No one expects a zero-risk childhood, yet society seems loath to specify a level of acceptable risk when it comes to children. One result is that media panics effectively construe all risk as unacceptable.
Sonia Livingstone (2009, p. 174)
I want to begin with three stories. The first is from an episode of the television crime drama Law & Order: Special Victims Unit (SVU for short). In an episode titled “Crush,” a teenage girl, Kim, takes nude photos of herself with her cell phone. She intends to send them to her boyfriend Stephen, but sends them to her platonic friend Ethan by mistake. After accidentally sending the photos to Ethan, she then sends them to the boyfriend. Stephen snoops through her phone (something he frequently does) and finds the pictures that Kim accidentally sent to Ethan. Stephen assumes she is cheating on him—even after she explains it was a mistake—and proceeds to send the photos to the entire school; he uses a service to disguise his number so it appears that Kim is the one who distributed the photos. Everyone at school is relentlessly mocking and harassing Kim; she is so distraught that she accidentally trips and falls down the stairs at school and ends up in a coma. While she is in the hospital, it is revealed that someone has been physically abusing her for several months, but she refuses to disclose the identity of her abuser. She believes she is to blame for the incident: “This is all my fault, if I hadn’t taken those pictures, none of this would be happening.” After much reluctance—and after a judge convicts her of possessing and distributing child pornography—Kim admits that her boyfriend Stephen has been physically abusing her and that he beat her up after he found the nude photos on her phone.
Now let’s consider the tragic true story of Megan Meier, a 13-year-old girl battling low self-esteem and depression. She successfully convinced her mother to allow her to have a MySpace account; her mother did so reluctantly and monitored Megan’s activities; she even had the password to the account. In other words, Megan’s parents did everything right—they were in communication with their daughter about her online practices and were actively monitoring her behaviors in order to protect her. In October 2006, Megan was contacted by 16-year-old “Josh Evans” via MySpace. Flattered by his attention, and attracted to the young admirer, Megan’s mother agreed she could add Josh as a friend, and the two began corresponding via MySpace. After winning Megan’s trust and affection, Josh turned on Megan and told her he no longer wanted to be her friend “because of the way she treats her friends.” Josh and others began to post bulletins on MySpace calling Megan “fat” and a “slut.” Upset, Megan called her mother to tell her what was happening. Her mother advised her to get off the computer, but Megan didn’t comply. She then received a message in which Josh told her “the world would be a better place without you.” Megan proceeded to hang herself in her bedroom closet and died in a hospital the next day.
Six weeks later, a neighbor informed the Meiers that “Josh Evans” was a fake persona created by Lori Drew, the mother of one of Megan’s former friends who lived only four houses away from the Meiers. Drew had created the fake profile to monitor what Megan was saying about her own daughter (a former friend of Megan’s). The Meiers were outraged that an adult had emotionally deceived, manipulated, and abused their daughter. Lori Drew knew Megan well, knew that she struggled with mental illness and was on medication for depression, and yet she still betrayed and taunted Megan, even going so far as to suggest that she kill herself. The FBI spent the next year investigating the Drew family without their knowledge, and not until November 10, 2007 did the story surface in various media outlets (Maag 2007; Pokin 2007).1 The story generated national attention for months and was the impetus for many states to write new online harassment laws (Michels 2008).
Finally, let’s take a brief look at the lives of two brothers, Marcus and Miguel,2 whom I had the privilege of getting to know in 2012. The undocumented 14-year-old identical twins had emigrated from Mexico City to Texas with their mother when they were six years old; their father had moved to Texas three years earlier to establish connections and income before the rest of the family joined him. Marcus and Miguel were in their first year of high school at a large, ethnically diverse, low-income, low-performing public high school. At school they appeared quiet and reserved. They were polite and respectful, yet would struggle to make eye contact upon first meeting someone. They were still learning to negotiate the terrain of a large public high school as they worked to construct peer networks. The brothers lived with their parents and two younger brothers in a mobile home on the suburban fringe of town. They did not own mobile phones, but they used their Wi-Fi-enabled Nintendo DS creatively to maintain mobile contact with peers for free via Facebook messenger. The brothers shared an outdated computer that was kept in the family’s living room.
Although their parents restricted their Internet use to a couple of hours a day, they spent much of their leisure time playing console-based and online video games. Their favorite game at the time that I met them was Minecraft.3 Though they were reserved and shy at school, online they engaged actively and openly in robust social communities. Through computer games, the brothers had forged relationships and friendships with peers across the country. These relationships transcended the gaming spaces and had been carried into Facebook, YouTube, Skype, and online chats. YouTube provided a gaming-based community in which the brothers connected to other gamers and participated in an active networked audience. Although their passions for the game—as well as for peripheral aspects of the gaming community—were largely driven by social interests and the pleasure of connecting with peers in the spaces, their investment in the gaming community also allowed them to “geek out” (Ito et al. 2010).
