I woke up early on Monday, put on my makeup and boarded a special bus to the Facebook
campus in Menlo Park. But I’m not one of San Francisco’s growing glut
of tech employees – I’m a drag queen, and I was there with a group of
100 people to protest Facebook’s unfair and dangerous “real names”
policy, which allows the company to suspend and delete the profiles of
people who go by names different than those on their birth certificates.
But it’s not just drag queens who are affected by the policy: LGBTQ people, Native Americans, survivors of domestic and sexual violence, political dissidents, sex workers, therapists, doctors and many more people have told me and my fellow organizers with the #MyNameIs campaign that they’ve been targeted by the rule. For instance, even Caitlyn Jenner’s personal profile, if she hasn’t legally completed a name change, could be reported under the “real names” policy – and, for the majority of transgender people (especially young people) legally changing one’s name can include significant administrative and financial barriers, if it’s permitted at all.
By allowing any user to report profiles for having “fake names” without any proof, and by blocking accounts if users fail to submit identification confirming that their Facebook name is their legal name, Facebook’s policy silences the users who often need the site the most, and not the trolls doing the false, often-malicious reporting. Numerous users tell us that they believe their accounts were reported fake as a form of bullying or harassment, often motivated by homophobia or sexual aggression. One user wrote that she was told by a user “that he hopes that a man beats me to death” after rejecting his sexual advance, and then immediately found her account reported.
My own Facebook profile, registered under my drag name, has been reported and blocked on more than one occasion, but that’s not why I helped organize Monday’s demonstration. Since we started #MyNameIs, it’s become clear to us that Facebook’s leadership and engineers (who have already been criticized for being overwhelmingly straight, white, and male) just don’t understand users whose life stories fall outside of the mainstream. Sure, plenty of people create accounts for their pets or use a chosen name to avoid the scrutiny of potential employers – even my most “normal” of friends often use names that clearly aren’t the ones on their birth certificates – but many more people use chosen names for reasons of cultural heritage, privacy while working with sensitive populations or to prevent further experiences of harassment, stalking and violence.
For many vulnerable users, logging on to Facebook isn’t merely a time suck, but is a way of building safe and supportive communities, sharing resources or planting the seeds of political change. For example, after launching a survey to collect users’ testimonials, our group heard from several transgender users who have used the site in different ways: one person used Facebook as a way of “testing names out to see if they fit” before going through the process of a legal name change. Another wrote us about using Facebook to share pictures and resources to demystify her transition and to encourage friends to “start using [the] new name”. A third disclosed that using her chosen name on Facebook allowed her space to avoid the abuse she otherwise endured in her real life.
We’ve also received several chilling accounts from survivors of domestic abuse, sexual violence and stalking. One user wrote that her abuser showed up for events to which she had RSVPed on Facebook after being forced to change her account to her legal name. Indeed, though Facebook’s privacy settings allow a certain degree of control, some information – including your name, photo, and networks – are always public, leaving users vulnerable to being found, and many describe fear that the settings will change without warning.
And, despite the policy, it is still incredibly easy to create a fake account as long as the name sounds “normal” to Facebook’s ears such as “Joe Smith” or to log on to a friend’s account. Even when users with malicious intent, such as this one, are blocked or removed from the site, they can still easily find and continue to harass victims when Facebook requires “real names”. Countless users therefore believe that the policy harms more than it hurts those it’s meant to protect: as another user wrote, “[my chosen name] gave me anonymity, freedom to escape my everyday life, and to feel safe. Facebook took that from me [with its ‘real names’ policy].”
Facebook claims that the policy helps protect users from bullying and harassment, but has yet to provide any data – either from its own analytics or from academic sources – to indicate that it actually works as intended. And, Facebook already offers many more direct options to report harassment, impersonation, sexual aggression and hate speech – but, in my personal experience, Facebook’s enforcement of those functions is actually weaker than its approach to names. When I have reported content sent to me – including unwanted sexual photos sent by strangers – Facebook has often ruled that the content “doesn’t violate our community standards.”
Facebook may seem trivial but, whether we like it or not, it’s one of the most important communications platforms of our time. It’s hard to know what it feels like to be cut off from the platform until it happens to you, but imagine what you would do if your phone was taken away, your mail suddenly stopped, or you were consistently called the wrong name. And, as Facebook becomes further integrated into other apps and platforms – services like Airbnb and Lyft ask users to login with their Facebook accounts – it becomes more and more clear just how mandatory an account is becoming to modern life. By enforcing its “real names” policy, Facebook is creating a new digital divide – and its victims aren’t just drag queens.
