The Beautiful Warriors. Technofeminist Praxis in the Twenty-First Century

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THE BEAUTIFUL WARRIORS
Technofeminist Praxis in the
Twenty-First Century
Edited by Cornelia Sollfrank

The Beautiful Warriors. Technofeminist Praxis in the Twenty-First Century
Edited by Cornelia Sollfrank
ISBN 978-1-570-27-365-0
Cover design by Cornelia Sollfrank and Janine Sack, based on a visual from the
performance À la recherche de l’information perdue (Sollfrank, 2018)
Interior layout by Margaret Killjoy
Released by Minor Compositions 2020

Colchester / New York / Port Watson
Minor Compositions is a series of interventions & provocations drawing from

autonomous politics, avant-garde aesthetics, and the revolutions of everyday life.
Minor Compositions is an imprint of Autonomedia

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CONTENTS
Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
Cornelia Sollfrank
Translated by Valentine A. Pakis
Feminist Hacking. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19
Resistance through Spaciality
Sophie Toupin
Creating New Worlds . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35

With Cyberfeminist Ideas and Practices
Text compiled by Spideralex
Translated by Cornelia Sollfrank
Codes of Conduct. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57
Transforming Shared Values into Daily Practice
Femke Snelting
The Feminist Principles of the Internet . 73
or the personal_collective story of imagining and making
#feministinternet
Text by hvale vale
Feminist Principles of the Internet –

Version 2.0 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83
Author: Association for Progressive Communication APC
Publication date: August 2016
Viral Performances of Gender . . . . . . . . 89

Christina Grammatikopoulou
Techno-Ecofeminism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111
Nonhuman Sensations in Technoplanetary Layers
Yvonne Volkart
Translated by Rebecca van Dyck
Stirring the Embers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137

Preliminary Critical Notes on Xenofeminism
Isabel de Sena
Bios. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149
PREFACE
Cornelia Sollfrank
Translated by Valentine A. Pakis
“We have to become practiced in warfare. That

means nothing less than fighting for certain worlds
and against others – for particular ways of living
and being in the world, and not others. And this
is exactly what it means to revolt. To be for certain
things and against others is a sort of “war of the
worlds,” but it is war as part of a proposition
for peace, a proposition that is not without
danger. […] We are still able to change things,
but the time to act is short. And we will know
all too soon whether there can be peace at all.”
– Donna Haraway
“There’s no need to fear or hope, but

only to look for new weapons.”
– Gilles Deleuze
1
2 // The Beautiful Warriors
“Men and things exchange properties and

replace one another; this is what gives
technological projects their full savor.”
–Bruno Latour
“The new planetary consciousness will

have to rethink machinism.”
– Félix Guattari
“Pick up again the long struggle against

lofty and privileged abstraction. Perhaps
this is the core of revolutionary process.”
– Adrienne Rich
What relation do technology and gender have with one an-

other? How are they mutually produced in ever-new configurations?
Can they even be thought of as two separate categories? And is it not
necessary to bring a series of additional agents into play in order to
provide a more complete picture?
This volume brings together a selection of current technofeminist
positions from the fields of art and activism. Since the cyberfeminism
of the 1990s, new ways of thinking and acting have proliferated, of-
ten as a reaction to new forms and dimensions of exploitation and
discrimination. Issues have expanded from a purely informational di-
mension and its emancipatory potential into a material dimension.
Questions of technology are now bound together with questions of
ecology and the economy. Online and offline are no longer separate
spheres, but have rather become a single continuum. Art may func-
tion symbolically with images, metaphors, and narratives, but it also
crosses and partially obscures the limits of activism. For its part, activ-
ism is an expression of protest against technocapitalist excess – it is an
effort to pursue new tools, instruments, and places to enable common
activity, common learning, and common unlearning. Despite the
great variety of existing positions, there is nevertheless something that
binds them together; they all negotiate gender politics with reference
to technology, and they all understand their praxis as an invitation to
take up their social and aesthetic interventions, to carry on, and never
Preface // 3
give up. Those involved are diverse: activists and collectives working
under pseudonyms, but also artists and other producers of knowl-
edge both within and outside of academic disciplines. Their practices
are networked, but often in the stratified, parallel universes of inter-
national art scenes, academic theory and research (primarily in the
global North), political activism (primarily in the global South), and
the techno-underground. To gather such diverse views into a single
volume is to traverse many territories and cross many borders – all to
pursue the possibility of thinking and acting in common.
The term technofeminism serves to designate these diverse practices
but also – through their proximity in this book – to bring them into
contact and encourage exchange. Coined in Judy Wajcman’s book of
the same name,1 the concept denotes speculative and queer positions
that – both in theory and in practice – question the coded relation
between gender and technology. Wajcman locates technofeminism at
the intersection of science and technology studies (STS) and feminist
technology studies. In particular, technofeminism is interested in ex-
amining how gender relations and the hierarchy of sexual difference
influence scientific research and technological innovation and how
the latter, in turn, influence the constitution of gender. Translated
into technofeminist practices in everyday life, this means no less than
struggling for a more just and livable world for everyone in today’s
technoscientific culture.
Throughout, Donna Haraway looms in the background. More
than 30 years ago, we learned from her that there is hardly any chance
of living outside of technologies – this was not something that she
lamented but, on the contrary, always understood as an opportunity.
Accordingly, her feminist critique of the technosciences did not lead
to an anti-scientific or technophobic attitude. Rather, it called for a
more comprehensive, robust, and true science; a science with clear
points of view; and a reconceptualization of science and technology
to serve emancipatory ends. Haraway made essential contributions
to the deconstruction of scientific knowledge as historically patriar-
chal, and she demonstrated that science and technology are close-
ly linked to capitalism, militarism, colonialism, and racism. At the
heart of her anti-essentialist approach is the critique of the alleged
objectivity of scientific knowledge. Instead of understanding science
1 Judy Wajcman, TechnoFeminism (Cambridge, UK: Polity, 2004).

as disembodied truth, Haraway stresses its social aspects, including

its potential to create narratives. According to Judy Wajcman, “For
Haraway science is culture in an unprecedented sense. Her central
concern is to expose the “god trick,” the dominant view of science as a
rational, universal, objective, non-tropic system of knowledge.”2 This
entails questioning dichotomous categories such as science/ideology,
nature/culture, mind/body, reason/emotion, objectivity/ subjectivity,
human/machine, and physical/metaphysical on the basis of their in-
herent hierarchical functions. Especially relevant for technofeminist
thinking is Haraway’s deconstruction of the “natural” as a cultural
praxis. Her concept of “situated knowledge” can be regarded as a fem-
inist epistemology that recognizes its own contingent and localized
foundations, as well as the contingent and localized foundations of
other forms of knowledge. Haraway’s concept of the cyborg offered
a concrete conceptual tool for rethinking socialist-feminist politics in
the age of technosciences.3 It became an icon for the dissolving bor-
ders between the biological and the cultural, between the human and
the machine, and thus a symbol for the queering of old dichotomies,
for it was only beyond previously conceived boundaries that new
forms of social and political praxis would be possible. The artificiality
of corporality, the collective nature of the cyborg’s subjectivity, and its
inherent politics of interconnectivity were essential inspirations for
cyberfeminism.4
The conditions of digital, networked technologies inspired the
cyberfeminism of the 1990s and fuelled it to proclaim undreamt-of
techno-hybrid identities and thus to evoke a new and intimate rela-
tionship between women and technology. Subsequent criticism of the
dangerous essentialism of the early approaches by Sadie Plant and the
VNS Matrix or of the insufficient political self-identification of the
Old Boys Network fail to recognize just how effective the concept
2 Ibid., 83.
3 Donna Haraway, “A Cyborg Manifesto: Science, Technology, and Socialist-
Feminism in the Late Twentieth Century,” in Simians, Cyborgs, and Women: The
Reinvention of Nature, by Haraway (New York: Routledge, 1991), 149-181.
4 See Karin Harrasser, “Herkünfte und Milieus der Cyborg,” in Die Untoten: Life
Sciences & Pulp Fiction (Hamburg: Kampnagel, 2011), http://www.untot.in-
fo/65-0-Karin-Harrasser-Herkuenfte-und-Milieus-der-Cyborgs.html (accessed
August 23, 2018).
Preface // 5
and the (political) imaginaries associated with it actually were,5 even

though (or perhaps because) it kept away from any simplistic under-
standing of politics but instead pulled out all the stops for queering.
There was never a cyberfeminism or the cyberfeminism but rather a
multitude of feminist, techno-utopian visions from a variety of dis-
ciplines and with a wide range of content, and these visions found a
platform with the Old Boys Network, where they could become visi-
ble and develop in proximity to one another.6 After OBN discontin-
ued its activities in 2001, there was no longer an overarching forum.
The various practices retreated back to their respective contexts, which
weakened their ability to reach broader audiences.
Despite the vagueness associated with it, the concept of cyberfem-
inism has continued to play (or is yet again playing) an important
role in the search for new technofeminist approaches – be it as an
object of nostalgic romanticizing, as an object of critique directed to-
ward its inconsistent political strategies, or as a historical reference
to what was then a new era of combining technology and gender.
Accordingly, the new wave of interest in cyberfeminism, which be-
gan around 2014, is heterogeneous as well. Alongside uncritical and
nostalgic attempts to revive cyberfeminism without taking into ac-
count the techno-material and techno-political conditions that have
since changed,7 events such as the “Post-Cyberfeminist International”
or the “1st <Interrupted = ‘Cyfem and Queer’>” festival have aimed
5 See Wajcman, TechnoFeminism, 63; and Helen Hester’s discussion of “political

disidentification” in her essay “After the Future: n Hypotheses of Post-Cyber
Feminism,” Res (June 30, 2017), http://beingres.org/2017/06/30/afterthefu-
ture-helenhester/ (accessed August 23, 2018).
6 See Cornelia Sollfrank, “Revisiting the Future: Cyberfeminism in the 21st
Century,” in Across & Beyond: A Transmediale Reader on Post-Digital Practices,
Concepts, and Institutions, ed. Ryan Bishop et al. (Berlin: Sternberg Press,
2016), 228-47.
7 See, for instance, Sonja Peteranderl, “Die Pionierinnen des Cyberfeminismus
sagen den Tech-Cowboys den Kampf an,” WIRED Germany (June 2, 2015),
https://www.wired.de/collection/life/das-cyberfeminismus-kollektiv-vns-ma-
trix-macht-eine-kampfansage; and Claire L. Evans, “We Are the Future Cunt:
Cyberfeminism in the 90s,” Motherboard (November 20, 2014), https://mother-
board.vice.com/en_us/article/4x37gb/we-are-the-future-cunt-cyberfeminism-in-
the-90s (both articles accessed August 23, 2018).
to combine historical approaches with current practices and to for-

mulate new theoretical positions on the basis of praxis. Meanwhile,
an entirely independent concept of cyberfeminism has been devel-
oped in Latin America, for instance, where cyberfeminist activists
have explicitly defined themselves against their theoretical precursors
and have based their understanding of the term exclusively on their
own practices.8 Moreover, xenofeminism, which claims to designate a
consistent political approach, can likewise be regarded as an effort to
demarcate a clear position within (or perhaps away from) pluralistic
cyberfeminism.9
The new interest in cyberfeminism is a good starting point for pro-
moting urgently needed contextualizing engagement, for comparing
the historical positions of the 1990s with their current iterations, and
not least for examining the potential of the concept for approaches
that have yet to be developed. What can the concept of cyberfemi-
nism still accomplish today? Can it be adjusted to today’s changed
conditions, or would it be more sensible to abandon it in favor of new
concepts? In any case, it is necessary when using the term to provide
some indication of how it is being understood.
At any rate, the great techno-political transformations of recent
decades require us to remove our cyber-glasses for a moment and
look at the patch of earth where we are standing, and even though
our gaze is directed toward the future, it is necessary for us to look
around and see what is happening in our immediate vicinity, with
other bodies, other beings, and the inorganic and organic environ-
ment. Discourses such as new materialism and queer deconstruction
are working to “queer” powerful dichotomies and, by including new
agents, to change our understanding of the mechanisms that shape
reality. At issue is the “agency of things,” that is, the influential effects
of material that, though existing outside of language and independent
of human volition and behavior, encompasses human beings as ma-
terial reality – and not the other way around. Queer deconstruction
advances the feminist deconstruction of power relations by exposing
the mechanisms of “othering” and by expanding into new areas of
inquiry: gender, sex, disability, nature, non-human species, machines,
the socially and globally vulnerable, and other subalterns. How is the
8 See the contribution by Spideralex in this volume.

9 See the contribution by Isabel de Sena in this volume.
Preface // 7
other, that “is the ideological and cultural foundation for exploitation
and oppression,” constructed?10 “Whoever helps to shatter these dual-
istic hierarchies and move toward complex relations and interrelations
among actors is already – one could say – acting in a queer/feminist
or ecofeminist manner,”11 writes Yvonne Volkart, who proposes the
term techno-eco-feminism to convey her new theory about the inter-
play of ecological and technofeminist aspects. This new philosophical
movement involves thinking about technology not only in conjunc-
tion with (socio-)political and cultural, but also with material and
ecological categories.
Although certain figures of thought associated the term tech-
no-eco-feminism with new materialism, and the methods of queer
deconstruction may be new, their underlying idea of creating a con-
nection between various ecologies – environment/ecology, the so-
cial ecology, and the mental ecology – was already present in Félix
Guattari’s writings from the 1980s.12 Among other things, Guattari’s
“ecosophy” is an appeal to expand our notion of what ecologies con-
tain and, by conceptually integrating previously separate spheres,
to place something in opposition to the prevailing active and pas-
sive destruction of the environment and the “reductive approach of
scientism.” Genuine transformation is not possible without under-
standing the inherent connections between these different spheres
and without acknowledging that the construction of their separation
is an instrument of power. Guattari attributed a central role to the
then widely imagined potential of nascent interactive media – that
is, what we would call the internet today – for he believed that they
would liberate individuals from their passivity and enable new forms
of collective action. The precise extent to which these new media are
themselves embedded in the ideological, power-political, and materi-
al conditions that created and configured them would only come to
light with their global dissemination. And it is precisely these factors
that the technofeminism of the early twenty-first century had set out
10 Quoted from Yvonne Volkart’s article in this volume.

11 Ibid.
12 See Félix Guattari, The Three Ecologies, trans. Ian Pindar and Paul Sutton (London:
Athlone Press, 2000 [originally published in 1989]); and idem, “Remaking Social
Practices,” trans. Sophie Thomas, in The Guattari Reader, ed. Gary Genosko
(Oxford: Blackwell, 1996), 262-72.
to examine. Just as nothing can exist outside of technology, technolo-

gy itself is always permeated by the conditions of its origination.
As mentioned above, another important precursor to today’s tech-
nofeminist positions is Donna Haraway, who not only paved the way
with her early works but has also, with what she abbreviates as “SF”
(which can stand for both “science fiction” and “speculative feminism”),
spent the last thirty years gaining intriguing and inspiring perspectives
from apparently hopeless, man-made catastrophe scenarios. In her most
recent books, she focuses on what she calls the “Chthulucene” to de-
velop the idea of an age of “sympoiesis” – an era characterized by the
togetherness and cooperation of multiple species (humans included) –
and thus she has not only contributed to the decentering of the subject,
but has also supplemented certain new-materialist approaches to un-
derstanding the material world of both human and non-human “na-
ture.”13 Out of cyberfeminism, which has been concerned above all with
the opportunities of deterritorialization and immaterialization, certain
overarching, interlocking, and transversal positions have developed that
are no longer content to operate simply with symbols and information
in virtual space but are rather interested in integrating diverse spaces
and qualities in an effort to improve life itself.
Their differences aside, what all of these new transgressive, inter-
sectional, and integrative movements have in common is an attitude
of care or concern. In many ways, they are caring, worrying, ready to
take responsibility, anchored in the here and now, and on the lookout
for new types of relations. While searching for answers to global and
local problems, engaging in scientific research, and devising techno-
logical solutions, this attitude of care contributes to the establishment
of a new form of knowledge, a knowledge that rejects objectivization
and is interested not only in observations and representations but also
in transformations – in forging relations with things, in being affect-
ed, and thus in changing itself and the world in a process of co-trans-
formation.14 Joan C. Tronto and Berenice Fischer have defined caring
13 See Donna Haraway, The Companion Species Manifesto: Dogs, People, and
Significant Otherness (Chicago: Prickly Paradigm Press, 2015); and eadem, Staying
with the Trouble: Making Kin in the Chthulucene (Durham, NC: Duke University
Press, 2016).
14 See Maria Puig de la Bellacasa, “Ein Gefüge vernachlässigter Dinge’,” in: Ökologien
der Sorge, ed. Tobias Bärtsch et al. (Vienna: transversal texts, 2017, 137-88.
Preface // 9
as “everything that we do to maintain, continue, and repair “our”

world so that we can live in it as well as possible. That world includes
our bodies, our selves, and our environment, all of which we seek to
interweave in a complex, life-sustaining web.”15 In light of technofem-
inist praxis, caring requires us to understand technological webs not
only as objects but also as nodes of social and political interest. It also
means that we have to intervene in the production of knowledge,
science, and technology.
Here, care abandons its traditional territory of reproduction and
begins to enter into a relationship with the complexities of technology
and technoscience – and particularly their destructive aspects. The
aim is to responsibly include everyone and everything involved in the
becoming of things, to expand anthropocentric politics, and thus to
do justice to the material meaning of caring. For this, it is necessary
to invent new connections between humans and machines, namely
connections based on relationships of care and concern.
In his essay “Remaking Social Practices,” Guattari acknowledges
that it can be difficult “to bring individuals out of themselves, to dis-
engage themselves from their immediate preoccupations, in order to
reflect on the present and the future of the world,”16 and he remarks
that the collective impulses to do so are lacking. The positions pre-
sented in this book are meant to provide these impulses. Each is com-
plex in itself and linked to its own network of references, discourses,
persons, and other agents. They are indicative of a diversity of (often
marginalized) experiences that are reflected not least in their hetero-
geneous formats and writing styles. Here, by way of summary, I can
only relate a few of their highlights.
Technofeminist Positions
Sophie Toupin describes feminist hacking as a dual expansion, though
one might also call it a “double hack.” On the one hand, it adds a
material dimension to traditional technofeminism, and on the other
hand it expands the concept of “hacking,” which typically refers to
15 This definition, which Tronto and Fischer formulated together, is quoted here
from Tronto’s book Moral Boundaries: A Political Argument for an Ethic of Care
(New York: Routledge, 1993), 103.
16 Guattari, “Remaking Social Practices,” 263.
technical categories such as software and hardware, to include “gen-

der” as an area of application. This movement is made possible by
understanding gender as technology. Gender is not thought of as
something (biologically) given, but rather as something that is always
being renewed by the heterogeneous cultural processes that make it
mutable. Proceeding from formational cultural techniques makes it
possible to steer conditions toward the production of the conditions
in question, that is, toward the processes that lead to their production.
The basis for this is an understanding of sex as technology, an un-
derstanding that Teresa de Lauretis (inspired by Foucault) transferred
to a “technology of gender” in the mid-1980s and thus contributed
in an essential manner to freeing gender from the binary conception
of sexual difference, replacing difference with heterogeneity, and re-
placing naturally given bodies with complex political strategies for
naturalization.17 “An understanding of gender and the human body as
technology,” according to Toupin, “makes the praxis of hacking much
more accessible because, for feminists, this is a more familiar point of
entry.” What is essential is that feminist hacking entails a combination
of technical competence, feminist principles, and socio-political en-
gagement. Here, unlike the case in traditional hacker environments,
technical competence is not something pursued for its own sake –
or for the sake of recognition within the meritocratic hierarchies of
hacker culture – but is rather a necessary precondition for promoting
emancipatory aspects when developing or dealing with technology.
Prominent feminist principles of the new hacker culture include col-
lectivity in the form of common action, informal and formal transfers
of knowledge on the basis of feminist pedagogy, and the production
of visibility – and not in the sense of individual or collective positions,
but rather in the sense of exposing hidden mechanisms of the techno-
logical realm, of the “off-spaces” that are never in the picture and yet
are constitutive for what is seen. Such things include the physical, eco-
nomic, and material structures in which technologies are embedded.
The foundation of this emancipatory and oppositional culture is a
redefinition of the relation between online and offline spaces, which is
in turn based on the production of its own new spaces and structures.
17 See Andrea Seier, Remediatisierung: Die performative Konstruktion von Gender und
Medien (Berlin: LIT, 2007), 26-32.
Preface // 11
Spideralex has put together a collective document for this publica-

tion. Through her activity for the Gender and Technology Institute,
which trains physical and psycho-social security, for a variety of activ-
ists, artivists, lawyers, journalists, and privacy advocates, she has had
the opportunity to collaborate with a number of diverse groups and
initiatives. For her text, she has chosen 24 positions that are repre-
sentative of Latin-American cyberfeminism. The ideas of the groups/
persons/initiatives come to expression in the form of quotations, to
which Spideralex has added comments of her own. The living con-
ditions to which the activists refer in their remarks and their descrip-
tions of quotidian violence are shocking testaments to multiple forms
of oppression: They live in postcolonial countries and have limited
access to education and careers; they live in political systems lack-
ing freedom of speech and thus under the influence of sinister alli-
ances between the drug mafia, the church, government corruption,
and machismo – alliances that are especially predisposed to repress
women and gender activists. Although attacks have been increasing
in the global North as well – both in their frequency and intensi-
ty18 – the manifold possibilities of digital communication seem to
have strengthened Latin America’s macho culture in a particular way.
Thus it is no surprise that the most important point of Spideralex’s
collection is concerned with (cyber-)feminist self-defense. Above all,
this means protection from violence, both online and offline. To this
end, the strategies of these cyberfeminists include emotional, physical
(martial arts), and technical support;19 the provision of safer spaces for
raising awareness and for common learning; and collective self-care.
The terms that recur frequently throughout the texts are “solidarity,”
“sorority” (sisterly love), “commonality,” and “collectivity,” concepts
that sound almost pathetic from a “comfortable distance,” that is, in
hyper-individualized, alienated, neoliberal, and post-capitalist indus-
trial societies where such words are flung around as empty formu-
las and at best seem to appear in marketing campaigns for consumer
products. Here, however, in light of the real threat to physical and
mental integrity, they are once again filled with meaning. Thus this
is not simply a matter of permanent struggle but of war – a war that
18 See Christina Grammatikopoulou’s contribution in this volume.

19 See https://gendersec.tacticaltech.org/wiki/index.php/Complete_manual (ac-
cessed August 24, 2018).
Latin-American cyberfeminists are willing to engage in on all levels.

Their understanding of cyberfeminism does not, as they repeatedly
stress, derive from their artistic and academic predecessors from the
global North, but is rather based on their praxis alone, a praxis that
has arisen first and foremost from their threatening circumstances.
That said, many of their practices and the concepts associated with
them exhibit a striking similarity to current academic discourses about
the expanded notions of ecology and care, as in the combination of
ecofeminism and technofeminism or in the economies of open access,
free software, and open content. Technology is no longer thought of
as a separate sphere but rather as being embedded in material and
ideological means of production. More than just a reaction to circum-
stances, their fight will not come to an end until, with furious deter-
mination, they actualize a vision of the future full of happiness and
devoid of fear. The path in that direction is not straight, however, but
will involve not only reflecting on but also transforming the material
conditions in which they and their actions are embedded.
A specific instrument for raising awareness of a given community’s
culture of communication – of its marginalizing or discriminatory
nature, for instance – is the so-called “code of conduct.” In her contri-
bution to this book, Femke Snelting reflects on her own experiences
in creating such a regulatory framework in the community of Libre
Graphics Meetings, and she examines the origins, orientation, and
specific features of this code in the case of certain free-software proj-
ects. Among other important things, such documents are intended
to promote inclusion and diversity, prevent assault and harassment as
much as possible, implement conflict-resolution strategies to prevent
escalation, and, in specific cases of misconduct, introduce punitive
measures. When codes of conduct are treated as living documents
and not simply as a way to transfer responsibility away from individ-
uals, they can in fact counteract inappropriate and harassing behavior
within the framework of a binding community, as is evident from a
number of feminist hacker initiatives. The author identifies their fem-
inist potential in the fact that working to produce such a document
creates a platform for self-reflection where everyone involved learns to
question his or her own behavior, to discuss and formulate common
values, and to translate these values into everyday practices. This does
not mean that a community will automatically become safer or more
diverse – despite the existence of such codes of conduct in the world
Preface // 13
of free software, 97% of the developers are still white and male – but
environments that have worked out a code of conduct have proved
to be more acutely aware of (and actively opposed to) discriminatory
and repressive behavior. A code of conduct can thus be seen as a sort
of invitation for diversity. The area of free software is closely attuned
to the power and influence of language; codes and programs, after all,
are nothing but behavioral instructions, and the step of reflecting and
drafting a code for one’s own behavior can of course be taken in many
other areas of life as well. Especially in the case of temporary events
and short-term projects, there is much need for self-reflection and for
the establishment of consistent codes of conduct in order to foster safe
and inviting conditions. The potential of these types of guidelines is
thus far from exhausted.
In the wake of the first German publication of the “Feminist
Principles of the Internet,” the activist hvale vale tells her story of
working on the project and provides insight into how the document
was created. The Association for Progressive Communications (APC)
undertook the initiative in 2014, when it invited more than fifty activ-
ists (mainly from the global South) to Malaysia. After several meetings
and a multi-year discussion process involving more than one hundred
women and representatives of the queer community, seventeen prin-
ciples were formulated by combining elements from the feminist hu-
man-rights movement and the internet-justice movement. The foun-
dations of these efforts were intersectionality and the assumptions
that technology and the internet are not neutral and that the internet
is not a tool but rather a space in which resistance is just as necessary
as it is elsewhere. The co-created document is understood to be a work
in progress – as a platform and a community – and anyone interested
is invited to participate in the translation and distribution of the prin-
ciples (or simply to “live by them”). In addition to demanding access
and economic solidarity, they also focus on promoting informational
and sexual self-determination: “They [the principles] are inscribed in
the digital age. They come in and out of the internet and in and out
of our bodies. They stand for feelings and pleasure, but also for justice
and rights.” Like every collective gesture that claims to be universal-
ly valid and yet is based on locality, embodiment, and diversity, the
“Feminist Principles of the Internet” and their internal contradictions
offer a productive basis for further work and further thinking.
In her text, Christina Grammatikopoulou investigates a series of

contemporary art and protest phenomena, which she refers to as vi-
ral performances of gender, and she classifies these performances ac-
cording to the strategies that each has employed. The projects chosen
for her analysis take place either exclusively online, where they test
out social media as new milieus for performative interventions, or
they operate in a combination of online and offline space in order
to experiment with the mutually conditioned dynamics of viral dis-
semination. The online performances address such themes as body
positivity, sexual assault, and gender stereotyping by blurring the lines
between true and false, between consent and manipulation. From her
many examples, Grammatikopoulou extracts two fundamental con-
cepts, which she refers to as “noise” and “virality.” Noise she defines
as “a manipulative communication strategy […] which, through the
conscious disruption or muddling of communication platforms, aims
to obfuscate or falsify information or a message for its receiver or to
spread false information.” The goal of the second strategy, virality, is
to have content spread horizontally and as widely as possible by users
themselves. For this to succeed, the content in question needs to have
a certain “quality” (it may, for instance, be humorous, provocative, or
simply catchy), but it also requires a feedback loop between bodies on
the street and online images, which in turn attract more people onto
the street. Grammatikopoulou positions all the various phenomena
of contemporary feminism that she has investigated along a spatial
continuum spanning from online to offline, a continuum which she
refers to as “expanded space.” Her insightful classification of today’s
feminisms is not, however, concerned with providing precise defini-
tions of content, and thus the question of where and how transfor-
mations have taken place is often left unanswered. Her goal is rather
to bring to light irresolvable contradictions – ambiguities between
activism and noise, between empowerment and self-objectification,
between consumer culture and political concerns – in order, in the
end, to claim that contemporary feminism has come to be defined by
precisely that: the blurring of formerly clear boundaries and relations.
Thus it is no surprise that many of the concepts and strategies that
she has identified are also being employed in other political circles by
anti-feminists of all sorts, a fact that raises, yet again, the old feminist
question concerning the interplay between structure and content …
Preface // 15
In her contribution, Yvonne Volkart opens up a new dimension