What do these three stories have in common? Well, obviously they are all about youth and digital media technology. But beyond that, each of them reveals something about our collective understandings of risk—more specifically the relationships between risk and young people’s use of media technology. The first two stories probably resonate more with your general association of youth and digital media risk: sexual exposure and bullying. In both the television episode and the cyberbullying incident, technology presented a seemingly clear and present danger to the young people, to the young girls specifically. Law & Order: SVU often creates narratives based on actual crimes, “Crush” being merely one of many, many, examples. The series is known for its sensational “ripped from the headlines” approach to re-telling true crime stories and scandals (Barnes 2014; Collins 2009). This trend is also popular in other US television crime dramas, such as CSI and CSI: Cyber. Lifetime original movies and other made-for-TV movies utilize a similar approach of re-telling fictional accounts of crimes based on true events (O’Rourke 2013). All these genres provide multiple examples, season after season, of teens’ being harmed—even killed—as a result of their digital media practices. Research indicates that the “perceived realism” of for-profit entertainment narratives makes it difficult for audiences to differentiate fiction from truth (Collins 2009). The communication scholars Jonathan Cohen and Gabriel Weimann argue that “the highly stylized, stereotyped, and repetitive images portrayed on television have been regarded as an important source of socialization and everyday information” (2000, p. 99). For that reason, some audience members are susceptible to believing that some televised crimes are more prevalent than they actually are.4
Outside of the crime genre, we frequently see similar story lines in popular media. Teens sexting or meeting strangers online has become a common and popular trope within narrative media. Megan Meier’s story was even the inspiration for an episode of SVU called “Babes.”5 Undoubtedly her story is tragic; in the decade since her death we have witnessed countless stories of teens taking their own lives after being bullied, often online. Popular media and journalism are quick to feature sensational headlines that blame both youth and technology for such serious problems, without much consideration of the broader context. Headlines such as “Teenager commits suicide after ‘sexting’ nude photo to her boyfriend” (Hastings 2009) and “Nine teenage suicides in the last year were linked to cyber-bullying on social network site Ask.fm” (Broderick 2013) are not hard to find in today’s news and media culture. Within these narratives—both fictional and journalistic—technology is depicted as a risk, and parents are told that they must protect their vulnerable children from the intrinsic threats. Such stories capitalize on and exploit fears about the risks young people face when they are online. These kinds of tragic and fear-driven stories come to dominate our collective imaginations and shape our expectations of harm.
But how does the story of Marcus and Miguel fit with these other narratives? Certainly their story is about risk too, isn’t it? Perhaps you’re thinking about the risk of gaming addiction, a topic that gets attention in journalism and in popular media. Maybe you’re thinking that the brothers are sacrificing too much sleep to play their games, or you’re concerned that they are isolating themselves from peers or family. Or perhaps you’re anxious about the kinds of strangers the two boys are meeting online. Do we know if they are being smart about hiding their identities and location? Or maybe you’re worried that their video game time is interfering with school and their capacity to focus on homework and other academic obligations. And on the basis of the little you know about Marcus and Miguel, these are not entirely misdirected concerns.
However, these elements of risk—addiction, isolation, strangers, and distractions—are not the kinds of risk that actually worry me in this story. While all those concerns are valid to a limited degree, for Marcus and Miguel the risks they took were not harmful. Rather, they were beneficial. Marcus and Miguel worked collaboratively on missions in their games, forged friendships, solved problems, attained cultural and social capital, developed digital literacies, produced shared knowledge, and constructed identities around their gaming accomplishments. In a lot of ways, their online identities and friendships served to supplement their limited offline experiences. Although they had friends at school, they struggled to find a niche. For that reason, their online personalities and communities could be interpreted as more authentic expressions of their identities, skillsets, and confidence. Through their involvement in online games and gaming communities, the twins were more socially connected and digitally knowledgeable than they would have been otherwise. Further, for two brothers without much disposable income or mobility options, online gaming was a lot safer than the kinds of social interests they could have been developing. They were not in gangs, and they were not taking drugs, drinking, or getting into trouble. They were safely and happily benefiting from an online world in which they felt accepted, connected, and accomplished. Clearly risk does not equate to the likelihood of harm, a point that will be expanded upon frequently in this book.
Nonetheless, there is a risk in their story that concerns me more than addiction, strangers, isolation, and distractions, and that is the risk of inequitable opportunities for participation. Notably, the brothers worked around technical barriers in ingenious and creative ways. Despite their ingenuity, they faced many technical and material obstacles that excluded them from participating more fully in the online worlds they loved. Financial constraints and obligations precluded access to up-to-date computers, higher Internet speeds, or mobile phones. School policies banned their favorite social media sites, video tutorials, and games. Familial obligations to take care of their younger brothers prevented them from benefiting from their peers’ shared resources; circumstances necessitated that they spend most of their leisure time at home so their mother could attend English classes at the community center and their father could go to work. While there were many benefits to their gaming experiences and the risks they took, there were also significant limitations that kept them disconnected and prevented them from participating more fully. For example, Miguel learned a lot about Minecraft from watching amateur YouTube videos, but explained: “I only use [YouTube] to comment and subscribe and stuff. When I get a new computer, I want to make YouTube commentator videos about Minecraft.” Although he spent much of his time immersed in the gaming community, his participation was peripheral (Lave and Wenger 1991). This form of peripheral participation also inhibited him from developing other forms of digital literacies that are cultivated via video production and distribution in networked communities such as YouTube. In other words, while there were many benefits to their participation, the brothers’ participation was marginalized, and they did not have the opportunities for digital literacy development that their more connected peers had.
Expectations and Lived Experiences
As the story of Marcus and Miguel demonstrates, today’s mediated society provides innovative opportunities for young people to participate in the creation of their own mediated cultures. Social and technological changes have given rise to new modes of socialization, production, and learning. As with previous technologies—such as the telegraph, film, television, and phones—we have seen a rise in optimistic discourses that promise technologies will make society more democratic, lessen social inequalities, and bring positive social changes (Baym 2010; Carey 1989; McChesney 2013; Peters 1999; Rainie and Wellman 2012). However, alongside these optimistic expectations are concerns about the risks and harms that new technologies bring to our attention. Those concerns also have a historical context in which new modes of communication technologies tend to lead to adult anxieties about how young people engage and participate (boyd 2014; Livingstone 2009; Marwick 2008; Springhall 1998). Computers, the Internet, mobile technologies, computer games, and social media are not exceptions; that is, they are simultaneously considered to be technologies of opportunity, as well as technologies of risk in the lives of young people; they evoke a lot of adult anxiety and attention.
