Goodbye, Twitter.

I joined Twitter in May 2008. After a few weeks of tinkering around and thinking a microblogging site was likely a waste of my time, I got drawn into the fun and the conversation and was hooked. I’ve written upwards of 46,000 tweets since that time, made lifelong friends, ran Twitter discussions, posted announcements of significant projects and new writings, and joined communities. While there was always trolling and harassment to contend with, there were some guardrails, and the dialogue we created on the platform around topics like smart aid, human rights, transmedia storytelling, or ethical design were fertile ground for collective learning and pushback against entrenched power. The platform was generative.

Until it wasn’t. The last safeguards have disappeared. And for all intents and purposes, I’ve left the platform.

Twitter (I still won’t call it “X”) has become more extractive and harmful, especially since its leadership change in 2022. The platform has become a significant tool for spreading lies, targeting vulnerable groups, and amplifying disinformation. This reflects a broader trend in online spaces where bullying and aggression are embraced as power, poisoning digital ecosystems. While many good people are still tweeting — and I will periodically check in on them as long as they are there — the platform’s shift over the last two years has made it nearly unrecognizable from its original form.

Still, Twitter played a significant role in shaping my digital life. And deleting 46,000 tweets — the number itself is staggering; so many of my words floating around in the ether — feels a bit surreal. Watching TweetDelete remove this part of my online history from public view is like watching a fragment of my digital identity dissolve into smoke. (I’ve downloaded my archive. To do what with, I’m not sure. Perhaps there’s an art project hidden in the stored html.)

Leaving this week amidst an exodus of so many others feels, perhaps hyperbolically, like the end of an era. We’ve collectively lost a digital space that once fostered discovery, expressions of defiance, possibilities of connection, and pockets of joy. The fact that this change mirrors — and is a direct result of — broader geopolitical shifts towards authoritarianism and xenophobia only adds to the sense of loss.

We are navigating very dark, increasingly complex and volatile political and cultural landscapes. Funders and decision-makers should prioritize releasing resources to help networks explore new platforms, technologies, and both digital and in-person spaces that foster connection, exchange, and collective care — particularly for activists, advocates, and those working to build new political and social models who require secure and protected channels for engagement. On my part, I am committed to exploring the role the Center can play in this evolving reality, especially in areas of distribution and engagement, and in creating spaces for generative dialogue. Now more than ever, we need shared spaces — both global and local — where joy, curiosity, care, meaningful conversation, and collective action can thrive.

For the time being, I’ll be residing on Bluesky, Buttondown (for my newsletter), Instagram, LinkedIn, and Medium. Come say hello.