It’s weird what sites are blocked and which aren’t when I think about. … They have this whole list of sites that you can’t go to. If you try to go to them it says “Access denied.” Even when they’re useful sites, like tutorials and things you look up for school or need for a project, nope.
Anna (18 years old, Mexican-American)
Schools undoubtedly have an obligation and responsibility to protect students and ensure safe learning environments. In compliance with the Children’s Internet Protection Act (see chapter 2), Freeway High enables a firewall that heavily regulates students’ (and most of the time teachers’) access to online content. The firewall blocks access to websites deemed inappropriate or harmful. This includes sexually explicit content (porn, nudity, and so on), but also educational sexual resources (e.g., resources related to contraception and to sexually transmitted infections). Additionally, the firewall blocks both students’ and teachers’ access to all online videos. Sites such as YouTube are blocked entirely, whereas CNN and local news broadcast stations are accessible, but the embedded videos are blocked. The school also blocks students’ access to Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and other social media platforms. Images on sites are blocked if the filter deems them inappropriate; this includes all nudity even artistic renderings of the human body (e.g., Michelangelo’s David) and human anatomy, even in the context of sex education (with the exception of some pre-approved sites). Other sites are blocked on the basis of violence or derogatory language. All these sites are blocked in compliance with federal laws based on the premise that they reduce exposure to risky or harmful material, but are actually executed at the discretion of commercial firewall services. Filters reveal expectations of risk, and thus I want to step back and analyze the embedded assumptions about what kinds of content are deemed harmful and what kinds of content are not.
The central debate over technology use at Freeway High is, on the surface, about access—who can access technology when, where, why, how, and for what purposes. On the one hand, the policies appear to be restrictive and to stem from harm-driven expectations; on the other hand, the school’s curriculum stems from opportunity-driven expectations that enhance learning. The students of Freeway High are largely from low-income families, and the school is dependent upon E-rate discounts for telecommunication services; this means it is required to enable firewalls that block students from accessing information deemed inappropriate. Consequently, the effects of federal policies, such as the Children’s Internet Protection Act, play a role in shaping harm-driven expectations and enacting risk-minimizing practices. Filters, in addition to bans on mobile devices (see chapter 4), work in tandem to construct technology as a risk or threat that must be regulated and controlled. However, alongside prohibitive policies, the school also provides students with opportunities to attain and enhance their technology skills. Freeway High provides several computer labs with up-to-date equipment and software, offers several technology courses, and financially supports after-school digital media clubs (see chapters 5 and 7). Thus, at the other end of the spectrum, we see opportunity-driven expectations via practices that support—and even celebrate—technology as a creative and vocational opportunity for students. In view of the contradictory messages “technology is harmful” and “technology is an opportunity,” it is understandable that students are frustrated by the policies and practices that regulate access to and use of technology at school.
In this chapter I map out the ways harm-driven expectations about media and technology shape the policies, discourses, and contours of everyday practices at Freeway High. I also analyze the school’s approach to incorporating media literacy as part of the formal curriculum (as opposed to the informal learning that occurs in the after-school spaces, which is the focus of chapters 5 and 7). I argue that the school should expand its definition of digital literacy beyond skills—and beyond basic understandings of information literacy—to also incorporate and value critical digital literacy. Harm-driven expectations approach technology as something that must be controlled and contained. As I will demonstrate, the school focuses on helping students avoid risk, rather than helping them to manage it. What is particularly significant here is not just the import of managing risk but also the missed opportunities to develop nuanced critical digital literacies. Rather than overly worrying about the risks that technology poses, educational institutions should worry about how to also effectively and equitably equip students to manage risks and capitalize on the opportunities of digital media and technology. Likewise, schools must consider how technology can mitigate other risks. This necessitates a shift in what we expect from students and schools—a move away from expectations of harm and misuse toward expectations of responsibility, value, and learning.
It is a normative modern value in the United States to protect young people from premature exposure to sexual content and information (Heins 2001). Within collective popular imagination, young people are discursively constructed as being sexually innocent and pure, and so exposure to sexual content—or even acknowledging young people’s potential sexuality—is often deemed inappropriate and damaging (Heins 2001; Odem 1995). From such a perspective, filtering access to sexual information on the Internet is an appropriate strategy for protecting and reifying young people’s perceived sexual innocence. However, this rhetoric is complicated when students begin to develop their own sexuality and sexual identities. By high school, the majority of students have begun to explore and negotiate their own sexuality—including their desires, identities, values, and practices. What are the consequences of denying pubescent adolescents access to sexual information online? Yes, schools have a responsibility to protect students, but at the same time they also have an obligation to teach students about sexual health and consensual practices. Harm-driven expectations construct protection from sexuality as a normative value that trumps students’ acknowledgment of their own sexualities and their right to access educational sexual resources. Risk discourse presumes that access to sexual information is a threat and is therefore harmful, when in actuality access to sexual education is a form of protection that empowers young people to make healthy and safe decisions.
The state of Texas implements an abstinence-only approach to sex education—an approach that has been highly criticized by parents, students, physicians, and federal lawmakers (Bridges 2008; Kohler, Manhart, and Laggerty 2008; Trenholm et al. 2007). It has been criticized on moral and ethical grounds, and also because of its continued ineffectiveness (ibid.). According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 52 percent of Texas high school students are sexually active, versus 47 percent nationally. Consequently, abstinence-only education seems to do little to deter Texas high school students from engaging in sexual activities (HIV, other STD, and pregnancy prevention education … 2012). What is troubling is not necessarily that teens are sexually active, but rather the risky behaviors associated with their sexual practices. Texas ranks third in the nation in rate of teen pregnancy1 and has the nation’s highest teen birth rate2 (Bridges 2008). Further, Texas has the third highest number of people living with HIV, and young people accounted for 20 percent of new HIV cases in Texas in 2006 (ibid.). Additionally, young people in Texas—especially young women—are at a high risk for contracting sexually transmitted infections, the majority of all chlamydia and gonorrhea infections affect young women (Texas HIV/STD surveillance report, 2014). There are many more harrowing statistics about the sexual risks Texas teens face. The point here is that many teens in Texas are not practicing safe sex. In view of the lack of education in public schools this should not be too surprising, but it should be alarming.