in the technofeminist debate. As indicated by the title of her article –
“Techno-Eco-Feminism” – she attempts to integrate two antagonistic
feminist approaches, ecofeminism and technofeminism, in order to
create a transversal space for thinking and acting that is based on rela-
tionality and is suited to the complex situation of the Anthropocene.
Proceeding from the threatening scenario of humankind’s potential
extinction, Volkart describes how the concerns of early ecofeminism
have been reformulated by current techno-ecological trends and how
these new concerns have inpired some of the most innovative ap-
proaches to leading a participatory life in today’s “naturecultures.”20
Although the ecofeminism of the 1970s anticipated the central postu-
lates of the debate about today’s ecological crises, its parallel treatment
of the oppression of women in the patriarchy and the exploitation of
nature (and the environmental destruction associated with it) often
led to essentialist statements about the social relations between na-
ture and gender. Especially as it was practiced in the United States,
ecofeminism presupposed a positive relationship between women and
nature (often with reference to women’s reproductive abilities), and
thus blamed men and their use of technology for the suppression and
exploitation of nature. The movement thus catered to controversy,
beckoned to be rejected, and fostered a generally critical and dismissive
attitude toward technology. Distancing themselves from this position,
European ecofeminists emphasized early on a social-constructivist un-
derstanding of gender and refrained from representing women as car-
ing and men as destructive and exploitative. More recent queer ecol-
ogies have taken this anti-essentialism further by deconstructing the
“naturalness” of biological reproduction processes and the production
of life. At the heart of this critique is not only the naturalization of
20 Coined by Donna Haraway, the term “natureculture” denotes the co-origination

of nature and culture. According to Christine Bauhardt, it represents an inter-
esting attempt “to dissolve the binary opposition of both constructs and give
linguistic expression to their essential inner connection.” See Christine Bauhardt,
“Feministische Ökonomie, Ökofeminismus und Queer Ecologies – Feministisch-
materialistische Perspektiven auf gesellschaftliche Naturverhältnisse,” Gender
Politik Online (April 2012), https://www.fuberlin.de/sites/gpo/pol_theorie/
Zeitgenoessische_ansaetze/Bauhardtfemoekonomie/Bauhardt.pdf (accessed
August 26, 2018).
gender and heterosexuality, but also a concern about developing spe-

cifically situated, “polychromatic” approaches to multispecies. Every
reference to natural “givens” is cast into question. For such thinkers,
“nature” is always preformed by the construction of a heteronorma-
tive gender binary, and it functions as a generalizing, compensatory,
and romanticizing antithesis to the use of technology in capitalism.
As Bauhardt has summarized: “The queer perspective dissolves the
unfortunate amalgamation of sexuality, nature, and gender in order
to negotiate the social conditions of reproduction on a new basis.”21
Eco-techno-feminism rounds out this discourse by including technol-
ogy – and techniques. As forms of biopower, capitalist technologies
themselves produce life. For this reason, they can no longer be regard-
ed, as they were in the 1970s, as instruments of liberation or oppres-
sion distinct from bodies, material, and the environment. Unsullied
nature does not exist, and there is nothing that can be called “the na-
ture” or “the technology.” Rather, there are only specific movements,
sedimentations, and interrelations in the manifold constellations of
technocultures, capital, and material entities. Thus it is essential to
expand our perspective to include the interactions of diverse sets of
agents. Materiality, which has hitherto been neglected, has come back
and been identified as having its own agency and influence.22 This act
of further decentering the subject involves understanding material as
living, artefactual, and relational.
Volkart develops her theory of queer-feminist, techno-ecological
relationality on the basis of contemporary works of art. In doing so,
she illustrates that the ways of thinking and acting associated with
these works derive from a feminist tradition, but that now, to the
extent that they pose “questions about coexistence, about plant and
animal rights, empathy and care, healing and repairing,” they have be-
gun “to enter into dominant theoretical and artistic discourses.” Not
least, this has also begun to affect everyday practices and activism.
Thinking about social and ecological crises together – a long neglected
process – is reflected in the desire for vitality, presence, affect, and re-
lationality from which transformational power can emerge in the face
of catastrophic scenarios.
21 Ibid.
22 See Karen Barad’s concept of “agential realism.”
Preface // 17
In the final chapter, Isabel de Sena initiates a long-overdue critique

of xenofeminism by taking a closer look at some of its fundamen-
tal tenets. The concept of xenofeminism, which is directly associated
with the Laboria Cuboniks collective and its manifesto, is a difficult
one to penetrate because of the affective language and the high level
of abstraction with which the group develops its theses. Active since
2014, and alternating between an artistic prank and a genuine politi-
cal movement, the group has performed at numerous events in the art
scene without yet invoking any serious objections to the content of
its work, which, as De Sena demonstrates, in part is not just extreme-
ly provocative, but also contrary to some basic feminist principles.
Here the author does what no one has done before: She takes the
concepts and theses of the manifesto seriously and gets to the bot-
tom of some of them. Although her piece is meant and formulated as
just a preliminary commentary – and not as a fundamental critique
– it quickly becomes clear that the many inconsistencies and contra-
dictions festering beneath the shiny, futuristic surfaces of their argu-
ments frustrate the xenofeminist demand for logic and reason. And
not only that: Despite its many original and discussion-worthy ideas,
it seems as though it would be difficult, if not impossible, to translate
xenofeminism into a praxis of any sort. The critique formulated here
hopes to instigate a dialog for the sake of transposing xenofeminism
and thus making it connectable to other (techno-)feminisms of the
21st century.
FEMINIST HACKING.
Resistance through Spaciality
Sophie Toupin
Ayesha1 sees herself as a feminist hacker. Her Twitter handle

is @FemHacking. Her influence on the net has been growing steadily
for some time now. Unfortunately, a group of people decided that
Ayesha was getting too much attention online, and made it their
mission to silence and discredit her. An army of trolls attacked her
for weeks, sending hurtful comments and messages to belittle her on
Twitter. She has even received email threats against her physical in-
tegrity. In response to this situation, Ayesha first contacted Twitter
to report the online violence she was experiencing, and then blocked
some of the people who were harassing her. She also used the “Block
Together” function to share blocked troll lists with other users on
1 Her name and pseudonym on Twitter have been changed to avoid revealing the
identity of the person.
19
Twitter, as well as the “Block Bot” function to block known stalkers

on Twitter. Moreover, her research on how she can react to the nega-
tive effects of trolls has led her to use Foxxydoxing, a script that helped
her analyse the connections between her attackers on Twitter.
Ayesha is not a neophyte of the web, nor of technology. She studied
at the Birla Institute of Technology and Science in Pilani and works as
a freelance programmer. She is familiar with the different tools she can
use to respond to an attack, as well as to protect her personal data. She
is also one of the co-founders of a feminist hackspace, a space where
queer and trans women meet to discuss feminist hacking, as well as to
organize training workshops such as feminist encryption (femcrypts),
cell phone jail breaking, mutual aid computer support, and other the-
matic workshops of all kinds. Her extensive knowledge and concrete
online actions have enabled her to make her self-defence against the
trolls more effective. And she also thought about responding directly
to trolls, but decided it might be too difficult to engage in this struggle
on her own.
During a meeting in the feminist hackspace she co-founded,
Ayesha shared her experience of online harassment with the aim of
finding other ways to solve the problem with the help of others. One
of her colleagues advised her to subscribe to the Gender and Tech
Institute (GTI) mailing list, which recently had announced the femi-
nist project ZeroTrollerance, which aims to “re-educate” trolls. In ad-
dition, the members of this list had initiated a solidarity action online
by creating feminist bots, i.e. computer scripts that allow automated
messages to be sent and trolls to be attacked collectively. The idea
behind this action was also to generate public debate, thus drawing
attention to this type of harassment.
The above example is not an isolated case. Many active feminists
who raise their voice on the Internet have become victims of online
harassment. In response to this violence, feminists from different back-
grounds are organizing collectively to address these situations. Thanks
to their actions, these experienced technofeminists are creating new
feminist resistance practices in the field of technology. Their collective
thinking, years of activism and technical skills also lead to the creation
of autonomous feminist infrastructures such as servers, discussion lists
and bots. When they speak of “infrastructures,” they refer to software
and hardware, but also spaces such as hackspaces as well as social and
technical solidarity. By using the term “autonomous,” they express
Feminist Hacking. // 21
their desire to rethink forms of resistance against a system of produc-

tion and values that they categorize as capitalist, racist and patriarchal
(Editor’s note, 2015).
Although some self-identify as technofeminists, feminist hacktiv-
ists, transhack feminists, makers or feminist geeks, they are increas-
ingly referred to the generic term “feminist hackers,” i.e. hackers who
engage in feminist hacking practices. The adjective “feminist” makes
the difference to the conventional “hacker” by indicating a specific
form of politicized practice.
My interpretation of feminist hacking practice, as I present it be-
low, is based on my own experience as a participant and/or co-orga-
nizer of the spaces, as well as an activist teacher and researcher in some
of the groups mentioned here. Thereafter, I turn my attention to fem-
inist hackspaces that are an integral part of the new feminist hacking
culture. Finally, this article aims to reveal some of the specificities of
feminist hacking by proposing key principles of their resistance prac-
tices and spatial effects, including the practice of working together,
the politics of visibility, the co-production of knowledge, solidarity
and awareness of the materiality of technology.
I would like to point out that many of the ideas in this article are
not the result of my unique observations, but rather of a co-produc-
tion of knowledge through many virtual and physical encounters in
which I have participated, and which have been spread over many
years. These ideas are the product of a collective reflection on what
feminist hacking means and what feminist hackspaces are. Whether
the meeting spaces are physical or virtual does not play an essential
role; what matters, in my opinion, is that the method of “doing it
together” is emphasized; all those who, through their years of collabo-
ration, dialogue, and countless contributions, have contributed to the
common production of knowledge, discourse, and practice, should
be recognized. Acknowledging co-production as part of the history
is part of a feminist approach that credits women, queers and trans-
gendered people for contributing their specific knowledge (Mohanty,
2003; Sandoval, 2000). However, I remain the sole author of this
article and my interpretation as well as the emphasis on certain as-
pects of this practice of resistance, are shaped by my own attitude and
subjectivity. In doing so, I anchor this article in a more classical liter-
ature review, as well as on documents created by feminist hackers. By
making visible the co-construction of knowledge, I wish to highlight
the symbiosis between practice and theory, in addition to recognizing

that the reflections and discussions that are at the very root of feminist
hacking practices are above all collective and always in motion.
Feminist Hackspaces
Gabriella Coleman describes the hacker and hacking much more
broadly. She defines it as “a technologist with a penchant for com-
puting” and hacking as “a clever technical solution arrived at through
non-obvious means” (Coleman, 2014: 1). Feminist hackers draw in-
spiration from this broad definition as a starting point, but extend the
concept by moving it away from technology and computer science
(Nguyen, Toupin and Barzell 2016; Toupin, 2013, 2014;). Their idea
is, first of all, to hack the concept of hacking itself and thus attract
the attention of all feminists who have little to do with hacking in the
technical sense. By understanding gender or the human body as tech-
nologies as well, as entities that can be hacked, i.e. transformed, they
are able to reach out to a group that would otherwise not be affected
by the traditional notion of hacking.
Considering gender or the human body as a technology (Sofia,
2000) makes hacking much more accessible by creating familiar en-
try points for feminists. Since gender can be culturally shaped and
reshaped by feminist hackers, digital technology can also be recoded
in a feminist way. According to this conception, the values embedded
in digital technologies as well as in gender can be reprogrammed. The
anchoring of this practice in everyday life and the use of a familiar
gender concept help to bring this practice within the reach of fem-
inists and arouse their interest. Thus, the idea of feminist hacking
has inspired many people to include body hacking or gender hack-
ing. Forlano (2016), for example, identifies with the practice of body
hacking and even compares herself to a cyborg to articulate how she
takes care of her diabetic body. She is developing a feminist analysis of
hacking through an auto-ethnographic account of her early years as a
type 1 diabetic that forces her to use an insulin pump and a glucose
monitor. She describes herself as a cyborg to emphasize her new hy-
bridity, that is, her skin, bones and blood must constantly harmonize
with sensors, tubes and other external devices to keep her alive.
In recent years, the craze for body hacking, a practice that can
sometimes be quite individual, has quietly given way to collective
responses to online violence, since the latter is omnipresent and re-

quires an urgent response. Indeed, this type of intervention is emerg-
ing as one of the leading practices of feminist hacking through the
creation of feminist collective spaces, both virtual and physical. It
is important to note that there are several feminist hacking currents
influenced by different social, economic, political, geographical and
historical contexts. This practice is also constantly in motion, consti-
tuting and renewing itself temporally.2
The emergence of a new feminist hacking culture becomes visible
through various resistance practices and is organized, among other
things, through meetings at various fixed, changing, or spontaneously
determined locations. In the United States, most feminist hackspac-
es adopt an intersectional feminist perspective that emphasizes the
interaction between gender and other identity variables such as race
and social class when addressing inequality, oppression and violence
(Toupin, 2013, 2014; Crenshaw, 1991; Moraga and Anzaldúa, 1983).
Some are only open to women, queers and trans people, while oth-
ers are open to all those who identify themselves as feminists. The
question of who is allowed to self-identify as feminist, and therefore
can become involved in feminist hackspaces, is therefore not uniform.
Rather, it is the group constituting each feminist hackspace that de-
fines its own policy of access and participation. At the root of femi-
nist hackspaces is the desire to co-create so-called “safe” spaces where
well-being (care) is central (Goldenberg, 2014; Toupin, 2014). This
practice of well-being (Goldenberg, 2014) differs from more tradi-
tional hackspaces that adopt an open space policy. The work of re-
searcher Alison Adam (2003), on which Goldenberg (2014) is based,
highlights the ethics of caring for women hackers that complicates
hacker ethics as described by Steven Levy (2010).3 For Adam and
2 Because of this fluidity, it is difficult to define exactly what feminist hacking is.
FemHack, a Montréal-based collective of feminist hackers, seeks to lay the foun-
dation for feminist hacking by emphasizing the desire for autonomy, freedom,
self-organization, and mutual help that feminist hackers share in their relation-
ship to Internet technologies and knowledge.
3 Hacker ethics includes the importance of sharing, decentralization, openness and
access to computers. In addition, this ethic argues that hackers should be judged
for their hacking skills, not on criteria such as gender, age, race, or socio-econom-
ic position.
Goldenberg, it is essential to take into consideration gender, ethnic-

ity and, more generally, the social privileges associated with different
identities, as these have an influence on the future hacker. In addi-
tion, feminist hackers are also called upon to take care of each other
emotionally and physically to deal with harassment. As a complement
to their understanding of the ethics of care and well-being, feminist
hackers point out that the debate on questions of privilege and meri-
tocracy within the so-called traditional hackspaces is too weak. Why
are there very few people of colour or women in these so-called “open”
spaces? Do these spaces reinforce a dominant informal culture? These
questions are essential for feminist hackers, since they are intrinsically
linked to their ethics on the one hand, and to a desire for aware-
ness within the hacker culture on the other hand (Toupin, 2013). To
demonstrate their point, feminist hackers cite Jo Freeman’s (1972) ar-
ticle entitled “The Tyranny of Structurelessness,” which warns against
the idealization of open spaces. In her work, Freeman argues that the
absence of formal structures in a group or space ultimately favours
those who already have privileges (gender, class, sexual orientation,
race, etc.) and facilitates the informal power of certain individuals or
cliques. Rather than opting for an open space policy, feminist hack-
spaces therefore establish very concrete guidelines for creating safe and
emancipatory spaces of well-being, such as delimiting who can take
part in feminist hackspaces’ activities.
The fact that more and more temporary and/or mobile feminist
spaces are emerging is due to a certain economic situation4 and can
at best be understood as a complementary strategy for the creation
of permanent spaces. These temporary feminist spaces have emerged,
for example, within the very heart of the world’s largest hacker con-
ferences such as the Chaos Communication Congress (CCC) or the
Chaos Communication Camp (CCC). They have also emerged from
feminist tech meetings such as /ETC (Eclectic Tech Carnival) and
the TransHackFeminist (THF!) convergences. All these gatherings in
an ad hoc common place have made it possible to co-construct the
practice of feminist hacking in a transnational way. This practice thus
goes beyond the local or national level and allows identification with
4 Many feminist hacking collectives simply do not have the financial means to pay
a monthly rent, which is why they opt for the mobile variant. Meetings can there-
fore take place in a café, in an activist room or at one of their members’ premises.
transnational resistance practices and solidarity. At these meetings, the

affirmation of a collective self is articulated and new feminist hacking
approaches can emerge. Thus a sense of belonging to this new culture
is developed, which is in the process of being created and, for the time
being, is a marginal phenomenon. Feminist hacking thus provides a
framework for analysis, a common vocabulary, and the encounters
of feminist hackers strengthen their ties and their desire for a mutual
project. These gatherings also emphasize the importance of a femi-
nist hacking approach and make it possible, for example, to exchange
possible strategies in the fight against (online) sexism and violence, to
jointly produce knowledge and to experiment with different forms of
feminist pedagogy. Projects such as feminist servers, which will be dis-
cussed below, also emerged from these common meetings and desires
for autonomous feminist infrastructure.
Transformative practices
In this section, I look at the specificities of feminist hacking practice,
highlighting some of its spatial effects. More specifically, I am interest-
ed in the following aspects: doing it together, the politics of visibility,
the co-production of knowledge and solidarity, and the materiality of
technology.
The practice of “Doing it Together”

The practice of “Doing it Together” is at the root of the feminist hack-
ing approach, which has developed mainly as a learning pedagogy
to enable novices, in particular, to gain confidence in their techni-
cal skills, while reinforcing the idea of solidarity and co-production
of knowledge. This learning pedagogy is not in opposition to Do It
Yourself (DIY), but rather complements it.
Doing things together is also a practice of resistance, because, in-
stead of the heroic deeds of an expert, collectivity is emphasized. Of
course, the predominant stories of hacker culture are fascinating, but
they often revolve only around legendary figures and their computer
exploits (Lapsley, 2013; Levy, 2010). As a result, other forms of dealing
with technology do not receive enough recognition (Dunbar-Hester,
2016). In addition, the male representation of computer hacking in
the press and popular culture creates a form of exclusion. By creat-
ing new imaginary worlds that unfold across all physical and virtual
spaces, with an emphasis on community, feminist hackers attempt to

deconstruct and change old role models.
The policy of visibility

The practices of feminist hackers are part of a strategy to create vis-
ibility that increasingly pushes itself into public perception through
the affirmation of a collective self–both in physical places and on the
net. The politics of visibility also serve at “bringing to light the invis-
ible infra/structures of power that render technological achievement
possible” (Nguyen, Toupin and Bardzell, 2016:1). By promoting a
different way of using technology, that is feminist and in resistance to
patriarchy and capitalist exploitation, feminist hackers propose a real
alternative to the status quo and thus practice a unique approach. For
feminist hackers, technology is first and foremost political and by no
means neutral (Winner, 1980). They also contradict the position that
suggests that violence on the net is due to a few “bad apples” rather
than acknowledging that it is part of systemic patriarchal practice.
Moreover, feminist hackers no longer consider the Internet as a safe
space, and argue that the struggle must take place not only at the
discursive level, but also at the material level. Therefore, they try to
shed light on what really are digital infrastructures: from the exploita-
tion of minerals in conflict zones to unacceptable working conditions
in production facilities to waste management in the technology sec-
tor (for example, disposal or incineration of equipment in China or
Ghana). Recognising the materiality of technology is integral to un-
derstanding the life cycle of technologies. Emphasizing this material-
ity underscores the impact of technology on the environment, social
and neo-colonial relations between the countries of the southern and
northern hemispheres.
This feminist resistance was born in direct reaction to the fact that
the Internet has become a centralized space for consumption, surveil-
lance and control of dissenting voices by governments, private com-
panies and anti-feminists. Although they recognize the importance
of a “counter-public” (Fraser, 1990), especially at the discursive level,
they do, however, attach increasing importance to the issue of materi-
ality (Parks and Starosielski, 2015). Counter-publics such as feminist
hackspaces or feminist discussion lists are spaces for the production
of oppositional ways of understanding identities and interests that are
marginalized, not to say excluded, in public space. Since these count-

er-publics gain a certain visibility on the Internet, those who contrib-
ute to their dissemination are often exposed to anti-feminist attacks.
The visibility policy of feminist hackers is as much about discourse
as it is about the materiality of technologies. Speaking of the materi-
ality of the Panama Canal, Ashley Carse (2012) uses the concept of
(in)visibility to demonstrate that technology is political. He argues
that “visibility is situated, reflecting an actor’s geographical location,
cultural assumptions, and nature of his or her labor…” (2012: 543)
Based on Carse, Brian Larkin (2013) specifies:
“all visibility is situated and what is background for one person is
a daily object of concern for another. The point is not to assert one
or another status as an inherent condition of infrastructures but to
examine how (in)visibility is mobilized and why.” (2013: 336)
Feminist servers are a good example of how feminist hackers create
visibility while at the same time pointing to their roots in discourse
as well as in the materiality of technology. The following paragraph
defines their main principles.
A feminist server:
• Is a situated technology. She5 [the feminist server] has a sense of

context and sees herself as part of an ecology of practice;
• Is run for and by a community that cares enough for her to
exist.
• Is built on the materiality of software, hardware and the bodies
gathered around her.
• Opens herself to expose processes, tools, sources, habits,
patterns.
• Does not strive for continuity. All too often, the talk of trans-
parency is a sign that something is being obscured (division of
labor issue).
• Avoids efficiency, user-friendliness, scalability and immediacy,
as these could be traps.
5 The gender-neutral article for a computer server in English language has been
subjected to a sex change in languages that distinguish between male, female and
neutral articles; the use of the female pronoun here causes a similar irritation,
which should additionally stimulate one to think about gender and technology.
• Knows that networking is actually an awkward, promiscuous

and parasitic practice.
• Is autonomous in the sense that she decides for her own
dependencies.
• Questions the conditions of service.
• Treats technology as part of a social reality.
• Wants networks to be mutable and read-write accessible.
• Does not confuse security with safety.
• Takes the risk of exposing her insecurity while trying hard not
to apologise when she sometimes is not available.
(Snelting, 2014)6
These principles reveal a rooting in the concept of situated knowl-

edges (Haraway, 1988) which emphasizes that what “count[s] as ra-
tional accounts of the world are struggles over how to see” (Haraway,
1988: 375). Haraway suggests a feminist objectivity through this
method. By challenging the idea of what objectivity means, it allows
us to “see” differently and forces us to be responsible for the visions we
embody in our actions and writings.
Two feminist server projects were (re)started during the
TransHackFeminist (THF!) 2014 convergence: the “Systerserver”
project, initially launched by Genderchangers and Eclectic Tech
Carnival (/etc.), and the “Anarchaserver” project, launched by the
people involved in the THF! organization.7 The first server is to offer
online website hosting services, while the second focuses on data host-
ing. The Anarchaserver uses a media wiki for THF! documentation,
and an application to host several WordPress sites. The mailing lists
and IRC discussion channels of both servers are moderated to coor-
dinate the different tasks that need to be done both conceptually and
technically. For example, give root access to some administrators, dis-
cuss issues surrounding the location of the physical server (in which
data centre will it be located?), agree on a policy for access to virtual
and physical servers, ensure that the initiative is well understood in
the context of hacker groups, and teach how to manage a server.
6 Freely adapted by the author and by the editor.

7 Further feminist servers exist in Latin and South America.
The co-production of knowledge and solidarity

The initiatives of feminist hackers promote collective learning, which
aims to create new common resistance practices, but also transnation-
al solidarity. Several examples illustrate the co-production of knowl-
edge and solidarity that emerges from feminist hacking practices.
The Gender and Technology Institute (GTI) was established in
late 2014 with the aim of ensuring more online security for queer
and trans women and at the same time establishing an international
community of feminist hackers.8 It quickly developed into an interna-
tional support network and became an important resource for social
solidarity by contributing to a better understanding of and enabling
collective responses to the various forms of violence. It is on a private
discussion list that collective solutions on a wide range of topics are
discussed, although online violence predominates in the discussions. A
prime example is the discussion in response to the murder of Pakistani
techno queer activist Sabeen Mahmud in April 2015, which led to the
creation of a worldwide Feminist Hackathon Day (F3mHack). More
than thirty activities were organized as part of this World Day, high-
lighting the great solidarity between feminist hackers from all over the
world and the transnational nature of these initiatives.9
At the TransHackFeminist (THF!) meeting there was ample op-
portunity for the joint production of knowledge and solidarity. The
convergence gave the opportunity for lengthy discussions on what
transhackfeminism is. “The term ‘trans’ needs to be understood in
a plurality of ways. Trans as a noun, a verb, and a prefix. Being in
transition, in transformation, being transgendered, being transversal,
transdisciplinary etc. … The term ‘hack’ refers to the more traditional
act of doing, of taking things apart, of understanding things in a deep-
er way. But it is also seen as an action and as a performance in order
to hack patriarchy, capitalism and other systems of oppression, and by
making those systems explicit.” (Editor’s note, 2015)
The original theoretical and later practical anchoring of THF! comes
mainly from a Spanish feminist movement that launched a transfem-
inist uprising (The WhoreDykeBlackTransFeminist Network, 2010)
in 2010. Inspired by the Zapatista movement, this insurrection took
8 Another GTI was organised in June 2016 in Ecuador.