But it’s not just drag queens who are affected by the policy: LGBTQ people, Native Americans, survivors of domestic and sexual violence, political dissidents, sex workers, therapists, doctors and many more people have told me and my fellow organizers with the #MyNameIs campaign that they’ve been targeted by the rule. For instance, even Caitlyn Jenner’s personal profile, if she hasn’t legally completed a name change, could be reported under the “real names” policy – and, for the majority of transgender people (especially young people) legally changing one’s name can include significant administrative and financial barriers, if it’s permitted at all.
By allowing any user to report profiles for having “fake names” without any proof, and by blocking accounts if users fail to submit identification confirming that their Facebook name is their legal name, Facebook’s policy silences the users who often need the site the most, and not the trolls doing the false, often-malicious reporting. Numerous users tell us that they believe their accounts were reported fake as a form of bullying or harassment, often motivated by homophobia or sexual aggression. One user wrote that she was told by a user “that he hopes that a man beats me to death” after rejecting his sexual advance, and then immediately found her account reported.
My own Facebook profile, registered under my drag name, has been reported and blocked on more than one occasion, but that’s not why I helped organize Monday’s demonstration. Since we started #MyNameIs, it’s become clear to us that Facebook’s leadership and engineers (who have already been criticized for being overwhelmingly straight, white, and male) just don’t understand users whose life stories fall outside of the mainstream. Sure, plenty of people create accounts for their pets or use a chosen name to avoid the scrutiny of potential employers – even my most “normal” of friends often use names that clearly aren’t the ones on their birth certificates – but many more people use chosen names for reasons of cultural heritage, privacy while working with sensitive populations or to prevent further experiences of harassment, stalking and violence.
For many vulnerable users, logging on to Facebook isn’t merely a time suck, but is a way of building safe and supportive communities, sharing resources or planting the seeds of political change. For example, after launching a survey to collect users’ testimonials, our group heard from several transgender users who have used the site in different ways: one person used Facebook as a way of “testing names out to see if they fit” before going through the process of a legal name change. Another wrote us about using Facebook to share pictures and resources to demystify her transition and to encourage friends to “start using [the] new name”. A third disclosed that using her chosen name on Facebook allowed her space to avoid the abuse she otherwise endured in her real life.
We’ve also received several chilling accounts from survivors of domestic abuse, sexual violence and stalking. One user wrote that her abuser showed up for events to which she had RSVPed on Facebook after being forced to change her account to her legal name. Indeed, though Facebook’s privacy settings allow a certain degree of control, some information – including your name, photo, and networks – are always public, leaving users vulnerable to being found, and many describe fear that the settings will change without warning.
And, despite the policy, it is still incredibly easy to create a fake account as long as the name sounds “normal” to Facebook’s ears such as “Joe Smith” or to log on to a friend’s account. Even when users with malicious intent, such as this one, are blocked or removed from the site, they can still easily find and continue to harass victims when Facebook requires “real names”. Countless users therefore believe that the policy harms more than it hurts those it’s meant to protect: as another user wrote, “[my chosen name] gave me anonymity, freedom to escape my everyday life, and to feel safe. Facebook took that from me [with its ‘real names’ policy].”
Facebook claims that the policy helps protect users from bullying and harassment, but has yet to provide any data – either from its own analytics or from academic sources – to indicate that it actually works as intended. And, Facebook already offers many more direct options to report harassment, impersonation, sexual aggression and hate speech – but, in my personal experience, Facebook’s enforcement of those functions is actually weaker than its approach to names. When I have reported content sent to me – including unwanted sexual photos sent by strangers – Facebook has often ruled that the content “doesn’t violate our community standards.”
Facebook may seem trivial but, whether we like it or not, it’s one of the most important communications platforms of our time. It’s hard to know what it feels like to be cut off from the platform until it happens to you, but imagine what you would do if your phone was taken away, your mail suddenly stopped, or you were consistently called the wrong name. And, as Facebook becomes further integrated into other apps and platforms – services like Airbnb and Lyft ask users to login with their Facebook accounts – it becomes more and more clear just how mandatory an account is becoming to modern life. By enforcing its “real names” policy, Facebook is creating a new digital divide – and its victims aren’t just drag queens.
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