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The IndieWeb: a kinder, better way of networking online

Social media’s overwhelming effects on our minds, our relationships, and our senses have become increasingly obvious over the last few years. More and more people who were taken in by the excitement of social networks as they were originally pitched—a kind of optimistic, anything goes part of the internet where we would have all of the world’s available information at our fingertips alongside our friends and family who live far away—are now disgruntled. But there’s no denying that social media filled a valuable gap in maturing the internet’s functions. As it became a bigger part of our lives, it makes sense that people would seek to duplicate their social lives, and perhaps enhance them in other ways.

A recent movement, the IndieWeb, has appeared, as various websites, networks, and groups have sprung up online that aim to concentrate power, control, and ownership of your data back into the hands of people who actually use the networks, not just the companies who own them. Rather than posting on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram (two of which are actually Facebook’s companies), why not opt into a network which lets you publish on your own servers, without the advertising pressure?

In this version of the internet, people aren’t addicted to their social media feeds for instant gratification—or so the justification goes—but are using these networks to find out more about the world, talk to their friends, family and strangers, and are overall having a more pleasant experience than the one we’re used to on the internet.

Some examples include Mastodon, Peach and, all of which function in completely different ways, but prioritise genuine interactions among members of communities, and an open-ended approach to becoming a member of those said communities. In part, this is possible because they’re crowdfunded by a group that cares about creating these spaces, and they’re often far smaller than large social networks like Twitter. They are not general networking sites, for example, and they’re not widely adopted enough to give you job opportunities or another career. These websites generally don’t use people’s data as their profit-making mechanism either, unlike the servers of massive social networks that are owned by the companies in question. Our regulatory mechanisms, as well as how we think about these questions politically haven’t really caught up with how much of our information is legally owned by massive companies, and how many rights they have to profit from it.

The idea of the IndieWeb is not a cohesive movement or an organisation led by one person; these operate away from large, commercial social networks and are often self-organised by a community that wants to cater better to itself. What the majority of IndieWeb platforms do have in common is a commitment to a better social media experience, one that isn’t marked by a lack of civility, and one which rejects the advertising-driven model of other social media networks.

Independent social networks fulfil a gap which most people will not have realised is missing. Gone are the pointless conversations that you end up getting dragged into on Twitter, where someone you don’t know misinterprets a tweet, and gone is the experience of going on Facebook and having really weird targeted advertising that feels a little creepy. For the most part, websites and apps that are part of the IndieWeb aim to bring back some of the better elements of using the internet with far less of the worrying elements that we’ve come to be accustomed to.

There are many reasons why this version of the internet is more appealing too. IndieWeb platforms don’t have that addictive sensibility (arguably, as of yet) that is integral to the motions of networks like Twitter and Instagram. Frankly, a lot of them aren’t (as of yet) large enough to get people a huge audience for what they’re saying, and they’re still relatively underground so it’s unlikely an employer could find you on there unless they were specifically looking. Some websites, such as, are noticeably more abstract than others, (you create blocks and collections around themes or ideas), making the platform more suited for certain purposes than others.

The joy of using the IndieWeb comes in how relatively decentralised it is. While there may be a central team running a website, the idea is that every individual can control their own network, with many of these websites giving people the opportunity to control their own servers. For example, Mastodon lets you set up an instance, like a chronological timeline, by downloading the software. Then other people can do the same, and those instances join together to create a federation, where people can follow different topics across boards. People tend not to follow huge amounts of boards or themes, just a few specific ones that they can really engage with meaningfully. Unlike most websites and apps we use today, IndieWeb websites defy the attention economy as they aren’t necessarily designed to keep people on them for as long as possible in the way that social networks do because they don’t harvest your data to sell to third parties for profit.

