Reports from Human Rights Watch indicated systemic censorship of pro-Palestinian content on platforms like Instagram and Facebook, with over 1,000 instances of content removal or suppression documented between October and November 2023 (Human Rights Watch, 2023). Such actions underscore the limitations and vulnerabilities of digital activism within corporate-controlled platforms.

Scholarly analyses have also examined the dynamics of online activism. A study published in the Journal of Applied Communication Research explored the #SaveSheikhJarrah campaign, revealing how digital ethnography and interviews with young Palestinian activists highlighted the interplay between online and offline activism, and the challenges posed by digital surveillance and content moderation (Tandfonline, 2024).

In conclusion, the #FreePalestine movement's digital resurgence illustrates the potency of hashtag activism in fostering global awareness and civic engagement, while also exposing the constraints imposed by platform governance.

References :

BBC News. (2024, May 30). All Eyes on Rafah: The post shared by 47m people. https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/cjkkj5jejleoBBC

Time. (2024, June 25). Swifties band together to show Palestinian solidarity at Taylor Swift's Eras Tour. https://time.com/6991413/swifties-for-palestine-taylor-swift-eras-tour/

Human Rights Watch. (2023, December 21). Meta's broken promises: Systemic censorship of Palestine content on Instagram and Facebook. https://www.hrw.org/report/2023/12/21/metas-broken-promises/systemic-censorship-palestine-content-instagram-and

Tandfonline. (2024). Beyond online and offline activism: #SaveSheikhJarrah and the new dynamics of digital resistance. https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/17513057.2024.2426792

[teohjiatian]

RuPaul’s Drag Race and the Evolution of Digital Publics in 2025

In 2025, RuPaul’s Drag Race continues to exemplify how reality television fosters dynamic digital publics—platforms where identity, community, and activism converge. Social media engagement on TikTok and Instagram has turned the show into a transnational cultural force. The show’s Instagram account alone contributed to over 377 million views and 31 million interactions, demonstrating its role in driving global discourse (Shorty Awards, 2023).

Beyond entertainment, Drag Race facilitates critical conversations on gender and LGBTQIA+ visibility. When beloved alumna Valentina publicly came out as a transgender woman, the announcement was widely celebrated across online platforms, highlighting how the show and its fandom normalize diverse identities (People, 2025). This moment became a springboard for thousands of supportive and informative posts, reinforcing the show's influence within queer digital communities.

International versions like Drag Race Philippines and Drag Race Mexico have further broadened this influence. These adaptations nurture global audiences who use online platforms to explore intersectional experiences of gender, sexuality, and race, often engaging in transnational dialogues about representation (Brennan & Gudelunas, 2025).

However, Drag Race is not without critique. Scholars and fans alike have noted concerns about the commercialization of drag and the risk of diluting queer culture for mainstream appeal (Diggit Magazine, 2023). As the show grows, debates about authenticity, tokenism, and marketability have become more pronounced within the fanbase—showing how reality TV can serve as a contested site of cultural negotiation.

Ultimately, RuPaul’s Drag Race remains a powerful case study in how reality television, paired with digital media, constructs digital publics that engage deeply with social, political, and cultural issues.

References

Brennan, N., & Gudelunas, D. (Eds.). (2024). Drag in the global digital public sphere: queer visibility, online discourse and political change. Routledge & CRC Press. https://www.routledge.com/Drag-in-the-Global-Digital-Public-Sphere-Queer-Visibility-Online-Discourse-and-Political-Change/Brennan-Gudelunas/p/book/9781032204376?srsltid=AfmBOoq8Xe6uX-tBdYhDVQGP0tprCxb_NaWE69RrHU6GZqJTvUokdgJ1

Diggit Magazine. (2023). RuPaul selling out: Undermining the diversity of drag culture. https://www.diggitmagazine.com/articles/rupaul-selling-out-undermining-diversity-drag-culture

