Heroes of the 2010s: The Group Chat

Each one feels like small but treasured membership.

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The staff of Mother Jones is rounding up the decade’s heroes and monsters. Find them all here.

Throughout the 2010s, one by one, the most popular social media platforms failed their users. There was Twitter’s inability to mount from the outset a forceful opposition to online abuse. Instagram trapped a post-recession generation into a culture of anxiety-fueled online performance, with capitalism reaping profit from those anxieties. Facebook, of course, killed newsrooms and later morphed into one of the biggest threats to democracies all over the world.

But somewhere in between, the quiet rise of the group chat offered a delightful, even necessary break from the garbage. They’re private enough to spare you from morning-after, anxiety-ridden regret yet still social and fun, almost always harmless. Each one feels like small but treasured membership. A coworker somehow wronged you? Alert the chat and someone is bound to tell that coworker to burn in hell; the mood is momentarily uplifted. Burning with dumb gossip that needs to be unloaded somewhere, anywhere? Dump it into a chat. Annoyed with one group chat? Talk shit about it in another—that’s the real gold standard of group-chatting. The moments I love are the most useless ones: memes, anything reinforcing the notion I tell myself of how great it is to be on the old side of millennial, bad outfits, whatever. 

Of course, the group chat has its own bummers. Someone is usually peacocking; it can replace direct, one-on-one interaction. Hell, Facebook now owns the biggest platform of group chats, WhatsApp. But for now, the group chat has accomplished what all those other bad platforms promised to do: connect in an increasingly disconnected, fragmented, god-awful world. The group chat is one of the last redoubts of that old way of being online—it’s where we can surround ourselves with likeminded people without feeling exposed or oversurveilled or commodified within an inch of our lives. Here’s hoping we have a lot less Facebook in our lives in the next decade and a lot more group chats.

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WE'LL BE BLUNT

It is astonishingly hard keeping a newsroom afloat these days, and we need to raise $253,000 in online donations quickly, by October 7.

The short of it: Last year, we had to cut $1 million from our budget so we could have any chance of breaking even by the time our fiscal year ended in June. And despite a huge rally from so many of you leading up to the deadline, we still came up a bit short on the whole. We can’t let that happen again. We have no wiggle room to begin with, and now we have a hole to dig out of.

Readers also told us to just give it to you straight when we need to ask for your support, and seeing how matter-of-factly explaining our inner workings, our challenges and finances, can bring more of you in has been a real silver lining. So our online membership lead, Brian, lays it all out for you in his personal, insider account (that literally puts his skin in the game!) of how urgent things are right now.

The upshot: Being able to rally $253,000 in donations over these next few weeks is vitally important simply because it is the number that keeps us right on track, helping make sure we don't end up with a bigger gap than can be filled again, helping us avoid any significant (and knowable) cash-flow crunches for now. We used to be more nonchalant about coming up short this time of year, thinking we can make it by the time June rolls around. Not anymore.

Because the in-depth journalism on underreported beats and unique perspectives on the daily news you turn to Mother Jones for is only possible because readers fund us. Corporations and powerful people with deep pockets will never sustain the type of journalism we exist to do. The only investors who won’t let independent, investigative journalism down are the people who actually care about its future—you.

And we need readers to show up for us big time—again.

Getting just 10 percent of the people who care enough about our work to be reading this blurb to part with a few bucks would be utterly transformative for us, and that's very much what we need to keep charging hard in this financially uncertain, high-stakes year.

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