9 The 2015 version of the website is available here: http://web.archive.org/
web/20150524023518/https://f3mhack.org/index.php/en/
the form of a manifesto addressing issues of intersectionality, linking

different forms of oppression while calling for transnational solidarity.
At first, this uprising was a discursive intervention, but it eventually
led to the emergence of the Pechblendas, a transfeminist hacklab,10
from which the THF! convergence later emerged. It is within this
hacklab that the THF! convergence was born. The creation of many
feminist hackspaces in the United States as well as the online violence
against several Spanish feminists have reinforced the desire to come
together, to join forces, and to take stock of the movement and con-
tributions of feminist hackers through the THF!
It must be said that within the THF itself, a multiplicity of voic-
es and visions of feminist hacking has emerged, demonstrating that
this type of feminist convergence and hackspace promote plurality in
general. However, even the THF! has not been without its share of
ideological clashes and other inconsistencies due to the encounter of
different “cultures” and ways of doing things among feminists, queers
and trans people. To ease these tensions, the principles of solidarity
and affinity between feminist hackers were promoted in addition to
participation in concrete and partly independent collective projects.
The example of the two feminist servers illustrates this dynamic.
The two examples of the GTI and the THF! are rooted in what
Mohanty (2003) describes as a pedagogy of feminist solidarity that
emphasizes the complexities, singularities and interconnection be-
tween women’s communities, so that power, privilege, willingness to
act and to dissent are made visible (2003: 243-244). This type of fem-
inist solidarity acknowledges the different historical, socio-econom-
ic, cultural and geographical realities so that it becomes possible to
communicate in a more complex way about the resistance practices of
feminist hackers.
The materiality of the technology

The creation of common spaces and places raises awareness of the
materiality of technology, and helps to understand where these tech-
nologies come from, with an emphasis on their manufacturing, of-
ten based on the exploitation of female, indigenous, southern or
10 In the short history of hackspaces, hacklabs have come to be regarded as more

politicized and more strongly anchored in the social movements and above all in
the occupation movement (Maxigas 2012).
colonized labour force and through the exploitation of natural re-

sources (Nakamura, 2014; Parks/Starosielski, 2015). In other words,
feminist hackers want to emphasize the importance of linking the
intangible appearance of the digital age with its significant effects on
all social spheres, the world of work and the environment. The “digital
world” is therefore not distinct or separable from the “real world;”
rather, these two worlds are interconnected. By creating an awareness
of the materiality of technology, feminist hackers shed light on the
new digital spirit of capitalism embedded in the highly controlled
and secret infrastructures of algorithmic governmentality, mass sur-
veillance, and the extraction of minerals and rare metals, essential to
the very existence of our digital devices.
The materiality of technology makes it clear that the feminist strug-
gle against violence cannot be located only on the Internet. Although
violence often manifests itself online and can spread rapidly through
the mechanisms of the network, it is also reflected in forms of pro-
duction based on the exploitation of labour and natural resources. The
resistance practices of feminist hackers therefore extend conventional
technofeminism through a more holistic approach. Although this ap-
proach is becoming more and more widespread, most of the projects
are still in their initial stages.
Conclusion
The practices of feminist hackers are a convincing example of resis-
tance rooted in a socio-political redefinition of the relationship be-
tween online and offline spaces, thereby generating an emancipatory
culture of resistance. By creating physical spaces (such as hackspaces
and feminist convergences such as the THF!) and digital spaces (such
as invitation-only mailing lists, collective accounts on Twitter, etc.) to
address sexism, online violence and all other forms of discrimination,
their projects bring about social change. This social change in turn is
reflected in the desire to create new spaces where there is room for a
variety of new practices and the values they represent.
Feminist hacking is an expression of our time; an era of precarious-
ness, which through the anthropocene, that is, the impact of human
beings on their environment, will even be amplified. Paying attention
to the materiality of technology and to technological production cy-
cles increases the awareness of our technological footprint and the
responsibility we have for the world and its beings. According to this
conception, feminist hackers do not necessarily encourage perfect
mastery or control of technologies as an end in itself – an attitude
they would describe as masculine. Rather, they are concerned with
mastering technology in order to stop violence and, beyond that, to
create conditions that make it possible to develop new imaginaries for
their lives and the lives of their communities.
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This text is an abridged version of “Le hacking féministe: la résis-

tance par la spacialité,” Bonenfant, M., F. Dumais and G. Trépanier-
Jobin, Les pratiques transformatrices des espaces socionumériques,
Québec: Presses de l’Université du Québec, 2017. Translation and
publication in English with the kind permission of the publisher.
CREATING NEW WORLDS
With Cyberfeminist Ideas and Practices
Text compiled by Spideralex
Translated by Cornelia Sollfrank
Voices (listed in order of their appearance in the text):

Donestech, Inés Binder, Anamhoo, Acción Directa Autogestiva
(ADA), Laboratorio de interconectividades y Comando Colibri,
Gendersec, Florencia Goldsman, Hacks de Vida, acoso.online,
EnRedadas, Derechos Digitales, Ciberfeministas Guatemala, Sula
Batsú, La Imilla Hacker, Fundación Karisma, Empoderamiento
de la mujer, Cl4ndestina, Luchadoras, Lucía Egaña, Chupadatos,
Anamhoo, Kéfir, AnarchaServer, Vedetas
What follows is a compilation of various texts by cyberfemi-
nists and feminists who do not regard themselves as cyberfeminists.
Combining quotes from compañeras with one’s own thoughts seems
35
to me the best way to allow everyone to speak equally. The process of

compiling this text gives me a sense of freedom. Compiling means
putting together something new from what already exists, linking
parts or excerpts from various texts and documents. But it is also the
conversion of program code into executable code. All forms of fem-
inism should circulate freely and inspire new actions, and cyberfem-
inists contribute to that by opening up new ways of disseminating
information and knowledge.
Sometimes I use the first person when speaking, but generally I
assume a “we.” Little to nothing of what we say here is “purely” sub-
jective. Almost everything circulates within the construction of col-
lective practices and ideas. The stuff our dreams are made of is an
incessant summoning, reading, inspiring, quoting and studying each
other, conspiring and fighting together, supporting each other (and
sometimes annoying and forgiving each other).
As if it were a “scene.” We report from our own galaxy – with
its people, collectives, and networks; with its vocabulary, codes, and
languages. Situated knowledge from Latin America and beyond. All
those who speak here are witnesses of violence and speak of it – vio-
lence that emerges from the criminal alliance of patriarchy and cap-
italism. Through sisterly love (sorority) and collaboration, we create
responses to this violence; we document it, try to mitigate and thus
counteract it; and last but not least, we create a feminist infrastructure
among all of us.
This text describes postcolonial and cyberfeminist theories and
practices. It is not only about the existing, contemporary technolo-
gies, but also about those that would be desirable and helpful but do
not (yet) exist. All of the positions represented here deal with devel-
oping speculative fictions and ideas with transformative power that
should not only stimulate collective actions, but also the invention of
new feminist technologies.
Intro-succión1
Feminist theories of technology (teorías feministas de la tecnología,
TFT) are the expression of a series of diverse and controversial social
1 The author plays here with the similarity of the Spanish terms Introducción [intro-
duction] and Intro-succión, which in English would mean “sucking in.”
Creating New Worlds // 37
and political movements, philosophies, and practices. What they all

have in common is the goal of combating sexism and androcentrism,
especially with respect to technology. Decolonial forms of feminism,
on the other hand, focus on the contextualized realities of certain
places and their inhabitants. They specifically address the approaches
of women, gender dissidents (disidentes de género), non-binaries, and
LGTIQs and examine their specific interactions with technology. They
focus on intersectionality and criticize the ethnocentric, Western, and
universalizing perspectives of many traditional TFTs. Their emphasis
is to show that women constitute the main source of cheap or slave la-
bor in the technology sector – be it in the extraction of raw materials,
production, quality control, services, or writing software.
In this sense, Inés Binder asks the following question: “Can we
build a postcolonial cyberfeminism that takes up the critique of cy-
berfeminism from the global North but, beyond that, problematizes
the precariousness of infrastructures, inequality in income distribu-
tion, or racism in the Latin American region?2
Perhaps one of the first common, meaningful ideas of Latin
American cyberfeminism emerged from the community radio en-
vironment. Inés tells us that this movement “...originated precisely
here, because it placed emphasis on various demands closely linked
to social movements (for example, those of alternative radio stations,
citizen radio, mining radio, educational radio, guerrilla radio, popular
movement radio, etc.). Although most of these radio projects were
not involved in the debates about a free internet, many of them share
the basic principles of cyberfeminists: freedom of expression in the
broadest sense, plurality, diversity, the defense of human rights, the
understanding of communication as a right and not as a commodity,
the insertion of counterhegemonic discourses into the columns of the
system, etc. We have even agreed to build our own infrastructure in
the form of antennas and transmitters, hardware hacking, free net-
works, etc., and to make them more accessible.”
2 María Inés Binder, [ciberfeministaslatam], “Identidad y agencia colectiva del

movimiento ciberfeminista en América Latina” [Identity and Collective Agency
in Latin America’s Cyberfeminist Movement], Masters thesis in political science
at the University of Salamanca, 2017. Available in Spanish: https://donestech.
net/noticia/ciberfeministaslatam-investigacion-sobre-identidad-y-agencia-colec-
tiva-del-movimiento
“We see the potential to challenge the various dimensions of power

in both analog and digital communication technologies; that is why
we are here, that is why we have started exactly in these places. The
motto of the alternative radio station FM La Tribu is ‘Apagá La Tribu
y hacé tu radio’ [Turn off La Tribu and create your own radio station],
and today we are doing just that.”3
But, as Inés also reminds us, sharing practices does not always
mean sharing concepts, motivations, or visions: “Understanding
that concepts are charged with meaning that require interpretation,
putting cyberfeminism into practice necessarily entails dispute. This
is the case with Latin American cyberfeminists who approached cy-
berfeminism through practice and not through immersion into the-
oretical discussions. In this sense, for the participants of [cyber fem-
inistslatam], cyberfeminism is a concept that encompasses a range of
practices – from the use of technology as a tool for feminist activism,
curbing sexist attacks online, and fighting the digital gender divide to
creating and managing their own infrastructures based on feminist
principles.”4
And while we accept these divisions, our story will focus on com-
mon perspectives, the places where voices and ideas nourish each oth-
er, where we resonate and vibrate together like water molecules. As
Anamhoo points out: “I believe that the differences in our practices
are not ideological differences. We are simply in different places from
where we read and create a dialectical sense of diversity. Sometimes
we are very far away from each other and then again very close as far
as practices and attitudes are concerned. We walk together, one with
the other, looking at each other, never in parallel lines but connected,
like in a net.”5
In this sense, and as an almost intuitive response to this hos-
tile world, we begin our story with initiatives that build self-de-
fense projects.
3 Email correspondence between Inés Binder and Spideralex.

4 Ibid.
5 Email correspondence between Spideralex and Anamhoo, “Many thanks for your
contribution and the revision of the text.”
Feminist Self-Defense
To begin with, a statement by Acción Directa Autogestiva, ADA (Self-
Managed Direct Action): “First of all, we would like to point out that
self-defense is not the same as feminist self-defense. The latter consists
not only of practicing a martial art, but also of creating safe spaces,
collective self-care and affective networks, and of thinking about vio-
lence in all its forms and developing counter-strategies.
“Only when we can name what oppresses us, denounce it, point it
out – name it again, and, most importantly, express our own desires,
our dreams, our emotions, can we build something from ourselves.
What is not named does not exist. ... Based on the fact that we find
ourselves in a system that attacks women and everything feminine,
the urgent need arises to survive and defend our life but also our joy,
our self-determination, our freedom – and our collectivity.
“Feminist self-defense means staying in motion and leaving behind
victimization, helplessness, and fragility. It means taking away power
from these figures of thought and empowering oneself to undermine
the patriarchal symbolic order. Our movement is based on collectiv-
ity, sisterhood, and connectedness. It means building a community
and thus breaking through the isolation that patriarchy exposes us to
in different ways, every day. It is not an easy task, but our existence
depends on it. And, as we said before, we are certain that together we
are stronger.
“Self-care is another fundamental axis of feminist self-defense.
For centuries we have been deliberately deprived of the knowledge
about our body and how it functions (now there are different move-
ments that oppose it, such as Gynepunk in Barcelona, the midwife
movement in Mexico, and the great movement for safe abortion in
Latin America);6 we were educated to care only for others; we have
been formed in a culture of submission and sacrifice, causing us to
always remain in the background. That is why when we say “no ag-
gression without a response,” it is part of our self-care as well. And so
6 As an example of cyberfeminism and supporting networks, we refer to the fol-

lowing research: A. Hache, M. Sanchez Martinez, “Cuerpos de mujeres en cam-
pos de batallas digitales” [Women’s Bodies on the Battlefield of Digital Media],
Tactical Tech, 2017. Available at: https://tacticaltech.org/media/projects/
CuerposMujeres.pdf
we understand self-care as a form of resistance, as a counter-model to

self-abandonment; a cry that says: “Here we are, and we want to live!”
This movement serves our recovery and the protection of our spaces.
It is about regaining our physical and mental strength, re-appropriat-
ing the spaces taken from us, and being able to use them freely and
safely; hence the slogan: ‘The street and the night belong to us.’”7
How do you work on feminist self-defense from a holistic perspec-
tive? How do you combine care and self-care, and how can you make
better use of the power that comes from the diversity of interconnect-
ed worlds? El laboratorio de interconectividades (The Laboratory for
Interconnectedness) explains it this way:
“We developed a strategic methodology of hybridizing martial arts
techniques, feminist self-defense, and digital collective care. In this
process, we do not distinguish between online and offline, and we
work holistically, as a political commitment to the life of each and
every one of us. We reconnect with our intuition, explore our bodily
and spatial limits, and diagnose our daily habits in order to commu-
nicate, organize, and act more confidently and autonomously with
each other.”8
Feminist self-defense, as practiced in Latin American cyberfemi-
nism, helps to break through the loneliness and reject the death im-
posed by the system. It calls for living life out of love and joy, keeping
one’s feet on the ground, standing firmly, and at the same time look-
ing at the horizon, ready for the call to create other possible worlds.
The situated reflection leads to a joint understanding that one can
no longer think of the world as if it were marked by clear boundaries
between online spaces and physical spaces. Everything is connected.
Effects are greater than causes, and feedback loops have become the
norm. Everything can have an impact. Everything can become rela-
tional: algorithms, objects, infrastructures, bodies, senses, emotions,
data, and metadata. But you can only partially protect your life, your
body, your location, your contacts, your sensitive personal data, or
7 ADA, Acción Directa Autogestiva, “Queda todo,” March 2017. Available at:
http://saberesyciencias.com.mx/2017/03/12/queda-todo/
8 The Autodefensas Hackfeministas [Self-Defence of Feminist Hackers] is an ac-
complice of the Laboratio de Interconectividades and Comando Colibri. Available
at: https://lab-interconectividades.net/autodefensas-hackfeministas/, and video
at: https://lab-interconectividades.net/video-autodefensas-hackfeministas-oax/
the content of your communication. There is no way to protect every-

thing, and we all have a subjective perception and contextual security
needs that change over time. We are at a stage in the history of the
planet where many possible multiverses open up. At the same time,
there are numerous complex questions about how we can meaning-
fully combine gender and intersectionality with our needs for privacy
and security.
There is a place on the internet called Gendersec,9 and some com-
pañeras tell us how “this word refers to structural and systemic vi-
olence that is disproportionately directed against women and girls
and other non-binary and dissident gender identities in all areas of
production, access, use, development, management, and recycling of
digital and electronic technologies. Actions in the face of existing vi-
olence include mutual strengthening and cooperation, solidarity and
hacking, and emotional and technical assistance.
“In recent years, the internet has become an important place for
women and gender dissidents to make their struggles visible, to build
networks, and to develop affinities. The development of the cen-
tralized, commercial, hyper-monitored internet has led to dissident
anonymous selfie actions being banned by commercial companies
such as Facebook, Apple, Microsoft, and Twitter. They force users to
leave their Zapatista woolen mask or the gorilla mask of the Guerrilla
Girls in the closet. These developments are not accidental but the re-
sult of a neo-conservative, openly misogynistic agenda, including the
disproportionate proliferation of hate groups, fanatical-religious and
conservative movements that trample on human rights. They seem to
9 Gendersec is the wiki of the Gender and Technology Institute, which is coordi-
nated by the Tactical Tech Collective; so far, three training programs have been
implemented in Latin America in connection with Gendersec. The project is
aimed at women and transgender people, activists, and human rights defenders
who focus on the production of knowledge about privacy and security, as well as
the implementation of care measures. The wiki documents the training activi-
ties carried out, more or less detailed (agendas, resources, motivations, feedback,
and other measures). There are resources, codes, and manuals on digital security
practices and tools for training and learning with others. Available at: https://
gendersec.tacticaltech.org
be literally occupying the internet to carry out their violent attacks

and macho practices against TODAS.10
“The right to be left alone has disappeared. There is no freedom of
expression, only different degrees of privilege when it comes to shout-
ing more or less loudly. The various forms of cyberfeminism resist the
exodus from ICT11 as a territory of action and create new mindscapes
and narratives as well as hybrid and unexpected alliances with many
other struggles.”12
On the Move
Florencia Goldsman describes these struggles as follows:
“Latin American forms of cyberfeminism are diverse and feed on
the restlessness of women and sexual dissidents who aim at politi-
cizing the internet. They focus on practices of (digital) security and
anonymity, on the streets as well as on the internet, and see this as a
necessary response to the increasing militarization of our environment
and our bodies. An important aspect of these forms of cyberfeminism
is the continuous exchange of experiences, knowledge, and tools in
self-organized workshops...
“Action has become the central political practice, and with it an
awareness of inequality across the continent: while some are already
technology experts, others are just beginning to learn. In any case,
cyberfeminists are expanding their networks and trying to become
more involved in complex and often inaccessible technology debates.
We take Latin American forms of cyberfeminism as a political trea-
sure trove for the exploration of further possibilities for freedom of
expression on an internet that is becoming increasingly misogynistic.
We are radicalizing our political practices and denounce paternalism,
persecution, state, and corporate surveillance. Finally, we use the am-
plifying power of the internet to diffuse multiple narratives, to live
dissent and creatively achieve more autonomy.
10 “TODAS” [everyone], here explicitly the plural version of the female form.
11 ICT is the acronym of the term “Information and Communications Technology.”
12 The following quotes stem from a Gendersec working group on technolo-
gies of domination and have been published in a book by Ippolita that is
currently only available in Italian: http://www.meltemieditore.it/catalogo/
tecnologie-del-dominio/
“Exploitative companies are trying to siphon off the wealth from

rivers, mines, and other natural resources in our territories, and they
are in cahoots with the repressive governments of our continent. That
is exactly where cyberfeminism becomes active. Everywhere, women
and LGBTIQ activists fight with all sorts of means: They send out
press releases from cyber cafés, use their mobile phones for politi-
cal organization, borrow technical equipment, or protect themselves
from the confiscation of their own infrastructure by governments (as
has happened in Honduras, Nicaragua, and other countries).”13
Political, social, economic, ecological, and technological contexts
are constantly changing. And while everything around us moves
quickly, our common struggles open up new avenues. The tactical
use of ICT and the internet is creating new opportunities, but it also
harbors unexpected risks.
The lack of adequate measures against increasing gender-specif-
ic violence – by the operators of social platforms and by the state
– has made it necessary to launch initiatives such as Acoso.online.
The initiatives are “the necessary response of heterosexual women and
LGBTIQ people who experience online violence on a daily basis. The
digital publication of non-consensual pornography is NOT the only
form of gender-based violence online.
“As you will see on the website, there is no ideal solution. Therefore,
the goal of the project is not only to use the currently existing tools,
but also to develop a critical sense of what could be done beyond that.
In order to bring about real change, we need to use strong leverage:
• Private internet platforms: They must provide new policies

and new tools. They must not only develop a better under-
standing of the complexity of non-consensual pornography and
the situation of victims, but also seriously respond to their users
in Latin America.
13 Marta Florencia Goldsman, “#libertad para belen: twitter y el debate sobre el

aborto en la argentina” [#Freedom for Belen: Twitter and the Abortion Debate
in Argentina], 2018. Dissertation submitted within the scope of the post-
graduate program “Comunicação e Cultura Contemporâneas” at the Faculty
of Communication in Bahía–UFBA as partial prerequisite for obtaining the
teaching degree, with Prof. Dr. Leonor Graciela Natansohn. Available online in
Spanish: https://repositorio.ufba.br/ri/handle/ri/25970
• State: Justice and police must stop re-victimizing people who

have suffered from gender-based violence. New laws are re-
quired. The executive and legislative branches must take the
problem seriously and no longer use it as a pretext for internet
censorship.
• Our Communities: Zero Tolerance of Gender Violence on
the internet. The spread of non-consensual pornography is
simply unacceptable and no one should have to press charges
and go to court in order to gain their rights. We demand com-
prehensive social ostracism.
• Technology: We must adopt a critical stance toward the digital
technology we use. It is important to understand its functional
logic as well as the business models behind it and, not least, our
own role in dealing with it. As long as we do not do that, we
cannot really expect much from either industry or the state.”14
This is a cyberfeminism based on action and self-organized practic-

es of mutual support and solidarity. Networks of women and gender
dissident women are created to be there for one another and to work
together against violence. Sorority!
But there is always a lack of time. And there is always a lack of re-
sources: a lack of money, education, support, political will, and a lack
of the recognition of achievements as well.
In this sense, the compañeras of Hacks de Vida (Hacks of Life)
remind us that “it is shocking to listen to people who assist victims
of gender-specific violence on the internet; the helpers are confronted
with it in their own environment, in their partnerships, and in famil-
iar safe spaces where they recognize each other. It is moving and raises
many questions, because the care of people exposed to gender-based
violence is largely voluntary, informal, and unpaid work.
“The fact that the supporters are feminist activists who are experi-
enced with technology contributes to their really being able to help;
they understand what can be done to remedy the violence. And it is
important to point out that the ethical and moral commitment of the
organizations and collectives in which these people work often does
not get the recognition it deserves, either materially or otherwise.
14 Acoso initiative online: https://acoso.online/pornovenganza/#acerca

“In order to coordinate a common approach to gender-based vio-

lence on the internet, it is essential to better explore the phenomenon
and to create the vision of a feminist future without pain and violence.
The self-organization of autonomous community spaces, offline meet-
ings, femhacks, and hackmeetings strengthens women and creates safe
spaces for learning, sharing, and healing.”15
Being Together in Free Spaces

Florencia Goldsman stresses the importance of physical encounter –
the encounter of cuerpas16: “It is about meeting others17 to spin a new
world of fiber optics. For cyberfeminists, meetings are an essential
part of their activities; workshops, for example, in which we learn how
to use a Tor browser, or how to encrypt our emails.18 Adult education
and autodidacticism play an important role. The many experiences of
personal and online encounters give rise to small initiatives, such as
the production of manuals, combat kits, and self-defense instructions,
which are the basis of Latin American cyberfeminist production.”
In these temporary encounters in physical space, there is a kind of
agreement between the compañeras, a mutual recognition of one an-
other, which helps to escape the feeling of isolation. This is how they
can share their experiences and views, organize workshops and con-
certs, work with sound, celebrate lady parties, hold cryptoparties and
hackmeetings, but also write, tell stories, make films and maps, and
thus contribute to building a collective memory: creating, reviving,
reinterpreting, spreading, supporting, listening, informing, commu-
nicating, circulating.
In this context, the history of EnRedadas – Tecnologías para
la Igualdad [Networking – Technologies for Equality] also seems
15 Estrella Soria and Luisa Ortiz Perez, “Enfrentan violencias de genero en América
Latina” [Facing Gender Violence in Latin America], 2018. Available in Spanish
at: https://archive.org/details/DocumentoHacksdeVida_201803
16 Linguistic intervention in Spanish: The male form cuerpo has been turned into
cuerpa [female form], meaning the bodies of females.
17 In the Spanish version, the author uses three forms: otras/otros y otres, in order to
include all possible gender combinations of “others.”
18 There is a list of 135 activities on the Gendersec website: https://gendersec.tacti-
caltech.org/wiki/index.php/Category: Activities
interesting, as they strive to make these connections and networks

visible. They refer here to an organization that performs a thematic
mapping showing the importance of mirror games for the creation of
echoes and resonances:
“For the fourth consecutive year, the Chilean NGO Derechos
Digitales has produced the summary “Latin America in a Glimpse,”
an account of the most relevant events in Latin America in the field of
technology and human rights. We are honored to have been included
and invited to present it.
“This issue of ‘Latin America in a Glimpse’ explores the problem-
atic and difficult relationship between gender, feminism, and the Int
and presents the work of various women’s groups working on this
issue from this part of the world. In total, 29 initiatives from 15 Latin
American countries are featured, initiatives that our friends from
Dereko’s Digitales find ‘powerfully inspiring.’
“Among them we have included four initiatives from Central
America: our outstanding FemHack, an event in which the other
three initiatives from our region included in the report also partic-
ipated: Ciberfeministas from Guatemala, Chicas Hacker from El
Salvador, and TICas from Costa Rica. The question is how we, as
Latin American women, see and live technology and the world of
the internet. What we are experiencing is that in many feminist proj-
ects the question of technology is not given much importance, and in
most virtual communication spaces our feminist positions are strong-
ly rejected. As cyberfeminists, we move in both areas and actually
encounter resistance and rejection everywhere.”19
And in that same text, more cyberfeminist experiences on the in-
ternet are shared from a Latin American perspective:
“The internet, that medium that promised

us horizontal relations, mutated into
a privatized, ultra-concentrated and
19 EnRedadas, “Resistencia y sororidad: nuestra forma de estar en internet”

[Resitance and sorority: our way of using the internet], 2017. Available in Spanish
at: https://enredadasnicaragua.blogspot.com.es/2017/12/resistencia-y-sorori-
dad-nuestra-forma.html
hyper-supervised environment, from which

we women are once again being excluded.”
– Cyberfeminists Guatemala
“We women must create alternatives to the business

model on which the digital industry is based. We
believe that another digital economy is possible,
and that we women have the responsibility and
the opportunity to propose an alternative.”
– Kemly Camacho, Sula Batsú
“When we talk about networks today, people only

think of Facebook, Twitter, and other social media.
And we are interested in disputing this term,
because networks are much more than that: they are
connections between women, dialogues, bodies.”
– Lulú Barrera, Luchadoras
“The net is our loudspeaker and our balaclava.”

– The Imilla Hacker
“It is clear that macho violence on and

off the internet prevents us women from
enjoying and exercising our rights fully.”
– Amalia Toledo, Karisma Foundation
“Knowledge and access to technology is

still predominantly masculine and elitist,
which corroborates that women, mainly
those with limited resources, continue to
be excluded from the digital world.”
– Carla and Fernanda Sánchez,
Empoderamiento de la mujer
“We want to (re)appropriate technologies,

use them in a feminist and autonomous way.
This means having control over what devices
and software we use, but it also means being
able to experiment, to make mistakes, and

not to be afraid of entering digital spaces.”
– Narrira Lemos and Steffania Paola, Cl4ndestina20
Our network consists of interconnected spaces and personal en-

counters that are generally intentional and desired. But meetings are
not always possible – we do not necessarily live in the same city, often
not even in the same country, sometimes not even on the same con-
tinent. The internet can bring us very close, yes, but it is even bet-
ter to meet cuerpa- to-cuerpa. The presence of the others gives us the
feeling of ecstasy, makes us float. Meeting gives us power and energy,
facilitates processes, and intensifies networks of trust and cooperation.
Sometimes we converge in our disputed territories, the street, the net-
works, and the servers, and other times in places where we can create
spaces of security, confidence, and relaxation. At times, we can meet
in spaces where we find safety, trust, and relaxation, but at other times
we have to venture out into contested territories, be it on the street or
the internet.
Battle Zones
The Luchadoras (fighters) offer a perfect place for encounters. They
know perfectly well how to connect digital and urban presence in
such a way that they reinforce each other. They define themselves as
“a feminist collective that initiates processes of political, personal,
and collective transformation in both digital and physical (public)
space and creates spaces for encounters in which women’s knowledge,
strength, and power are valued, in which stories can be told and dis-
seminated, and in which a feminist-critical appropriation of technol-
ogies can be pursued.
“For the future, we imagine a world in which women, youths,
and girls can play with the potential of their personal and collective
strengths in joy and freedom in both physical and digital spaces. So
what can we do to achieve this?
“We tell stories of women warriors: We believe in the transformative
power of storytelling to combat gender stereotypes and sexism that prevail
20 Ibid.
in traditional media and make women feel either guilty or victimized. We

tell stories of women who are capable of action, who live and/or fight for
freedom and dignity. It is true that we live in the midst of a permanent
war on women here in in Mexico, but we are the ones who are committed
to life. In Luchadoras we honor everyday revolutions, stories that exist but
usually remain untold. We believe that broadening the narratives expands
the limits they have wanted to impose on us. It is our way of spreading
what is possible – and that everything is possible!
“We work for #InternetFeminista: The internet is a public and a
political space, and ICTs are tools of feminist struggle, for example by
giving us access to information and claiming our rights, or by giving
us means to communicate and organize ourselves. But technologies
are also permeated by gender inequality, and online violence against
women is growing. Through surveillance and social media conversa-
tions, we are also experiencing an increase in violence that has spread
from the offline to the online world.”21
Fanzines can also develop at these face-to-face meetings, such as, for
example, “Necesito privacidad para la autonomía de mi deseo” [“I need
privacy for the autonomy of my desire”]. It is the result of conversations
held in a digital self-defense workshop for feminists. This fanzine stands
for the desire to share some of the questions that were raised as well as
possible avenues of escape – beyond that particular encounter: “Within
the framework of legal regulations, which are not least also shaped by
the requirements of the market, our bodies are no longer ours. Many
countries enact abortion laws just as if the bodies that can reproduce
were part of the (re-) productive capital of the state, a civic body so to
speak, and feminists who insist on the slogan “my body belongs to me,”
i.e., on the opposition of mine and yours, may seem anachronistic –
without really being so. But the problem is not that we should not be
the sole and absolute owners of our bodies, but that others claim this
exclusive ownership of our bodies. A political fantasy can therefore be
to form associations that collectively manage knowledge, resources, and
desires. The resistance lies in defining one’s borders oneself rather than
leaving it to the state, church, or multinationals.”22
21 Luchadoras, available at: http://luchadoras.mx/que-es-luchadoras/

