Tag Archives: data


Is it all of our responsibility to ‘come out’ like Snowden?

Some Americans know who Edward Snowden is. Some do not. And even those of us who know about Snowden’s actions–his reveal of classified information to mainstream media about the federal government’s surveillance programs–probably do not understand why he chose to do what he did and how he went about doing it. And this is what makes Citizenfour a powerful documentary—as it provides a platform for Snowden to speak his truth about what motivated his actions and why he believes he is/was responsible to share the government’s surveillance tactics. I do wonder how Snowden feels now, living in Russia (at least temporarily) after the fact.

Here I’ll share several thoughts/questions that came up after during/after watching Citizenfour:

Truth-telling, whistle-blowing, and accountability:

Whose responsibility is it to reveal knowledge/truth(s) about data, technology, and surveillance? And what are these truth(s)? Snowden states that he felt accountable to share what he knew. In fact, at one point in the film he shares: “These are public issues. These are not my issues, they are everyone’s issues.” Are these everyone’s issues? And if so, how do ‘we’ (and who is we) continue to effectively address (or should I say expose) them?

I agree that these are issues that affect everyone–but with two caveats.  First, there is not such thing as a universal ‘everyone’, even if we are solely talking about the US. Issues of public knowledge, surveillance, and even truth-telling manifest in different ways for different people. What can be said/the consequences of truth-telling/what type of knowledge is known in the first place—these and many other ‘circumstances’ depend on one’s race, class, space, sexuality, etc. Would Snowden be Snowden if he wasn’t a white heterosexual male?

Second, I know I take for granted that what I know about data, knowledge, and surveillance (and I far from know all there is to know) –through my coursework, my colleagues, my constructed social media feeds, etc. And often it seems as if everyone ‘should’ know what’s going on. But they don’t.

For me, both of these caveats are attached to several factors–all driven by this form of governmentality (the trope of neoliberalism). Slow death. Structural Racism. Necropolitics. Biopolitics. What all these fancy(ish) and useful academic terms tell me = People don’t know things they don’t know and it’s not because people aren’t interested in knowing; there are factors, decisions, structures in place, etc. that make it difficult for some people to know certain things.

And this leads me to two additional questions:  If not Edward Snowden, then perhaps someone else? Is surveillance reform in the United States inevitable?


Snowden states that he leaked this information “for the good of his country.” What’s interesting is that by doing so Snowden placed not only himself, but also a host of others, at risk. And perhaps all risk isn’t equal. But for Poitras, Greenwald, and others, Snowden’s decision, along with their decision to publicize it, was and still is filled with risk. But does this risk outweigh the risk of not telling?

And how can one prepare for something like this? Snowden makes reference to how he prepared: he set up a system to ensure his rent would be paid, he left his girlfriend a note, he had the documents to pass over to Greenwald, MacAskill, etc.

Coming out:

One statement that really stood out is when Snowden talks to Greenwald (and maybe MacAskill) about revealing his identity. For Snowden, the question is not ‘if’ these journalists will reveal him as their source, but instead ‘when.’ Snowden even states that “it is powerful to come out. I’m not afraid.” And it seems as if more and more people are coming out with information about how corporations and government agencies are transforming our intellectual knowledge and our individual bodies into data–and even how they are using this data.

I was reading a blog about a completely different subject (Bruce Jenner’s primetime interview) where the author, Julia Serano, was talking about Jenner’s (and other trans-identified folks) coming out(s). And I know I’m taking this statement out of context  (and coming out as trans* and coming out as a whistle-blower are very different events with perhaps related, but dissimilar consequences) but I like what Serano wrote:

“Coming out isn’t supposed to be a spectacle. Coming out is when one person tells another person…” (and then this part is specifically about coming out as trans*)

So I want to leave us with this question: Is it all of our responsibility to ‘come out’ (with classified but potentially harmful information) like Snowden?

And does this type of coming out—this coming out in an age of increased surveillance and data bodies, does this type of coming out need to be a spectacle in order to be deemed successful? Or should we all (or at least those of us who are privy to these types of knowledge and I believe this is more of us than we think) come out on an everyday basis?





Aren’t ‘we’ already constructing a ‘feminist data future’?