The opening three examples in this introduction contribute to a discourse of fear and risk that is all too familiar by now. Such cautionary tales about predators, sexting, bullying, pornography, and suicide affect the ways we think about technology and youth. A focus on the negative and harmful ways teens use and are affected by technology has fueled a moral panic about technology. While such a panic cannot be solely blamed on media representations and descriptions of teens and technology, as a media scholar I am particularly interested in the role of media in shaping our understandings of cultural phenomena and populations. Media play an integral and inextricable role in shaping our understandings of risk—understandings that, in turn, shape our expectations of youth and technology. Thus, one of the central questions of this book is “How do expectations of youth, technology, and risk shape policies, practices, and lived experiences?” A second central question is “By focusing on the loudest and most visible risks, what are we overlooking in terms of risk and opportunity?” (In other words, “What else should we be worried about?”)
I approach these questions from multiple levels in order to gain both a “big picture” understanding of risk and a localized and contextualized understanding of how expectations shape the everyday “lived experiences” of actual youth (Bloustein 2003). As I will explain further, I do this through an analysis of popular culture, journalism, and policies—all of which are spaces and institutions that symbiotically construct and reflect discourses of risk, and therefore have power to shape our expectations of youth and technology. I also aim to answer these questions through extensive ethnographic research with high school students in Texas. A majority of the students who were subjects of my research are marginalized because of income, ethnicity, and/or immigration status. Many of the teens mentioned in this book are involved in after-school digital media and film clubs, and that involvement provides insight into their digital media practices and values. Combining discursive analysis of popular culture, news media, and policy with the ethnographic data about teens’ lived experiences allows me to analyze the real-life implications that risk discourses have on the lives of actual young people. I demonstrate that how we talk about risks—whose anxieties are given a voice, whose stories are told, whose stories are silenced—has the power to significantly shape our expectations and understanding of youth cultures. And, as will be argued, expectations shape experiences in competing and inequitable ways. We have an obligation to pay close attention to what and who is labeled a risk, and how risk is mobilized in the spaces that structure young people’s everyday practices and opportunities.
In this book I am referring to risk—and, by extension, to risk discourse—from a social constructivist perspective that is focused less on objectively identifying the probability of harms and dangers than on understanding how society identifies, mediates, and constructs understandings of what is considered to be a risk.6 As Lupton writes (1999, p. 29), “a risk, therefore, is not a static, objective phenomenon, but is constantly constructed and negotiated as part of the network of social interaction and the formation of meaning.” Notions of what is considered a risk are socially embedded within systems of power and change over time and differ in different contexts. For example, what a teenager deems risky will probably differ from what an adult or a toddler deems risky, because perceptions of risk are contextually bound. The philosopher Francois Ewald explains that “anything can be a risk; it all depends on how one analyzes the danger, considers the event” (1991, p. 199). What a society deems risky is not neutral, but rather is constitutive of a society’s morals and beliefs about objects, populations, and practices. Notably, as will be further discussed throughout the book, constructions of risk overwhelmingly rely on expert knowledges that have the power to identify and draw public attention to particular understandings and phenomena, often at the expense of alternative explanations and interpretations. According to Lupton (1999, p. 33), “distinguishing between ‘real’ risks (as measured and identified by ‘experts’) and ‘false risks’ (as perceived by members of the public) is irrelevant. … Both lead to certain actions. It is the ways in which these understandings are constructed and acted upon that is considered important.” While I acknowledge that objective harms related to young people’s online interactions do of course exist, I want to point out that it is important to distinguish between harm and risk, which are often conflated yet are quite distinct. In late modernity, “risk has been co-opted as a term reserved for a negative or undesirable outcome, and thus is synonymous with the terms danger or hazard” (Fox 1999, p. 12). The conflation of risk and harm leads to a perception that all risks are negative and ought to be avoided, which obscures the benefits of taking risks. Equating risk with harm also disciplines us to practice risk-avoidance strategies at the expense of beneficial opportunities. Throughout the book I use the concept of risk less as a way to describe the probability of potential harm than as a social construct that is produced via various discourses of power (e.g. the government, policies, media, and experts). I do so in order to analyze their effects and actions.
My analysis of risk reveals how expectations about youth and technology can be categorized into harm-driven expectations and opportunity-driven expectations. (See figure I.1.) These categories (which are not mutually exclusive and are not polar opposites) provide a way to think about how primary expectations—whether articulated or latent—shape experiences, opportunities, and practices. Harm-driven expectations are revealed through policies, practices, and narratives that are based on fear or anxiety. They respond to a concern about—or rather an expectation of—potential hypothetical harms. Such expectations are often formed, and decisions are often made, even in the absence of sufficient evidence to demonstrate collective harm. The mere threat of individual harm—that is, the risk itself—serves as justification for fear-based policies, decisions, and practices. Harm-driven expectations rationalize restrictive policies, intuitions, and practices that try to control technology—and therefore young people’s agency—within various spaces. Such policies, practices, and narratives often reify constructions of young people as passive victims and tend to focus too much on the technology itself—as the agent of change—rather than on the collective experiences of young people themselves. Harm-driven expectations enact control on the basis of perception of risk—as a danger that is typically identified by perceived experts—and therefore the perceptions have the cyclical nature of reinforcing and reifying expectations of harm.
Figure I.1 Characteristics of harm-driven and opportunity-driven expectations.
Contrast expectations of harm with opportunity-driven expectations, which start with the assumption that digital media practices, policies, and narratives ought to be designed to maximize benefits and positive opportunities for youth. Rather than presuming all risks are negative and must be controlled, opportunity-driven expectations enable and trust young people to identify and manage risks responsibly. Based on evidence and lived experiences, opportunity-driven expectations allow us to design spaces, tell stories, and write policies that will facilitate positive outcomes for young people—not only as individuals, but also as a collective population. Rather than merely controlling technology, opportunity-driven expectations produce discourses that acknowledge the practices and the agency of young people as experts on their own experiences. Society tends to privilege harm-driven expectations and thus to overlook or even diminish the positive opportunities afforded by technology. Lastly, through a lens of expectations we also can examine the competing expectations of adults and youth as a framework for understanding how adults’ expectations—often responding to fearful understandings of risk—overshadow the ways young people themselves make meaning out of their digitally mediated practices and how they mitigate risk in creative and agentive ways. We ought to create spaces in which the experiences of young people are valued and in which they are able to agentively contribute to or even challenge discourses of risk, technology, and teens.