22 Lucía Egaña, “Me falta privacidad,” [I lack privacy], in Necesito privaci-
dad para la autonomía de mi deseo. Available at: https://archive.org/details/
FanzineNecesitoPrivacidad
We see ourselves as a union of interconnected cuerpas, as a growing

movement that creates unstoppable waves and entirely new allianc-
es. Cyberfeminists who are also abortionists, defenders of the earth,
hip-hoppers, anti-militarists, ecologists, artists, sex workers, research-
ers, poets, healers, accountants...
As life on this planet struggles not to disappear, we are creating
new worlds – with speculative fiction, with radical narratives, ances-
tral stories, mitopoiesis, myths, and memes; autopoiesis (self-preser-
vation and self-creation) and simptopoieisis (doing and becoming in
harmony with other species).23
But we will still have to traverse territories in which our bodies
do not belong to us; the internet: another territory to be defended;
a loop, a vortex. It is as if we were always reacting; once again the
feeling of losing the body, this time on the digital battlefields. Traced,
monetized, discretized, objectified, analyzed, monitored, controlled,
punished, violated.
Chupadatos shares with us that “as a precarious worker, as a free-
lancer, I have the dream of money appearing in my account with the
same regularity as menstruation – every 28 days (or less). Menstruating
is a very important task for the world, and now that they have discov-
ered how to make money directly with it, it would be very good if the
money would reach the pockets of those who really do the hard work
of ovulation and bleeding.”
In the particular case of applications aimed at controlling cycles and
fertility, the perspective of unpaid work goes back to the historical lack
of recognition of women’s sexual, reproductive, and affective work.
In “Quantify Everything: A Dream of a Feminist Data Future,”
Amalia Abreu criticizes the logic and contemporary methods of quan-
tifying life, pointing out that the advocates of this model are most-
ly middle and upper class men who voluntarily disclose their data.
And it is precisely the same people who determine what is to be mea-
sured and how.
Although there are no fixed rules for this type of practice – it can
be by means of agile applications or methodologies – worldviews are
23 Talk: Donna Haraway and Rosi Braidotti, Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam and
Utrecht University, “On a feminist partial healing of this earth ... we always be-
come with each other, we are simpoietic, not autopoietic, we are making with
each other.” Video documentation available at: https://vimeo.com/210430116
undoubtedly at play, visions that define what and why is to be mea-

sured, or who is to be measured and how. 24
We create sanctuaries where we can go to breathe; we try to make
them safe and keep them alive; refuges, places of retreat, and com-
munities that create and maintain them. The same thing happens on
the internet, where it takes the form of feminist servers, expression
through the electromagnetic spectrum, community radios, and free
internet connection networks. We continue to tell our stories, which
resonate stronger every day, in order to preserve our freedom, to be
able to decide for ourselves when we come and when we want to go,
when and how we want to express ourselves in a large, beautiful, and
decentralized internet; an internet where there is techno-diversity and
networks of support and solidarity.
Sorry for the Inconvenience, (Feminist

Infrastructure) Under Construction
Then Inés asks: “What distinguishes a cyberfeminist from a feminist
who uses cyberactivism as a strategy? In general terms, cyberfeminists
take a critical look at technology, understanding how it is permeated
by the ideology of those who develop it: a capitalist and heteropatri-
archal vision of the world.
“For example, the belief in the circulation of information in distribut-
ed networks, transparency, the collective and horizontal construction of
knowledge in the hands of a community and not of actors for profit, can
be translated into an individual practice such as the use of free operating
systems (90 percent of those interviewed use them, of which two thirds
do it exclusively) or the formation of non-hierarchical networks.”25
24 Natasha Felizi and Joana Varon, “Menstruapps – ¿Cómo convertir tu menstruación

en dinero (para los demás)” [Menstruapp – How Can You Turn Your Menstruation
into Money (for Others)], 2016. Infographics by Diana Moreno, Natasha
Felizi, and Joana Varon. Available at: https://chupadados.codingrights.org/es/
menstruapps-como-transformar-sua-menstruacao-em-dinheiro-para-os-outros/
25 María Inés Binder, [ciberfeministaslatam], “Identidad y agencia colectiva del movi-
miento ciberfeminista en América Latina” [Identity and Collective Agengy in the Latin
American Cyberfeminist Movement], 2017. A masters thesis in political science at the
Univeristy of Salamanca. Available in Spanish: https://donestech.net/noticia/ciber-
feministaslatam-investigacion-sobre-identidad-y-agencia-colectiva-del-movimiento
And as Laurence Rassel comments on the relationship between

feminism and open source software in an interview with Donestech26:
“In French, an operating system is called ‘système d’exploitation,’ so
the least we can do as feminists is to own our own exploitation system
and be able to modify it!”
And Anamhoo develops this idea in the following way: “If we assume
that virtual space is currently subject to entrepreneurial logic, one tactic
could be to use the power of consumers, but if we remain conventional
consumers, we will always have to play under the terms of patriarchy.
We want a ‘violet revolution’, and any revolution has to think about its
infrastructure; return to the independent servers, the alternative social
networks, which are by no means obsolete strategies. We need safe and
free ways to express ourselves, we need economic and labor resources,
and we need authentic networks to ensure a sustainable collaboration.
“If you still think that this is just an illusion, you need to look at proj-
ects like possibleworlds.org, rhizomatica.org, tv cherán7, or transhack-
feminismo, where you can learn to administrate a feminist server. We still
have a long way to go when it comes to building an infrastructure with
social and feminist technologies, but at a micro-scale and in a decentral-
ized way these possible worlds already exist as seeds of the future.”27
Part of this feminist future are attempts to change the client-server
dynamics, to write code that undoes the vertical structure of the con-
trol panel and gives more autonomy to those who inhabit it, to make
words fly like butterflies, to navigate in a world of possible systems
and to create friendly ways of managing our needs, Kéfir,28 Vedetas,29
26 Documentary: “Código Lela: el día que me enrollé con las tecnologías,”

[LelaCode: The Day I Hooked Up with Technology], Donestech, 2007. Available
at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WlyFAaDsugg. See also the project
LelaCoders, Interviews with cyberfeminists and hackers. Available at: http://vim-
eo.com/lelacoders.
27 “Oficina Antivigilancia,” Anamhoo [Anti-surveillance Office],
“Infraestructura para una revolución violeta” [Infrastructure for a Violet
Revolution], 2016. Available at: https://antivigilancia.org/es/2016/09/
infraestructura-para-una-revolucion-violeta/#sdfootnote6anc
28 See https://kefir.red/
29 See https://vedetas.org/
Codigo Sur,30 Maddix,31 Cl4ndestina,32 Systerserver,33 Matriar.

cat,34 Anarchaserver,35 Rhizomatica,36 Palabra radio,37 Pi-node,38
Tetaneutral,39 Framasoft,40 any many others …
Kéfir, for example, introduces itself as follows: “A transfeminist
cooperative of free technologies for activists, human rights defenders,
journalists, social organizations, collectives, artists, tightrope dancers
... It is committed to co-creating digital neighborhoods where we can
feel confident, express ourselves, and act without fear. We provide
holistic support for the appropriation of digital technologies in com-
munity processes: from consulting to the facilitation of learning spac-
es, collaborative workflows for groups, online learning, and digital
collective care...
“We maintain and take care of autonomous and free infrastruc-
ture on the internet. We offer a digital ecosystem based on mem-
bership: email accounts and mailing lists (encryptable), web hosting
(CMS, static sites), free statistics, online archives, applications for
collaborative work and calendars, voice calls, discussion and decision
making forums, live streaming, project management, and e-learning
platforms.”41
Feminist servers exist as an idea, a distributed conversation, and a
set of political practices that are taking place within a group of fem-
inists and transfeminists interested in creating an autonomous infra-
structure. The aim is to secure data and projects and to make accessi-
ble, preserve, and manage the experiences of feminist groups from a
feminist perspective. There will be no feminist internet without auton-
omous feminist servers managed responsibly by their communities.
30 See https://codigosur.org/
31 See https://maadix.net
32 See https://clandestina.io
33 See https://systerserver.net/
34 See http://matriar.cat/
35 See http://anarchaserver.org/
36 See https://www.rhizomatica.org/
37 See https://palabraradio.org/
38 See http://p-node.org/
39 See https://tetaneutral.net/
40 See https://degooglisons-internet.org/
41 See https://Kéfir.red/
It is about regaining control and autonomy over our data, nar-

ratives, and collective memories; about having access to tools, social
networks, and online services managed by feminist technology collec-
tives or cooperatives. And, of course, it is also about advancing social
and gender justice in technological environments. To achieve these
goals, we need to continue discussing the following questions: What
is the purpose of running a Feminist Server? What makes a server
autonomous and feminist? Where are possible (socially sustainable)
models for these servers? How do we build the necessary trust to de-
velop cooperative approaches to managing these spaces of resistance
and transformation?
Giving Back
We conclude this compilation of texts with some reflections by
Florencia Goldsman on contemporary forms of cyberfeminism in
Latin America: “A social cyberfeminism must necessarily include the
vindication of the connection of different geographical regions and
not just those regions that are thought to be more developed. …
“Latin American forms of cyberfeminism constitute a network
of technology activists and other active people spread across a vast
continent marked by disasters, violence, emergency situations, and
unequal access to ICT. In our perception as active participants in this
movement, discourse arises directly from practices – not from the ab-
stract theorization of forms of cyberfeminism.
“At present, there are still large number of open questions: How
can we use technologies in a liberating way? What new instruments
do we need to develop to emancipate ourselves? We work on these
questions by discussing and writing together while still using spaces
and tools that are determined by androcentric logic.
“The dream of a Latin American feminist internet has a neces-
sary critical potential, but at the same time we recognize that there
are already numerous initiatives with the capacity to act together and
transform – without necessarily defining themselves as cyberfeminist.
“For Latin American social cyberfeminism, practiced both by
women and feminists in particular, the creative appropriation of
public-private technology scenarios is crucial; this in the only way to
develop liberating ideas, to exercise the right to information and com-

munication, and to make visible the demands of feminism.”42
With all these ideas in mind and all the multiverse thinking that is
yet to be discovered and produced, and knowing that this network is a
galaxy that is creating new worlds, we say goodbye with the following
proposals from the compañeras Kéfir and Vedetas:
“Our actions are not guided by the desire for more people, more
women, more bodies to connect with digital technology. We accept
that some will not have access to it – and may not even want to .... But
we bring together different identity struggles (female, black, trans,
non-binary) with a historical Latin American burden, that of being
servidoras [servants/servers]. Against the background that we have
never experienced social and economic justice, this is our way of re-
sisting; the possibility of transgressing boundaries, of forming new al-
liances, and of being “servants” in a more technological sense, masters
of technologies and of knowledge generated by ourselves – rather than
merely reflections of what we are observing.
“Could a different design and logic create spaces that are not spac-
es of violence? What happens if we radically change the notion of
gender, which implies that women do not create technology? What
changes would we strive for at the collective level once we understand
that we are not just consumers at the service of private companies?
What happens when we interfere in the deepest depths of Net archi-
tecture? It is not just about gender-specific violence online, but also
about designing and programming the platforms and structures that
connect us. The internet could cease to be a male domain if we ques-
tion the power structures that are invisible at first glance.
“It sounds utopian and far away, but in the end we are only turn-
ing back to the beginnings of the internet. We can imagine another
world and also another internet, one in which we have equal rights in
relation to technology; a network in which privacy and the total con-
trol of our data are fundamental principles for building safe spaces; in
42 Marta Florencia Goldsman, “#libertad para belen: twitter y el debate sobre el abor-
to en la argentina” [“#Freedom for Belen: Twitter and the Debate on Abortion
in Argentina], 2018., Dissertation written as part of the post-graduate program
Comunicação e Cultura Contemporâneas at the faculty for communication at the
Federal University of Bahia.
which the same principles of autonomy apply to technology and to

our bodies: our spaces, our rules, our freedom.”43
43 See https://fermentos.Kéfir.red/aco-pele/ and https://www.genderit.org/

node/5078.
CODES OF CONDUCT
Transforming Shared Values into Daily Practice
Femke Snelting
Codes of Conduct state the rules of behavior that a commu-

nity agrees upon. Such documents explicitly or euphemistically
acknowledge the possibility of harassment, and sometimes provide
guidelines for the course of action in case an incident would occur.
Codes of Conduct have become default practice in Free/Libre and
Open Source communities worldwide, to the point that nowadays
it would be hard to find a project without one in place.1 Projects as
diverse as FreeBSD, Python, and the Free and Open source Software
Developers’ European Meeting (FOSDEM) have formulated pro-
tocols to address the on- and off-line behavior of their communi-
ty members.
1 Geek Feminism Wiki, “Conference anti-harassment/Adoption.” http://geekfem-

inism.wikia.com/wiki/Conference_anti-harassment/Adoption
57
In 2013, The Python Foundation asked the Libre Graphics

Meeting (LGM), a community I contributed to at the time, to im-
plement a Code of Conduct. The responses on the LGM mailing list
ranged from expressions of fear that such a code might give future
participants the impression that terrible things had happened, to peo-
ple finding it hard to believe that Libre Graphics Meeting, an event
they had always considered to be comfortable and convivial, would
need a Code of Conduct to begin with. Some insisted aggressively
that such codes were a preemptive response to political correctness
or that “Free societies rely on open and sometimes heated public de-
bates.” Again, others worried about how the Libre Graphics Meeting
Code of Conduct might contradict local laws, or wondered how neg-
ativity could be avoided: “Personally, I would like to see language that
talks of ‘respect’ (a positive term) rather than ‘anti-harassment’ (a neg-
ative term).”2 After four days of intense mailing list traffic, several
people including myself volunteered to formulate a code, if only be-
cause the Python foundation had made the presence of such a docu-
ment a requirement for sponsorship. For me, Codes of Conduct were
part of a feminist project that confronts systemic oppression through
the work of articulation. In the spirit of Jo Freeman’s “Tyranny of
Structurelessness,”3 I considered them a way to make discourse pos-
sible on sexism, racism, able-ism, and other forms of exclusion that
operate in our communities. I joined a workgroup consisting of mem-
bers from The Gimp Project, the World Wide Web Consortium, and
a project that then was known as Valentina, to work on a draft and
to seek consensus around it. The Libre Graphics Meeting Code of
Conduct was finally adopted in 2015, but the long and confusing
process that got us there left many questions unanswered.
The invitation to contribute to this publication was a welcome
opportunity to work through some of the issues and challenges that
Codes of Conduct present F/LOSs communities with. I started by
tracing a genealogy of their appearance in the context of F/LOSs.
It is an incomplete account that will hopefully invite further discus-
sion and history writing. The essay continues with a close reading of
2 CREATE mailinglist, “Code of conduct,” January 2014. https://lists.freedesktop.

org/archives/create/2014-January/thread.html#4712
3 Freeman, Jo. “The Tyranny of Structurelessness.” http://www.jofreeman.com/
joreen/tyranny.htm
Codes of Conduct // 59
eight actual documents from Python, GNOME, Ubuntu, FreeBSD,

Django, KDE, Debian and, of course, the Libre Graphics Meeting.
Paying attention to the phrasing of “diversity,” “conflict” and “enforce-
ment” in these documents shows how their ambitions are as dissimilar
as the communities that formulate them. Now that the adoption of
Codes of Conduct is ubiquitous, it seems even more important to
(re-) open a conversation on their feminist potential.
The context of conduct

FLOSs communities are particularly sensitive to the ways words can
be made flesh, both as code and as law.4 The object of interest that its
developers and users gather around is source code, a specific form of
language, which is made executable through regulation. The world-
ing power of language is also present in the legal invention of open
content licensing. By creatively turning conventional copyright law
upside down, these licenses make the re-using, distribution, and de-
velopment of source code possible.
While the regulatory frameworks of code and law are at its base,
FLOSs communities are epistemically and culturally complex environ-
ments. The often-quoted statement “We reject: kings, presidents and
voting. We believe in: rough consensus and running code,”5 illustrates
that the general spirit is anti-establishment and meritocratic. But as
the projects gained in size and age, various practices of governance de-
veloped in the shape of bespoke guidelines such as the Debian Social
Contract and other idiosyncratic norms, if necessary supplemented
with conventional institutional forms such as the GNOME founda-
tion, the Django Software Foundation, and the Python Foundation.
FLOSs communities have also remained predominantly white,
male and Anglophone. The widely-discussed results of a large-scale
4 “We understand the internal perspective of legal regulation – for example, that
the restrictions the law might impose on a company’s freedom to pollute are a
product of self-conscious regulation, reflecting values of the society imposing that
regulation. That perspective is harder to recognize with code. It could be there,
but it need not. And no doubt this is just one of many important differences
between.” Lessig, Lawrence. Code is law. Basic books, 2006
5 Clark, David D. “A Cloudy Crystal Ball – Visions of the Future.” Presentation
given at the Internet Engineering Task Force, 1992
surveys held in 2003 and 2013 helped grow awareness of the fact
that Free, Libre, and Open Source communities were even less diverse
than commercial software environments.6 In the meantime, reports
of harassment kept surfacing. It confirmed FLOSs communities as
hostile environments where figureheads such as Richard Stallman
considered it funny to make so-called “EMACS virgin jokes,”7 where
a bug-report on the presence of rote sexism in a software manual was
flooded with misogynous comments,8 and where using de-feminized
IRC nicknames became a necessary strategy for many women.9 This
culture of oppressive behavior embarrassed the professional ambitions
of certain projects and deeply troubled others.
It is in this paradoxical context of uncomfortable governance, of
do-ocracies with a legal leaning and of normalized misogyny that
Codes of Conduct emerge as the medium of choice for regulat-
ing behavior.
A genealogy of codes
Codes of Conduct come in many flavors, even if they repeat similar
formulas, and go under the same name. They roughly express three in-
terconnected but different goals: to affirm the inclusivity and diversity
of FLOSS communities, to facilitate the mediation of disagreements,
and to prevent and respond to cases of harassment. Some codes read
as motivational mission statements, where conduct is linked to the
values of the project in question. Others are more like organization-
al documents that emphasize the importance of efficiently resolving
conflicts in order to ensure a productive environment. Again, others
are explicitly formulated as anti-harassment policies.
6 “Free/Libre and Open Source Software: Survey and Study.” International Institute
of Infonomics University of Maastricht, The Netherlands; Berlecon Research
GmbH Berlin, Germany, 2002 and “FLOSS survey 2013.” Libresoft, 2013.
7 Garrett, Matthew. “RMS and virgins,” 2009 https://mjg59.livejournal.
com/113408.html
8 Lena. “Bug 155385 – complaint about geli(8) manpage.” FreeBSD Bugzilla,
2011 https://bugs.freebsd.org/bugzilla/show_bug.cgi?id=155385
9 Meyer, Robert, Cukier, Michel. “Assessing the Attack Threat due to IRC
Channels” Conference paper: Dependable Systems and Networks, 2006.
These different modes of address seem to reflect the diverse prac-

tices that implicitly or explicitly influenced the formulation and
(imagined) function of Codes of Conduct in the context of FLOSS.
Historically, the term “Code of Conduct” appears in relation to the
changing international business practices in the early 1990s. In the
aftermath of state de-regulation and the globalization of capital, trans-
national companies were pressured by NGOs and trade unions to vol-
untary adopt Codes of Conduct. In the absence of state control and
international legal frameworks, this would, at least in theory, regulate
the impact of global enterprises on social and environmental condi-
tions.10 It is no surprise that the de-politicized mix of managerial and
motivational language of these business codes rings through in docu-
ments adopted by projects such as Ubuntu and Python. Both projects
operate in a US-based entrepreneurial environment.
A second influence is the informal tradition of “netiquette,” which
circulated in the early days of the Internet. Reiterating the way “eti-
quette” functions as a framework to govern social interactions through
behavioral norms, netiquette established a loose set of conventions,
which facilitated friction-free interaction over networks.11 Common-
sense advice such as “Remember that the recipient (of your e-mail)
is a human being whose culture, language, and humor have different
points of reference from your own,” has found its way into many
Codes of Conduct.
In some codes, for example the one for GNOME and Ubuntu,
you can recognize the ambition of traditional oaths such as The Order
of the Engineer or the Hippocratic Oath that medical students pledge
before entering professional life. In a similar fashion, Ubuntu requires
new contributors to electronically undersign their Code of Conduct
as part of a rite of passage into the Ubuntu community.
Last but not least, Codes of Conduct are influenced by feminist
and LGBTQ activism for Safe Spaces, as well as anti-oppression
practices that address racism, sexism, homophobia, and trans-phobia
10 Jenkins, Rhys. “Corporate Codes of Conduct: Self-Regulation in a Global

Economy.” UNRISD Programme Papers on Technology, Business and
Society, 2001.
11 The Internet Engineering Task Force (IETF), “Netiquette Guidelines.” https://
tools.ietf.org/html/rfc1855
head on.12 Their intersectional approach to privilege and power can

be found in the language and methods of certain Codes of Conduct,
such as the one adopted by FreeBSD. This influence can be partially
traced back to the persistence of the US-based Ada Initiative that, in
the period 2011-2015, actively interfered with the internal politics of
many FLOSS projects in order to make sure they would adopt effec-
tive Codes of Conduct.
The first code in the context of FLOSS appeared in 2004. Debian
and Ubuntu contributor Benjamin Mako Hill allegedly typed up
“one of the key innovations that Ubuntu pioneered in free software
communities” over lunch.13 In the rationale for this casual innova-
tion, Ubuntu explains that the code is the foundation for all of their
governance practices and should “help people participate in decisions
regarding the Ubuntu community and distribution.”14 Due to its ear-
ly arrival in a widespread community, and maybe because of the ex-
clusively positive terminology it uses, this document has served as a
template for many codes to follow.
It took almost ten years before the adoption of CoCs spread wid-
er. From 2008 onwards, contributors to The Geek Feminism Wiki
actively documented harassment in the context of FLOSS, the tech-
nology industry, gaming, and fandom. They were joined by the Ada
Initiative in 2011, and their combined efforts have no doubt had an
important influence on the sense of urgency that especially US-based
projects must have felt.15 Ada Initiative founder Mary Gardiner ex-
plains: “Had you asked me in 2003 for troublesome incidents in Free
Software... I don’t know that I would have been able to give you ex-
amples of anyone doing anything much wrong. A few unfortunate
comments about cooking and babies at LUGs, perhaps. Things start-
ed to change my awareness slowly.”16 In 2014, a growing number of
12 Fithian, Lisa, Oswald Mitchell, Dave. “Theory: Anti-oppression” in: Beautiful

Trouble, OR books, 2012.
13 Mako Hill, Benjamin. “Updating the Ubuntu Code of Conduct.” https://mako.
cc/copyrighteous/updating-the-ubuntu-code-of-conduct
14 “Governance.” Ubuntu website. https://www.ubuntu.com/community/governance
15 “Timeline of Incidents.” Geek Feminism Wiki. http://geekfeminism.wikia.com/
wiki/Timeline_of_incidents
16 Gardiner, Mary. “Why we document.” Geek Feminism Blog, 2009 https://geek-
feminism.org/2009/08/19/why-we-document
conference organizers and speakers began to pledge that they would

stop contributing to events without a Code of Conduct in place,17
and both the Python and the Django foundation demanded all proj-
ects they sponsored to adopt a Code of Conduct. By this time, social
and financial pressure had aligned to normalize Codes of Conduct
even for the most reluctant communities.
Gaining strength from diversity

Reading through the Codes of Conduct of seven major FLOSS com-
munities (Python, GNOME, Ubuntu, FreeBSD, Django, KDE and
Debian) and the Libre Graphics Meeting, it is striking how many of
them open with a diversity statement:
“The Python community is made up of members from

around the globe with a diverse set of skills, personal-
ities, and experiences. It is through these differences
that our community experiences great successes and
continued growth.” (Python)
The TODO Group, an initiative that developed the influential

Open Code of Conduct, believes that the adoption of a code helps
“set the ground rules for participation in communities, and more
importantly helps to build a culture of respect and improve diver-
sity.”18 With the majority of FLOSS contributors being white, male,
and from the affluent North,19 this imagined “diversity” is still sad-
ly at odds with reality. Explicitly articulating diversity in a Code of
Conduct can be part of a strategy to change the culture from within
and might have an effect on diversification in the long term. It is also
17 #cocpledge https://twitter.com/cocpledge
18 TODO. “Open Code of Conduct” https://github.com/todogroup/
opencodeofconduct/tree/13611b3023881dbf5a2914e73873dea178e160fc
19 Demby, Gene. “Why Isn’t Open Source a Gateway For Coders Of
Color?” Code Switch, December 2013 https://www.npr.org/sections/
codeswitch/2013/12/05/248791579/why-isnt-open-source-a-gateway-for-
coders-of-color. Dryden, Ashe. “The Ethics of Unpaid Labor and the OSS
Community.” https://www.ashedryden.com/blog/the-ethics-of-unpaid-labor-
and-the-oss-community
fair to say that Ubuntu, Debian, and Python have not only adopted a
Code of Conduct, but also initiated multiple activities and policies to
address gender disparity in their communities.
“We gain strength from diversity, and actively seek

participation from those who enhance it. This code of
conduct exists to ensure that diverse groups collaborate
to mutual advantage and enjoyment. We will challenge
prejudice that could jeopardise the participation of any
person in the project.” (Ubuntu)
However, such hopeful diversity statements run the risk of obscur-

ing the systemic problems operating within and around these projects.
The insistence on being already inclusive might make it harder to re-
port incidents that would contradict such claims: “Diversity provides
a positive, shiny image of the organization that allows inequalities to
be concealed and thus reproduced.”20
Other uses of the term “diversity” address differences within the
relatively homogeneous but internationally distributed communities
of FLOSS, where proud autodidacts, opinionated computer scien-
tists, engineering students, hobbyists, and professionals gather. To
communicate in many flavors of English across varying social and
cultural backgrounds can be challenging:
“Diversity is one of our huge strengths, but it can also

lead to communication issues and unhappiness. To
that end, we have a few ground rules that we ask peo-
ple to adhere to.” (Django)
“We accept that people have differences of opinion,

that they communicate those in various ways, and that
social norms may vary across cultures. Sometimes the
impact our behaviour has on others isn’t immediately
apparent to us.” (Libre Graphics Meeting)
20 Ahmed, Sarah. On Being Included: Racism and Diversity in Institutional Life. Duke
University Press, 2012.
The acknowledgment of “communication issues” hints at the cost

of conflict that can paralyze development more than anything. It be-
comes clear that Codes of Conduct not only express a desire for di-
versity but also propose ways to manage the flow of collaboration in
order to secure a productive environment:
“Debian contributors have many ways of reaching our

common goal of a free operating system which may
differ from your ways. Assume that other people are
working towards this goal. Note that many of our con-
tributors are not native English speakers or may have
different cultural backgrounds.” (Debian)
“The FreeBSD Project is inclusive. We want the

FreeBSD Project to be a venue where people of all
backgrounds can work together to make the best oper-
ating system, built by a strong community.” (FreeBSD)
Conflict resolution for healthy communities

Techno-ideological conflicts in FLOSs environments can be relent-
less. These “disagreements” prove hard to resolve on the basis of mer-
itocratic values such as technical excellence, effort, or achievement
alone. Because conflicts can paralyze projects for long periods of
time, it became important to develop practices that prevent the costly
re-negotiation of core aims as much as possible.21 It is telling that
even Linus Torvalds, notorious for testing the limits of conduct him-
self,22 decided to merge a “Code of Conflict” into the Linux Kernel
documentation:
“In a project the size of Debian, inevitably there will

be people with whom you may disagree, or find it dif-
ficult to cooperate. Accept that, but even so, remain
21 Mateos-Garcia, Juan, Steinmueller, W. Edward. “The Institutions of Open Source

Software: Examining the Debian Community” in: Information Economics and
Policy Volume 20, Issue 4, December 2008, Pages 333-344
22 Corbet, Jonathan. “How to enforce Debian’s code of conduct.” lwn.net,
September 2012 https://lwn.net/Articles/611317/
respectful. Disagreement is no excuse for poor behav-

ior or personal attacks, and a community in which
people feel threatened is not a healthy community.”
(Debian)23
In the “‘socially-light’ and ‘intimacy-averse’”24 on-line environ-

ments of IRC channels and mailing lists, a disagreement can easi-
ly turn into a development-crippling flame-war. In their respective
codes, the Django and KDE project carefully formulate their idea of
constructive conduct in such case:
“Disagreements, both social and technical, happen all

the time and Django is no exception. It is important
that we resolve disagreements and differing views con-
structively. Remember that we’re different.” (Django)
“Disagreements, both political and technical, hap-

pen all the time. Our community is no exception to the
rule. The goal is not to avoid disagreements or differing
views but to resolve them constructively.” (KDE)
Dealing with the consequences