Teen sex is a complicated issue, and many factors such as economics, education, geography, religious affiliations, and ethnicity affect access to sexual health resources, yet we must also take into consideration the lack of comprehensive sex-education courses in public schools in Texas. By law, Texas sex-education courses may not include information about contraceptives or condoms, and must teach that sex outside of marriage is shameful and financially, physically, and psychologically harmful (Culp-Ressler 2013). This approach has not been supported by research or science and fails to educate and empower young people to make safe sexual decisions. Further, it promotes a heteronormative understanding of sexuality that completely overlooks the sexual desires, identities, and practices of queer youth. Texas is one of seven states that prohibit positive portrayals of homosexuality in schools (Ford 2014). The state-mandated educational materials go so far as to state that homosexuality is “not an acceptable lifestyle and is a criminal offense” (Texas Health and Safety Code). In practice such language is rarely used; however, it is indicative of the overall approach to controlling teens’ access to comprehensive knowledge and education regarding sex and sexuality.
If teens are not receiving medically effective and scientifically accurate information about sexual health at school, where then do they turn for information? Research indicates that almost 80 percent of US teens report talking to a parent about at least one aspect of sexual education, including how to say No (Martinez, Abma, and Casey 2010). Research also reveals that these conversations do not necessarily include accurate information about contraception and safe sexual practices (Eisenberg et al. 2004). Teens also report that peers and the media are popular sources of sexual information (Brown, Steele, and Walsh-Childers 2011). Data indicate that teens frequently turn to the media, including advertisements, television, magazines, and the Internet, for information about birth control and protection against infection. Not surprisingly, the Internet has become a more frequent source of information for young people regarding sexual health; 89 percent of young people cited the Internet as a top source of sexual health information in 2011 (Boyar, Levine, and Zensisus 2011). By contrast, only 20 percent of respondents in a different study cited formal education in schools as a primary source of sexual health information (Brown 2008).
What does all of this have to do with Internet filters at Freeway High? What these numbers—and far too many other statistics like them—demonstrate is that many teens are sexually active in high school, yet they are at risk of unwanted pregnancies and infections due at least in part to a lack of education and safety strategies. What is actually risky in these scenarios is unsafe teen sexual practices, not access to sexual health information. The presumed risk of accessing unwanted or harmful sexual content online often goes unchallenged outside of debates about First Amendment rights. Since the passage of CIPA, it has become largely acceptable to deny students access to sexual content on school computers. We should challenge the normative assumption that access to sexual content is inherently harmful. What we ought to be discussing are ways schools can intervene and promote safer sexual practices.
The school’s firewall does not block all sexual health information (some sites—such as the Center for Disease Control and WebMD—are allowed), but plenty of other sites are blocked because of explicit sexual content. This is particularly true of user-generated message boards and other peer-based sites where students search for sexual information that transcends basic health questions. Because many students at Freeway High come from low-income households and face precarious living situations, they do not have consistent high-quality access to the Internet outside of school; a significant portion of the student body relies on the school’s free Wi-Fi and public computers for access to the Internet. If school is the primary source of Internet access and schools block access to sex-ed content, then some students face significant challenges in accessing information and support regarding questions of sexual identity and health.
It should go without saying that there is inappropriate sexual information online; however, search engines have their own filters that can be activated to block the explicit sexual content without filtering sexual content to the same restrictive degree as the school’s firewall. It is possible that a student would deliberately seek out obscene content at school, but it is also reasonable that the majority of students seeking information would be driven by healthy sexual curiosity and a need for information. District-approved sites such as WebMD and the site of the Centers for Disease Control provide medically accurate and important information about sexual health but do not include information about social norms of sexuality or offer a generationally specific understanding of emerging sexuality. Teens often seek answers about sexual desires and norms in private (Kanuga and Rosenfeld 2004), and could feasibly access such information on a school computer after school (in semi-private) if the filters did not block access to these kinds of websites. In her ethnographic research about queer youth in rural America, Mary Gray (2009) found that queer teens turned to the Internet to not only seek out health information but also to express and learn about their sexual desires and queer identities. These kinds of information seeking practices connected queer teens to supportive online communities that were often not available in their offline lives. The kinds of information, questions, and communities that teens seek extend beyond health information, but also include learning about and participating in a shared discourse of generationally specific sexual identification, practices, language, values, and norms.
Rather than banning sexual content at school, administrators could establish a set of rules and address violations—such as accessing pornography—on a case-by-case basis. For example, according to the education scholar Mark Prensky (2008, p. 44), schools “can address the ‘inappropriate use’ issue, particularly in the higher grades, with one simple rule: If something comes on the screen that a student knows shouldn’t be there, he or she has two seconds to shut off the computer—or lose all privileges.” This rule shifts harm-driven expectations away from outright control and instead places responsibly on the student to make smart decisions and earn privileges through a dialog of trust. This approach echoes Jada’s (16 years old, black) own frustrations with and understanding of the filter rules at school:
Q:
Do you find the school blocks things that would be helpful?
Jada:
Sometimes, yes. It’s frustrating.
Q:
Things that aren’t distracting or bad, but just things you need to look up are blocked?
Jada:
Yeah. It upsets me a lot.
Q:
Why does it upset you?
Jada:
I think we’re just older—it’s one thing for middle school to block stuff, but we’re in high school. You’re still going to have people who try to look up stuff that’s inappropriate, but we’re older. Just punish that one person’s privileges.
Obscene material could continue to be blocked, while other sexual content could be allowed. If a student violates rules by intentionally accessing obscene material, they could be disciplined, just as they would be for breaking other school rules. This approach protects opportunities for teens to seek out sexual information and acknowledges and safeguards their highly contested First Amendment rights. The court has acknowledged that “minors are entitled to a significant measure of First Amendment protection” and that the “state may not prohibit a minor’s right to speech based alone upon a belief that the content is unsuitable (McLaughlin 2012, p. 337). Yet CIPA regulations and the implementation of commercial firewalls bar students from accessing sexual content on school computers or networks that they legally should have the right to access. The filtering of content is predicated on the assumption that sexual content does not merely pose a risk, but is inherently harmful. When I asked students in personal interviews if they would ask a teacher to unblock an informative website that was filtered for sexual reasons, the answer was an unsurprising and resounding No, citing embarrassment as the primary reason. Students’ rights to speech are often undermined in the name of protection, yet students are disempowered from claiming stake to these basic rights.