Creating (feminist) data in a Quantified Self (QS) type of world

Amelia Abreu shares her dream for a feminist data future—one where women (and other marginalized groups) have control of data collection, usage, and access; one where we all are compensated for our labor; one where “users can control their own narratives.”

Abreu points out some of the issues with data collection and digital technology. Like science, data is always fraught with subjectivity. As a sociologist, how I collect data, the types of questions I choose to ask, the variables I plug into my regression analysis, etc.—all these choices impact the type of data points I collect (and the results I will present/publish).

Abreu introduces us to the Quantified Self (QS) movement, point out that most QSer are males with capital who are voluntarily creating digital tools (read: self-tracking devices) with an aim of helping “people get meaning out of their personal data.” This self-control of our personal data is not as rosy as it seems—as not all of us have the ability/time/funds/etc. to use our personal data for “good.” I chuckled when I read this, thinking about how much of our personal data is already surveilled, used by the governments and corporations to track who we are and what we are doing. The QS movement could not better reflect the current neoliberal governmentality—the organization “proposes that if you, a consumer, submit to an untested battery of somewhat proprietary metrics, you yourself can have an all-around better life.”

But the problem is that not all of us can play the neoliberal role of entrepreneurs who pursue our own interest as governable subjects–who can use calculation and choice to make ourselves the best beings we can be.

Abreu points out some of QS’s flaws, focusing on its (mostly) white-male-centered method of data collection that has always seems to rule the roost–not without being challenged–and is now, hopefully, shifting, at least a bit. But back to Abreu’s discussion of the controversy. She tell us that tracking health data (very QS; very masculine) versus tracking human-relationship data (women’s work; not taken as serious data collection). She critiques the QS movement as, in its search for universal data points and scores, it does not take into account those populations its goals exclude.

This next point may seem really off topic, but I’m going to try to make it work. I’ve written about Whole Foods Market (WFM) being this ideal neoliberal institution—providing customers with opportunities to dutifully complete their neoliberal checklists: choice, self-mastery, and biological citizenship. However, I also point out what I call WFM’s paradox: it regularized a population of mostly white and elite consumer while its predominately non-white workforce cannot fill these same neoliberal checklists (they may not even be able to afford to shop in the stores in which they work).

I get QS is different–from what I understand, QSers design products for people like them. But where I see the parallel is in those who are excluded. Like QS, WFM’s corporate team also builds stores for people like them. I don’t know if there are workers, like WFM team members, on QS projects, but there are definitely potential users who are discounted (or not even thought about when these self-tracking tools are built)–and therefore, for various reasons, cannot use the technology (just like many WFM customers cannot shop in their stores).

Abreu writes: “I want Quantified Self to be a messy space, one where users willingly choose the aspects of their lives they are proudest of, and most troubled by, and allow them to track, and engage with their narratives over time on their own terms.”

But can QS, in this incarnation, be messy? I don’t think so.

QS is QS (and that’s ok for QSers but not for those of use who don’t align with the QS movement). We need our own messy spaces–created by us. These spaces must have different roots that QS, even if they have similar purposes: the collection and transmission of digital data. And it’s happening. Maybe I’m wrong? (I’m thinking of Sonia’s ITP project here, which I don’t know much about, but seems to fit as a non-QS, but QS-like project).

Perhaps we can find some of this messiness (potential) in the hashtag feminists’ work?

Can hashtag feminism bridge the virtual and the face-to-face?

Hashtag feminists are creating their own data points—perhaps they are fulfilling Abreu’s “dream of a feminist data future.” But where will those points ‘live’ in the future (other than in Twitter’s API that is not accessible).

And maybe we’re not looking towards a feminist data future but instead we are already thinking & creating in a feminist data reality? This seems probable, especially after reading Susana Loza’s article; I’d say this feminist data reality is imperfect, but it is occurring. Even Loza points out that hashtag feminism is imperfect, is in progress, and is very messy. But it’s also generating rich conversations. Educating (some) people. Making issues, rifts, inadequacies visible. Pushing for a more intersectional way not only of thinking, but also of being.

But I can’t help to worry: Are the divisions within the feminist movement (not to talk about the feminist and transgender women movement rifts) are impeding the advent of a non-white-male-centered data-logical turn?