All documents but one (Debian has published a separate diversity
statement) highlight the diversity and inclusiveness of their respec-
tive communities, and all but one (FreeBSD) pay attention to how
disagreements should be dealt with. The prevention of, and response
to harassment receives much less attention, arrives at the end of the
documents and is often not present at all.
The priorities of the Ada Initiative clearly lie elsewhere. According
to them, an effective Code of Conduct includes, first of all, “Specific
descriptions of common but unacceptable behavior (sexist jokes,
23 Linux Kernel Documentation Code of Conflict https://www.kernel.org/doc/

html/v4.10/process/code-of-conflict.html
24 The institutions of Open Source Software: Examining the Debian Community,
Mateos-Garcia, Juan, Steinmueller, W. Edward. “The Institutions of Open Source
Software: Examining the Debian Community” in: Information Economics and
Policy Volume 20, Issue 4, December 2008, Pages 333-344
etc.)” and, additionally, “reporting instructions with contact infor-

mation, information about how it may be enforced, a clear demarca-
tion between unacceptable behavior (...) and community guidelines
such as general disagreement resolution.” According to a survey on the
Geek Feminism Wiki, not many Codes of Conduct fulfill these first
three requirements:
“Overall, we’re good to each other. We contribute to

this community not because we have to, but because
we want to. If we remember that, these guidelines will
come naturally.” (Python)25
The insistence of the Ada Initiative on enforceable mechanisms of

responsibility comes down to two basic elements: listing unacceptable
behavior takes away the burden from someone reporting harassment
to define the nature of harassment itself, and clear guidelines will
guarantee that in case something happens, those who report incidents
can trust that they will be heard.
When it comes to enforcement, some codes assume that guide-
lines lead to better conduct naturally. Others explicitly state that their
Code of Conduct will not be enforced:
“GNOME creates software for a better world. We

achieve this by behaving well towards each other.
Therefore this document suggests what we consid-
er ideal behavior, so you know what to expect when
getting involved in GNOME. This is who we are and
what we want to be. There is no official enforcement of
these principles, and this should not be interpreted like
a legal document.” (GNOME)
The phrase “this should not be interpreted like a legal document”

points to the complicated relation that these codes have with the law.
It seems, at least partially, related to the reluctance to summon exter-
nal governing bodies, unless absolutely necessary:
25 “Code of conduct evaluations.” Geek Feminism Wiki http://geekfeminism.wikia.

com/wiki/Code_of_conduct_evaluations
“If you believe anyone is in physical danger, please no-

tify appropriate law enforcement first.” (FreeBSD)
Communication on mailing lists happens between geographically

dispersed participants, so it is not always clear which local laws apply.
For conferences, it might be that the legal situation of a host country
does or does not cover the terms specified in the code. In many cas-
es, anti-discrimination statements reiterate international and national
agreements as if they are community-specific values:
“To achieve the goals of the Code of Conduct, the or-

ganizers of the Libre Graphics Meeting will check be-
fore the selection of a location is made, if local laws are
compatible with the CoC.” (Libre Graphics Meeting)
Whenever a Code of Conduct includes a clause with reporting

instructions and ways the code may be enforced, this comes down
to assigning specific community members as “community liaison” or
“Code of Conduct Committee.” They are charged with information
gathering, deciding whether a violation was committed, and carrying
out a sentence if applicable. This can be a private or public repri-
mand, a permanent or temporary ban, a request for public or pri-
vate apology or a process of mediation. As a consequence, the way
community-members relate to each other radically changes. Not en-
forcing a Code of Conduct that promises to do so is alienating for
those experiencing or reporting a violation. But when some volunteer
members become responsible for policing others, this can create dif-
ficult and destabilizing situations for everyone involved: reporters of
harassment, perpetrators of violations, and liaisons alike. There is no
easy way out:
“We will do our best to respond within one week to

the person who filed the report with either a resolu-
tion or an explanation of why the situation is not yet
resolved. Once we have determined our final action,
we will contact the original reporter to let them know
what action (if any) we will be taking.” (FreeBSD)
“The contact person(s) will take appropriate mea-

sures when necessary, such as removing someone from
the premises or channels.” (Libre Graphics Meeting)
Only two of the eight documents that I worked with demarcate

unacceptable behavior. Django lists desired conduct first (be respect-
ful, considerate, collaborative, open, patient, generous, assume peo-
ple mean well, take responsibility...) before arriving at the following
definition:
“Violent threats or language directed against another

person. Discriminatory jokes and language. Posting
sexually explicit or violent material. Posting (or threat-
ening to post) other people’s personally identifying in-
formation (“doxing”). Personal insults, especially those
using racist or sexist terms. Unwelcome sexual atten-
tion. Advocating for, or encouraging, any of the above
behavior. Repeated harassment of others. In general, if
someone asks you to stop, then stop.” (Django)
Such dictionaries of harassment are painful to write and read. But

as intersectional activist Lisa Fithian warns us, the discomfort comes
with facing oppression and is a necessary part of the process:
“Comments that reinforce systemic oppression relat-

ed to gender, gender identity and expression, sexual
orientation, disability, mental illness, neurodiversity,
physical appearance, body size, age, race, or religion.
Unwelcome comments regarding a person’s lifestyle
choices and practices, including those related to food,
health, parenting, drugs, and employment. Deliberate
misgendering. Deliberate use of “dead” or rejected
names. Gratuitous or off-topic sexual images or behav-
ior in spaces where they’re not appropriate. Physical
contact and simulated physical contact (e.g. textu-
al descriptions like “*hug*” or “*backrub*”) without
consent or after a request to stop. Threats of violence.
Incitement of violence towards any individual, in-
cluding encouraging a person to commit suicide or to
engage in self-harm. Deliberate intimidation. Stalking

or following. Harassing photography or recording,
including logging online activity for harassment pur-
poses. Sustained disruption of discussion. Unwelcome
sexual attention. Pattern of inappropriate social con-
tact, such as requesting/assuming inappropriate levels
of intimacy with others. Continued one-on-one com-
munication after requests to cease. Deliberate “outing”
of any private aspect of a person’s identity without
their consent except as necessary to protect vulnerable
people from intentional abuse. Publication of non-ha-
rassing private communication without consent.
Publication of non-harassing private communication
with consent but in a way that intentionally misrep-
resents the communication (e.g. removes context that
changes the meaning). Knowingly making harmful
false claims about a person.” (FreeBSD)26
The feminist potential of Codes of Conduct

Now that many FLOSs projects have adopted Codes of Conduct, the
attention for these documents rapidly diminishes. The Ada Initiative
closed in 2015, the Geek Feminism wiki is currently in archive mode,
and TODO announced that it “will not be continuing work on the
open code of conduct.”27 The Code of Conduct adopted by the Libre
26 Fithian, Lisa, Oswald Mitchell, Dave. “Theory: Anti-oppression” in: Beautiful

Trouble, OR books, 2012.
27 Ada-Initiative. “The Ada Initiative closed in October 2015 but we en-
courage you to continue supporting women in open technology and cul-
ture by continuing and building on the Ada Initiative’s work.” https://
adainitiative.org/2015/08/announcing-the-shutdown-of-the-ada-initiative/
Geek Feminism Wiki. “The Geek Feminism Wiki is effectively in archival
mode. New accounts are restricted from editing due to vandalism, and we do
not have the volunteer labor available to whitelist new accounts and mon-
itor activity” http://geekfeminism.wikia.com/wiki/Geek_Feminism_Wiki
TODO. “Update: We will not be continuing work on the open code of conduct.”
http://todogroup.org/opencodeofconduct/#Open+Code+of+Conduct
Graphics Community in 2015 has never been evaluated, adjusted, or

discussed afterwards.
Obviously there are a lot of questions to ask about the ways in
which these codes really function. Do the communities that adopt
them indeed diversify? Did the amount of disagreements diminish,
and were they dealt with more constructively? Are there fewer inci-
dents of harassment to report? And have communities gotten better
at handling incidents?
I think there is feminist potential hidden in the meticulous but con-
fused wordings of Codes of Conduct. The process of formulating them
provided a much-needed platform for community-wide conversations on
harassment and mechanisms of exclusion. Codes that contain explicit ex-
amples of harassment have made people reflect on their own contribution
to the pervasiveness of oppressive behavior, even if reluctantly and awk-
wardly. They have opened up the possibility to identify and call out such
behavior and have made it clear that there exists relentless resistance to do
so as well. When it comes to enforcement, I wonder about the way proj-
ects seem to agree on trusting dedicated community members with the
task. It means essentially a move of containment that makes it very hard
to address these issues beyond individual perpetration. We might learn
from radical feminist hacker-initiatives how to build collective spaces that
allow us to address systemic oppression together.
Without collective attention and experimentation, Codes of
Conduct risk producing a sense of already-safe and already-diverse
environments where diversity work is efficiently outsourced to the
document. We need to keep activating these tools to articulate con-
cerns and to create communities of conduct that can operate with
difference, that can keep conflict in the room, and that are ready to
work through mistakes. We should not abandon these documents.
They deserve our persistent interaction and intervention.
Bibliography
This text is based on a close reading of the following Codes of Conduct:
• FreeBSD https://www.freebsd.org/internal/code-of-conduct.html
• Debian https://www.debian.org/code_of_conduct
• Ubuntu https://www.ubuntu.com/community/code-of-conduct
• Libre Graphics Meeting https://libregraphicsmeeting.org/lgm/

public-documentation/code-of-conduct/
• KDE https://www.kde.org/code-of-conduct/
• Django https://www.djangoproject.com/conduct/
• GNOME https://wiki.gnome.org/action/show/Foundation/
CodeOfConduct
• Python https://www.python.org/psf/codeofconduct/
THE FEMINIST PRINCIPLES
OF THE INTERNET
or the personal_collective story of
imagining and making #feministinternet
Text by hvale vale
Intro
Creation, except in religious stories, is never an act of loneliness or
solitude. Creation is the transcendence of the personal in a voluntary
recognition of the shared purpose of a journey.
I could have said this using one word: feminism. But

then I would have spent far more time explaining what
feminism, and which feminists I might mean by that.
So, I thought, let’s start from co-creation and pleasure
before going into the long, arcane labor of building
communities, opening/discovering paths takenby ac-
tivists in their local, embodied resistances, push-backs,
and hopes for a diversity-welcoming world.
73
Feminist principles are born in and from the political thinking

of an incredible group of 52 activists from various realms: women’s
rights, sexuality, digital/internet rights, and intersectional feminism.
The personal and collective space of r_existence1 is overwhelming-
ly what in international development jargon is called the “Global
South,” meaning the entire world except the Northern-Western-
white-capitalist-male: North America, the EU, Australia, and New
Zealand. Having said that, since each North needs to have a South
to threaten, among those 52 feminists there were activists born and
coming from the abovementioned North.
Beyond traditional geography, the most prominent territorial
dimension of feminist principles is the internet. Understanding the
internet and its digital, virtual dimension as intrinsically the same s_
place2 in hosting our lives, is essential to understanding the “why” of
the Feminist Principles of the Internet.
The internet hosts a continuum of our bodies, not a fractured or
fragmented projection of data bits. The internet is in fact just another
dimension of the world we all live in. As such, it flourishes with exclu-
sions, exploitations, misogyny, sexism, racism… and flourishes with
creation, passion, and of course, hacking.
So, the story of the Feminist Principles of the Internet is a story of
co-creation: the perpetual, collective, and passionate hacking. I will
try to tell this story from the beginning, as I know it.
Questions from Cornelia Sollfrank

Answers by hvale vale
CS: You have been involved in the process of writing up the Feminist
Principles of the Internet.
First of all, could you please explain what these principles are, or give
a general description/overview.
HV: The Feminist Principles of the Internet are a compass to help us

move through the uncharted and wild territory of the InternetS (we’ll
1 Neologism coined by the author, combining the words “resistance” and “exis-
tence,” indicating the attitude of resisting through everyday life.
2 Neologism coined by the author combining the words “space” and “place.”
The Feminist Principles of the Internet // 75
come back later to the plural), and at the same time, the drawing of
that territory, i.e. the chart itself.
The Feminist Principles of the Internet are a political and analyti-
cal framework. They offer a perspective that comes from the lived ex-
perience of “women and queer persons in all our diversities.” A read-
ing that embeds the theoretical and the programmatic in a nutshell.
As co-creation, it changes through the experiences, reflections, and
conversations of the persons that participated and have become part
of them. The current version of the Feminist Principles of the Internet
(FPIs) consists of 17 principles, which can be grouped into five broad
areas/sections: Access, (Principles 1, 2, and 3); Movements and Public
Participation, (Principles 4, 5, and 5); Economy (Principles 7 and 8);
Expression (Principles 9, 10, and 11); and Embodiment (Principles
12, 13, 14, 15, 16, and 17).
The first, Access, comprises of multiple dimensions: from connec-
tivity, cables and last miles, to devices, content, and the ability to ac-
cess information, but also to produce and share it. It speaks of auton-
omous infrastructures, decentralized networks owned by people, and
of the many potential InternetS against the one-size-fits-all-internet
promoted by corporations.
The principles regarding Movement and Public Participation rec-
ognize the internet as a place and a space of public discourse, and as
such, our space of resistance and transformation. A space of resis-
tance against the oppressive and discriminatory social norms, but also
a space of power and creativity used to connect and build movement
from the very local to the very global. It states that technology is a
given in our movement building and calls for understanding the ma-
chine and reclaiming it down to the code.
This concept is then expanded and explained throughout the prin-
ciples regarding Economy and Open Source, which touch upon the
economic model and its roots. It envisions an economy based on sol-
idarity and denounces the exploitative nature of the various venture
start-ups. It talks about collective intelligence, the right to see, build,
and change the code, but also about a different concept of security –
one that is centered on people rather than states.
The next thematic area under the theme Expression introduces
counter-narratives and bodies as expression that counters the tradi-
tional discourse of freedom of speech based on ideas and words. It
touches on pornography, but also “harmful” content and links it to

agency, consent, labor, and power.
The last set of principles is all about Embodiment and like the
rest, is entrenched in feminist analyses, its practices, and the multiple
discriminations it contends with. Each and every principle is based on
intersectionality and these last six principles complete the framework.
Consent: Yes means yes, and no means no – there isn’t any room
for a blank yes; no predatory tick that can be made, and that stands
for consent regarding unclear and constantly changing terms of use.
The principle of Consent is theorized and practiced by feminism to
explain gender-based violence. It has to be explicit, meaningful, and
informed. The next one focuses on the intersection of data and priva-
cy, far preceding the GDPR (the EU’s General Data and Protection
Regulation). This is followed by Memory as the cornerstone of build-
ing and growing personal and collective stories, and echoing the many
archives and the incredible efforts that bring visibility to all voices and
all personal stories. The last three principles regarding Anonymity,
Children and Youth, and Online Violence close this thematic area.
Their sequence is not accidental. The Feminist Principles project aims
at dismantling patriarchy. This entails heteronormativity, gender iden-
tity, sexual taboos, and social norms that are enforced online through
the powerful algorithm full of internalized and undisclosed bias.
Each of the principles recognizes the challenges and does not give
black and white, or binary solutions. Instead, they call for agency and
recognition of diversity. That’s why online violence appears last. The
bodies that are targeted, our bodies, are targeted because of the ways
in which they-are-not.
Online violence is the product of a misogynistic, patriarchal, mor-
alistic world and because of this, access to the internet is prevented – a
vicious circle of cause and effect.
The principles are by their nature short statements. They mention
the change, how the world would look like with, and on, a feminist
internet. They are a vision. When reading or using them, there is no
need to take them as an indivisible block.
They come from activists, from the women’s rights, sexual rights,
and internet rights movements. They came into existence as an act of
freedom and with the intention to give form to the shared desire for
a feminist internet in our practices of resistance and transformation.
We have all experienced the mainstream assumption of the neu-

trality of the internet/technology, invariably used to invalidate any
request for participation, accountability, transparency, and response
that linked the internet to issues of gender, sexuality, class, race, dis-
ability, and so on. The invisibility cloak that was covering all our bod-
ies was the norm of the internet/technology.
We need to look at the principles as an exercise of naming the
territory called “the internet” from a feminist perspective. And I say
“territory” because we did not look at the internet as a tool, but as
a space, a place not unlike the other places and spaces in which ac-
tivists and feminists invest their lives to achieve change, justice, and
transformation.
We also wanted to build an instrument to help dismantle the as-
sumptions coming from the “neutral” minds and bodies. A chart that
would call out this embodiment as part of the patriarchy and its “as-
sumption of neutrality” as the “absence of self-reflection on genders,
sexualities and power.” So the Feminist Principles of the Internet are
part of the “herstorical” production of a feminist manifesto that sig-
nifies knowledge and a political stand. As such they are short, dense,
affirmative, and open.
A clarification: I use “we” as an open-ended collective of people.
The experience around the FPI was and is collective, and what I am
describing here is how I came to be a part of it, who called me in,
and why I feel strongly about the FPI. The FPI were and are a process
started in 20143 and the current version was finalized in 2016.
CS: How did the idea emerge to create such a document, who was involved
in producing it and could u please describe some milestones of this process?
HV: The first version of the FPI was drafted in Malaysia in April
2014, during “Imagine a Feminist Internet,” an event attended by
more than 50 activists organized by the Association for Progressive
Communication (APC). The conveners of the Feminist Principles of
the Internet were the incredible, visionary intersectional feminists and
activists from the Women’s Rights Program4 of APC in 2014.
3 See https://www.genderit.org/articles/plain-sight-sexuality-rights-and-internet-
india-nepal-and-sri-lanka
4 See https://www.apc.org/about/people/staff
The following year another meeting took place and in 2016 the
current version of the FPIs was published. The FPI version 1.05 and
2.06 are the result of many conversations, in many languages, held
locally and globally. Reflections and knowledges that feed back to
each other in an environment of trust. Trust in the conveners, trust
in the process, trust in the persons holding the process, trust in the
community.
If I have to think of the start, I cannot give a precise date. I know
that the FPI are the result of many years of advocacy and knowl-
edge-building by activists and feminists engaged at the intersection
of many networks and movements: women’s rights, sexual rights and
digital rights movements that wanted to articulate their actions, strat-
egy and politics and build a language that recognizes the issue of pow-
er7 and could be used to enhance the transformative power of internet
and technology. An open call for an internet of rights, pleasure, and
social justice. An internet that would recognize the discrimination it
produces and expand and work to end it. An internet focused and
centered on people, their realities, and diversity.
From this desire, the politics of solidarity, embodiment, and trust
have emerged. My story is just one version of what happened, and
for people that want to know more I would suggest they look at the
Feminist Internet online platform, or browse the internet to reach out
to activists and friends.
CS: How big was the group involved in the discussion and production
process, and what are the contexts and backgrounds of the people involved?
HV: More than 100 people participated in drafting the current version
of the FPI during the two global meetings in 2014 and 2015, but
many more used, critiqued, translated, and tested them into the form
they have now. Last year, a third global assembly with approximately
80 activists moved from “Imagine a Feminist Internet” to “Make a
5 See https://www.genderit.org/sites/default/upload/fpi_v3.pdf
6 See https://feministinternet.org/en
7 See https://www.genderit.org/feminist-talk/panel-power-politics-and-agency-
imagineafeministinternet
Feminist Internet”8: that is, movement-building in the digital age, be-

cause as I said, the feminist internet proceeds by iterations.
CS: You are using the first person plural, “we,” in the document. Who can
consider themselves to belong to this “we” and who does not?
HV: The principles speak to different realities: age, disabilities, sexual-

ities, gender identities and expression, socioeconomic locations, po-
litical and religious beliefs, and racial markers. So I would say, anyone
who senses the “we” as part of the self is part of it! Whoever is willing
to engage in the transformative power of feminism. The catch is that
it is inclusive, not exclusive, candid about privilege. So I would say
the “we” is open, is the self/selves that need to reflect and make the
move toward it.
CS: What were the most interesting/challenging aspects in the process of

discussion?
HV: Putting together movements, politics, practices. Acknowledging

the diversities and the privileges. Staying open and flexible, but also
firm and clear. For me, the FPI talk about power. The power we chal-
lenge and dismantle and the power we have, we share, we transform.
Conversations about power are always challenging. Usually, we - the
“we” I refer – see power used against us, but power asks for an inti-
mate reflection. It is about understanding the place from where each
of us speaks. The interesting part – and I think the fascination of the
FPI – is that they are embodied by the people and this makes them
absolutely fascinating and constantly evolving. To capture a vision of
the world (the #feministinternet) in 17 principles is quite an exer-
cise. The smile, the focus, the care, the passion enfolded in a welcom-
ing-of-each-and-everyone-ethic is what makes the FPIs special. They
come from the lived experience of many activists. They are not a theo-
retical exercise, but they embed theory – a lot. They are a community
and a platform. They are inscribed in the digital age. They come from
and to the internet, and from and to our bodies. They are emotions
and pleasure, but also justice and rights.
8 See https://www.genderit.org/edition/making-feminist-internet
CS: What is it that you have learned personally while working with the
others on the document?
HV: Well, the Feminist Internet was a blast, and in my best political
feeling, the best feminism I have ever practiced. The joy, the pleasure,
the intimacy, the commitment, the passion that permeated the first
meeting was the same that I felt in many other moments, instances,
places. It sits with very specific people, activists I knew or met and
resonated with, whether it was a digital story-telling workshop or a
conference, or an internet governance forum. In any of those places,
I was not alone and we had a very similar language, same sense, and
same politics. So, when the #feministinternet meme surfaced, it just
resonated and kept growing, and I sense it was a turning point. I ar-
rived at the first Imagine a Feminist Internet with no expectation but
full commitment. I only knew that it would be a place of joy. I did not
become an activist to suffer, but to transform. I was convened, but felt
like one of the conveners, and it is really special when the ones being
hosted feel as if they are hosting also. There are many conventions and
often they regard the branding as intrinsic. The FPIs did not, because
the embodied feminist queer politics of the people that worked to run
the #ImagineaFeministInternet, at Women’s Rights Program of APC,
is so strong that it is far beyond the little greedy gardens of the many
initiatives preoccupied with their status rather than transformation.
The FPI are one of my vital spaces for co-creation. My learning is
from being one of many, knowing how each and every contribution
is essential – just as listening is essential and living is essential, and
continuing is essential. And as a feminist, I’d like to thank the people
that brought me there to transform.
CS: Where and how (locally and online) did the discussions take place?
Was there a moderator involved or was the process self-organized?
HV: The conversations are continuous. The principles belong to any-

one and we encourage people to use them locally, online as well as of-
fline. This form embraces talks, workshops. They are there to help the
discussion of issues related to our lives and the internet/technology
and to help explore how they relate to specific contexts and realities.
We know of some conversations, but there are many that just happen,
and we/I learn about them casually. I would say that as a co-creation
exercise, it is important to share the learning and the reflection be-

cause in this way the Feminist Principles continue to grow, transform
themselves and anyone who is interested and feels part of this con-
versation. To help this two-way communication, it is best to visit our
website, there are some suggestions and a contact email.9 Anyone, in-
dividually or as a collective, can contribute to a principle. People can
register and contribute through stories, ideas, and actions. Or, one
can host a City Conversation “to adapt, localize and grow the FPI’s”
in a sort of spiral learning that always comes back to itself, but at a dif-
ferent level, similar but never the same, enriched and transformed by
a repetition articulated locally and as a result of this diversity. The aim
– and I will quote from the platform – is: “(...) to build a cross-move-
ment interaction between sexual rights, women’s rights and internet
rights activists, to strengthen participation in internet policy process-
es, as well as deepen discussions specifically around privacy, the right
to information and freedom of expression from a feminist and gender
justice perspective.”
CS: How important is it to you to have the document available in many

languages and how to do you make the document known? (For example,
in the academic/art context that I am active in, nobody has heard of the
document before.)
HV: The simple fact of translation generates reflection, conversation,

discussion, and knowledge. There are more than 6,500 languages in
the world. Very few people speak some, but for example Mandarin
Chinese, is spoken by close to 850 million people in the world. So,
yes, languages are important. We are aware that due to their position
of power, English and Spanish have a huge base of secondary speak-
ers. So we used English and Spanish as bridge languages, being aware
of the intrinsic colonialist, imperialist pattern embedded in them.
We invite people to translate the Feminist Principles of the Internet
into their own languages, because during the process of translation
inconsistencies and specificities will emerge. The current thematic
area of “Embodiment” was previously “Agency,” which is a concept
that doesn’t translate directly into many languages. I remember our
own process while translating into BCS (Bosnian-Croatian-Serbian).
9 See https://feministinternet.org/en/about
So, languages are part of the conversation as explicitly mentioned in

Principle 2: “Access to information - We support and protect unre-
stricted access to information relevant to women and queer persons,
particularly information on sexual and reproductive health and rights,
pleasure, safe abortion, access to justice, and LGBTIQ issues. This
includes diversity in languages, abilities, interests and contexts.”
CS: Whom does the document address? Ideally, what would you like to
achieve?
HV: Anyone who recognizes herself/himself/themselves as a feminist

and anyone who wants to engage in pleasure, play, and the disman-
tling of patriarchy.
FEMINIST PRINCIPLES OF
THE INTERNET – VERSION 2.0
Author: Association for Progressive Communication APC
Publication date: August 2016
Available at: https://www.apc.org/en/pubs/

feminist-principles-internet-version-20
Preamble
A feminist internet works towards empowering more women
and queer persons – in all our diversities – to fully enjoy our rights,
engage in pleasure and play, and dismantle patriarchy. This integrates
our different realities, contexts, and specificities – including age, dis-
abilities, sexualities, gender identities and expressions, socioeconom-
ic locations, political and religious beliefs, ethnic origins, and racial
markers. The following key principles are critical towards realizing a
feminist Internet.
83
Access
1. Access to the Internet
A feminist Internet starts with enabling more women and queer per-
sons to enjoy universal, acceptable, affordable, unconditional, open,
meaningful, and equal access to the internet.
2. Access to information
We support and protect unrestricted access to information relevant to
women and queer persons, particularly information on sexual and re-
productive health and rights, pleasure, safe abortion, access to justice,
and LGBTIQ issues. This includes diversity in languages, abilities,
interests, and contexts.
3. Use of technology
Women and queer persons have the right to code, design, adapt and
critically and sustainably use ICTs and reclaim technology as a plat-
form for creativity and expression, as well as to challenge the cultures
of sexism and discrimination in all spaces.
Movements and public participation

4. Resistance
The internet is a space where social norms are negotiated, performed
and imposed, often in an extension of other spaces shaped by patri-
archy and heteronormativity. Our struggle for a feminist Internet is
one that forms part of a continuum of our resistance in other spaces,
public, private, and in-between.
5. Movement building
The internet is a transformative political space. It facilitates new forms
of citizenship that enable individuals to claim, construct and express
selves, genders, and sexualities. This includes connecting across terri-
tories, demanding accountability and transparency, and creating op-
portunities for sustained feminist movement building.
Feminist Principles of the Internet – Version 2.0 // 85
6. Decision making in Internet governance

We believe in challenging the patriarchal spaces and processes that
control internet governance, as well as having more feminists and
queers at the decision-making tables. We want to democratize poli-
cy making affecting the internet, as well as diffuse ownership of and
power in global and local networks.
Economy
7. Alternative economies
We are committed to interrogating the capitalist logic that drives
technology towards further privatization, profit, and corporate con-
trol. We work to create alternative forms of economic power that are
grounded in principles of cooperation, solidarity, commons, environ-
mental sustainability, and openness.
8. Free and open source

We are committed to creating and experimenting with technology,
including digital safety and security, and using free/libre and open
source software (FLOSS), tools, and platforms. Promoting, dissemi-
nating, and sharing knowledge about the use of FLOSS is central to
our praxis.
Expression
9. Amplifying feminist discourse
We claim the power of the internet to amplify women’s narratives
and lived realities. There is a need to resist the state, the religious
right and other extremist forces that monopolize discourses of moral-
ity, while silencing feminist voices and persecuting women’s human
rights defenders.
10. Freedom of expression

