A futile romantic gesture - born out of a weariness with the increasing fakery, egos and over exposure on parts of the internet.
A twitter account given up and given over to an anonymous collective of folks who wield wonderful words and ideas, to post whatever they wanted, privately. An attempt to try to do something different.
An account for the people who already flirt with pseudonyms, who put themselves out there, and then get scared, who write because they need to, not because they need to be recognised. Who work in ‘professional’ positions where having certain opinions can get them in trouble. Who want to get beyond the modern obsession of positive spin that keeps us all at a distance from the messy, painful reality of ourselves and others. A fascination with the ideas of Guerrilla Girls and Luther Blissett and a curiosity as to how these kind of collective, anonymous groups might work online.
Not getting rid of the individual, not making us all sound the same. Keeping our voices and using whatever pronoun feels good. Talking about personal experiences. Ranting about injustice, telling the truth, telling stories, observing the world, telling our secrets. Brave, honest, difficult.
We don’t all agree. But we do agree on a no-abuse policy: racism, ableism, classism, sexism, transphobia, basically being a dick, isn’t ok. Neither are personal vendettas. Attack ideas, not people.
Because originally my ‘point’ was that ‘some secrets need to be told’. And because maybe, just maybe, we are more collectively than the sum of our parts?
There is a very, very real possibility that this might all go horribly wrong. That’s what makes it a proper experiment.