People. (2025, May 14). RuPaul’s Drag Race star Valentina comes out as transgender woman. https://people.com/rupauls-drag-race-rent-live-star-valentina-comes-out-as-trans-11735199

Shorty Awards. (2023). RuPaul’s Drag Race - Overall Instagram presence. https://shortyawards.com/15th/rupauls-drag-race

[teohjiatian]

𝑻𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒓’𝒔 𝑸𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆: 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝑳𝑮𝑩𝑻 𝑽𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒄 𝑺𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆

Tumblr has long been a sanctuary for LGBT communities, but lately, something interesting has shifted. While anonymity once defined the platform—allowing queer and trans users to explore identity without fear—today, more people are stepping into the spotlight with their names, faces, and stories attached. And yet, somehow, Tumblr still feels like Tumblr. The memes are still chaotic, the discourse remains fiery, and the sense of community remains as strong as ever. So, how does this work? How does a platform known for pseudonyms and secret side blogs also foster such vibrant, public engagement?

The answer lies in Tumblr’s unique blend of creativity and collectivism. Recent research backs this up. In his 2022 study, André Cavalcante describes Tumblr as a platform where LGBTQ users construct "queer utopias"—spaces of "joy, intimacy, and community-building" that let them imagine new ways of existing outside mainstream norms (Cavalcante, 2022, p. 12). These utopias aren't flawless, though. Cavalcante also talks about "vortexes" that trap users in cycles of anxiety, infighting, or emotional exhaustion (p. 17). It’s not either/or—Tumblr is both a battleground and a playground.

Queer artists, writers, and activists navigate this duality every day. They build followings, tag their work, and turn their blogs into digital portfolios, all while riding the platform's emotional waves. A trans illustrator might share their comics under their real name, riding the high of community support—until they're pulled into a draining discourse spiral. A nonbinary writer's euphoric thread about gender identity could go viral, only to attract hate in the notes. But they keep posting anyway, because the rewards—connection, visibility, solidarity—often outweigh the risks.

But let’s be real: Tumblr’s DNA hasn’t disappeared. The inside jokes ("I’m gay and this is a cry for help"), the hyper-specific tags (#GenderEUPHORIA), and the chaotic reblog chains still define the experience. Even when users aren’t anonymous, they communicate in a shared language—one that outsiders might find confusing but that instantly builds a sense of belonging.

Tumblr’s algorithm plays a big role in this. Unlike other platforms where algorithms push content to random people, Tumblr mostly shows posts to followers or through specific tags. This keeps queer communities close-knit and helps users feel safer. However, Tumblr's system isn’t perfect. After the platform banned adult content in 2018, its automated censorship started wrongly flagging LGBTQ+ posts—like memes, art, and selfies—as inappropriate. Pilipets and Paasonen (2022) call this an example of "algorithmic failure," where the system couldn’t tell the difference between queer expression and actual explicit material. This mistake hurt community trust and made it harder for users to share openly. Even so, because Tumblr isn’t driven by viral trends like Instagram or TikTok, it still gives queer users more control over who sees their posts—and that control is part of what keeps Tumblr feeling like home.

At its core, Tumblr proves that online spaces don’t have to choose between anonymity and impact. For LGBT users, the platform is more than just a social network—it’s a digital zine, a protest sign, and a late-night dorm-room heart-to-heart all at once. It's where they fight, create, collapse, and rebuild—sometimes all in the same thread. And whether they’re posting as @realname or @chaotic-queer-username, they’re doing something revolutionary: claiming space, loudly and unapologetically, in a world that still tries to silence them.

References :

Cavalcante, A. (2020). Tumbling into queer utopias and vortexes: experiences of LGBTQ social media users on Tumblr. In Routledge eBooks (pp. 77–97). https://doi.org/10.4324/9781003119388-5

Pilipets, E., & Paasonen, S. (2020a). Nipples, memes, and algorithmic failure: NSFW critique of Tumblr censorship. New Media & Society, 24(6), 1459–1480. https://doi.org/10.1177/1461444820979280