We defend the right to sexual expression as a freedom of expression
issue of no less importance than political or religious expression. We
strongly object to the efforts of state and non-state actors to control,
surveil, regulate, and restrict feminist and queer expression on the
internet through technology, legislation, or violence. We recognize

this as part of the larger political project of moral policing, censorship,
and hierarchization of citizenship and rights.
11. Pornography and “harmful content”

We recognize that the issue of online pornography has to do with
agency, consent, power, and labor. We reject simple causal linkages
made between consumption of pornographic content and violence
against women. We also reject the use of the umbrella term “harmful
content” to label expression on female and transgender sexuality. We
support reclaiming and creating alternative erotic content that resists
the mainstream patriarchal gaze and locates women and queer per-
sons’ desires at the center.
Agency
12. Consent
We call for the need to build an ethics and politics of consent into
the culture, design, policies, and terms of service of online platforms.
Women’s agency lies in their ability to make informed decisions on
what aspects of their public or private lives to share online.
13. Privacy and data

We support the right to privacy and to full control over personal data
and information online at all levels. We reject the practices of states
and private companies that use data for profit and to manipulate on-
line behavior. Surveillance is the historical tool of patriarchy, used to
control and restrict women’s bodies, speech, and activism. We pay
equal attention to surveillance practices of individuals, the private sec-
tor, as well as state and non-state actors.
14. Memory
We have the right to exercise and retain control over our personal
history and memory on the internet. This includes being able to ac-
cess all our personal data and information online, and to be able to
exercise control over this data, including knowing who has access to it
and under what conditions, and the ability to delete it forever.
Feminist Principles of the Internet – Version 2.0 // 87
15. Anonymity
We defend the right to be anonymous and reject all claims to restrict
anonymity online. Anonymity enables our freedom of expression on-
line, particularly when it comes to breaking taboos of sexuality and
heteronormativity, experimenting with gender identity, and enabling
safety for women and queer persons affected by discrimination.
16. Children and youth

We call for the inclusion of the voices and experiences of young peo-
ple in the decisions made about safety and security online and pro-
mote their safety, privacy, and access to information. We recognize
children’s right to healthy emotional and sexual development, which
includes the right to privacy and access to positive information about
sex, gender, and sexuality at critical times in their lives.
17. Online violence

We call on all internet stakeholders, including internet users, policy
makers, and the private sector to address the issue of online harassment
and technology-related violence. The attacks, threats, intimidation,
and policing experienced by women and queer persons are real, harm-
ful and alarming, and are part of the broader issue of gender-based
violence. It is our collective responsibility to address and end this.
VIRAL PERFORMANCES OF
GENDER
Christina Grammatikopoulou
Over the past decade feminism has become a ubiquitous term,

appearing in debates regarding gender equality, sexism entrenched in
everyday culture, and the right to make choices for one’s own body
but also as a glittery brand used to promote products and services.
Whether this popularization of a radical activist movement has led to
an advancement of its causes is yet to be evaluated. However, we can
begin to understand feminism’s impact by considering its manifesta-
tions in politics and visual culture that have been put into the spot-
light during the last 10 years. In this essay, I discuss the work of artists
who express feminist issues, focusing on how they use “virality” and
“noise” as communicative strategies. In order to put their work into
context, I examine how, through its new strategies, feminism gains
ground within connected and disconnected spaces, but also how the
same strategies can be turned against it – be it through open attacks
89
against feminist manifestations or the abusive appropriation of the

term feminism. In any case, the artists presented below seem to be
aware of the contradictions emerging in the conflict area between ac-
tivism, trolling and marketing, and use exactly these contradictions as
an integral part of their work.
The selection criteria of the material are both generational – fo-
cusing on “digital natives,” who were brought up after the expansion
of the Internet – and thematic, i.e. choosing works that deal with
topics central to contemporary feminism, such as sexual assault, body
positivity – the idea that all bodies are beautiful, regardless of age,
shape and race – and gender stereotypes. The sources come mainly
from online articles that deal with the separate issues discussed here
– regarding feminism and troll culture – as there have been very few
academic studies of these phenomena to this date.
The inherent difficulty of defining and criticizing such artworks
and actions is embraced as being representative of the argument of
communicative “noise” that is central to this text. Noise, in this con-
text, defines the interception and confusion introduced deliberately
across communication platforms in order to make a message less clear
to its recipients. Such noise can be the result of the nature of online
platforms, where constant content updates are essential and new in-
formation needs to be added, regardless of its accuracy or relevance.
Often enough, there is deliberation behind it, as fake news is present-
ed alongside facts and ideas that are met with trolling.
Central to the approach of this text is to understand the “Expanded
Space” as a novel space that defines the consequences and reception
of the artworks. The everyday experience of most people now takes
place within this continuum of online and offline spaces, whereby
the digital networked space, experienced through the permanent use
of computers and mobile communication tools, constantly trans-
forms the experience of physical space. The understanding of space
that goes along with this implies not starting from two separate poles
of connectivity, not thinking in categories of online and offline, but
understanding space as a sum of all possibilities: physical, expanded,
virtual, mixed, and hybrid. The latest buzzword for this understand-
ing of space, most often seen in business and marketing, is “phygital.”
For the purpose of this essay I choose, however, to employ the rather
descriptive term “Expanded Space” is preferred. I intend to empha-
size the openness and the development potential of this space and to
Viral Performances of Gender // 91
express the fusion of the physical and the digital driven by new tech-
nologies. As the artists and activists integral to the argument made in
this text are too young to remember a pre-internet world, it would
be natural to assume that, for them, the continuity of these spaces is
a given, especially compared to the previous generations, for whom
connectivity gradually came to form part of their everyday experience.
Below, I refer to contemporary feminism and feminist art, which pref-
erably materialize in this Expanded Space where both connected and
disconnected experiences intersect and mutually influence each other.
Borrowed from biology, the term “virality” refers in media culture
to the communication of any idea, image, video, or meme to which
numerous users react. A viral post is shared horizontally – i.e. it is
not sent directly from a source to a large number of users but rather
from a source to users who then re-share it millions of times, thus
allowing the post to reach a far greater number of people. It is also
important to emphasize that virality is generated by the audience, and
this means that as many people as possible must find the “story” in-
teresting if they are to share it. For this reason, different types of tricks
are often employed to generate virality: News stories are presented in
an exaggerated way, include visually well-staged protests, or humor-
ous memes. In other words, virality can serve a variety of purposes,
from raising awareness to trolling or click baiting. It can express and
reproduce existing power structures, but also transforms them in un-
expected ways.
One of the biggest challenges in dealing with the wide spectrum
of contemporary feminism is to understand its true dimensions and
to evaluate the significance and interdependencies of its various man-
ifestations. In this regard, it could be helpful to begin on a small scale
before proceeding towards larger contexts and concepts. Accordingly,
my essay begins with artistic works in which themes and contradic-
tions characteristic of contemporary feminism are expressed in differ-
ent ways. A more comprehensive overview of the conditions, forms
of expression, and potentials of contemporary feminism will then be
developed, illustrating the connection between online and offline pro-
tests. Finally, the focus will be shifted towards how viral tactics are
used by marketing experts and anti-feminists – in similar ways, but
each for very different purposes – thus generating noise that is often
heard louder than feminist voices.
Feminist Performances of Gender

Contemporary feminist artists are performing within a space where
women’s bodies become subject to presentation, optimization, mon-
etization, criticism, and even attacks. It is a space extended by digital
networked technologies where the potential to be seen and to interact
with the audience is significantly amplified. The works often enter
into dialogue with art history or reflect aspects of digital culture. More
specifically, they question the traditional images of women, created
by and for the male gaze, as they adhere to or subvert the poses and
expressions of women that are widespread throughout art history and
the media. The feminist performance artists examined here have con-
trol over how they present themselves to the gaze of others. They are
both subjects and objects of their work, and manifest both their in-
teriors – experience and knowledge, and their exteriors – bodily and
aesthetic forms. The reception of their works reflects the duality of the
artist as simultaneously the object and subject of representation: In
endless commentaries, the appearance of both the work and the artists
are the objects of criticism and praise,
One of the best-known artworks that emerged as an act of protest
is Carry That Weight (2014/15) by Emma Sulkowicz. The endurance
performance denounced the rape of the artist by one of her fellow
students during her studies at Columbia University and the subse-
quent dismissal of the case by the authorities. For nine months prior
to graduation – the average length of a pregnancy – the performer
carried a mattress around Campus, mostly alone, unless someone of-
fered to help. Thus, Sulkowicz brought a personal experience, which
was to be concealed, into the public space and symbolically showed
her burden through the real weight of the mattress. The work quickly
aroused great media interest, especially online, where it was received
in an extremely polarized way: Artnet, the New York Times, and vari-
ous feminist platforms praised it as one of the most important works
of art of the year, while critics accused it of victimizing women. As the
performance went viral, media attention shifted from the artwork to
the story behind it. In social media, the work and the artist became
the subject of violent attacks: Men’s rights activists launched a smear
campaign against the artist, while the alleged rapist accused Sulkowicz
of harassment.
The memory of the rape is re-enacted by the artist in Ceci n’est

pas un viol (2015), an online performance that consists of a video,
an introductory text by the artist, and a comments section. In con-
trast to the symbolic character of the Mattress Performance, here we
have a representation of the events that traumatized the artist depicted
on film, in a quality resembling the aesthetics of surveillance camera
footage. This puts the viewers in the position of a police officer or a
jury member examining the evidence before they make up their mind
about what might have happened that day – a position that many so-
cial media users assumed anyway once the story went viral. The online
space of the performance was open to trolls enraged about the first
performance, giving them the opportunity to consume the image of
the artist’s body and post hateful remarks. In fact, the comments were
an intended part of the performance. They show how rape victims
who talk about their traumatic experiences are subjected to further
humiliation. Without the artist’s initial questions regarding the work
and the visitors’ comments, it would be easy to confuse the video
with any online pornographic material. Providing only a few initial
questions, the artist maintains a distanced approach throughout the
performance, further highlighting the rage of her critics.
This puts into perspective the artist Ann Hirsch’s statement that
“[…] whenever you put your body online, in some way you are in
conversation with porn.” Hirsch’s Playground (2013) also plays with
sexuality and memory, but her work is even more nuanced. The live
performance is set in the late 1990s, in a fictitious chat room in which
two protagonists, a 12-year-old girl and a 27-year-old man, meet and
“fall in love.” The work is based on the artist’s real experience of an
online relationship with a much older man when she was in her ear-
ly teens. For her even then, when the distinction between “real life”
and “digital life” was much clearer, virtual communication felt very
real. However, as the conversation evolves from a casual encounter to
ever more intimate confessions, one could ask whether the emerging
emotions reflect the course of the relationship or, rather, arise primar-
ily from the artist’s imagination. Now an adult, the artist reflects on
her past, alternating between her lived experience and the classifica-
tion of that experience from today’s perspective. The result is a critical
view of a relationship with unequal dynamics, in which the sexual
awakening of the teenager involved with an older man is presented as
problematic.
Hirsch is particularly interested in online popular culture and the

ways in which women might inhabit it. In her Scandalishious project
(2008), she presented herself as “Caroline,” a “hipster college fresh-
man” that published videos of herself dancing, reciting poems, and
divulging personal thoughts on her YouTube channel. In this project,
the artist tries to combine the two most ubiquitous clichés found on
the Internet: A woman who dances in front of the camera and shows
her sexuality, and a woman who simply speaks to the camera – and
thus to the audience – without any sexual connotations. Thus, Hirsch
alludes to the ancient stereotype of women being seen as either sinners
or saints. “Caroline” became a huge success with online audiences
who were unaware that the videos were in fact an online performance,
and thus perceived her just as any other YouTuber, lefet comments,
and responded to her videos. By adopting such a volatile character,
Hirsch explored hidden sides of her personality and connected with
people who reacted to her performance in a multidimensional way.
Amalia Ulman is another artist who slips into different roles and
integrates them cleverly into her social media stream, leaving the im-
pression that they are in fact her own personal development. The per-
formance Excellences & Perfections (2014) unfolded over four months
on her Instagram account. She began publishing images of herself as
an attractive girl who has just moved to L.A. and dreams of becom-
ing famous. Her photos were the embodiment of what is commonly
understood as “cute”: pastel colors, perfectly styled food, and stuffed
animals. Soon, she became overly sexualized as a “sugar-babe” that
underwent breast-enlargement surgery, attended pole-dancing classes,
and lived a lavish lifestyle paid for by her “sugar daddies.” Then it was
time for redemption, and Ulman’s persona was reborn as a “wellness
goddess.” As she was changing her identity, her followers’ comments
were changing, too: Critics warned her that she would not be taken
seriously in the art world if she was showing off her body on social me-
dia, while others congratulated her on her transformation. Eventually,
she posted a final picture of a rose, with the caption: “The End.”
The reception of Ulman’s performance shows that a woman
flaunting her own image is always perceived as narcissistic, but she
is sometimes forgiven if she does it for a greater good – in this case,
for the sake of art. Once it became clear that the post were all part
of a performance, the work was shown at renowned art venues (Tate
Modern, Whitechapel Art Gallery) and received enthusiastic reviews.
By switching between three personality types in such a short time,

Ulman not only irritated her followers, but also emphasized the influ-
ence and mechanisms of social media; at the same time, the invent-
ed personas gave her the opportunity to experience new situations.
Among others, the work raises the question of how “social media in-
fluencers” become popular and how they display their lives alongside
sponsored content and products. These online celebrities often take
on different personae to address specific topics and target groups such
as vegan food, fitness, fashion, lifestyle – maximizing their reach and
number of “likes.” They produce carefully curated images of perfec-
tion, unattainable beauty, and lifestyle. In this sense, Ulman’s perfect-
ly selected and manipulated Instagram photos, made to look as some-
thing that they are not, are not much different from any other social
media profile that is created to gain maximum amount of popularity
and become commercially successful.
Online popularity is also the focus of Nuria Guiu’s interest.
Combining her dual capacity as a performer and an anthropology
researcher, she presents an interesting discourse regarding the pow-
er of “likes.” After researching the topic of body language on the
Internet, she selected the movements that gathered the most “likes”
on YouTube – from pop music to yoga – for her dance performance
Likes (2018), and used them as elements of her own choreography.
The performance evolves slowly, alternating between dance and paus-
es to communicate with the audience, in order to explain where her
movements come from and what they mean. But as the rhythm rapid-
ly intensifies, the dancer performs the fragmented movements almost
breathlessly, and without speaking gradually unites them into a raging
motion sequence; she sweats and fights until she finally discards her
clothes and reveals her body. Guiu’s performance shows how social
media visibility is linked to prestige and economic power, and what
efforts are required to maintain the necessary pace. The performance
ends with the image of naked female body. It is also one that is most
frequently clicked on, increasing the number of “views” and the relat-
ed income. At the same time, such image attracts the largest numbers
hateful comments due to its strong sexual connotations.
For the Danish artist Maja Malou Lyse, who posts sex-positive
self-portraits on her Instagram page, the female body is the starting
point of her artistic work – both as image and embodied experi-
ence. However, while advocating body positivity, she admits in the
captions that she also tends to select the images where she looks slim-
mer, recognizing the impact of beauty standards on women. At first
glance, her Instagram posts are not much different from other pret-
ty Instagrammers that post selfies, apart from the fact that they are
accompanied by politically charged comments against rape culture
and capitalism. Apart from that, the artist’s aesthetics are very close
to those of the porn industry: voluptuous looks, sexy underwear, sex
toys, and revealing poses. However, she subverts the viewer’s expecta-
tions by showing aspects of the female body that the male gaze prefers
to ignore, such as body hair, menstruation, live streaming of her cer-
vix, and DIY gynecology objects.
The latter is also the focus of Lyse’s project How to Stay out of the
Gynecologist’s Office (2016), which revives the self-help gynecology ideas
of 1970s feminist groups. In a series of workshops, the artist and the
participants share their bodily experiences and exchange knowledge
through talking and self-examination. On her Instagram, Lyse provides
a starter kit for gynecological self-examination and encourages women
to explore their own vaginas. This process of self-discovery should in-
tensify the bodily experience and promote autonomy through newly
acquired self-knowledge. At the same time, Lyse addresses the power
relations inherent in the patient-doctor relationship – where the patient
is often viewed in a fragmented and objectified way.
The artists discussed above reflect on a variety of topics that relate
to experiences of women in the Expanded Space. They are not afraid
to use stereotypes of femininity in their aesthetics – from beautiful
poses to pink colors – in order to make a comment on the image of
women in the media. Admittedly, they all belong to a limited de-
mographic group – they are all young, beautiful in the traditional
sense, white and cis-gender (with the exception of Sulkowicz, who is
of multi-ethnic descent and identifies as non-binary). And yet, their
works, and the ways in which they are received, reflect a broad femi-
nist struggle combining elements of protest and performance.
Feminism in the Expanded

Space of Digital Networks:
A Fourth Wave?
Feminism is often seen as progressing in waves – something that
can be traced back to 1960s journalism. It is true that this vision
implies fragmentation, which does not reflect the fact that feminism
is a movement with a unique goal – gender equality – that it aims
to work through different strategies relating to the needs of different
social groups and eras. However, adopting this traditional division
can be helpful for making comparisons and that is why I will partially
apply it here.
Each wave of feminism has focused on different facets of gender
equality: the right to vote and education; inequalities in the workplace
and reproductive rights; intersectionality and fight against sexual as-
sault. In this sense, what has been characterized as the “fourth-wave
feminism” could be seen as an evolution of the third-wave that chal-
lenged misogynist rhetoric in the media and popular culture, while
addressing diverse experiences of being a woman – in terms of class,
origin, and sexual identity (the word “woman” is used in this text to
define anyone that identifies as one, similarly to the references to the
“female body.”) Fourth-wave feminism recognizes that multiple lay-
ers of oppression may coexist, meaning that a middle-class cisgender
woman faces different challenges than a POC refugee or a transgen-
der woman. While the first and second waves largely addressed issues
relevant to middle and upper class white women, the struggle is now
“glocal,” i.e. in different dimensions, from local to global, and can re-
late to universal, as well as very specific problems. However, there are
also conflicting issues that stem from the feminists’ differing political
approaches: There are activists who follow a solidarity and anti-capi-
talist stance that favors a collective fight against inequalities and take
aim against the political systems breeding these inequalities. On the
other hand, there’s an individualist and liberal-capitalist viewpoint
that mainly aims towards breaking the glass ceiling and putting more
women in places of political and economic power. What differentiates
the fourth-wave from the previous ones, however, is not its focus but
its medium.
Like a magnifying glass, the internet has highlighted existing in-
equalities and multiplied the battlegrounds for equal rights. In the
early days, the internet was heralded as a non-hierarchical, democratic
space where people would be able to define their life conditions and
identity, liberated from the existing restrictions based on race, gender,
and the phenomena of social exclusion. Driven by this vision, and
understanding the rising significance of communication technology,
the Cyberfeminists of the early 1990s such as VNS Matrix sought to
enhance women’s relationship with technology – they believed in its

inherent transformative power. However, this techno-determinism did
not persist. It soon became clear that social and ideological constructs
are entrenched in technology. By the late 1990s, Cyberfeminists such
as the Old Boys Network moved towards more comprehensive un-
derstandings of technology by seeking multiple perspectives and ap-
proaches. Looking at OBN closely, we can distinguish two paths that
have become significant for contemporary feminism: First, the rejec-
tion in their manifesto of generalizing “theses” in favor of “antitheses”
– in other words, rather than defining what Cyberfeminism is, they say
what it is not, thus leaving room for a variety of approaches. Second
and most important, they created a “network,” which was active both
online and offline in workshops, meetings, conferences, chat rooms,
and mailing lists. They explored the potential of getting organized in
a “phygital” world that was just beginning to expand. Meanwhile,
this expanded space has become the natural place for communities to
emerge and feminist campaigns to take place; the place where women
meet, learn, discuss, and forge action plans. As studies of some recent
feminist protests have shown, the continuity of networked and offline
spaces offers entirely new ways of unfolding political forms of action,
such as taking virality out onto the streets as a tactical means.
The protests carried out by Femen since 2008, usually against
specific targets like Vladimir Putin or Silvio Berlusconi, gathered a
lot of media attention, not so much thanks to their anti-patriarchy
slogans, but rather because the protesters were topless. These actions
have stirred great controversy in the feminist world, especially when
it was revealed in the media that, initially a man, Victor Svyatski, led
the planning and organization of the group. He allegedly selected the
women for protests based on whether they met conventional beauty
standards and then taught them how they should act. Even though
Svyatski had left the group by the time Femen went international, the
aesthetics of their protests still follow the same performative path:
flashing signs written on the chests of young, white, thin, able-bod-
ied women. The protesters are usually held back by police officers
within moments of their appearance; however, their topless images
live for much longer as they are widely shared online, thus transfer-
ring the discourse from the streets to online media. In this sense, the
performativity of the protest only makes sense if we view it within
the continuous online/offline space as an event that lasts for a few
moments offline and lives on online. Even though Femen’s tactics of

virality have brought attention to cases of patriarchal oppression, they
have also alienated other feminists, as their stance obviously serves the
objectifying male gaze.
Similar controversies surround Slutwalks, during which protesters
dress as what would be considered a “slut” according to patriarchal
logic. The first Slutwalks were organized in Toronto in 2011 as a pro-
test against a police officer’s remarks that “women should avoid dress-
ing like sluts in order not to become victims.” By adopting a deroga-
tory term that stems from “rape culture,” the participants sought to
undermine the latter, arguing that sexual assault is never the victim’s
fault. Even though not all protesters opt for “slutty” clothes, the imag-
es appearing on social media are usually of beautiful women exposing
their bodies. Once more, the discourse centers on the objectification
of women and the tendency to conform to standards set by the beauty
or porn industries. As was the case with the artists discussed above,
the women who decide to reveal their bodies act both as the subject
of action and scrutiny.
Different groups of women and gender activists have different
priorities, so it is not surprising that the “fourth wave” appears frag-
mented in relation to both its concerns and scope. It is undisputed,
however, that these fragments add up a growing wave that has attract-
ed media attention and fueled political discourse, especially over the
last two years.
The Women’s March (2017), which took place in different cities
across the United States, was accompanied by many smaller solidarity
protests worldwide. With a total of more than five million demon-
strators, it set a new record in the history of the United States for a
one-day protest. The demonstrations were triggered by the inaugura-
tion of Donald Trump as President of the United States. In the past,
Trump has demonstrated a disparaging attitude towards women and
announced changes to the abortion laws. One should note here the
presence of hashtags (common since the 2011 Occupy Movement)
on protest signs. The hashtags reflect the continuity of online and
offline space and the presumption that the images of the protesters
will be shared on social media. The protesters’ pink knitted hats with
pointed tips resembling cat ears – the “pussy hats” – were a reference
to Trump’s comments that “he grabs women by the pussy.” The hats
gave a pink tone to the images of the protests. Rather than rejecting
the stereotypical color and “girly” aesthetics, most contemporary fem-

inists embraced it.
In the same year, another record-breaking protest took place, this
time primarily online. The #MeToo campaign was launched in 2006
by Tarana Burke, a black activist, as a way to show empathy to young
victims of sexual abuse. The slogan didn’t go viral until 2017, when
actor Alyssa Milano suggested that everyone affected by sexual harass-
ment or sexual assault should use the hashtag #MeToo to share their
experiences. Within a day, the hashtag was used over 500,000 times
on Twitter and 4.7 million times on Facebook. The online campaign
meant real-life repercussions for some of the perpetrators of the of-
fences, such as the film producer Harvey Weinstein, who had to say
goodbye to his powerful position and is now being prosecuted. At the
same time, the campaign as beneficial to some of the victims, who felt
empowered by the discussion to speak out against the injustices they
have faced.
Last but not least, the dynamics of the #MeToo movement have
contributed to massive turnout in subsequent feminist protests world-
wide. On March 8 2018, women in Spain called for a strike for equal
rights at work and demanded an end to domestic violence, femicide,
and sexual assault. On the eve of the march, a nocturnal gathering
was held demanding the right to take to the streets without fear of
assault. The atmosphere was particularly charged in light of recent
rapes reported in the news, such as the “Wolfpack” trial that would,
again, spark large-scale nationwide protests two months later follow-
ing the apparently unfair ruling. The International Women’s Day
strike saw hundreds of thousands taking to the streets and over 5.3
million workers skipping work. It was a strike on an unprecedent-
ed scale. The main slogan, “Si paramos el mundo para” [“When we
stop, the world stops”], showed the determination of the protesters
and the sheer number of people on the streets – all traffic had to be
stopped. Social media feeds not only represented the events, but also
showed that the flood of news contributed to the scale of mobili-
zation. Comparing this massive protest with the Spanish solidarity
protest for the American Women’s March, which brought together
only a handful of people, one could conclude that the Women’s Day
demonstration in Spain was successful because it addressed concrete
problems faced by women from all walks of life in Spain. The massive
scale of the protests, therefore, suggests that it is not enough to have
a universal vision to mobilize the masses; rather, a specific local agen-

da that would unite different groups in the fight against particular
problems.
Viral Noise
From Trolls to Influencers
A recurring pattern in the development of digital technology seems
to be, at the beginning, the inflated optimism. Just as in the early
days of the internet, a new hope arose in the years after 2005: The
public’s active participation in publishing content would lead to the
development of independent news sites and thus to better quality of
news, freed from corporate control. The emergence of social media
and the attendant opportunities for groups to communicate prompt-
ly and cheaply, exchange information, and organize autonomously
made this perspective even more realistic. In 2011, when the Arab
Spring and the Occupy movement spread worldwide, blogs and so-
cial media were often viewed as “spaces of democracy,” while trolls
and hackers were seen as heroic figures enabling progressive activism
through détournement – employing the tools of the system against the
system itself.
However, the same tools and methods are now used by groups that
want to influence a broad audience – but with a different objective.
From troll factories, fake news sites, online vigilantes, and hackers to
government agencies and intelligence services, everyone today uses
the same means to manipulate: to influence election results, harass
marginalized groups, manipulate facts, or simply sell products. To
name all these phenomena in one breath does not mean that they are
all the same. It is merely intended to illustrate that various groups use
virality as a tactic – just as feminists do. And while the feminist move-
ment is gaining momentum worldwide thanks to new communica-
tion strategies, the Men’s Rights Activists (MRAs) and other radical
groups of the extreme right are also gaining influence through the use
of the same strategies.
The economic crisis of the last decade has prepared the ground
for radical extremists, who are responsible for violent actions – from
Athens to Charlottesville. What is significant to stress is that the ex-
treme right neophytes are often radicalized through online platforms,
where they also coordinate their efforts against their targets, such as
ethnic minorities, migrants, or feminists. This type of behavior has

become so commonplace that even in online discussions about games,
sports, or politics, women who dare to express their opinion are met
with hostility.
The seemingly harmless “mansplaining” belongs to the scale of dis-
criminatory forms of behavior. Although the phenomenon is hardly
new, social media have contributed significantly to its spread as public
contributions can be commented on by anyone. Another tactic is at-
tacking a straw man, the deliberate attempt to create a confrontation
in which the other’s arguments are twisted to make them sound ab-
surd. The most common tactic, however, is less subtle: online dis-
putes often escalate very quickly to rape and murder threats, even
within communities that are considered progressive. The increased
aggressiveness is blamed on online anonymity, which combined with
troll culture promoted across popular forums, is blossoming. Users of
4chan, for example, repeatedly try to deceive mainstream media with
absurd information – just for “fun.” Even though 4chan’s cultural in-
fluence is often exaggerated, these viral tactics have contributed sig-
nificantly to the formation of troll armies that spread fake news in the
US in the wake of the 2016 election and repeatedly launched smear
campaigns against individuals.
Gamergate is one of the best-known examples of how the culture of
abuse is turned against women who dare to enter what is considered
to be a male-dominated space. It started with an orchestrated attack
against Zoe Quinn, a successful game developer, after her ex-boy-
friend claimed that she had cheated on him in 2014. Alleged cheat-
ing is a useful tool for internet “vigilantes” who feel that the woman
needs to be punished for her actions; it is the most frequently used
claim in revenge porn websites, where intimate photos and videos of
women are shared alongside their names, telephone numbers, and ad-
dress details by vindictive ex-partners. Quinn’s haters, who had often
spoken against her about what they felt was an undeserved success,
were finally given a “reason” to feel righteous in their attacks. This hate
campaign against a woman linked to the gaming community was not
the first and would certainly not be the last: Two years earlier, Anita
Sarkeesian received similar treatment for her YouTube series “Tropes
vs. Women in Video Games,” as did tech culture journalist Leigh
Alexander, actress and professional gamer Felicia Day, and developer
Brianna Wu. The public threats of murder and rape and the disclosure
of private contact information had a real impact on the victims, who

had to withdraw from their environment and sometimes even give
up their homes in order to escape the attacks. When Quinn sought
justice, the judge advised her to “go offline,” much like women are
advised to stay out of public space to be safe.
Gamergate revealed how a troll army can gain power. This included
spreading untrue stories by cleverly manipulating search engines and
social media algorithms with tags and meta-data that made their sto-
ries appear at the top of Twitter, Facebook, or Google searches. The
manipulation of facts by right wing and reactionary groups reveals a
solid knowledge of online media, and their actions show how virality
and noise help to stifle real news in the flood of information or silence
women with confusion, fake news, and hate campaigns.
One of the extremist “stars” that emerged from the scandal was
Milo Yiannopoulos, who was covering the story for Breitbart, a conser-
vative news site that became instrumental in the making and spread-
ing of fake news, especially before the last US election. Yiannopoulos’
texts and speeches are representative of the tactics of noise: A gay man
himself married to a black man, he speaks against gay culture and
non-white people; he often makes outrageous claims and when they
backfire, he says that it was just satire – for example, claiming that
he’s happy about the deaths of Syrian children or that it is acceptable
to harass 13-year-old boys. He usually masks his offensive behavior
as “opinion” and the harassment of others as defense of “free speech.”
“Satire” and “humor” are also often used as arguments in anti-women
online campaigns: “Doing it for the lulz” is the insider term for it,
which means doing something for fun. The expression comes from
4chan’s environment and has always ignored the real injuries caused
by this kind of assault.
The language of online trolls and anti-feminists has become partic-
ularly popular with right-wing populists and has received a new boost
since Donald Trump came into power. They like to use vague source
attribution (such as “everyone knows that”), personal affirmation
(such as “trust me”), exaggerated adjectives (such as “the most fantas-
tic,” “absolutely most horrible”), personal stories as solid arguments,
and above all – sentences that are never finished in the verbose form
of repetition and paraphrase and are therefore confusing for the audi-
ence. The term “Trump-speak” refers to this kind of populist speech
that aims to generate impact, rather than communicate an idea, while
it dismisses eloquence as “elitist.” Spending a few minutes on the