I believe we have reasons to worry about young people’s use of technology, but not for the prevailing and popular reasons that dominate news accounts and policies (porn, predators, bullying, addiction, and so on). For one thing, such concerns are overly individualistic in nature; that is, they are concerned about risk to an individual and thus responsibilize individuals to protect themselves from harm, or rather to actively practice risk-avoidance strategies (Burchell 1996; Foucault 1991; Hunt 2003; Hier 2008; O’Malley 1992). This narrative of individual responsibilization ignores the ways institutions, experts, and discourses structure choices (Dean 1997 1999; Hier 2008; Kelly 2000). On the contrary, what concerns me is not so much individual harm (important though it is) as collective harm and the shared responsibilization for not only protection but equality. I’m worried about an entire population growing up without the digital literacies that are needed to equip them with equitable opportunities for success. This is not an individualized responsibility; instead it ought to be of wide social concern, and therefore a collective responsibility. When only particular (privileged) populations have the opportunity to develop skills and literacies that will lead to opportunity, we are living in an unjust society. When risk reflects the privileged concerns of the privileged class, we are failing to defend the most vulnerable among us, who already suffer from disproportionate injustices.
What deeply concerns me is the extent to which narratives, policies, and practices having to do with digital media are used to exacerbate rather than alleviate inequities. I’m concerned about a generation growing up at a time when surveillance is a normative part of their everyday lives. I worry about the potential for exploitation and discrimination, which are unintended consequences of individuals’ sharing their social lives online. I am troubled by online filters that purport to block objectionable material, yet normalize harmful advertisements that are aimed at capitalizing on young people’s self-esteem. I am uncomfortable with policies that block opportunities for participation and access to information, rather than contribute to the development of digital literacy and the attainment of social capital. And I get anxious when I hear politicians, tech industry representatives, teachers, and young people repeat discourses that blame teens for their grievances without considering the broader context in which adult society has created unequal structures and barriers that limit their agency and their ability to safely participate in the creation of their own mediated cultures. I believe we can create a more equitable, healthy, and safe digital future, but it requires a holistic approach in which policy makers, educators, technology companies, researchers, and commercial institutions work together with young people to meet their needs and to understand their practices, rather than merely working on their behalf. As Sonia Livingstone writes (2009, p. 153), “though the arguments against engaging with the risk agenda seem compelling, engage with it we must if we wish to recognize children’s own experiences and give them voice.” This book is an effort to engage with the risk agenda in a positive and opportunity-enhancing way.
How then did we get here? Why are fears and anxieties seemingly increasing when research just doesn’t justify it? Why are policies continually attempting to regulate young people’s use of the Internet, rather than empower them to embrace new technologies in healthy and positive ways? Why do so many high schools insist upon monitoring and blocking students’ access to educational resources in the name of safety and protection, rather than developing positive curricula that embrace new opportunities? Why is the mainstream news full of scary big-bad-world stories that depict the exceptional harms rather than the benefits of new technologies? All this stems in part from the creation of a moral panic that perpetuates fear, in part from the novelty of the technologies that lead to uncertainty, and in part from a generation gap that does not seek to understand young people’s everyday practices. As will be further discussed, expectations of risk and harm can be explained via the disconnections between (a) young people’s lived experiences and the sensational mediated narratives that influence fear-based policy and reproduce harm-driven expectations, (b) the value of young people’s practices as compared to the value of adult practices, and (c) the myopic view on the novelty of technology and the greater context of social change. (See figure I.2.) Taking all of these elements into consideration, we have a society that focuses on particular fears and harms (predators, bullying, porn, safety, addiction, and so on) that are often reflective of privileged understandings of risk and potential harm to privileged young people. Worries about the threat of risk to individual youth, rather than concern about the opportunities for vulnerable populations of youth, are at the expense of a much-needed focus on the collective risks to society—risks that, as I argue throughout the book, demand and are worthy of immediate attention.
Figure I.2 Disconnections that contribute to harm-driven expectations.
I also want to acknowledge the growing body of academic work that contextualizes risks and focuses on the opportunities of new media technologies. I do not want to suggest that scholars are overly focused on the negative aspects of digital media; I am greatly indebted to researchers who continue to contextualize, theorize, and historicize the positive affordances of new media (Chau 2010; Ito et al. 2010; Jenkins 2006; Lange 2014; Rainie and Wellman 2012; Rheingold 2012; Scheidt 2006; Watkins 2009), and to work that contextualizes the risks and the opportunities associated with digital media (boyd 2014; Clark 2013; DiMaggio, Hargittai, Celeste, and Shafer 2004; Kalmus, Runnel, and Siibak 2009; Livingstone 2008, 2009; Livingstone and Sefton-Green 2016; Thiel-Stern 2014). In addition to contributing to this growing field, my research aims to make sense of the ways popular culture, policies, education, and industries continue to overly focus on, mobilize, and even capitalize upon perceptions of risks. While this book is written primarily for an academic audience, I also hope it will be read with interest and enthusiasm by a broader community, namely the adults and institutions who have the power to effectuate change in teens’ (digital) lives: educators, policy makers, social workers, media industries, counselors, web and software developers, and parents.