Providing teens with a space in which to learn about their sexual preferences, identities, and practices can help mitigate the risks associated with sexual behaviors. There is no research indicating that mere access to sexual content increases risk or harm to teens at school, yet there is ample research indicating that lack of education increases sexual risk and harm (McGrath 2004). We need a discursive turn away from protecting youth from sex. Instead we must embrace a discourse that empowers youth to manage risk via greater access to information and education. Access to accurate online sexual content in and of itself is not necessarily harmful, but ignorance about one’s own sexual health and desires is.
The web provides young people with unprecedented access to a seemingly endless amount of information and students need help navigating the overwhelming amount of information they can access. With peer file sharing, user-generated forums, live up-to-date streaming of information in the form of videos, Twitter feeds, blogs, and professionally produced news and op-eds, the web allows students to seek and find answers to a multitude of questions. In fact, it is downright impossible to even attempt to keep up with all of the information constantly being added to the web—nor would it be beneficial. As of 2015, YouTube reported that users uploaded 400 hours of content to the site per minute (Robertson 2015)! As of 2013, there were 41,000 Facebook posts added per second and 3,600 photos added to Instagram in that same amount of time (Woollason 2013). Per minute there were 20,000 Tumblr photos posted, 278,000 tweets sent, and an astonishing 571 new websites created (ibid.). That is a lot of information, more than we can possibly find, read, and absorb.
Experts argue that so much information can be both a positive and a negative thing. On the one hand, some critics are concerned about the harms of what has been dubbed “information overload” (Bawden and Robinson 2009; Freedland 2013; Hemp 2009; Himma 2007). Some experts worry about the potential risks or harms of being exposed to too much information in an “always on” world. If you do a quick Internet search for “information overload” you will find a seemingly unending stream of articles warning adults about the “real danger for children [who] feel like they are drowning in this torrent of information” (Taylor 2012). On the other end of the spectrum, you’ll find claims that young people are “immune to information overload” and that “younger people just don’t feel as weighed down by their digital-centric lives [as adults]” (Murphy 2010). What we are experiencing is a debate about and an expansion of our conception of what constitutes information. In today’s networked society, information includes traditional conceptions of knowledge and opinions that are generated by reliable expert sources. But today’s media ecology also includes user-generated content, social media streams, and up-to-date news about what our peers are doing across multiple platforms at any given moment. In the past, this form of mediated information about peers primarily resided within the realm of social information which was accessed via interpersonal communication, such as making a phone call or writing a letter. But today, factual news and information coexist alongside streams of social information in a way that some experts fear we might not be equipped to handle unless we intentionally develop digital literacies that help us make sense of new modes of information (Rheingold 2012).
The media scholars Jenkins, Ito, and boyd remind us that a shift in the concept and amount of information is not unprecedented; previous generations also experienced a radical shift in access to and production of technology, media, social lives, and information:
There’s a dangerous tendency to talk about these experiences of media change and information overload as if this had never happened before. We might productively go and look at the turn of the twentieth century, when an explosion of mass media was impacting American life, urban areas were experiencing the introduction of electric lights, signs and billboards cluttered the landscape for the first time. … Progressive-era writers described people as overwhelmed by information, unable to keep pace with the changes. There were so many signs and so much noise and so much to take in. People talked about sensory overload. (2016, p. 100)
Yet as individuals, and as a society, we have survived. We have developed techniques, norms, and strategies that allow us to navigate new environments in collectively beneficial ways. This has not come without growing pains, without loss, or with equal consequences for all populations, but we have adapted and even thrived amid great change. Even those who argue that too much information can have negative influences probably would agree that, on the whole, more access to more information is positive progress—we just have to learn how to manage it. This is where school plays a significant role in the lives of students today.
Educators have a responsibility to help young people develop healthy boundaries and critical digital literacy. Yet research indicates that pressure to “teach to the examination” prevents some teachers from incorporating digital and information literacy into the classroom. Teachers are pressured to pass along information (so students can pass state-mandated standardized tests), rather than help students solve problems and seek out information on their own (Julien and Barker 2009). At Freeway High, digital literacy was primarily compartmentalized as a component of courses that explicitly taught technology skills. However, from a research and problem-solving approach to learning, critical digital literacy skills can be incorporated into virtually any subject or classroom. Incorporating digital literacy in the classroom necessitates a move away from harm-driven expectations that perpetuate a discourse of control (and thus purport to minimize risk) and toward an attitude that embraces student-driven learning in a networked society.
Traditional learning has focused on passing along information from teacher to student or pointing students toward books and classroom resources. However, a critical digital literacy approach encourages and empowers students to seek out information in the classroom in a similar way that they do outside of school: by asking peers for help or using search engines or video tutorials to solve problems and find answers (Ito et al. 2010; Tapscott 1998). There is a risk that a student could stumble upon misinformation or even inappropriate information, but helping students navigate these risks ought to be of the utmost importance in contemporary classrooms. If teachers and schools do not actively guide students’ online information seeking practices, they are left to do so informally without assistance or nuanced strategies. Pedagogically, this requires educators and students alike to resist the urge to conflate knowledge acquisition with information management. In a digital information age, it is equally imperative to not only acquire knowledge, but also to be able to “construct new knowledge through a critical thinking process” (Zheng 2006, p. 55), which is an essential component of critical digital literacy. Rather than just teaching students about media, students benefit by learning about, with, and via media in real-world circumstances. Learning with media requires us to help students think critically about media in a holistic approach and to critically question aspects of media such as, production, audience, commercialization, power, representation, and the values embedded within the everyday webpages and search results that they encounter. In the following sections, I analyze the resources and approaches at Freeway High in order to understand their strategies for managing information risks and benefits. As part of the analysis, I highlight the differences between students’ perspectives and practices and those of the school.
By now it should be common knowledge that you cannot trust or believe everything you read online. We know that the web is littered with a plethora of misleading and inaccurate information. Some of it, classified as disinformation, is intentionally designed to deceive and mislead, such as hoaxes. One such example of disinformation is the white supremacist website MartinLutherKing.org, which is deliberately constructed to appear as a legitimate educational site about Martin Luther King Jr. but which intentionally propagates racist lies and conspiracy theories. Founded in 1999 by a former Ku Klux Klan leader, it is operated by a white supremacist organization whose intent is to deliberately spread disinformation and lies. Although full of despicable information, it has provided some students and teachers with a useful lesson in the importance of media and information literacy (Thomson 2011).