Loza’s piece highlights an important part of hashtag feminism’s work (for me, maybe not for all hashtag feminists): the ability to connect online and offline activism. This interconnectedness seems like a natural extension of hashtag feminist’s work; taking digital conversations and translating them into face-to-face work. I found this piece (on my Twitter feed) about the importance of net neutrality for black online spaces. The piece cemented these ideas about how what happens online creeps into our face-to-face spaces.

In a Digital Age, (Black) Feminism Demands an Open Internet, Malkia Cyril quotes a section of Alicia Garza’s speech at NetGain, a conference focused on building partnerships for a stronger digital society. During her presentation, Garza, co-creator of #BlackLivesMatter, shared this: “Black Lives Matter is much more than a hashtag—it is an organizing principle. It’s more than a moment, it’s a movement for Black lives.” Garza also shares: “We’ll know that Black Lives Matter when we all have access to digital spaces that create open spaces, work for all of us, and do not criminalize us.”

Notably, Garza points to the interconnectedness of our online and offline lives. How who we are online/what conversations we start and are a part of/the hashtags we produce and reproduce–that they matter in real life too. And this is not only important for #blacklivesmatter. It’s also key for #girlslikeus, #translivesmatter, and other conversations that may not have specific hashtags associated with them.

It’s worth noting that Jessie Daniels has been writing a series of blog posts that critique white feminism’s response to inequality or what Daniels calls “the trouble with white feminism.” While this series is not solely focused on cyber-racism or digital identities, Daniels writing is closely related as it illuminates the power of the media/images/discourse and how ideas that seem natural (white feminism) need to be unpacked, challenged, and reworked. Daniel’s work (not just in this series) is a strong example of the intricacies of digital identities. Her work, and that of others (like Loza, Lee, and Abreu) demonstrate how conversations about feminism, racism, homophobia, and transphobia that take place online are serious and can have serious implications for what is happening offline.

Maybe it’s because I follow many of these activists in my (constructed) Twitter feed. Or maybe I’m an idealist. But I see value/productive power in these virtual conversations; even the messy ones, the ones where I want to scream: Are you kidding me, you’re actually writing this (potentially ignorant stuff) for all to see?!?!?!? I believe that digital conversations can move off the screen and into our face-to-face conversations.

It’s also important to remember that not everyone can or is taking part in these online/hashtag conversations (hashtag feminism is not for everyone).  Janet Mock brings up a similar point in a recent blog post about the violence affecting the trans women of color community. While some trans women of color, including Mock, have become visible via the media, many others are still invisible–and transphobia, racism, violence, and hatred persist.  Mock writes: “What we can’t expect this visibility to do is cure our society of its longstanding prejudice, miseducation and myths surrounding trans women.” As such, conversations that are happening in digital spaces also needs to occur in-person. And they must include a wider audience–in attempts to continue to counter prejudice and miseducation.

‘Choosing’ to own my labor

When Ofek, Blog Editor of biology-online.org asks Danielle Lee to commit to a non-paying guest blogging spot—she says NO–as she does not want to work for free. In response, Ofek calls Lee a ‘whore.’ The idea that this editor (a man) would call her a ‘whore’ because she values her labor (and wants to control how she uses it) is disgusting. This interaction reflects how the labor of some people (who are often women, queer, trans, low-income, brown or black) continues to be taken for granted/under- or devalued/appropriated—by those who sit in the inner circle (this is a reference to Dorothy’s Smith’s work who critiques sociology’s white/male inner circle and its power to make decisions on what types of knowledge is taught/published/learned).

I can’t help but to think about Marx and his idea that the excess (surplus) labor of the proletariat results in profit for the bourgeoisie. In choosing not to work for free, Lee is (perhaps) preventing Ofek (and his site) from making money off of her education/insight/expertise–the ‘bourgeoisie’ who benefit in this concept of surplus labor. While Lee has a ‘choice’ here, she and many other people with marginalized identities do not always (often?) have this choice. An by choosing not to give away her labor for free, Lee is taking a risk (which we can clearly see in

It’s ironic that this conversation is taking place online–so perhaps to connect back to Loza’s article and Garza’s points above, she is helping make visible the invisible and connecting online and offline issues of sexism, racism, exploitation….and many more.