It’s All Connected: The Media Ecology Approach
As the media landscape becomes increasingly diversified, fragmented, and complex, so too should our methodologies for researching young people’s media practices. Morley (2006) suggests that we move beyond medium-centric approaches to understanding youth and technologies (i.e., away from approaches that myopically focus on the effects of a technology in isolation from its broader context). Such a shift necessitates multi-method analyses that privilege individuals and populations—rather than media—as the primary lens of analysis. One such method that aims to be people-centric rather than technology-centric is the media ecologies approach to ethnographic research employed by Mizuko Ito and her colleagues (2010). In their ecological approach to home and media environments, Horst, Herr-Stephenson, and Robinson (2010, in the volume by Ito et al.) attempted to “emphasize the characteristics of an overall technical, social, cultural, and place-based system, in which the components are not decomposable or separable. The everyday practices of youth, existing structural conditions, infrastructures of place, and technologies are dynamically interrelated; the meanings, uses, functions, flows, and interconnections in young people’s daily lives located in particular settings are also situated within young people’s wider media ecologies” (p. 31). In other words, in order to understand the distinct and dynamic experiences of young people and their engagement with media, it is important to fully consider the context in which their interactions occur.
For example, rather than separating school life from social life from socioeconomic status, the media ecology approach acknowledges that they are always already related to one another—i.e., that society and media are mutually constituted and constitutive. The media ecology approach considers the co-constituted cultures of adults and youth, as well as the various institutions and geographies of young people (home, schools, work, online, etc.), in order to contextualize teens’ media practices within a broader understanding of their everyday lives. In terms of learning ecologies, school, after-school clubs, peer cultures, and home are all different interacting nodes through which young people participate, engage, and learn. Likewise, these various nodes also present various opportunities for attainment of social and cultural capital, through which inequalities are often articulated and reinforced. This model has been expanded on to develop a model of learning and opportunity known as the connected learning model (Ito et al. 2013). The connected learning approach contends that sustained successful learning is best supported via the interconnectedness and support of students’ peers, personal interests, and academic settings (as will be further examined in chapter 7). It is my goal to begin to delineate how risk is discursively constructed, managed, and negotiated within and between these nodes that constitute young people’s learning and media ecologies.
As will be further discussed, understanding the driving motivations for and expectations of participation in digital media spaces provides insight into the educational value of young people’s mediated practices and is of paramount importance in understanding how students learn and the changing role of schools. In Hanging Out, Messing Around, and Geeking Out, Ito and her colleagues argue that “the most engaged and active forms of learning with digital media happen in youth-driven settings that are focused on social communication and recreation” (2010, p. 12). Their research focuses on the different genres of participation in which youth engage with new media, and the practices which are rendered meaningful to youth themselves. They identify two primary genres of participation used to describe young people’s learning and media engagement: friendship-driven and interest-driven. “Friendship-driven practices” refers to “those shared practices that grow out of friendships in given local social worlds” (p. 16) and includes the day-to-day interactions with friends and peers offline and in networked publics (e.g., Facebook and Twitter).
“Interest-driven practices,” however, refers to interests and practices that “youth describe as the domain of the geeks, freaks, musicians, artists, and dorks—the kids who are identified as smart, different, or creative, who generally exist at the margins of teen social worlds” (Ito et al. 2010, p. 17). Teens certainly develop friendships through interest-driven participation; but whereas with friendship-driven practices the friendships come first, with interest-driven participation a recognition of mutual interests typically precedes the development of friendships. These genres can be contextualized within a broader notion of learning known as situated learning. Situated learning posits that learning is not so much an individualized and isolated process, but rather occurs as part of a shared cultural system and collective social action (Lave and Wenger 1991). Thus, in order to understand how and what students learn through their participation in digital media culture and creation, it is important to recognize the broader social setting and structures motivating participation and engagement. Ito et al.’s friendship-driven and interest-driven genres of participation provide a useful conceptual framework for approaching young people’s expectations of digital media, as well as the motivations for participation, media production, and learning.
Not All Kinds of Participation Are Created Equal
It is also important is to recognize that not all media and learning ecologies are created equal. As was previously indicated, I am concerned about the inequitable opportunities for participation that have the potential to exacerbate social inequities. In the early days of the dissemination and adoption of the Internet, scholars were rightfully concerned about digital divides—that is, unequal access to technology. Early users of the Internet were primarily male, white, educated, urban, and middle-class (Perrin and Duggan 2015; Roberts et al. 1999). However, as technology and the Internet have become more affordable, and as a result of policies and institutions aimed at providing affordable and accessible technology to all populations (e.g., public libraries), the gap between those who do and do not have access to the Internet has closed considerably. By 2012, 95 percent of teens in the United States were online (Teens Fact Sheet 2012). The mobile phone, once considered a luxury of the middle and upper classes, has become an essential tool for closing digital divides. In 2015, 88 percent of US teens had access to a mobile phone, 73 percent had access to a smartphone, and 71 percent had an account on at least one social media platform (Lenhart 2015). The mobile phone—often less expensive than a home computer, and with pay-as-you-go plans that do not require monthly contracts or credit checks (both of which are barriers to access for low-income populations)—has become a valuable resource for low-income populations. In fact, 25 percent of teens report that their mobile phone is their primary means of Internet access, and teens in lower socioeconomic groups are more likely to rely on their mobile phone as a primary access point than are middle-class teens (Pew Research Center 2013). From a purely quantitative perspective of who has access and who doesn’t, the digital divide appears to have been essentially eradicated in the United States.
However, scholars have productively expanded their focus beyond the binary perspective of access to consider the quality of access and modes of participation. Not all access is created equal, which is why we must continue to conduct empirical research into the distinct practices of youth on the margins of society—what S. Craig Watkins refers to as “the digital edge.” According to Watkins (2012, p. 2), “investigations of the digital lives of black and Latino youth must focus less on the access gap and more on the ‘participation gap.’ Whereas the former defines the issues of technology and social inequality largely as a matter of access to computers and the Internet, the latter considers the different skills, competencies, knowledge, practices, and forms of capital that different populations bring to their engagement with networked media.” Although digital media provide opportunities for youth to participate in networked publics and create, access, and share media relevant to their unique identities and cultures, we must consider who is afforded such opportunities. Just because teens have access to media does not mean they are all provided the same opportunities to fully participate in the creation and distribution of media content.