Misinformation, on the other hand, differs from intentional deception, and is typically classified as unintentionally false or inaccurate information that spreads via unsubstantiated rumors, urban legends, and myths (Stahl 2006). Misinformation abounds online, but technology cannot be blamed. Instead, I attribute the root causes for why misinformation spreads to at least three things: bias, incorrect inferential reasoning, and a commercial marketplace of information. First, biases lead to the spread of misinformation because people want to avoid cognitive dissonance—the mental stress or discomfort of experiencing contradictory ideas, behaviors, and attitudes (Festinger 1957). We like to encounter information that supports our preconceived notions and ideologies, even if it is not entirely true (Killoran 2012; Sunstein 2009, 2014). When we come upon information online that supports our beliefs, we are susceptible to sharing it even without checking its validity if it supports our perspectives.3 Second, incorrect inferential reasoning is what happens when people construct a “reality from the messages to which they are exposed by making inferences about what they do not know based on extrapolations from what they see or hear,” which results in a belief of incorrect information (this differs from mere ignorance in which people simply do not know something) (Hofstetter et al. 1999, p. 353). This contributes to the spread of misinformation when people come to fallacious conclusions based on lack of evidence. Third, a commercial marketplace of information describes the news cycle that pressures news organizations to compete with one another to be the first to present new information; this can negatively affect professional fact-checking processes and lead to the spread of misinformation (Saxena 2004). These three explanations account for at least some of the ways in which both professional journalists and citizens contribute to the spread of misinformation.
It is easy to blame social media for perpetuating misinformation because the platforms connect us to large networks that allow us to quickly access and disseminate information almost instantaneously.4 However, the spread of disinformation and misinformation is certainly not unique to the digital age, and for that reason it is important that we not take a technologically deterministic approach that falsely blames the Internet for the proliferation of misinformation. Preachers, town criers, newspapers, radio broadcasts, and television reports misreported and propagated the spread of false information long before the development of the web. This becomes clear in the midst of a crisis, when there is a high demand for information, even at the expense of fact checking and vetting. For an example we can turn to the televised news coverage that followed the 1995 bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City. Initially it was falsely reported by local media outlets—and later picked up by national media—that the bomber was a Muslim (Stammer and Hall 1995). Later we would learn that was patently false (probably explained by the priming of racist attitudes, incorrect inferential reasoning, and commercial pressure to be the first to break the news). We now know the bombing was an act of domestic terrorism committed by two US citizens: Timothy McVeigh, an army veteran with alleged connections to white supremacist groups (German 2005; Solomon 2003), and Terry Nichols, an anti-government extremist. Yet the assertion that the bombing had been committed by a Muslim spread quickly—via television news outlets, newspapers, and everyday rumors—and was not easy to retract, even before the days of social media (or even widespread access to the Internet).
Two decades later, we have witnessed a multitude of misinformation that has spread via social network sites, message boards, and even via online professional journalism. There are those who will try to maliciously spread disinformation in the form of conspiracies and rumors to propagate their own biases and interests (as MartinLutherKing.org has done), but we know that even well-intentioned individuals and groups sometimes circulate misinformation. For example, after the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing the online community Reddit accidentally identified an innocent man as the bomber.5 His name was then picked up and circulated within traditional and professional media outlets. Even many technologically savvy individuals with well-developed media and information literacy initially believed the false reports—Pete Williams at NBC, Ross Newman at Digg, Dylan Byers at Politico, and Brian Ries at Newsweek all circulated the misinformation (Lee 2013; Madrigal 2013). Given the fast-paced, high-demand nature of information—particularly at times of crises—we must develop nuanced strategies for fine tuning literacy skills. This is true of both youth and adults, but schools have a unique opportunity to help young people formally learn practical critical media literacies. Critical media literacy is feasible only if schools actively embrace and validate the tools and platforms that teens use to seek and share news and information.
Scholars from various fields recognize that young people (and adults) must develop new literacies to navigate multimediated environments, not just the Internet but also television, film, advertising, and computers. These literacies tout many different yet similar labels, such as “information literacy” (Bruce 1997; Bawden 2008), “media literacy” (Livingstone 2004; Buckingham 2003; Aufderheide 1997; Jenkins et al. 2009), “new media literacy” (Livingstone 2004, Gilmor 2008), “computer literacy” (Goodson and Mangan 1996), “technical literacy” (Fueyo 1988), and “cyberliteracy” (Gurak 2001). Here I pay particular attention to students’ information-seeking behaviors—as well as their evaluation of and participation in consuming and generating information—in order to examine the literacies necessary for critical engagement. I avoid the term “information literacy,” which has been criticized for being overly functional in its conceptualization (Buckingham 2003). Likewise, many conceptualizations of Internet literacy tend to focus on functionality (that is, the ability to seek out, access, and evaluate information), but without a more critical consideration of production and power. The British education scholar David Buckingham writes:
Most discussions of Internet literacy remain at the level of assessing the reliability or validity of online information—and therefore tend to neglect some of the broader cultural uses of the Internet (not least by young people). To a large extent, the concern here is with promoting more efficient uses of the medium—for example, via the development of advanced search skills (or so-called ‘power searching’) that will make it easier to locate relevant resources amid the proliferation of online material. This ability to access or locate information is undoubtedly important; yet the skills children need in relation to digital media go well beyond this. (2007, p. 47)
In accordance with Livingstone, Couvering, and Thumim (2005), Buckingham highlights how typical approaches to information literacy—which largely focus on teaching individuals how to discern factual and accurate information—is a functional approach that neglects larger issues of power and ideology. Such critical questions extend beyond “Is this information correct?” to include questions such as “Who benefits from the spread of this information?” and “What are the underlying assumptions of this text?”
Bettina Fabos (2004, p. 95) connects critical media literacy with digital literacy when she writes that students need to understand “how political, economic, and social context shapes all texts, how all texts can be adapted for different social purposes, and how no text is neutral or necessarily of ‘higher quality’ than another.” Critical media literacy also considers issues of power; however, Fabos’ contribution draws attention to the ways the information literacy approach often privileges “authoritative” and “accurate” information from professional sources by marginalizing the value of amateur texts. She argues that, rather than seeking an objective “truth,” all texts ought to be considered within different contexts and recognized as serving different purposes. A networked society that promotes amateur voices is not entirely unprecedented—amateur and citizen media pre-date the Internet by more than 100 years (Burns 2008; Smith 1944)—but the Internet nonetheless provides students greater access to amateur voices, including their own peers. Digital media texts require a more nuanced approach to determining the value of information that moves beyond dichotomous understandings of what is or is not reliable.