YouTube channels of Alt-right and Men’s Rights Activists (MRAs),
these language patterns quickly become apparent. As examples, the
videos “Why modern women are unhappy” (by Milo Yiannopoulos)
or “Why are women being educated” (Roosh V) can be considered; in
the latter the portrait of the 45th President of the USA hangs in the
background.
The “problem” being discussed in the above videos is feminism,
which allegedly discourages women from fulfilling their purpose
in life. But women are not the only ones to suffer from feminism:
According to the men’s rights groups, feminism is responsible for the
decline of Western civilization as a whole, forcing men to become
“female” or “beta” in order to find a partner at all. To counter this
problem, the MRAs give advice on how to restore and maintain mas-
culinity. Pick Up Artists (PUAs), for example, focus on the “game”
or, as they vividly describe it, “fucking” as many women as possible.
The members of the Men Going Their Own Way group, on the other
hand, opt for celibacy as a consequence of their contempt for women
who are sexually liberated and manipulative (supposedly just trying
to lure them into marriage), and therefore are too dirty for them.
Involuntary Celibates (Incels), on the other hand, consider women
too powerful because of their ability to choose; women would prefer
better-looking men and thus have control over the sexual fulfillment
of men. The Incels are looking forward to a rebellion against this status
quo and the fact that beta men will also get their chance. In the mean-
time, their rage had deadly consequences on several occasions: the
massive shooting in Santa Barbara (2014) by Roger Elliot and the van
attack in Toronto (2018) by Alek Minassian – both of whom declared
their allegiance to the Incel movement before the attacks and blamed
“women” for being the cause of their actions because they refuse to
have sex with them.
Female agency in sex is the big issue for these men, who insult
feminists online for being “sluts,” “too promiscuous,” or for making
themselves undesirable for men. Even if it is not a question of a wom-
an acting in a male space – as in Gamergate – or actively campaigning
for women’s rights, she can still anger the trolls if she reveals herself
as an “attention whore.” For many trolls, feminist artists mentioned
earlier, who question gender stereotypes by making them visible in
an exaggerated way and claim the male territory for self-determined

display of female bodies, certainly belong to this group.
Whereas in the case of trolls and men’s rights activists you can
easily unveil their tactics of noise, it might not be so straightforward
to draw the line in actions that claim to be “empowering” for women.
Nevertheless, it is important, as we examine the space where con-
temporary feminism takes place, to say – in accordance with the Old
Boys Network antitheses manifesto – what contemporary feminism is
not. Today, anything a woman does can be portrayed as empowering:
Indulging in consumption, publishing images of her body as a sign of
self-confidence and body positivity, wearing a T-shirt with the word
“feminist” on it, although it may have been sewn by a woman in a
third world country who does not even receive the minimum wage
for her work. In addition, social media influencers and digital mar-
keting strategists are appropriating the increasingly popular feminism
to further establish their products and brands with its help. Using the
term feminism for purposes that have nothing to do with social and
political activism weakens its potential in the struggle against gen-
der inequality and instead associates it with consumer culture, the
objectification of one’s own image and the exploitation of unjustly
paid labor.
Notably, these claims of “empowerment” are being replicated in
the same online platforms where harassment campaigns against wom-
en are being carried out, with technology companies owning these
platforms repeatedly failing to protect the victims – because their
business model consists in making a profit out of users’ data, they do
not make an effort to curtail hate speech and fake news that create a
hostile environment for women – and other marginalized groups – as
it might have an impact on their popularity.
Conclusions
Contemporary feminism is defined by the cross-pollination of digital
and physical space, generating new tools of resistance through visual
and media culture. The study of various forms of expression of the
feminist movement, often referred to as the “fourth wave,” reveals
several contradictions: Feminism is gaining popularity and retaining
much of its militancy – on the street and on the internet – but often
manifests itself in affirmative forms; it takes advantage of virality and
noise to establish its presence, but the same tactics are also used for
harassment campaigns or completely apolitical purposes. Ultimately,
viral performances of gender can be attributed not just to activists
and artists who advocate feminism but also to the opposite side: The
MRAs who want to express an outdated version of masculinity and
white male domination. The confusion about the meaning of femi-
nism by people either claiming feminist views under false premises or
fighting against it is a sign of our times. Contemporary feminists who
do not want to disappear among all the trolls and marketing experts
are forced to experiment with new strategies of visibility.
The artists who visualize problems of contemporary feminism
seem to be aware of the contradictions and use the same strategies as
subjects or tools for their work. Other feminists and anti-feminists of-
ten denigrate them as narcissists. This label is often applied to digital
natives who grew up with social media and who take it for granted
to share their images, preferences, and thoughts with strangers. At
the same time, female creators have always been accused of narcis-
sism whenever they abandoned their ancestral function as “neutral
objects or surfaces” and instead presented their bodies in a self-de-
termined way. Women are generally regarded as sex objects, as Lucy
Lippard notes. This leads to the assumption that every woman who
presents her naked body in public only does so because she thinks she
is beautiful. The feminist artists presented here do not completely re-
ject common ideals of beauty, such as those found in magazines, porn
films, and art history; they understand their importance, but also try
to escape their power of definition and instead allow themselves to
play with them. Their eclectic aesthetics therefore often consist of dif-
ferent sources and refer to very different aesthetics. Men often feel
excluded by this kind of self-portrayal of women, especially when the
images break with traditional notions of female attractiveness.
So where do feminist artists of the digital age draw the line be-
tween feminism and consumer culture, between feminist activism and
noise? Instead of drawing such a line, they intentionally blur it, using
their performances to question the limits between staged performance
and reality, empowerment and objectification. The border is marked
by its blurring.
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UC0aVoboXBUx2-tVIWHc3W2Q
TECHNO-ECOFEMINISM
Nonhuman Sensations in
Technoplanetary Layers
Yvonne Volkart
Translated by Rebecca van Dyck
“The devaluation of care is not very far from

the devaluation of the environment, from
a society that destroys the environment,
from the negation of the body.”
– Precarias a la Deriva1
The feeling that the possibilities of existence on planet Earth

are becoming increasingly limited and allowing less and less scope for
action has become prevalent in recent years. It is necessary to look the
1 Precarias a la Deriva, Globalisierte Sorge, p. 42.
111
possible extinction of the human species and many other living things
in the eye – not caused by a spectacular war of the worlds, but, much
more ordinary, by the way people treat the “environment.” “Nature”
is striking back. “Gaia” is intruding, is how Isabelle Stengers describes
this ontological force, this planetary creature that determines us and
is now stalking us with a barbarism that is “blind to the damage she
causes, in the manner of everything that intrudes.”2
How can we live with the contradictory experience that we are
part of technocapitalistic acceleration whose playful front and bar-
barian back oppress us on a daily basis? How can I sense pleasure if
my feelings and desires are controlled algorithmically, always longing
for more? If the waste my existence produces, instead of disappearing
with time, merely disintegrates into even smaller pieces? Waste, about
which we do not know what it will do with us. When my eating and
travel habits contribute to global warming, which leads to changes in
ocean currents, migration, and to the mutation of plants and animals?
When we do not know if it will become very cold or very hot? When
we have to acknowledge that it was “only” in the last twenty to thirty
years that major species extinction began go occur?
I am not only right in the middle of it, in the networked and
virtualized era of cyberpunk, which at the time, when we read
“Neuromancer” or “He, She and It,” I did not imagine to be so or-
dinary; rather, what is more is that I also belong to that reprehensi-
ble species (the “human” species) that takes control of, pollutes, and
eradicates everything. But I am also a mother, cyborg, art theorist,
bacteria, water, plant, subjectified “in the belly of the monster;”3 I am
a sentient, moving, feeling being, an earthling with and among others.
I exist, I am open, I am …
… not accepting the apparently inevitable intensification of exten-
sive forms of exploitation and the paralyses and fears that accompany
the discourse on the Anthropocene, which have recently led to a reviv-
al of feminist and ecological concerns, not only in art and theory – my
area of study – but in everyday practices and activist resistance as well.
Concerns regarding the desire for becoming, for relationships and ex-
change, for coexistence and care, for attention and participation, for
2 Isabelle Stengers, In Catastrophic Times, p. 43. Stengers’s concept of “Gaia” does

not correspond to that of deep ecology.
3 Donna Haraway, The Promises of Monsters, p. 298.
Techno-Ecofeminism // 113
love and empathy. Concerns, that feminists and ecologists have always
considered worthy of investigating and theorizing. Since the eras of
hippies and deep ecology, there does not seem to have been any move-
ments in art and theory in which existential needs for commoning
and sharing, presence, affect, and immersion with others have been
articulated as new values – and this against the background of techno-
logical innovation and economic growth, where the values of care and
feelings are ridiculed and feminized.
In our Western culture, “women and household (oikos)” and
“women and nature” are practically synonyms. However, women and
technology are also readily equated, in particular when women em-
body the capitalist machine and its products, such as, for instance, the
mechanical women Olimpia in The Sandman, Maria in Metropolis, or
Dolores and Maeve in Westworld. Women have examined these equa-
tions and reacted differently to them, and hence taken action. For
the current text, two apparently diametrical movements are of inter-
est: technofeminism and ecofeminism and their present concurrence
that I advocate. Unlike technofeminist approaches, ecofeminism is
less widely received and often devalued as essentialist. It has attracted
more attention, however, with the renewed interest in feminism and
ecology. The most promising developments point to a concurrence of
both movements. The corresponding key words are New Materialism,
Anthropocene Feminism, and Politics of Care.4
The “old” ecofeminist question of how people treat nature, which
technologies they explore, and how other relationships can be estab-
lished with nonhuman beings has become one of the most central
questions in the Anthropocene. Inasmuch as technocapitalism always
seeks to solve the really big questions by using new technologies whose
impact is unknown (geoengineering, electric cars, dissolving plastic
waste, et cetera), the “old” cyber- or technofeminist question also has
to be asked and reformulated: What role do technologies play in our
subjectification? And not just new technologies, but old, for example
indigenous, ones as well. This question concerning subjectification/
subordination through technologies has to be supplemented by new
materialist approaches that inquire into the role technologies play or
do not play in the restructuring of our diverse relationships with non-
human and human beings. It also becomes apparent here that while
4 Publications on these are listed in the bibliography.

questions about relationships have hitherto constituted the core area

of feminist issues, the achievement of feminism is not acknowledged
in the current museum and aesthetic discourse on techno-ecologies
and the Anthropocene to the extent it deserves to be.5
Referring to selected artistic projects, I attempt to bring together
these two apparently diametrically opposed movements – technofem-
inism and ecofeminism. I assert that the most advanced approaches
currently emphasize not only the vitality and transformational pow-
er of organisms and matter, but also examine and facilitate relation-
ships between different beings. In other words: If cyberfeminism was
concerned with creating feminist, technohybrid concepts of subjects
that were fluid, no-longer-only-human, bacterial, female, and queer,
and, as its self-proclaimed successor feminism, xenofeminism prop-
agates alienated techno-artifacts, then techno-ecofeminism focuses
on the vitality, transformational power, and relationality of human
and nonhuman entities and their different temporalities. It is about
the oikos, the household understood in both a macro- as well as mi-
croscopic sense, that is to say, with connections, with couplings and
decouplings, sequences and effects. Feminist techno-eco-subjectivity
is a vibrant assemblage of concatenations, a relay of pulsating circuits
and non/human movements, communication, and sentiments in the
technoplanetary layers and deposits called Earth.
As I demonstrate, art succeeds in breaking open the alienation of
naturalist ideologemes by means of calculated strategies and the pro-
duction of an excess of meaning that aesthetically activates the vitality
of being-with-others without denying the catastrophic aspect of the
Anthropocene.
Scripting the Seascape:

Acoustic Ocean as a Non-Human Radio
The video opens with a shot of an eerily blue landscape, flat-topped
mountains with white plateaus and ridged slopes, and is accompanied
by a swelling electronic sound punctuated by oddly threatening tones.
This uncanny, unfamiliar image is of a 3-D model of the ocean floor
and the sounds of communicating fish. The rhythmically fading text
5 The symposium “Territories that Matter: Gender, Art and Ecology,” Madrid,
November 23-24, 2018, sought to address this imbalance.
Fig. 1 (top) and Fig. 2 (below): Video stills from Ursula Biemann: Acoustic Ocean
describes how, in the mid-1940s, a sound channel was discovered in

the North Atlantic Ocean. Because of its specific physical nature, the
water in the SOFAR (SOund Fixing And Ranging) channel can relay
submarine sound waves over several thousand kilometers. It was used
in World War II as a “natural” medium for the transmission of dis-
tress calls. During the Cold War, hydrophones embedded in it moni-
tored submarine traffic and espionage technologies detected unknown
sounds. They could later be decoded as low-frequency waves emitted

by blue whales and finback whales – an acoustic ecology that was
previously inaudible.
The next shot reveals a pebbled shore and a woman wearing an
orange neoprene suit. She unpacks a case with underwater sound re-
cording equipment and sets it up. The sound that we hear changes
when she turns the control knobs. The camera is close to the “aqua-
naut” and observes her actions: the devices render the sound of the
marine organisms audible to the human ear and she mounts a sound
event like a DJane. Connecting and tuning the channels, she is per-
forming a submarine radio broadcast and transmits the sounds of the
ocean into the ether. All of the creatures on Earth shall hear what
happens in the depths of the oceans! Fluorescent sea butterflies swim
toward us; they are very close, breathing. As a result of ocean acidifi-
cation, these are microorganisms are endangered. The caption reads:
“Their absence will silence the submarine springs.”
In a kind of mythical chant, the woman takes up the concept of
the destruction of the ecosystem and relates how the climate is chang-
ing for them, the Sami people. Climate changes lead to deaths of rein-
deer and as a result the ancient, symbiotic relationship between hu-
mans and animals – each other’s guardians – is endangered. We hear
her singing a Sami song off camera – a terrestrial echo of the oceanic
sound, a cry into the ether. It is her contribution to making contact
with the sea creatures. Again, she tunes her radio, and again goes on
air. “That night, a few whales showed up near the surface.” Maybe she
did manage to establish communication, maybe not.
I chose the video Acoustic Ocean (2018) by Ursula Biemann as
an introduction for a number of reasons. First of all, it supports my
assertion that current techno-ecological and technofeminist percep-
tion has moved in the direction of relationships and communication
with nonhuman natureculture6 beings. In Biemann’s fictive video, this
occurs on an imaginary level: The technologies with which the pro-
tagonist operates function symbolically; the fish sounds come from
an archive. However, the constructed setting does not interfere with
our perception that a “real” situation might well be “documented”
here. The protagonist uses the media of “nature” – the SOFAR water
6 To my knowledge, Donna Haraway suggested the term. It stands for hybrid as-
semblages of “nature,” “culture,” and “technology” beyond their dichotomies.
channel, the air, her voice, and her hands – to establish a different kind
of communication. Technical means are also available, such as various
recording and playback devices, computers, hydrophones, cables, and
antennas. All of the media are equally important, of equal value. As
a technoscientist and hybrid trickster with a headlamp and wearing
orange, high-visibility clothing, she attempts to bring light into the
darkness of the ocean and establish communication with its inhab-
itants. The boundaries between nature and culture and nature and
technology dissolve. The media, as well as the female figure’s clothing
and makeup, stem from naturecultures. Hence the hydrophones, ar-
ranged in an octopus-like fashion, are to a lesser extent prosthesis-like
techno-optimizations and instead “external organs that enable them
to plunge deeply into the marine habitat.” The boundaries of her body
have also become indefinite. The watertight suit has sealable holes that
enable an exchange with external environment. In this case, the outer
space is nature, the habitat of human and nonhuman beings. A rein-
deer skin slung around the woman’s neck testifies to the “aquanaut’s”
close ties to animals, an intimacy that not only implies scientific anal-
ysis or cuddlesome kinship, but also killing and consumption – since
the ecology of coexistence also has to involve the provision of nour-
ishment, the so-called food webs, that is, the complex interactions
between the species that transport energy and nutritional value.7 She
also tells of these entangled chains and their disruption in her myth-
ical chant. In fact, the question concerning the functioning of food
chains and the provision of nourishment is not only primeval, but
also current and impending. As Maria Puig de la Bellacasa points out,
the threat of nourishing several billion people has been employed for
decades to legitimize agro-industrial production and the colonization
of land. At the same time, as she writes, it is precisely this accepted,
shortsighted industrial agriculture that undermines current and fu-
ture food security.
Acoustic Ocean documents the shift from technofeminism to tech-
no-ecofeminism; for Ursula Biemann, it is a shift from issues of gen-
der, globalization, and mobility to issues of raw materials, climate,
and ecology. Her video essays, such as Performing the Border (1998)
7 Maria Puig de la Bellacasa points out that the food web concept examines not
only who eats whom, but also how, for example, the waste of one species can pro-
vide nourishment for another. Puig de la Bellacasa, Making Time for Soil, p. 702.
and Remote Sensing (2001), framed explicitly cyberfeminist concerns.

In times of a digital longing for the immaterial, they insisted on the
materiality of bodies and raised what is in principle the ecofeminist
question of the costs at which digital technologies arise and what gen-
ders subjectify them and how. Hierarchical divisions concerning the
notions of body and nature lead to global inequities. In Forest Law
(2014), a Native American in the Amazon fighting for the rights of
the indigenous people relates that the rain forest does not constitute
an outside-of-the-body for the people who live there, but is a part of
it. His struggle for the rights of the Native Americans implies that in-
ternational jurisprudence has to open itself up to concepts of physical
existence that would include nonhuman beings.
Finally, the cyborg trickster figure appearing in Acoustic Ocean op-
erates as an intermediary between the worlds and the new order of
mutual awareness. She registers and senses what occurs around her
with her sensing organs (sensing technologies). The figure is not a gen-
dered signifier for the purpose of allegorically embodying the interests
of others. She is “woman” but not specifically “female,” a scientist as
well as a singer; she is a human but also an indigenous Sami, a fish-
like creature and an organ of her sensing machines. As a messenger of
her own pluralities, she sets out to decolonize the technosciences and
to initiate a cyborg requiem of the species: an underwater radio per-
formance on video that combines different times, species, and atoms.
Conceptual Genealogies
In Ursula Biemann’s last three videos – besides Acoustic Ocean, Twenty
One Percent (2016) and Subatlantic (2015) – as in the early ones,
“women” once more specifically come into play as the carriers and
agents of knowledge. “Women” also play a prominent role in the ar-
tistic works I will discuss in the following. This brings “old” feminist
concerns into play in a laid-back and casual way, namely that the
deconstruction of hierarchical, dichotomous power structures means
the participation of subjects who call themselves “women.”
“In the 1990s, ecofeminists worked to remedy a perceived problem
in feminist theory, animal advocacy, and environmentalism, namely,
a lack of attention to the intersecting structures of power that rein-
force the “othering” of women and animals, and contribute to the
increasing destruction of the environment. Though sometimes called
“utopian” or “concerned with too many issues,” ecofeminist theory

exposes and opposes intersecting forces of oppression, showing how
problematic it is when these issues are considered separate from one
another.”8 This statement brings home that techno-ecofeminist con-
cerns go far beyond the apparently obligatory issues of gender, sex,
and reproduction and take into account the economies of exploitation
at work all over the world.
One of the foundations of feminist and queer deconstruction is
the “queering” of powerful dichotomies. Feminists see this as the
basic ideological and cultural structure for exploitation and subor-
dination based on “othering,” regardless of whether it is a matter of
nature, gender, sex, disability, nonhuman beings, machines, and so-
cial, global or subaltern weaknesses. Those who help to break through
these dualistic hierarchies in the direction of complex relations and
entanglements of agents always take action, one could say, in a queer/
feminist or ecofeminist way: “Queer values – caring not (just) about
the individual, the family, or one’s own descendants, but about the
Other species and persons to whom one has no immediate relations
– may be the most effective ecological values.”9 Noticeably, the terms
“feminism,” “ecology” or, more up to date, “techno-ecology” are used
universally. Whereas feminism works against power relations based on
dichotomies, techno-ecology sees itself as a very fundamental theory
of the collaboration of a wide range of agents who no longer give pri-
ority “only” to “green” concerns.
As Erich Hörl writes in the introduction to his anthology General
Ecology: “Ecology has started to designate the collaboration of a mul-
tiplicity of human and nonhuman agents: it is something like the
cipher of a new thinking of togetherness and of great cooperation
of entities and forces, which has begun to be significant for contem-
porary thought; hence it forces and drives a radically relational on-
to-epistemological renewal.”10 Although one has to completely agree
with Hörl on this observation and definition, it is nevertheless evident
that the techno-ecological discourse, similar to the media-ecological
discourse until not so long ago, strongly relies on networks based
on technological media or the critique of the traditional concept of
8 Adams and Gruen, Ecofeminism, p. 1.

9 Nicole Seymore, quoted in Davies, Toxic Progeny, p. 232.
10 Hörl, Introduction to General Ecology, p. 3.
nature.11 Concerns that have to do with the biosphere and imply

relations with nonhuman beings are rarely fully differentiated. I re-
peat: Although the most innovative approaches with respect to new
or “green” relations with naturecultures come from within feminist
ranks, they are underrepresented in techno-ecological discourses. Of
the fifteen authors in General Ecology, for example, only four of them
are female, and that does not indicate whether their approaches are
feminist. However, to the extent to which questions about coexis-
tence, about animal and plant rights, empathy and care, repairing and
healing are now starting to penetrate dominant theoretical and art
discourses, feminist approaches have also left their ghettos. They are
becoming key references where reformulations of coexistence are con-
cerned: “Ecofeminist theory provides ethical guidance to challenge
inequities arising along racial, gendered, and species boundaries.”12
The Plastic Eaters and the Mermaid Torpedo

Relating to other forms of subjectivity has remained a major feminist con-
cern to this day. The key figure of technofeminism was “the ironic myth”
of the cyborg, which stands for the blurring of dual boundaries. Such a
fluid body is to me a “symptom and effect body”; a body that displays the
subject relations that produce it semiotically-materially.13 What was new
about it was, and cyberfeminists adopted these definitions, that cyborgs
enjoy becoming a symptom and their boundaries becoming blurred. At
the time I wrote: “Whereas feminism claimed the appropriation of new
technologies as tools for women’s liberation, cyberfeminism promotes
both the idea of becoming cyborgian and the pleasures involved in it.
In other words: technologies are no longer perceived as prostheses and
instruments for liberation that are separated from the body... In cyber-
feminism, the utopian ideology of women’s liberation is located in the
body and gender, but this body is no longer what it was thought to be.” 14
11 Broader approaches of media-ecology, however, not necessarily feminist ones, can

be found, for example, in The Fibreculture Journal; zfm; Maxwell et.al., Media and
the Ecological Crisis; Gabrys, Program Earth.
12 Adams and Gruen, Ecofeminism, p. 5.
13 Volkart, Fluide Subjekte, pp. 4–8.
14 Volkart, The Cyberfeminist Fantasy of the Pleasure of the Cyborg, pp. 99–100.
Fig. 3 (top) and Fig. 4 (below): Špela Petrič: Phytoteratology