Research indicates that relying primarily on free access at a public library hinders one’s ability to learn digital skills.7 Likewise, accessing digital media via a mobile phone has many limitations, such as improperly formatted content that lags or cannot load8 or large files and streaming services that require more bandwidth than the user can access. However, from the perspective of digital equity, we must also consider how a reliance on mobile devices hinders full participation in online communities and content creation. While mostly sufficient for consuming information, mobile media present many barriers to the creation of media content. I would face severe challenges in writing this book utilizing only my mobile phone or even a tablet. Similarly, video production and editing, remixing music, designing a website, and other creatively generative media practices are still best suited to desktop and laptop computers. Mobile apps such as Vine, Snapchat, Instagram, and Periscope are increasingly facilitating easier modes of content creation, yet still pose limitations in terms of length, editing functions, and collaboration.
Barriers that limit media production are typically referred to as indications of a participation gap or a lack of digital inclusion. Scholars have begun to pay greater attention to the ways online practices are differentiated even when access is considered equitable (Jenkins et al. 2009). Through extensive quantitative data, Hargittai and Walejko (2008, p. 252) found that creating and sharing creative content online was linked to socioeconomic status: “While it may be that digital media are levelling the playing field when it comes to exposure to content, engaging in creative pursuits remains unequally distributed by social background.” They argue that understanding such differentiated uses is imperative for closing participation gaps, gaps that inhibit more equitable opportunities for upward mobility via the acquisition of social, cultural, and economic capital. This necessitates a deliberate effort to foster equitable digital literacies so that all populations can participate and benefit from mediated participatory cultures.9 As Watkins (2012, p. 9) poignantly contends,
One of the most urgent challenges regarding technology, diversity, and equity is the need to expand digital literacy; that is, the development of young people’s capacity not only to access and use digital media but to use digital media in ways that create more enhanced and more empowered expressions of learning, creative expression, and civic engagement. The emphasis on digital literacy shifts the focus from access to the skills and expertise that establish more robust and more meaningful learning outcomes. The divide that deserves increasing attention from educators, media researchers, and practitioners is the “digital literacy divide.”
Through an analysis of risk discourse, I map out the ways historical fears related to teens and technology work alongside harm-driven expectations to hinder the creation of more equitable learning environments for youth on the digital edge (see chapters 5 and 7). Participation gaps and digital literacy divides reveal the extent to which young people’s digital media opportunities are reflective of other inequalities (Jenkins 2006). I argue that risk discourse serves to limit opportunities for marginalized youth by hindering and controlling their learning ecologies. Young people’s practices, identities, and values are further marginalized in the name of “protection,” but in actuality policies and practices aimed at minimizing risk often have the unintended outcome of also expanding gaps in equity and opportunities for participation.
Methodologies and Approaches
This book benefits from many different methodologies and fields of research, including media studies, critical studies, sociology, history, law and policy, psychology, journalism, feminism, and education.10 It largely draws from a media studies and critical cultural approach for discursively analyzing and deconstructing popular culture and media. Methods include the contextualization, historicization, and discursive analysis of popular culture texts, policies, and young people’s own mediated practices and perspectives.
In order to better analyze and asses the ways in which harm-driven and opportunity-driven expectations and discourses of risk function in the everyday lives of young people, the book also relies on ethnographic research conducted with teens. The research includes ethnographic data collected as part of “The Digital Edge” research project led by S. Craig Watkins.11 With a team of researchers, I spent almost nine months in after-school digital media and film clubs at Freeway High, a large public high school in central Texas. The project involved conducting weekly one-on-one semi-structured interviews with nineteen high school students from diverse ethnic and class backgrounds and with varied digital media interests and skills. Interviews were also conducted with several of their teachers at school. A minimum of one in-home interview was conducted with a parent or guardian of each participant (several participants did not live with a biological parent at the time of the study). The project also gathered observational data from attending classes, after-school clubs, football games, film screenings, and student assemblies. In addition to one-on-one interviews, the project conducted focus groups with several students, analyzed school and school district policies and curriculum requirements, and conducted textual analysis of students’ media productions and online interactions.
I have made an effort to include young people’s thoughts and words in the write up of this research. I incorporate many direct quotations from young people in order to convey their experiences and attitudes in their own language and to provide them with a voice in the analysis. I attempt to preserve the intent and integrity of their words and would like to call attention to the fact that their words were spoken in conversation, often in informal and relaxed environments. Although transcribed, the quotes are taken from oral conversations wherein participants used colloquial and conversational tones; their grammar and their slang should not be misattributed to a lack of written communication skills. I have changed the quotations only where it seemed necessary in order to clarify something (such as a reference to an earlier conversation) or to protect confidentiality and privacy.
The Site: Freeway High School
The school I will call by the pseudonym “Freeway High” is located off a highway in a mid-size Texas town. Access to the school is difficult, particularly for students without access to personal transportation. The school is ethnically diverse (the majority of the students are members of ethnic minorities), economically challenged (more than half of the students qualify for free lunches), and academically struggling (the majority of the students are seeking employment after graduation, rather than attending college). While at the school, I observed two after-school clubs on a regular basis: the Digital Media Club and the Cinematic Arts Project.
The after-school Digital Media Club was started as a joint venture between the students and the Tech Apps teacher, Mr. Lopez. The students met after school in a well-equipped computer lab to work on personal projects, collaborate with other students, or work on assignments for other classes or from the Tech Apps classes. Several of the students were interested in film production and used the time to work on scripts, shoot and edit footage, or work on musical scores. Other students were interested in photography and came to the club to learn how to edit photos or create online portfolios.
The Cinematic Arts Project was a film project in its second year at Freeway. As a club, the students wrote, shot, produced, edited, and directed a short narrative film, which they submitted to an international film festival. Individual students and groups of friends also worked on their personal projects as part of the film club. The club met several times a week for many hours at a time, as well as on weekends, in order to finish the films in time to submit to local and international festivals. The mentors’ and the teachers’ connections within the local film community enabled students to gain access to resources and expertise.