Taking these various perspectives into consideration, I utilize the term critical digital literacy in order to refer to the amalgamation of both Buckingham’s and Fabos’ concept of digital and media literacy. Buckingham’s approach, in particular, encompasses and combines aspects of information literacy, digital literacy, and critical media literacy: “Approaching digital media through media education is about much more than simply ‘accessing’ these media, or using them as tools for learning: on the contrary, it means developing a much broader critical understanding, which addresses the textual characteristics of media alongside their social, economic and cultural implications” (2007, p. 48). In the following sections, I analyze Freeway High’s approach to online information, risk, and opportunity by examining the school’s policies, technology strategies, and resources. To emphasize missed opportunities for developing critical digital literacy, I also highlight the discrepancies between school practices and students’ expectations.
Freeway High is part of the Central School District (CSD), which sets guidelines and policies for curriculum development, technology plans, and learning objectives for the entire school district.6 One of the CSD’s Technology Planning objectives is to ensure that all students have the opportunity to participate in technology for “collaboration, communication, critical thinking, and innovation.” One strategy for achieving this goal is to subscribe to multiple online databases (EBSCO, Gale, Questia, Facts on File, Encyclopaedia Britannica, etc.) that support information acquisition and instruction in libraries, classrooms, and labs. In itself this is not problematic; arguably the more resources to which students have access, the better. Online databases are valuable resources in students’ learning ecologies. From a basic information perspective, databases provide students with access to reliable information and expert opinions on a given topic. However, static databases—no matter how frequently updated—cannot compete with up-to-date information found online. Students mocked the library online resources. As Jada (16 years old, black) said, “Seriously, nobody uses them.” In a separate interview, Gabriela (16 years old, Mexican-American) commented: “They have, like, three suggestions on them. It’s not usually what you’re looking for, or it’s outdated. I don’t think anyone actually uses them.”
There was a substantial disparity between what the school was investing in and promoting and the ways students sought out information on their own outside of school. When asked how they typically looked up information, it was not surprising that students relied on free online sources such as Google, Wikipedia, and YouTube. Despite students’ dismissive attitudes about library resources, these resources serve a purpose and offer a valuable starting point for research. However, databases are clearly limited from the perspective of critical digital literacy: pre-approved and authoritatively validated databases do not allow students an opportunity to critically evaluate the broader context of information production, consumption, and dissemination. School-sanctioned databases privilege authoritative sources and expert opinions at the expense of amateur knowledge and peer perspectives.
Students consistently reported that teachers and librarians at the school actively encouraged them to use library resources rather than general online sources such as Google, YouTube, and Wikipedia. In part, this was because sites such as YouTube were banned at school. Although other sources (e.g., search engines) were filtered, they were not banned outright. Schools are doing students a disservice when they fail to make easily accessible and free resources available to students. Although the CSD’s Technology Planning policy stated that teachers should be equipped with “up-to-date technology and online skills” (which teachers were expected to incorporate into student curriculum), in practice participants were navigating the Internet without much classroom guidance or teacher support.
Valuing district-approved sources over students’ preferred modes of learning is a form of control that works contrary to what research tells us about how today’s students learn and make meaning out of their own online searches. Studies consistently demonstrate that learning is enhanced when students are allowed to experiment with their own procedures for solving problems, seeking out information, and when they are encouraged to pursue personal interests in their own ways (Ito et al. 2010; Parker 2010; Schofield and Davidson 2002). Horst, Herr-Stephenson, and Robinson explain:
Looking around online and searching is an important first step to gathering information about a new and unfamiliar area. … Online sites, forums, and search engines augment existing information resources by lowering the barriers to looking around in ways that do not require specialized knowledge to begin. Looking around online and fortuitous searching can be a self-directed activity that provides young people with a sense of agency, often exhibited in a discourse that they are ‘self-taught’ as a result of engaging in these strategies. The autonomy to pursue topics of personal interest through random searching and messing around generally assists and encourages young people to take greater ownership of their learning process. (2010, p. 57)
The district’s policies and teachers’ practices, which aimed to direct and control students’ information-seeking practices, were antithetical to the ways research tells us students prefer—and expect—to learn. Controlling access to information denies students a sense of agency over their own quests for knowledge, and instead reinforces adult-centric ways of being taught. The mechanisms controlling students’ practices are reflective of harm-driven expectations that are intended to minimize risks that students may encounter when searching online on their own. Yet autonomous searching leads to greater opportunities for self-guided learning, as well as opportunities for the development of critical digital literacy.
Students noted that teachers did not necessarily discourage the use of search engines, but few recalled teachers actively encouraging online searches for information related to homework and school projects.7 Notably absent from the CSD’s Technology Planning policies was any mention of the value of incorporating online resources into students’ information-seeking practices. The primary focus was on the school-approved databases as the privileged sites of information seeking. The education professor Jessica K. Parker points out that discussions of online sources and school resources should not be presented as either-or questions; rather, “teachers should concern themselves with the quality of sources. … We can now be critical of all sources and determine which sources will help us find answers to a specific inquiry” (2010, p. 76). Additionally, the hyperlinked structure of the Internet connects information within a broader context that can lead to unintentional yet beneficial discoveries that static resources cannot provide.
Students at Freeway were asked how they determined if search results were accurate. Some said that they compared answers between sites— in other words, if the same answer appeared elsewhere, they assumed it was accurate and reliable, a strategy journalists refer to as “triangulating.” This was not necessarily a bad strategy; however, few participants said they paid much or any attention to the source, URL, author, date, or publication type (e.g., they did not distinguish between user forums such as Yahoo message boards and actual published articles). The web also validates and provides access to amateur voices alongside professional and learning how to interpret these distinct perspectives is an important skill students need to learn within a participatory media culture. Jasmine (16 years old; multiracial8) said “You can just tell if a site looks right or not.” Javier (18 years old, Mexican immigrant) agreed: “You have to use common sense [when determining if a source is accurate].” These are not misinformed strategies—common sense and triangulating information can be effective approaches to validating information online (what Rheingold refers to as “crap detection”). However, there were missed opportunities for developing deeper critical digital media literacy that extend beyond deciphering validity and accuracy.
