Thing as Privacy
There's no such thing
as privacy anymore. Anyone with an Internet connection and a few
hours or minutes could probably find out more information about
you than you'd feel comfortable sharing with a stranger on a street
In fact, if you're reading
this right now, I can tell where you live, how long you spent reading
BENT, and whether you got here from a Yahoo search for “gay disabled”
or if you Googled “hot amputee sex” instead (it happens...a lot).
And that's without really even trying.
Don't get me wrong, I'm
not one of those “sky is falling” privacy freaks. I support folks
like the Electronic Frontier Foundation and other organizations
dedicated to consumer privacy, but there are certain things that
just don't bother me. I don't care that my neighborhood chain grocery
store knows that I buy lots of goat cheese and Full Sail Amber Ale.
I don't care that Apple Computer knows most of the music I buy (recently:
Morrissey, Grant Lee Phillips, Matmos, and the new Justin Timberlake
single). Information like that is benign, as far as I'm concerned.
But there's a lot more information about me, and about many of us,
freely available on the Internet. A lot of it we put there ourselves.
I'm reminded of this
fact every time a casual acquaintance Googles me and discovers BENT.
Anything I consider a bona fide secret would never make it into
these pages. But just because something isn't secret doesn't mean
it isn't personal. After all, the personal is BENT's stock in trade.
If it weren't for the courageous souls who write for BENT, and open
little windows into their lives, BENT wouldn't exist.
I'd be lying if I told
you it wasn't somewhat awkward when someone I know casually mentions
that they've read my writing. If it isn't someone I feel particularly
close to, I always pause to think about what they might have read.
Was it some business writing from years ago? A restaurant review
from last week? A posting to an old Beach Boys message board, which
is where I spent most of my time online as an undergraduate. Or,
did they read something in BENT, which is a lot more personal by
Recently, AOL made a
big chunk of aggregated search data available on the Internet. They
were working on the assumption that the data might be interesting
to researchers. They also assumed that, by not identifying individual
people, privacy would be maintained. Within days, reporters for
the New York Times matched several real live people to their Internet
searches, including 62-year-old Thelma Arnold of Lilburn, Georgia.
From her searches, we know where she lives, that she searched for
information on several medical conditions, that she might be considering
selling her home, that she has three dogs, and that she was searching
for single men in their 60's.
In April, photographer
and techno-pundit Thomas Hawk posted a blog entry (to his personal
website) on his opinions of the work of another photographer, Jill
Greenberg. Greenberg photographs children in states of distress,
and the methods she uses to create those images are controversial,
to say the least. Greenberg was unhappy with the criticism from
Hawk, and in the following weeks tracked down Hawk's employer, and
called his boss in an attempt to pressure Hawk into removing his
opinions about her work from the Internet.
If reporters can track
down grannies looking for love, and artists can attempt to threaten
their way out of being criticized, where does that leave all of
us? As queer crips, we're already vulnerable on two fronts. Our
privacy and sense of self has already been invaded. By banding together
and speaking our truths on the infinitely public Internet airwaves,
we gain power, but at what cost?
Clearly, standing up
and standing out has it's own potential pitfalls. It would certainly
be easier and safer to be quiet, remain anonymous, but what would
we lose in the process?
© 2006 Raymond
Raymond J. Aguilera
is Managing Editor of BENT.