Defining Terms
Digital and Social Media
The terms information communication technologies (ICTs), social media, digital media, media technology, Internet, new media, Web 2.0, and social network sites are often loosely applied to encompass many different platforms, hardware, software, and applications. In discussing my research, I use the term digital media in its broadest and most inclusive senses, encompassing web-enabled or mobile-enabled games, applications, networks, software, platforms, devices, and communication. Though sometimes it is productive to separate content and platforms from the material devices and hardware, I use the term digital media broadly to encompass both content and technological devices. When a distinction is necessary, I am specific about which platform, service, or physical device I am referencing.
Social media is another encompassing term that is used as part of everyday vernacular. An oft-cited definition of social media comes from Kaplan and Haenlein 2010: “a group of Internet-based applications that build on the ideological and technological foundations of Web 2.0, and that allow the creation and exchange of user-generated content.” This definition has been criticized for overemphasizing the affordances of Web 2.0 and ignoring the history of earlier participatory and user-generated spaces that existed before Web 2.0 (sometimes referred to as Web 1.0). Earlier participatory platforms such as chat rooms, bulletin boards, blogs, and instant messaging applications also facilitated interaction via the creation and sharing of user-generated content, but are often erased from the history of participatory media that supposedly began with the development of Web 2.0 (Hanna, Rohm, and Crittenden 2011; O’Reilly 2005).12 Notably, many of these earlier participatory spaces privileged sociality above economic gain or commercial exploitation; Web 2.0, then, is typically a business term and marks a turning point in the commercial aspects of participatory media (Scholz 2008). Web 2.0 ushered in not only an era of enhanced sociality and user-generated participation, but also the capacity for commercial institutions to capitalize on users’ participation within these spaces (Hanna, Rohm, and Crittenden 2011; van Dijck 2013) (a point I address in chapters 3 and 6).
Another oft-cited definition within scholarship is boyd and Ellison’s (2007) approach to social network sites. They define online social network sites13 as “web-based services that allow individuals to (1) construct a public or semi-public profile within a bounded system, (2) articulate a list of other users with whom they share a connection, and (3) view and traverse their list of connections and those made by others within the system” (p. 211). The 2007 definition is probably the most frequently cited definition at the time of writing, yet in 2013— recognizing the evolution of the technical affordances and social norms of these spaces—Ellison and boyd offered an updated definition that is more encompassing. Their updated definition of social network sites states that “a social network site is a networked communication platform in which participants 1) have uniquely identifiable profiles that consist of user-supplied content, content provided by other users, and and/or system-provided data; 2) can publicly articulate connections that can be viewed and traversed by others; and 3) can consume, produce, and/or interact with streams of user-generated content provided by their connections on the site” (Ellison and boyd 2013, p. 158). This definition focuses on the capacity of the site to facilitate public interactions via the visibility of the network and is thus quite useful, particularly in analyzing publics and privacy. It often is misused in scholarship as an all-encompassing definition for social media more broadly, but the original definition is limited to sites that function as social networks more specifically—it is not intended to be interchangeable with the term social media.
I use social media as a broader umbrella term that encompasses social network sites and other online participatory spaces that do not necessarily fit the limited definition of social network sites. For example, at the time of writing Snapchat does not provide a public articulation of users’ connections or a personalized user profile; similarly, the neighborhood-based app and website Nextdoor14 automatically connects residents of a neighborhood in a public space (similar to a bulletin board), but does not allow for public user-to-user connections. Neither site fits the definition of a social network site according to Ellison and boyd’s description, yet each of them is considered to be part of social media as a broader classification. Daniel Miller’s characterization of social media is useful for incorporating sites such as Snapchat:
Social media helps draw attention to the development of a series of practices of communication which lie between traditionally dyadic forms such as the phone call or indeed most webcam conversations, and on the other hand public broadcasting as in most traditional media. Social media could imply that the communication is social in the sense of going to a larger group, but social also in that it helps create and maintain relationships rather than the one-way communication of broadcast media. … An orientation to the social as opposed to merely the personal seems to keep us close to the intuitive semantics of these words. (Miller 2013)
Similarly, I define social media in the broadest sense: as (1) participatory media spaces whether web platforms or mobile apps that (2) facilitate communication beyond the interpersonal (i.e., one-to-one), to include options for two-way communication of one-to-many and/or many-to-many, and (3) facilitate the creation and sharing of user-generated content in a semi-public or public space; this does not have to be exclusive; user-generated content can exist alongside the creation and sharing of commercial media that is generated by more traditional corporate and institutionalized organizations. This definition includes, but is not limited to, social network sites, and offers a broader inclusion of online participatory media spaces in the absence of user profiles and public connections. Throughout the book, wherever it is necessary and appropriate, I identify specific content platforms, websites, apps, and sites in order to clarify my references, descriptions, and arguments.
Literacies
Literacy is a theme that runs throughout the entire book and is discussed in detail in chapters 3–5. Although I make distinctions between different literacies, in all instances I use the term literacies to refer to different aspects of media literacy. Broadly speaking, media literacy has been defined as “the ability to access, analyze, evaluate, and communicate messages in a wide variety of forms” (Hobbs 1998, p. 16). Drawing from other media scholars, I also use the term to refer to the ability to produce media texts (Jenkins 2006; Buckingham 2003). In other words, media literacy is not just about critical consumption of media content; it also involves the capacity to produce mediated texts and to confidently and safely navigate mediated spaces.