Google has become easier and easier to use, and search results are increasingly more reliable, but discerning valuable information is not an innate skill. Contrary to the “digital native” discourse, which presumes that young people naturally know how to use digital media tools, research indicates that young people often lack critical thinking and literacy skills necessary to mindfully navigate the web (Oblinger and Oblinger 2005); instead such skills must be intentionally and actively honed through experience and teaching (Ito et al. 2010; Lange 2014; Rheingold 2012). For example, while discussing Google with student participants, few acknowledged that they utilized advanced search features, such as placing phrases in quotation marks or using a dash to filter out results they did not want.9 Most recognized and acknowledged that not everything online was valid and accurate, but they struggled to articulate their own strategies for finding, evaluating, and deciphering information. Critical digital literacy is where formal education can intervene, because teachers have a valuable opportunity to guide learning and foster critical digital literacy in meaningful ways.
Wikipedia is a free collaborative user-generated online database that virtually anyone can have access to and contribute to. Its name derives from the Hawaiian word “wiki” (which means “quick’) and the Greek suffix “pedia” (which is related to learning, as in “encyclopedia”). Wikipedia’s very name implicates its value as a source for quick learning. The entries are created and edited by users all around the world. Wikipedia’s collaborative nature makes it a contentious site of debate in the classroom, and understandably educators are concerned that students may over-rely on it as a source of information without questioning the implications of how the knowledge was produced. Wikipedia provides opportunities to explore the construction of knowledge in ways that traditional sources do not. Parker argues (2010, p. 68) that this is precisely the educational value of Wikipedia: “not only does it bring to our attention the construction of media … but also our ability to change it.” At Freeway, though, Wikipedia was rarely incorporated into the classroom in pedagogically beneficial ways.
Most students at Freeway used Wikipedia for looking up personal interests, but few admitted to using it for school work. This can partially be attributed to the fact that several participants noted that teachers outright discouraged the use of Wikipedia for school. Only a few participants reported engaging with Wikipedia in more advanced ways, such as clicking on embedded links, checking cited sources, or viewing the editing history. The “History” and “Discussion” tabs on each Wikipedia entry provide students with access to how and why information is generated on the entry’s main page. Unlike other online sources or school databases, Wikipedia allows students access to the “backstage” production of knowledge. According to boyd (2007b), “The key value of Wikipedia is its transparency. You can understand how a page is constructed, who is invested, what their other investments are. You can see when people disagree about content and how, in the discussion, the disagreement was resolved.” Parker (2010) suggests that teachers can lead classroom exercises that help students explore the discussion and history tabs on Wikipedia entries in order to discuss and analyze the construction of knowledge. Discussing the construction of information leads to deeper understandings about power and representation, which are key facets of critical digital literacy. Largely absent from any of the interviews I conducted with teachers or students was a focus on encouraging students to contribute to Wikipedia. The value of the participatory web lies in students’ ability to not only consume information, but to also contribute to knowledge production. Diving deeper into the back pages of Wikipedia also provides an opportunity for students to correct or add their own knowledge to a topic or debate.
There were some students at Freeway High—among them Sergio (18 years old, Mexican-American)—who viewed Wikipedia as a resource rather than an authoritative text. Sergio explained: “Sometimes people say don’t use Wikipedia because it’s not always accurate, but I’m not using it for accuracy. I’m using it more as a guide to compare one thing to another to see if they’re the same—similar—and that way I’ll understand. Wikipedia’s more like enlightenment, a little part of the subject, but then I’ll do more research.” Sergio constructed a learning ecology that tapped into the benefits of Wikipedia and simultaneously acknowledged its limitations. Other students avoided Wikipedia altogether (at least for formal educational purposes) because they were concerned it might not provide accurate information. Here we see evidence of harm-driven expectations actively shaping and limiting students’ learning ecologies, instead of helping them navigate the site with confidence and critical awareness.
Avoiding Wikipedia simply because it might be wrong reflects Fabos’ (2004) argument that digital media require us to approach texts beyond a framework of “accurate” and “inaccurate,” but that we must aim to understand the broader context in which the information is embedded and accessed. Critical digital literacy involves considering what purposes a text serves, as well as the ability to interpret its mode of production. Sergio’s use of Wikipedia as a starting point for further research demonstrated his ability to critically engage with Wikipedia in a productive way. But by not incorporating Wikipedia into the classroom, teachers missed a valuable opportunity to dissect and analyze various modes of knowledge production, collaboration, and collective intelligence. Wikipedia is a space that invites ontological questions: How do we know what we know? How do we prove it? Whose voices are validated and allowed in different discourses of knowledge production? But rather than using Wikipedia as a site for critical digital media lessons, teachers frequently reified harm-driven expectations and dismissed it as unreliable, and therefore as inherently lacking value. Of course, Wikipedia does include some misinformation—but this is all the more reason why students ought to learn strategies and skills for finding and interpreting information online.
Wikipedia is only one example of the ways in which literacy needs to move beyond questions of reliability to also include questions of power, production, and ideology. Such skills should not only be taught in artificial simulations—that is, through pre-fabricated lesson plans—but should also be incorporated into real-time classroom situations that inevitably arise as students seek out information in formal learning environments. Of course these modes of learning would be more easily facilitated if students were encouraged to use their own mobile devices during class (see chapter 4) and if online searches were not strictly limited by CIPA filters. Many teachers encouraged students to rely on resources officially approved by the school district, rather than working with them to teach real-world critical digital literacy that bridges formal and informal modes of learning.
