I first proposed my new module “(Me)me, Myself, and I: The Power and Politics of Digital Remix Culture and Online Inequalities” in 2019. After receiving institutional approval to deliver the module I began to work on the finer details of how it would be designed in the run up to 2020. When I initially came up with the idea for this module, little did I know that I would be delivering it fully online in its first year. That said, given the topic of the module it felt fairly natural to make use of digital spaces and technology to think through and discuss the different ways that digital remix culture has developed in recent years.
The module was generally based around the key themes below:
- Theorising the Internet: Analysing Digital Culture and Visual Language
- Digital People: Online Identities and Inequalities
- Digital Pop Culture: From TV to Remixing Content on/for Mobile Screens
- Digital Influencers: The Rise of YouTubers and (Micro)celebrities
- Digital Declines: The Demise of Digital Platforms
- Digital Politics: The Role of Digital Remix Culture in Democracies
- Digital Re-“meme”-bering: Digital Remix Culture and Memory-making
- Digital Creative Work: From Sharing to Owning Digital Content
- Digital Branding and Consumer Culture: Digital Remix Culture in Business and Branding
Still, many different yet related questions and discussion points emerged, including when thinking about the different ways that people are/were making and sharing memes and digitally remixed content to communicate their thoughts and experiences concerning the COVID-19 pandemic.
The first module assessment was an essay on a topic of students’ choice which connected to the module (e.g. 1. Examining the evolution of influencer culture, 2. Analysing experiences of identity and inequality online, 3. Exploring the role of digital remix culture in politics, 4. Examining the relationship between meme culture and subcultures). The second assessment for the module involved students producing a reflective analysis of their own digital experiences and habits, drawing on visuals and referencing how their digital experiences have changed throughout their life. During the module we spoke at length about different digital platforms that have come and gone (and in some cases, reappeared again!). We also spent a lot of time speaking about different digital “brand voices”, particularly in relation to the digital presence of Netflix and how shows are promoted in ways that are heavily influenced by user-generated content and in-jokes that are specific to various fandom communities and subcultures.
Guest lectures on the module included a brilliant session on Memes and Black Femme Aesthetics taught by Keisha Bruce (University of Nottingham), one on Digital Politics: The Role of Digital Remix Culture in Democracies by Dr. César Jiménez-Martínez (Cardiff University), and another on Digital Influencers: The Rise of YouTubers and (Micro)celebrities by Zoë Glatt (London School of Economics and Political Science). Students also learnt from the work of John Foley (Communications Strategist and Media Specialist, working in Toronto) who spent time speaking about different definitions of creativity and how brands and media/marketing agencies have adapted to tap into different digital trends and the marketability of hyper-local influencers.
Although digital experiences of grief was not a planned theme on this module, much of what was covered during “(Me)me, Myself, and I: The Power and Politics of Digital Remix Culture and Online Inequalities” linked to discussions about self-disclosure and self-representation online. This led me to think about the reality of how many students and educators (myself included) have been learning and teaching while grieving for different people, and often in ways that have involved turning to digital media and online communication to grieve with others.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what the words/notion of “(il)legible grief” might mean. How, when, and where grief is experienced, made visible, or (un)recognised in ways that are distinctly digitally mediated. In 2020, when reflecting on some of this in my book The Digital Lives of Black Women in Britain I wrote the following (pp. 132-133):
Right now—late March 2020—as the COVID-19 (coronavirus) global pandemic grips populations, places, and politics around the world, the role of digital media and digital culture in the daily lives of many is heightened. The pandemic emerged during the final weeks of writing this book. I found myself having to figure out how to mourn a loss through communion at a distance with family members over video calls, and through sharing photographs in digital albums that brought joy, peace, and a sense of intimacy during a time when physical social connection and gathering was not possible. I felt the warmth of friendships that I am eternally thankful for in the form of conversations that quickly morph from the sharing of funny memes to long audio messages, followed by hours of speaking on the phone.
Since then, I have found myself returning to thoughts on how individual and collective experiences of grief and trauma are being digitally mediated and documented across many different devices and platforms.
I’ve also been pondering over the ways in which the “business as usual” messages of many organisations gloss over the ongoing experiences of grief that are a difficult part of the daily lives of many people, particularly those who have been impacted by multiple crises such as COVID-19 and sustained anti-Black oppression.
What does digital remix culture have to do with all of this?
I don’t have a fully formed answer, and I’m not suggesting anything that has not been articulated by others, but one of the ways that digital remix culture can create a space for people to express, understand, and share their grief is through ephemeral yet intimate forms of mutual self-disclosure that range from the abstract and ambiguous to the direct and detailed. Digital content and connections have played a crucial part in how many people have been processing loss—whether it’s moments of relatability and recognition that are sparked by a humorous yet poignant GIF which captures the unpredictability of cycles of grief or finding comfort in the words of a stranger who vlogs about grieving with loved ones over Zoom.
I recently attended a great talk by Dr. Jen Ross (University of Edinburgh) on “What is ‘distance’, anyway? (Still) teaching online in pandemic times“, organised by the University of East Anglia and hosted by Dr. Harry Dyer who works there. The great session covered so much, including discussion of the role and importance of vulnerability and trust in pedagogical spaces. Learning from such an insightful session made me think about what space in educational settings has or has not been afforded to students and educators to express and take time to grieve over the last year. Although many organisations have attempted to “keep going” without missing a beat, a lot of people need moments and long periods of pause and peace. However, their ability to access such time and space to be, grieve, and feel is commonly constrained by a range of factors. These are shaped by individuals’ material conditions and which are a by-product of forms of intersecting structural oppression that result in the particularly precarious positions of some people, and the more secure and relatively safe situations that others encounter.
In the absence of physical spaces to commune and grieve, some people have found solace in and through digital contexts that are far from being without their faults but have offered an opportunity to exhale with others who too are trying to make sense of loss and feelings of sadness, stillness, and (un)rest against a backdrop of empty consumer culture messaging that suggests “we’re all in this together”. Depending on your perspective, digital remix culture may not always be personal, political, and everything in between. Nevertheless, for some, it can and does involve processing difficult and life-altering experiences in real-time online, and by creating, sharing, connecting to, and commenting on content that resonates with feelings that are often unspoken.
Although in 2019 when coming up with the module I did not picture myself teaching the first year of “(Me)me, Myself, and I: The Power and Politics of Digital Remix Culture and Online Inequalities” online, for many reasons I am glad that I did. I have cherished the chance to learn from and with all the students who took part in this module and generously shared their thoughts, views, and knowledge. We have perhaps been paddling in some uncharted pedagogical waters that have involved both moments of stillness and waves of movement in different directions. In sum, as I wrap up this final blog post on the first year of “(Me)me, Myself, and I: The Power and Politics of Digital Remix Culture and Online Inequalities” I find myself feeling buoyed by words and wisdom shared by the students on it, and their willingness to traverse the waters of this module during such a tough time. My hope is that as the months of 2021 roll on, and many people continue to learn and teach with different approaches, individuals dealing with difficult life circumstances and loss are able process their thoughts and grief in ways that are comfortable to them and in their own time—with or without the use of digital remix culture.
Margins 