Overwhelmingly, the majority of people who use the internet regularly seem to know that something is just not right; broken. Social media networks are only a symptom of the problem—so perhaps a kinder, better way of networking online is one way to help fix it. It might seem optimistic, but IndieWeb websites and apps are already out there online. The question is, are we willing to leave the likes, followers, and sensation of self-fulfillment to join the movement? Although saying ‘yes’ feels like the right decision, very few people are actually motivated enough to leave this glamorous online appearance for a simpler web and a simpler life.

Grindr—“the world’s largest social networking app for gay, bi, trans, and queer people”—this month launched Kindr, a long-overdue attempt to tackle discrimination on the app. Is this a sincere attempt to combat discrimination in the dating world, or just a way for the app developers to shift the blame?

Dating and hookup apps, perhaps more so the latter, tend to be plagued with discriminatory language disguised as ‘tastes’ or ‘types’. “No fats, no femmes, no Asians” is the stereotypical Grindr bio tagline that epitomises such exclusionary efforts. I have unnecessarily exhausted myself on multiple occasions explaining why this is so problematic. Of course, everyone is entitled to their type, but to express this in negative terms comes from a distinctly discriminatory place. It’s also important to note that often this can be subconscious; such tastes are surface manifestations of underlying, latent cultural beauty standards, which celebrate certain bodies and skins while sidelining or even fetishising others.

I list my ethnicity as “mixed” (the somewhat America-centric options are: Do Not Show, Asian, Black, Latino, Middle Eastern, Mixed, Native American, White, South Asian, Other), and have been asked countless times “What mix are you?” (None of your business/I can’t be bothered to explain) or “So where are you from?” (answering “England” merely elicits the more pointed “But where are you really from?”). I’m baffled why such information matters but, apparently, it does.

With Kindr (as in more kind, not the brand of chocolate), Grindr is instigating a crackdown on this sort of language. “At Grindr, we’re into diversity, inclusion, and users who treat each other with respect. We’re not into racism, bullying, or other forms of toxic behavior,” it explains. “Everyone is entitled to their opinion. Their type. Their tastes. But nobody is entitled to tear someone else down because of their race, size, gender, HIV status, age, or – quite simply – being who they are.”

Kindr is also releasing a series of videos exploring the impact of such discrimination on Grindr users; the first looks at sexual racism and one quote from RuPaul’s Drag Race alum The Vixen particularly hit home: “You just start to wake up in the morning and look in the mirror and count all the reasons that nobody is going to love you.” It makes for an uncomfortable watch but this is an all-too-common experience for many of us that straight/cis/white people are often oblivious to.

Several months ago, rival gay dating app Chappy introduced a pledge that each user must agree to when signing up for the app, which reads: “No Hate, Just Dates… By pressing AGREE you commit to treating all guys on Chappy with kindness respect and love.”


But do such pledges really make a difference? After all, these apps thrive on surface appearances and encourage superficial interactions. If everyone immediately found something meaningful from such apps, they would lose users. Grindr, which eschews the swiping system of Tinder and Chappy and instead lists everyone nearby, lets its users filter by age, tribe, what they’re looking for (i.e. chats, dates, “right now”), and, for premium users, height, weight, body type, and ethnicity. It’s not surprising that discrimination is rife within a community that so obsessively categorises and classifies.

However, Grindr does offer some hope. Last year, it added gender identity and pronoun boxes to user profiles (a lot of trans and non-binary individuals use the app); the app provides a sexual health FAQ and can send reminders for HIV testing. INTO, the online magazine run by the company provides diverse, critical and insightful queer journalism. Grindr is actively encouraging users to report breaches of the updated guidelines, with promises of moderation and banishment.

Can apps really affect change amongst their user base? As many turn to guides on how to master dating apps like Tinder with the Best Tinder Icebreakers: Everything You Need to Up Your Dating Game, Twitter is perhaps the most prominent brand currently grappling with this question. Once behaviours become deeply-rooted, it takes supreme effort to effect lasting change, in part because users often assume they have unfettered access to such resources: that “free speech” somehow permits discrimination that outwardly defies user agreements.

Here, though, I am quietly hopeful. The chat box that used to say “say something” now says “say something kind…”