To bring literacy discussions into conversation with discourses of risk, it is important to consider not only what material was blocked by school filters but also what content was not blocked by filters. Julie Frechette encourages us to think about cyber-safety and critical digital literacy within a broader context of critical media education. She argues that cyber-safety discourses exploit vulnerable parents and educators:
The discourse of cyber-safety and cyber-censorship manufactures consent through a hegemonic force that overlooks the invasion of online advertising or marketing strategies targeted at children. … I contend that the mainstream articulation of cyber-paranoia attempts to reach the consent of parents and educators by asking them to see some internet content as value-laden (i.e. nudity, sexuality, trigger words, or adult content) while disguising the interests and authority of profitable commercial and computer industries (in the form of advertising, marketing, tracking, and filters). (2006, pp. 149–150)
If we were to truly block out all potentially harmful information, then filters would also block advertisements aimed at exploiting teens’ insecurities (e.g., diet ads, beauty products, etc.), such advertisements are intent on capitalizing on students’ insecurities. The classroom should be a space that is free from the exploitation of teens’ online practices and potentially low self-esteem. Additionally, if we were to truly try to protect against harm then filters would prohibit websites from collecting data about students; data that is sold and traded as a way to profit from students’ online activities at school.10 Harm-driven expectations position some content—namely sexual content or misinformation—as inherently risky, but distracts us from considering the motivations of commercial software, databases, and advertising that are also potentially harmful to youth. This kind of information is not blocked via commercially profitable filters. It is technologically possible for filters to block online advertising and data collection, but both practices are presented as value-neutral or as unavoidable aspects of the web. Failure to block advertisements and data tracking highlights the importance of questioning how risks are socially constructed and emphasizes the power of harm-driven expectations to neutralize or sublimate other problems.
One way teachers could incorporate questions of power into critical digital literacy lesson plans is to have students look up the same information on Google and then compare it to the school’s library resources and discuss what the differences are—and, importantly, why information is different. This could involve not only discussing information accuracy and the value of amateur perspectives, but would also consider elements of design, ownership, motivations, advertisements, and the values or connotations therein. Additionally, all students could look up the same information online using the same search engine; due to personalized algorithms students would inevitably get different search results. Comparing students’ differing search results and advertisements is an opportunity to discuss echo chambers, personal biases, and to make visible the power of algorithms to influence access to information. Understandably teachers, librarians, and students were often critical of CIPA filters that blocked access to valuable and educational content (which I also argue limits critical media literacies), but Frechette’s point cannot be understated: filters are not only significant because of what they block, but also because of what they present as innocuous (e.g., commercial interests). So long as filters are left to third-party or profit-making companies “then educators, librarians, and parents need to ensure that they serve the public interests, rather than private commercial interest” (Frechette 2006, p. 170). I would add that, so long as filters are produced by profit-making companies, schools should strive to play an active role in empowering students to understand the full context and motivations of the information they encounter online. Schools have a responsibility to equip students to challenge hegemonic ideologies that overlook the proliferation of consumer culture online and in schools. Risk discourses and policies that focus on predators, pornography, and inappropriate (sexual) content serve to silence other value-laden concerns such as advertising, data collection personalized search results, and exploitation. By failing to acknowledge and validate students’ preferred information-seeking behaviors, such as Google and YouTube, schools miss out on important everyday opportunities to incorporate critical digital literacy skills into the classroom.
Another way schools could actively help students develop critical digital literacy would be for teachers and students to consume and evaluate news information together in real time. During the time of the study, Trayvon Martin—an unarmed black teenager in Florida—was shot and killed by a neighborhood watchman named George Zimmerman. This story made headlines across the nation and particularly resonated with some of the students at Freeway High, a significant portion of whose students were black. Some students were upset or scared in the wake of the incident, and their anger and frustration were exacerbated when Zimmerman was not arrested or charged with a crime. The lack of justice propelled Martin’s killing to national news as (black) activists across the country called for justice. Once the story was in the national spotlight, media outlets insinuated and perpetuated the idea that Trayvon looked suspicious because he was wearing a dark hoodie (Graeff, Stempeck, and Zuckerman 2014). Schools and protesters across the nation appropriated the hoodie as a sign of solidarity for Trayvon and as a call for justice (Weeks 2012). Along with other schools across the nation, students at Freeway High staged a “hoodie day” in memory of Trayvon Martin. For several weeks, some students at Freeway discussed the developing details of the incident and the lack of justice. When they were asked where they received information about the situation, the most frequent answers referred to some combination of parents, peers, and social media.
Some students reported discussing the situation in class; however, none of them reported using the Internet or social media in class to seek out more information about the case or protests. Cassandra (18 years old, biracial) explained: “[Martin’s death] was big at school. Like, we had a hoodie day at our school for him. Like, we talk about it in our classes. And a lot of the kids are getting involved in the conversation, ’cause I guess, I mean, everybody knows about it.” After Zimmerman was not initially arrested, Martin’s family created a Change.org petition to urge law enforcement to seek justice for Trayvon; the petition became the fastest-growing campaign in the site’s history (Ehrlich 2013). Many of the students at Freeway, along with most of the nation, learned about Martin’s initially silenced murder via social media. (His death gained national attention after Martin’s family and attorneys created the petition and tried to fight for justice. See Graeff, Stempeck, and Zuckerman 2014.) Beyond the details of the murder, Martin’s death sparked a broader conversation about racial tensions, injustices, and biases in US culture and news. Rather than merely learning where and how to access accurate information, students were turning to social media to make sense of what was happening on a larger cultural scale of racial politics in the United States. Cassandra recounted a conversation from one of her classes:
Somebody would say, like, “If that was black man that shot a black man, it wouldn’t be on the news.” If it was a white man who shot a white man, it wouldn’t be on the news. But it was a white man who shot a black kid, so that’s why it’s so big and a topic and stuff. … Like, I can see what they mean when it’s a different situation to the news than a white man shooting a white man or a black man shooting a black man. ’Cause black people are stereotyped as gangsters and, like, ghetto. And he had his hood on and it was the nighttime. … There’s still people that are racists, and there’s still people that might not be racists but, like, they stereotype races, which is still kind of racist because not all races are that stereotype that people think they are or whatever.
Cassandra struggled to articulate her thoughts about the incident as she attempted to understand how media perpetuate particular racial stereotypes. She rightfully points out that traditional print and television news have a long history of propagating stereotypes and promoting racial biases (Dixon and Maddox 2005; Mastro 2009; Oliver 2003; Peffley, Shields, and Williams 1996). These biases and prejudices are further complicated on participatory platforms such as Twitter, where everyday citizens can voice opinions and provide context alongside journalists, politicians, celebrities, and activists. Social media, and specifically Twitter, became a popular space for people to articulate and express the injustices and biases of Trayvon’s murder (Jurkowitz and Vogt 2013). Some have gone so far as to argue that Trayvon’s death sparked a new generation of (black) activism (Smith 2014), which has largely used social media such as Twitter and Tumblr as a way to organize and share their views.
