I think this is a great example of how social media can bring people together creatively. What I find interesting is that people don't even need to know each other to collaborate on something that becomes viral. It also makes me think that virality isn't always about getting attention or becoming famous. Sometimes it's just about people having fun and sharing their creativity.

I never really thought about memes as something that evolves over time. It reminds me of how trends on TikTok and Instagram start with one person, and then everyone creates their own version. I think it's interesting how the original meaning can completely change as more people participate. It makes me wonder whether the original creator should still get credit when a trend becomes viral.

The title and community-led approach of Costanza-Chock’s Design Justice helped me see that inclusion should concern who controls the design process, not only whether the finished product has accessible features. A product can technically satisfy accessibility requirements while still reflecting the priorities of people who have never experienced the barriers it addresses. I especially agree with the idea that communities affected by a design should be treated as decision-makers and experts, not simply as research subjects. This makes me wonder whether design teams should measure inclusion partly by how much authority and credit affected communities receive, rather than only by how many people are consulted.

This passage changes accessibility from a checklist problem into a question of power. Inviting disabled people to test a nearly finished product is not the same as giving them authority to shape the goals, tradeoffs, and definition of success from the beginning. Lived experience is a form of design expertise, so treating disabled participants as merely “users” can reproduce the same exclusion even when a team believes it is practicing inclusive design. I think teams should document whose feedback changed a decision and give those contributors credit and decision-making power, rather than asking for reactions after the important choices are already fixed.

Casey Fiesler’s article adds an important distinction to the chapter: information being publicly accessible does not automatically make every use of it ethical. She reports that almost two-thirds of surveyed Twitter users had not realized researchers might use their posts. She also explains that quoting a sensitive post in a paper can amplify it far beyond the audience the writer originally imagined. I agree that researchers should consider the content, the vulnerability of the person, and the purpose of the research—not merely whether the post is technically public. This connects to context collapse because moving a post into an academic dataset can give it a completely different audience and meaning.

The chapter changed how I think about the word “private.” A direct-message feature may present a facade of privacy, even though the platform stores the conversation and may allow employees or automated systems to examine it. My biggest concern is this difference between what users reasonably believe “private” means and what companies technically disclose in lengthy policies. I think platforms should use clearer labels such as “visible to participants and the platform” instead of “private message.” That would not prevent every privacy violation, but it would help users make decisions based on the system’s actual capabilities rather than a misleading impression of confidentiality.

Film Crit Hulk’s essay goes further than the chapter’s summary. He argues that “don’t feed the trolls” often doesn’t make trolls go away, and that its real effect is to “silence the victim and the reality of their abuse.” That line stood out to me because it changes who the advice is really for. It sounds like it’s protecting the victim, but it mostly makes things easier for everyone else, since nobody has to deal with the problem. I’ve seen this on Instagram, where the only advice for rude comments or DMs is to ignore or block, which puts all the work on the person being targeted. I agree with his solution: platforms should use skilled moderation and actually remove people who break abuse rules, instead of expecting users to stay quiet.

I agree with Film Crit Hulk that “don’t feed the trolls” puts too much of the burden on the person being targeted. I’ve seen this on Instagram: I got repeated rude DMs from someone, and ignoring them didn’t make them stop. Ignoring them felt like the only option, but it didn’t actually solve anything. It just meant dealing with it quietly. That’s why I think the responsibility should shift to platforms. Tools like blocking, comment filters, and reporting help, but they still depend on the victim doing the work. Platforms should be more proactive about removing repeat harassers, especially ones who make new accounts to get around blocks. Ignoring might work for a one-off joke, but for ongoing harassment it’s not a real solution.

Hoffmann opens with Harvard researchers who built a system to label crimes as gang-related without questioning their data, even though a California gang database once listed 42 babies. One researcher said he was “just an engineer.” This connects to 4.2’s point that all data is a simplification. When a label like “gang-related” is wrong, real people get hurt, so engineers can’t avoid responsibility for how data is categorized.

This made me think of how name forms assume “first name, last name” in that order. In Chinese and Korean names the family name comes first, so people often have to enter their names differently on different sites. The person isn’t wrong, the form just wasn’t designed for them. This connects to design justice: if designers included people with different naming conventions, they’d probably catch this early.

In the IndieWire article about Star Wars: The Last Jedi, researcher Morten Bay found that 50.9% of the people posting negative tweets about the movie were politically motivated or not even human. What surprised me most is that so much of the "fan hate" was actually politically motivated, not real fans reacting to the movie.

If I found out an account was a bot, I wouldn't trust what it says. I don't know who is controlling it behind the scenes, and it feels like it's being used to manipulate public opinion.

I hear phrases like "social media isn't real life" a lot, especially when I'm on RedNote (Xiaohongshu). Many of the videos I see there don't match what the real world is actually like.

The Chinese ethics section is missing Mohism, founded by Mozi. Its core ideas are impartial care, non-aggression, and promoting people based on merit, and what makes it unique is that we should care for others more equally, not just our own family members.