Youth
Youth is a fluid social construction often used to describe a range of demographic categories. Because my research is conducted in a high school and the participants in this study are between the ages of 14 and 19, when I refer to youth I mean people of high school age, young people, and teens. I generally avoid describing participants as children or kids; however, I preserve the language of the scholarship I reference. At times I use the broader term child or adolescent when writing about discourses of childhood and youth, but I do not use either of those terms when directly referring to the participants in this study. I do, however, use child when discussing a familial context, such as when describing parental relationships. Regardless of age, parents’ offspring tend to be referred to as children even into adulthood; thus I use child within the context of parental relationships. I use the term minor within a legal context to refer to citizens under the age of 18, whom the US government defines as minors.
Structure of the Book
Each chapter addresses different spaces, discourses, and institutions that shape expectations, mobilize narratives of risk, and regulate opportunities. The chapters are divided into two parts. Those in the first part primarily address how discourses of risk regulate and control technology; I include quotes from participants to support my analysis, but the overall focus is on how discourses are mobilized and enacted. The chapters in the second part focus on how harm-driven expectations affect the everyday lived practices of teens and focuses more overtly on how teens and schools negotiate policies, regulations, and understandings of risk, as well as the consequences of such practices. Each chapter addresses the dualistic relationship between particular harm-driven expectations and opportunities. Within each chapter, I contextualize how different aspects of society construct both technology and youth, attempt to regulate both youth and technology, and what the intended and unintended consequences are in terms of young people’s experiences and opportunities. I also call for more productive, nuanced, and equitable approaches to regulating teens’ digital media practices and spaces.
Chapters 1–4 all address the relationship between risk, teens, and regulation. Chapter 1 explores the relationship between technology and social change as a way to analyze moral panics; it also historicizes fears and anxieties related to youth and technology in order to provide context for understanding contemporary discourses of risk. Chapter 2 traces how moral panics and adult anxieties related to young people’s online engagement shape public perceptions of risk, and how public concerns affect public policies. The policies largely focus on three risks: pornography, predators, and peers. Additionally, chapter 2 demonstrates the ways that federal, state, and local policies construct youth (and specifically girls) as passive subjects at risk rather than agents capable of managing online risks. In it I demonstrate how harm-driven expectations—largely perpetuated via fear-inducing news and popular media—lead to overly restrictive policies that limit young people’s opportunities and fail to help young people safely navigate risk.
Chapters 3 and 4 continue to analyze regulations, but more specifically focus on the policies and curriculum at Freeway High. Chapter 3 analyzes the harm-driven expectations that are used to justify blocking students’ access to digital content at school. The rules are aimed at minimizing the risks of (1) inappropriate online (sexual) content and (2) misinformation and information overload. I demonstrate how such restrictive policies miss an opportunity to help students develop critical digital literacies, as well as opportunities to think critically about the commercialization of the web and to participate in digital activism. Chapter 4 shifts the focus to the school’s policies that prohibit students from using mobile devices at school. The policies derive from harm-driven expectations of distraction and stress. I demonstrate how competing discourses of (adult) control and (student) trust lead to frustrations and missed opportunities to help students develop healthy boundaries and social norms. Chapter 4 also examines students’ expectations of boredom and considers how opportunity-driven expectations of mobile media can enhance learning rather than detract from it.
By extensively examining teens’ lived practices, expectations, and experiences at school and online, the next three chapters shift the focus away from critiques of harm-driven expectations and instead draw attention to opportunity-driven expectations and the effects of regulations. Chapter 5 debunks the expectation that young people innately possess digital media skills and literacies. I go into greater detail about participation gaps and the literacies young people need in order to fully take part in networked publics. That chapter relies on students’ experiences to understand the barriers that prevent some of them from sharing their creative media productions in online networked spaces. As will be argued, discourses of risk have taught young people to expect harm online; instead high schools ought to empower students to safely network online, create professional online identities, and share their work in peer-supported online networks. The chapter makes a case for helping students develop three specific digital literacies: nuanced understandings of intellectual property rights, social literacy, and network literacy.
Following up on the theme of sharing that was discussed in the previous chapter, in chapter 6 the locus of opportunity moves beyond the school setting to explore participants’ own expectations of social and peer privacy and how they navigate the everyday risks of socializing via mobile and social media. This chapter considers how commercial platforms, largely regulated by the market, often undermine teens’ own expectations of visibility, and thus exacerbate privacy risks. I also examine the challenges of negotiating multiple social contexts online and discuss participants’ agentive strategies for maintaining social privacy.
Chapter 7 also draws from students’ experiences in order to examine what connections are necessary for helping students achieve their goals. I highlight the stories of four students as a way of connecting risk and expectations to future opportunities. That chapter is situated within the connected learning model of education (Ito et al. 2013) and demonstrates how different nodes of students’ learning ecologies—academic, peer, home, adults, interests, and extracurricular—support or hinder opportunities. It considers the broader context of students’ online participation, goals, and expectations and how each can alleviate or contribute to inequalities.
In the conclusion, I revisit the role digital media can play in structuring opportunities for youth and articulate what I believe we should be worried about: inequities related to regulation, access, control, participation, visibility, and opportunity. With today’s technologies, teens have the power to take an active role in helping to create and mold learning environments, their local cultures, and social norms. With the right tools and support, schools can equip and empower students to contribute to knowledge formation and discovery. It is my hope that this research identifies a need for schools, policy makers, and institutions to rethink their role in shaping teens’ media and learning ecologies. I demonstrate that opportunity-driven expectations can guide and regulate young people in ways that balance protection and agency.
It is my intent that the nuanced complexity of the three stories at the beginning of the book will be made increasingly evident through a multifaceted examination of the relationship between youth, technology, and expectations of risk and opportunity. There is no monolithic narrative of youth and digital media because the relationships are inherently fraught with contradictions. Young people can simultaneously be agentive and victimized, educated and misinformed, risk takers and safe. Technology can be simultaneously beneficial and harmful, private and public, a threat and a tool of protection, an opportunity and a risk. It is crucial that we investigate how unequal expectations and discourses of risk shape experiences for the most vulnerable populations within society in an effort to both protect young people and create more equitable opportunities for them.