The school had a unique opportunity to not only help students evaluate the accuracy of online information (albeit important), but to also help them navigate a multitude of mediated ideologies, perspectives, and emotions that eventually became the foundation of the #BlackLivesMatter movement. As part of helping students navigate the emotions and information, they also could have helped students learn how to contribute their voices and perspectives in safe and valuable ways. During the time of this study history was being made, in large part as a result of the murder of an unarmed black teenager—something that influenced the teens at Freeway. They were seeking guidance—and the school provided spaces for dialog—but they did not help students navigate the plethora of information they were encountering online. There was a unique opportunity to help students not only decipher between accurate information and misinformation, but also to understand how social media contributes to larger conversations and activist movements. There was a missed opportunity to help student students view themselves as agents of change, to help them learn how they could actively participate in the dialog, and how to get involved in an emerging movement that resonated with their lives.11 In other words, an opportunity to expand critical digital literacy beyond consumption, to active online civic participation.
The purpose of this example is to illustrate the ways particular modes of literacy are inhibited by harm-driven expectations of control (and policies of panic), which in turn hinder students’ abilities to fully engage with digital media tools and resources in a participatory culture. As Watkins poignantly states (2012, p. 9), “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.” I too see critical digital literacy as more than just access and skillsets, but as a way to close equity gaps and empower students to civically engage online and in their local spheres of influence. Critical digital literacy exceeds beyond the limits of critical consumption, but also enables, encourages, and empowers young people to actively participate in the creation of knowledge and information—to be part of their own mediated cultures and publics. In this way, I also echo Kellner’s (1998, pp. 103–104) conceptualization of critical pedagogy:
Media literacy involves teaching the skills that will empower citizens and students to become sensitive to the politics of representations … and the need to cultivate a wide range of types of critical literacies to deal with the exigencies of the cultural and technological revolution in which we are currently involved, ranging from computer literacy to multimedia literacy to new forms of cultural literacy. Such concerns are part of a critical pedagogy that summons educators, students, and citizens to rethink established curricula and teaching strategies to meet the challenge of empowering individuals to participate democratically in our increasingly multicultural and technological society.
The social-justice reaction to Trayvon Martin’s death provided an opportunity for the school to focus on the potential of social media to facilitate literacy development and student activism. Instead the example highlights the ways in which policies that block social media actually limited the role of teachers to empower students to participate in an increasingly mediated society.
It is problematic that students have received mixed messages regarding the school’s view of digital media: on the one hand they were told that mastering technology and online tools could provide a pathway to future success (see chapter 7), and on the other they were told they were not trustworthy enough to fully engage with digital media and online resources. Prensky (2008, p. 43) argues that schools are overly focused on teaching the past—and by extension, skills and literacies from the past—rather than on preparing students for future careers, intellect, and knowledge: “[If schools were future-oriented] students would be learning and practicing such future-oriented skills as collaborating around the world electronically and learning to work and create in distributed teams.” Such collaborative, global, and future-oriented skills are exactly what some of the technology teachers were trying to do (as will be discussed in chapter 7), but policies that restricted access often prohibited teachers from fully incorporating critical digital literacies into the classroom.
What is important here is to connect how historical fears and policies of panic mobilize harm-driven expectations that effectively limit the incorporation of critical digital literacy in the classroom. Policies that restricted access to online content—from objectionable material to social media—prevented students from practicing the kinds of critical literacies and skills they need as active citizens and will need in their future careers. Some students, but by no means all students at Freeway High were adept at working around access restrictions (see chapter 4). Students who broke the rules to bypass filters risked getting into trouble and students who did not or could not work around restrictions were barred from accessing potentially valuable content. It is also important to remember that restrictive policies do not affect all students equally, but students with limited online access outside of school were further marginalized as a result of blocked content. Students who relied on school as their primary point of access were barred from opportunities to develop and practice the essential skills they needed to participate as 21st-century learners. School ought to be an equalizer for students and provide access and opportunities not afforded in the home (thus alleviating families of the burden of providing equitable resources), yet restrictive policies have the potential to exacerbate (digital) inequities by denying economically disadvantaged students access to tools and resources they need.
This chapter has also demonstrated that controlling access to objectionable content is always a socially constructed and value-laden choice. Blocking access to sexually explicit content or controlling access to authoritative and verified information may have reduced some risks, but they also exacerbated other risks—such as missed opportunities to participate in the creation of collective knowledge and online activism. If we look for ways that the Internet can be harmful, we will find them. Yet policies of panic frame information as something that students must be protected from, rather than as part of a networked culture in which students can also actively participate. The construction of content as something students passively consume is archaic and out of date with the affordances of digital media and participatory culture. Rheingold (2013, p. 218) explains that “a participatory culture in which most of the population see themselves as creators as well as consumers of culture is far more likely to generate freedom and wealth for more people than one in which a small portion of the population produces culture that the majority passively consume.” It is important to remember that Wikipedia is not just for static information consumption, but is a way for students to contribute to and analyze the construction of knowledge. Twitter and social media are spaces for critical public activism, open dialog, and the privileging of amateur voices alongside expert opinions. Policies must expand beyond one-way understandings of information and instead embrace the participatory nature of knowledge and students’ contributions.
Finally, and equally important, harm-driven expectations that aim to avoid risk fail to help young people identify and manage risks on their own. Outside of the authoritarian school environment, many students have access to and come across potentially inappropriate content on a regular basis. Schools should equip students with the literacies necessary to intentionally and safely navigate risky online spaces. Mr. Lopez, a teacher whose views stood out in stark contrast to the official school policies explained: “I just think we need to have more balance [in our approach] so we can truly empower students to learn how to think. I think there’s so much information out there now because of the Internet, you really have to teach people how to think and how to utilize that information to solve our world’s problems.” Schools must help build trust and dialog between students and adults so they will feel comfortable seeking guidance. We cannot create a risk-free environment—at school or elsewhere. Instead we must empower young people to understand how to manage the risks they will inevitably encounter. To do this we must stop conflating risk and harm. That students may encounter inappropriate content does not necessarily mean they will be harmed by it. We must acknowledge teens’ emerging sexualities and equip them to search for resources and information, rather than shame them for it. And we must validate students’ civic identities in ways that empower them to participate in online spaces not as passive recipients but as active citizens who can confidently navigate networked publics. Blocking access to valuable and educational content does not insulate students from the potential harms they may encounter online, but it could lead to greater inequities and missed opportunities. We must approach online content with expectations of opportunity, rather than fear and control. Equitable access is not just a goal, but a right.