And further: “Resistance lays in the non/materiality of a constructed and

discursive body itself.”15
The concept of a material-semiotic, affective form of resistance
formulated at the time became even more fully differentiated in the
course of the “nonhuman turn” or the “material turn.”16 Matter is
increasingly defined as vibrant, artefactual, and relational: “These vi-
brant animals, plants, viruses, hurricanes, storms, pharmaceuticals,
and other technological artefacts vie with, make demands upon, and
impede and enable human agency. They make their presence known
to us, or, one could say, make “calls” to which we are continually
responding,” writes Jane Bennett.17 Karen Barad also places emphasis
on the relational, entangled, and reality-producing elements of her
“agential realism.” She writes: “Matter is not figured as a mere effect
or product of discursive practices, but rather as an agentive factor in
its iterative materialization.”18
What is unique about cyberfeminism is that it included biological
and chemical forces – for example, in the form of discarded female
bodily fluids or dangerous viruses – in the concept of the performative-
ly generated body in a playful (and not in every case unproblematic)
way. Today, added to this are “environmental” and deep-time, geolog-
ical, and physical conditions and their relational concatenations. The
plastic-eating mutations in Pinar Yolda’s project Ecosystem of Excess
(2014), for instance, make reference to the geological non-expirability
of plastic. They presage our future and play with the adaptability of
“low” (nonhuman) organisms to environmental changes, something
that for humans seems uncanny. “Nature,” these miniature monsters
say, always survives somehow. But is that what we want? The mon-
strous thing about the symptom and effect body of today consists in
rendering Gaia’s intrusion into the human sphere visible – to take up
Stengers’ concept – and in the shattering of the human perspective.
This also occurs in the two video projects Sirenomelia (2017)
and Mirror Matter Sirenomelia (2017), in which the artist Emilija
Škarnulyte plays a sea creature that swims through the dark, endless
15 Ibid. p. 100.
16 Cf. Grusin, The Nonhuman Turn.
17 Bennett, Dynamische Materie und Zero Landscape, p. 20; Bennett, “Vibrant
Matter – Zero Landscape,” p. 19
18 Barad, “Nature’s Queer Performativity,” p. 32.
Fig. 5 (top) and Fig. 6 (below): Video stills from Emilija Škarnulytė: Sirenomelia
channels and tunnels of a former NATO submarine base in the Arctic

waters of Norway. “Sirenomelia,” as she is called, is also the name of a
condition, the so-called mermaid syndrome, a rare congenital defor-
mity in which the legs are fused together Disease, disability, defect:
those are the human perspectives on her silvery, shiny tail with which
she agilely moves in this strange and uncanny underwater environment

where the man-made, the technological, decays. Commandeered by
sea anemones and other creatures, it thrives like a magical landscape.
The two videos vary, above all with respect to how they begin: In
the older work, for several minutes we see the slow-moving, rotating
mountains of Svalbard, isolated by fragments of a white satellite dish.
It is a geodesic telescope that measures the earth and the changes in
the ocean caused by climate warming. We embark on a journey to
the Arctic, a scientific expedition to an extreme place. By contrast,
Sirenomelia Mirror Matter begins with a highly artificial, fluid mir-
ror landscape and model-like techno-architecture – references to the
artist’s research residencies at the European Organization for Nuclear
Research (CERN) in Geneva, and in Japan, where research stations
have been built for the exploration of antimatter and mirror mat-
ter. In the video, they seem like scenes from a science fiction mov-
ie, suggesting that the figure came to Earth from the future. Both
videos share hypnotic sounds and standstill; we look out at ice floes
and a decapitated whale. Then the tunnels and basins, Sirenomelia
swimming along, close to the marine creatures, as if she had to touch
every millimeter. In the end we see how she “wags” out of the image,
small, “disabled,” floundering solitarily with what now seems to be
her clumsy tail, all alone in the endlessly blue expanse.
Timothy Morton places emphasis on the cyborgian nature of
Sirenomelia, her symptom and effect body, when he writes: “Emilija
allows herself to be measured by cosmic and gigantic terrestrial forces:
evolution, black holes, the biosphere, magnetic fields, photons, gravi-
ty waves, NATO, the Soviet Union, patriarchy, the military industrial
complex, nuclear energy, crystals, minerals, the mineral extraction in-
dustry. She is a chameleon who lets herself be meditated on by beings
that are physically larger than the conventional human realm, and
which seem to many to be indifferent to it, or invisible, or irrelevant.
But as we’ve seen, the reason why there’s a radio telescope in the Artic
is that things such as the biosphere and quasars have become relevant
to human beings.”19
19 Timothy Morton, “We Are All Mermaids,” p. 8. Quasar means quasi-stellar radio
wave and refers to the active center of a galaxy. Sonifications of quasar activity can
be heard in the video.
There are not only various materializations, eras, and discourses

combined in the Sirenomelia figure; she also mediates between them.
She establishes contact with the strangely abandoned place as if she
wanted to explore and testify to its vibrancy and connect the different
spheres and elements with one another. The artist personally immers-
es herself in this situation. She “others”20 – becomes fish, mermaid,
submarine, torpedo, machine. But why a mermaid, of all things, this
ancient male fantasy that has recently even provided the material for
TV series for teenagers? As Emilija Škarnulyté told me, she wanted
to strike out at this militarized place, which continues to tell of the
disintegration of the myth of war, with a counter-myth: sea creatures
have always been the mediators of “nature.” They are not innocent;
like the cyborgs, this makes them useful for paradoxical figurations:
Sirenomelia comes from another space and another time; she is awk-
ward, thrown in, the last survivor of a species or first one of its kind
that is no longer human. She returns to that place from where life
on Earth came: the water, in whose frigid temperatures she learned
to live, to survive. Her “femaleness” is not accentuated; one does not
see her hair. The camera’s gaze concentrates on her movements, the
way she glistens, the physical closeness and touch, but not on sex.
Like Biemann’s trickster figure, Sirenomelia is also a mediator that
establishes a different kind of communication and participation. Her
body, this contradictory assemblage consisting of ages, matters, ges-
tures, and fantasies, is a signal from the future that establishes contact
without the great gesture of appropriation and colonization. What
remains are traces – waves on the surface of the water.
To Mother a Plant:
A Special Kind of Care
According to Špela Petrič, the technoscientific mentality of feasibility
determines our perception of nonhuman organisms. Earth has be-
come a laboratory – an experiment with an unknown outcome. We
are within it, and because of this we have to take action if other rela-
tions want to be established. Petrič therefore constructs test arrange-
ments, takes “the laboratory” into public space, and makes it – under
20 On the concept of “othering” as a subject-changing process, see Adorf,

Operation Video.
Fig. 7 (top): Pinar Yoldas: Plastic sensing organs,

from: Ecosystem of Excess
Fig. 8 (below): Pinar Yoldas: Plastic balloon-turtle,

from: Ecosystem of Excess
other, aesthetic premises – negotiable. For her project Phytoteratology

(2017), it was a question of a different form of procreating, breed-
ing, and care.” I wanted to mother a plant, a gentle green alien,”
emphasizing that the dominant idea of fathering is replaced by that
of maternal-monstrous engendering/mothering. For the project, she
extracted embryonic tissue from a so-called weed and nourished it
in an incubator with steroids from her own urine. With reference to
the reproduction method of this plant, this means artificial concep-
tion and subsequently the blending of the vegetal tissue with human
cells: While from the outside seemingly “normal,” the product is a
transspecies plant that was crossed on a morphological level. Petrič
apparently repeats strategies of molecular biology and the associated
blurring of boundaries, which is common practice in technoscience
today and for which there are few ethical guidelines. Do her actions
frighten us because they intervene more deeply than traditional prac-
tices of breeding, namely on a molecular level, or because she blends
the human-plant species? Or because her method illustrates that with
technosciences even conventional or “normal” breeding methods ac-
quire the overtone of exploitation, optimization, and unpredictable
experiment? Špela Petrič presents the incubators with the growing
plants in the exhibition space along with a video; the installation is
accompanied by a performance in which such questions are raised.
Phytoteratology makes a case for the necessity of broadening the
current discourse on genetic engineering and biotechnologies. It can
no longer be just a matter of the dichotomy between human and
plant; rather, the question must be asked concerning what power rela-
tions and economies code what kind of nonhuman entities, and who
benefits from it. It becomes clear that other relationships could be es-
tablished under laboratory conditions: “There are very different kinds
of care,” she says.21 “These tiny monsters, coming into being from an
impossible love, with intense labor and a yearning of plant parent-
hood, emerge in a time of environmental, political and social crisis
as beings of permeability, harbingers of affective agential intra-action.
Making kin with plants, caring for us, hopeful monsters.”22 With
these concepts, Petrič takes up Barad’s and Haraway’s arguments,
both of whom do not fundamentally come out either for or against
21 Špela Petrič in conversation with Yvonne Volkart, April 2018.

22 On this, see the website http://www.spelapetric.org//portfolio/ectogenesis.
Fig. 9 (top) and Fig. 10 (bottom): Ursula Damm: Insect Songs

synthetic biology and biotechnology.23 Taking care of others in times

of technoscience is a challenge that has to be repeatedly readdressed
and continuously performed, so that it does not remain abstract. It
cannot, as another project by Petrič revealed, always succeed.24 Also in
this project, the elements of love, care, and shared time, which were at
work for several months in the beginning of the project, are not fully
presented in the quite technical set-up of the exhibition. The now
“motherless” plants remained somehow “alone” and therefore could
not thrive in this difficult environment. And yet, Petrič’s experiments
set themselves apart from that “human” hubris of technological fea-
sibility into which xenofeminism à la Laboria Cuboniks lapses, when
they say: “If nature is unjust, change nature!”25 The old feminist work
on the concept of nature does not simply imply the one-sided control
of “nature,” but a vibrant balancing of differently oriented “queer”
relations.
Meaning-less Communication
I would like to conclude the discussion of artistic projects with a per-
formance and its documentation on film in which “real” communi-
cation between mosquitos, humans, musical instruments, and various
media technologies are established. The point of departure for the
project was an experience that the artist had: She began to miss the
sound of insects. Her research revealed that in Germany alone, 75
percent of the insect population has disappeared. The exact causes are
not yet known; it can presumably be traced back to pesticides, as well
as to the loss of their natural habitats.
In Insect Songs (2018) by Ursula Damm in collaboration with
Christina Meißner (cello) and Teresa Carrasco (sound), we see, and
above all hear, tentative, soft, or screeching sounds, overtones, pure
tones; a woman playing the cello, whirring and buzzing, mosqui-
toes can be seen on a monitor; their flight paths are being record-
ed, and there is also a box in which they fly around, confined. The
23 This openness also led to ecofeminist critique, for example by Donovan,

“Participatory Epistemology, Sympathy, and Animal Ethics,” pp. 87–88.
24 See my critique of this in Does Art Make a Difference? Technologies of the Ecological
after the Anthropocene, pp. 154–57.
25 Laboria Cuboniks, Xenofeminism, p. 34.
performance is meant to bring about an experimental situation, in

which it is first of all possible to observe whether and how mosquitos
react to music played by people and instruments and what the later
results might be. The intention is to create a kind of dialogue and en-
gagement-with-one-another, namely with those seemingly annoying
animals whose disappearance people normally desire more than they
would later regret. The performance was preceded by years of prepa-
ration, during which the artist made an “arena” in her kitchen using
“biomedia,” such as gauze, glass, yeast, and wine, which attracted fly-
ing insects and enticed them to perform a courting dance and song.
She recorded the sound that was produced in the process. In collab-
oration with the neuroscientist Birgit Brüggemeier, software was de-
veloped that detects the pitch of the mosquito songs and amplifies
and modulates the sounds that occur. What results is a song similar
to human music.
First, a technical set up enabling hearing and seeing the insects’ flight
paths was created. The cellist Christina Meißner was asked to improvise
to it and find out what sounds cause a change in their behavior. For the
subsequent recording, Meißner wanted to work exclusively by way of
listening and attempted, according to her understanding, to produce
mosquito sounds, and in doing so entice the mosquitoes into swarm-
ing. It became apparent from the very beginning that the mosquitoes
were engaging in this interaction. Ursula Damm wrote: “The type of
music is as amorphous as our perception of mosquito song. It does not
correspond with our music habits but enters a stage of sound perception
that is more primal, raw, simple. First of all, a part of the process is to
find the species-specific tone/pitch, to see if overtones have an effect,
and later in the piece also effectuate the musician’s abandon as a hu-
man being in a dialogue. Christina Meißner did not want to force the
mosquitoes to react; rather, she wanted to “become a mosquito” herself
and “sing with them’.”26 And she continued: “The actual media-related
aspect is that we humans have to become quiet in order to hear the
mosquitoes. Admittedly, we use technology to enable us to hear them,
and we in turn use technology to examine the impact our music has on
the mosquitoes.”27 But they are simple arrangements, not sensors: “For
me it is an aesthetic decision not to employ any additional technology,
26 Ursula Damm, e-mail to Yvonne Volkart, May 2018.

27 Ibid.
but to work on my attentiveness (being quiet, watching at length) or to

simulate the habitat of the mosquitos (mosquito box). Instead of being
about technology, it is about understanding the different “Umwelten”
[surrounding worlds] in the sense of Jakob Johann von Uexküll. To me,
making music together with feedback on and responding to the reac-
tion seems to be much more than merely working with sensors. One
senses and develops meaning for one another. If you rely on feedback,
you save yourself the step of technical data production + interpretation
+ application.”28
The extraordinary thing about this work is the fact that we attain
an independent temporality of listening through the unpredictable,
“interactively” arranged timing of the sound, the foreignness of the
tones, and the self-imposed concentration and quietness. As Christoph
Brunner has shown, aesthetic timing, as the experienced and shared
time in the here and now, provides the condition for what he, in con-
nection with Brian Massumi, calls the “ecology of relation.”29 What
is meant by this is a specific form of temporality that touches those
present on an affective level and “calls on” them in their physicality
and relationship to others in the room as a plurality of pre-individual
entities in embryo, in this case: faces, flies, sounds, movements, tech-
nologies, signals, traces, and so on. The abandon experienced by each
individual in this event, which extends over a longer period of time
without a specifically announced beginning or end, becomes a con-
sciously perceived experience of shared participation; Ursula Damm
speaks of “shared experience” or “shared habitats.” This is based on
communication that initially appears to be completely meaningless
because it is situated outside of our language codes and, for us, serves
no apparent purpose. However, this communication becomes mean-
ingful if it can involve a different kind of “understanding,” empathy,
and collectively created and shared (temporary) temporality. In this
sense it provides an aesthetic excess of pure becoming and goes be-
yond any purposeful rationality – a hierarchical relationship that in
the context of “green” lifestyles people readily pursue in their contacts
with nonhuman creatures.30
28 Ibid.
29 Cf. Brunner, Affective Politics of Timing.
30 In the same way “women” are not automatically feminists, an “organic label” does
not rule out exploitation.
In Favor of a Techno-Eco-Queer-
Feminist Being-with-Others
The examples discussed show that the irony of cyberfeminism has
changed into an aesthetic of participation and participating that
does not shy away from developing empathy toward, and affective
relationships with, nonhuman creatures and also staging them aes-
thetically. The building and fostering of such relations is associated
with a great deal of effort, personal as well, and cannot be substituted
with technological optimizations. The idea that human beings caring-
ly or even healingly intervene in what industrial economies destroy
no longer seems ridiculous or lame.31 On the contrary, such values
contribute to the erosion of the dualism of “human” versus “nature”
or “good” versus “evil” discussed above and which, for example, con-
tinue to be perpetuated in xenofeminism. Modes of coexistence are
invented that are commensurate with the seriousness of the situation
in the Anthropocene. Natasha Myers writes that what is cultivated
is a “robust mode of knowing grounded in queer, feminist, decolo-
nial politics.”32 Christoph Brunner speaks of an “ecology of relation”:
“From pure relationality to an ecology of relation, an amplification
takes place which selects out of the manyness of potential lines sever-
al without disregarding the others. This process is politically relevant
because an ecology does not mark an already closed system but gives
forces the potential to actively attune to an emergent situation‚ ‘in the
name of that which emerges.’”33
Becoming involved in the diverse ecology of relations reveals that
there are different temporalities and spatialities. Maria Puig de la
Bellacasa writes that from the perspective of an earthworm, catalyst
31 Theorists such as Donna Haraway, Maria Puig de la Bellacasa, Vinciane Despret,

Lori Gruen, Natasha Myers, and Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing, or permaculture de-
sign in general, make reference to “healing” aspects in a positive way. Haraway
writes about fictions in which it is about “migrat[ing] to ruined places and
work[ing] with human and non-human partners to heal these places… Donna
Haraway, Staying with the Trouble, p. 137.
32 Myers, https://catalystjournal.org/index.php/catalyst/article/view/28848/
pdf_17, p. 1.
33 Ibid.
fertilizers are growth inhibitors.34 If we allow this involvement of dif-

ferent times, spaces, and factors, it becomes apparent that accelera-
tionist strategies fall short, because they are conceived too “humanly”:
They emanate from a dualism of temporality and the exclusivity of
the capitalist production paradigm, which in view of the emergence
of the forces and range of unpredictable transformations is untenable.
Unfortunately, limiting and limited perspectives of this kind domi-
nate contemporary rhetoric and policy, even though they are so obvi-
ously recognizable as phantasmal constructions in their adherence to
anthropocentric hubris. Isabelle Stengers has repeatedly pointed out
that it is necessary to challenge such powerful simplicities, for exam-
ple by beginning to ask simple and concrete questions. Questions are
difficult to answer because things are more complicated than they are
made out to be.35 Transversal practices need to be invented and lived:
imaginary, aesthetic, activist practices – life practices. Practices that,
on any level, create an excess of meaning, a not-being-wrapped-up in
the limitations of capitalist, dual argumentations. Techno-ecofeminist
queerings – to the extent that, as I asserted at the beginning, acti-
vate the vibrancy, transformational power, and relationality of human
and nonhuman entities and their different temporalities – seem more
than suitable for this purpose: “Queer attachments work both to cel-
ebrate the excess of life and to politicize the sites at which this excess
is eradicated.“36
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STIRRING THE EMBERS
Preliminary Critical Notes on Xenofeminism
Isabel de Sena
THE XENOFEMINIST MANIFESTO – officially, “Xenofeminsim: A

Politics for Alienation” – was first published online in 2014 as the
brainchild of the polyglossial collective Laboria Cuboniks, com-
posed of Amy Ireland (Sydney), Diann Bauer (London), Helen
Hester (London), Katrina Burch (nomadic), Lucca Fraser (Halifax),
and Patricia Reed (Berlin). A logic- and reason-embracing mutant
of left-accelerationism re-engineered with cyberfeminist genes, xe-
nofeminism (XF) is described as a “technomaterialist, anti-naturalist,
and gender abolitionist form of feminism.”1 Its aim: “to articulate a
1 Hester, H. (2018), Xenofeminism. Medford, Cambridge: Polity Books, p.6.
137
feminism fit for the twenty-first century.”2 Its motto: “If nature is un-
just, change nature!” (OVERFLOW, 0x1A).3
Hailed by critics, XF has been said to “definitively grasp feminism
back from the … hands of the moralizing-spiteful petit-bourgeoisie.”4
Also among the general public – if Google is anything to go by – but
also in witnessing the newly spawned “disciple movements” or the
wave of XF (over-)representation at public events in cities like Berlin
and London – there seems to be a choir of univocal accolade verging
on glorification for all things XF. It is difficult, even four years on,
to find critical voices. This is at best surprising, given some of the
distinctly audacious – alternatively, brash and ill considered – claims
of XF. At worst, it is also detrimental to XF. Itself aiming to be “a
platform, an incipient ambition to construct a new language … that
seizes its own methods as materials to be reworked” (OVERFLOW,
0x19), one would assume consensus is not exactly the lifeblood they
were hoping for.
This text aims to stir the embers somewhat, to open a new conver-
sation on XF by addressing a number of fundamental tenets it adopts
which I argue are untenable, specifically their conceptualizations of
scalability and universality. This critique is by no means exhaustive; it
comprises an initial and partial instigation to challenge a publication
that though provocative, has subsisted without the oppositional voic-
es that might invigorate the discourse around it. Given the confus-
ing and confused nature of the concepts, but also in a genuine spirit
to invite response, the discussions are each translated into a series of
questions. The analysis is guided by a number of seminal feminist
texts published between 1984 and 2015, which not only offer a di-
rect retaliation to the two concepts mentioned above, but also show
their teeth, muscles, and sinews as vigorous narratives from the past
and present of feminist practice. In their undying commitment to
2 Laboria Cuboniks (2018), The Xenofeminist Manifesto: A Politics for Alienation.

London: Verso Books.
3 Xenofeminsim: A Politics for Alienation, laboriacuboniks.net. Quotations from the
manifesto are referenced by noting their heading (an imperative verb) and sub-
heading (a number and/or letter combination comprising a consecutive series).
4 Mark Fisher quoted in: “After Accelerationism: The Xenofeminist Manifesto,”
tripleampersand.org (June 11, 2015).
Stirring the Embers // 139
non-scalability and non-universality, they are quite comfortably in-

vulnerable to being qualified as “petit-bourgeois.”
// SCALABILITY
The XF manifesto states that “Refusing to think beyond the micro
community … to consider how emancipatory tactics can be scaled up
for universal implementation, is to remain satisfied with temporary
and defensive gestures” (TRAP, 0x0A). It consequently coalesces “the
unambitious and the non-scalable” (ADJUST, 0x11), asserting the
wish to tear them down.
It will not be unreasonable here to consider for a moment why ex-
actly so many proficient scholars and practitioners have come to reject
scalability, consistently and over several decades now. The concept in
fact is plagued by a number of fundamental problems that, togeth-
er with their particular histories and disciplinary ancestries, cannot
simply be bypassed. In the XF manifesto, the concept is mystifyingly
abstract, lacking any form of address of these important details, which
leaves unclear whether Laboria Cuboniks adheres to the concept re-
gardless of its implications, or whether its militant adherence to it
obviates a thorough lack of consideration.
Anthropologist Anna Lowenhaubt Tsing is among those who have
dedicated rigorous thought to the issue, of which she offers a concise
diagnosis in chapter three of “The Mushroom at the End of the World,”
titled “Some Problems with Scale.” Cutting to the chase already in the
first paragraph, she states the problem with scalability is primarily that
it “demands the possibility of infinite expansion without changing
the research framework … the research questions … [or] the framing
assumptions.”5 These stakes seem rather high for something as trite as
“infinite expansion.” However, history clearly disagrees: In its stead-
fast nature and unyieldingness to the details of processual alterations,
scalability has become the darling of (mainstream) modern science,
lending it the ideal methodological framework to make sweeping uni-
versal claims. Unsurprisingly, science has since centuries and to great
avail adopted scalability as one of its fundamental requirements and
discarded as irrelevant (like XF) any projects that do not comply with
5 Tsing, A.L., p.38.

it. It is gainful to ignore the reality of interruption – to “admit only

data that already fit the research frame.”6
To be clear, these are not possible, optional, or even probable
characteristics of scalability; they are its non-negotiable prerequisites.
Scalability is unachievable unless a project’s fundamental components
are made perfectly uniform (and therefore transposable) and hermet-
ically immutable to any adaptation-requiring details encountered
along the way. That is what scalability means. Hence, it is scalability
that is essentially conformist – in the fundamental sense of the word,
“to ‘make (something) like another thing’”7 – while non-scalability
essentially is not. Change and transformation are the mortal enemies
of scalability. They are toxic to it; it withers and dies in their fumes.
And of course, the lucrativeness of scalability extends beyond the
field of science. In its bull-headed pursuit of maximally efficient – i.e.,
homogeneous, identically replicable – growth, scalability deserves full
credit for making projects profitable and for this reason has become
the modus operandi of many an exploitative endeavor. As a characteris-
tic and precondition of all progress narratives, it has come to define –
and capacitate – the machinery of capitalism. In the context of capital-
ism, Laboria Cuboniks’ adherence to scalability comes as no surprise.
As an accelerationist spin-off, it aims to cannibalize the instruments/
systems of capitalism, thereby taking distance from the self-sanctity of
leftist politics. This it has made clear, consistently and on numerous
occasions, including the manifesto, and the appropriationist impulse
is both clear and valid. However, as gender studies scholar Emma Rees
observes, “any potential for scalability and real-world application that
xenofeminism might have remains frustratingly elusive,” which makes
it very difficult to say anything about how Laboria Cuboniks envi-
sions scalable projects might possibly circumvent the problems out-
lined above, if this is at all the intention.8
Seeking an example elsewhere will at least provide a foothold and
is anyhow crucial in view of historical awareness; as stated in the man-
ifesto, “we not should not hesitate to learn from … the successes and
failures of history” (PARITY, 0x10). The first scalable project, for

7 Conform (n.d.), in: Google Dictionary (accessed 22.05.2018).
8 Rees, E., “Xenofeminism, by Helen Hester,” in: www.timeshighereducation.com/
books/review-xenofeminism-helen-hester-polity-press (March 1, 2018).
instance, is the landscape model that emerged from the 16th-17th

century European colonial plantation. The Portuguese in Brazil were
the first to stumble on this golden “formula for smooth expansion”
and developed the alienated, isolated, extracted, abstracted, self-con-
tained, standardizable, interchangeable – and therefore commodi-
fiable – project elements that have come to define scalability.9 The
process leading up to this achievement went “as follows: Exterminate
local people and plants; prepare now-empty, unclaimed land; and
bring in exotic and isolated labor and crops for production.”10 This
model “became an inspiration for later industrialization and [capital-
ist] modernization”11; the property of scalability on which it is based
has made possible the full-blown exploitation of people and resources
that has become the gruesomely common new normal in the realities
of many, past and present.
Again: How does Laboria Cuboniks propose to practice scalability
in a way that does not fall back on its inherently exploitative patterns,
as evidenced by this and a myriad of other historic and contemporary
examples? There is little to no discussion within their very abstract-
ed address of the concept – in which they neglect to situate it both
epistemologically (i.e., in relation to science) and historically (i.e., in
relation to the colonial plantation that birthed it and the many other
exploitative infrastructures that followed) – to how exactly they envi-
sion a practicable implementation of the oxymoron that is adaptive,
diversified scalability.
This does seem to be their intention. In the manifesto, Laboria
Cuboniks explicitly rejects many of the implications of scalability
outlined above. For instance, they claim to “invite contamination as
a mutational driver” (CARRY, 0x17) and state that “the task of en-
gineering platforms for social emancipation and organization cannot
ignore the cultural and semiotic mutations these platforms afford”
(TRAP, 0x0D). It appears then, that Laboria Cuboniks wants to adopt
scalability, therein aligning itself with mainstream modern science and
even more closely with the notion of progress epitomized in capital-
ism, but repudiates admitting the inherent conditions of scalability

10 Idem.
11 Idem.
to its project. Of course, however, they cannot have their cake and
eat it, too.
So is the scalability they propose to practice in fact not scalability?
And if not, why call it that? If they mean developing work that reaches
many people or operates on otherwise large scales, why not say that:
“develop large-scale projects”? Not as catchy, admittedly, but certainly
more accurate. In any case, developing large-projects is not the same
as “scalability,” which simply makes it quite senseless to call it so.
Alternatively, if the scalability they propose is scalability, how do
they account for the fact that the processes of abstraction, isolation,
and standardization that are necessarily implicated in any scalable
project are essentially incompatible with the ideas of mutability and
contamination they advance, or for the fact they effectively hijack any
possibility for social emancipation, leaving only space for top-down,
autocratic, and delusional hallucinations of a gifted emancipation, i.e.,
no emancipation at all?
On a final note, Tsing is quick to stress that “it would be a huge mis-
take to assume that scalability is bad and non-scalability is good. Non-
scalable projects can be as terrible in their effects as scalable ones.”12
Non-scalable projects therefore do not at all escape scrutiny; there is
no intrinsic sanctity whatsoever in them. As she explains, “The main
distinguishing feature between scalable and non-scalable projects is not
ethical conduct, but rather that the latter are more diverse because they
are not geared up for expansion.”13 The main – and inevitable – conse-
quence of XF’s adoption of scalability as a key driver, assuming scalabil-
ity is indeed what they mean, is therefore that it “banishes meaningful
diversity, that is, diversity that might change things.”14
// UNIVERSALITY
The manifesto claims that “XF constructs … a future in which the
realization of gender justice and feminist emancipation contribute
to a universalist politics assembled from the needs of every human”
(ZERO, 0x00) and “declares the right of everyone to speak as no one
in particular” (ZERO, 0x04).
12 Tsing, A.L., p.42.

13 Idem., p.41.
14 Idem., p.38.
This is immediately reminiscent of two seminal feminist texts.

The first is Donna Haraway’s 1988 essay, “Situated Knowledges: The
Science Question in Feminism and the Privilege of Partial Perspective.”
Specifically, it is reminiscent of the notion of “the god trick” – fa-
mously introduced in this essay – by which Haraway refers to the illu-
sionist deception that for centuries has allowed “The imagined ‘they’”
of [masculine] objectivity in science to “leap out the marked body
and into a conquering gaze”: The trick “of seeing everything from
nowhere.”15 It is difficult to see how speaking “as no one in particu-
lar,” or assuming to speak for “every human” is not a re-performance
of this god trick, now under the seemingly unified guise of “feminist
emancipation.” Which feminist emancipation? Whose feminist eman-
cipation? The combination of a self-evident, universal “we” with this
singular subject begs many questions.
As Haraway continues, in her attack on universalism through her
insistence on “the particularity and embodiment of all vision … where
partiality and not universality is the condition of being heard to make
rational knowledge claims,” and in her mission in this essay to outline
a feminist objectivity, which “means quite simply situated knowledges,”
Haraway finds no exemption for “The positionings of the subjugat-
ed.”16 These are no more “‘innocent’ positions” than those of the patri-
arch or any other “master decoder,” but rather “knowledgeable modes
of denial through repression, forgetting, and disappearing acts – ways
of being nowhere while claiming to see comprehensively.”17 To assume
the first person plural voice of a mythically singular “feminist eman-
cipation” with the sweeping universalist and ventriloquist gesture to
“speak for every human” is to neglect that which might actually pro-
duce “better accounts of the world,” namely “webs of differential po-
sitionings,” of “limited location,” and “the joining of partial views …
of views from somewhere.”18 Much more can be said, but there is little
need for it; “The moral is simple: Only partial perspective promises
objective vision. It allows us to become answerable.”19
15 Haraway, D., pp.575, 581.

16 Idem., pp.582, 584, 589.
17 Idem., pp.584, 593.
18 Idem., pp.583, 590.
19 Idem., p.583.
That is the core issue at stake: Accountability. The ensuing ques-

tion is how Laboria Cuboniks proposes to possibly – and again, if at
all – make itself accountable if the politics it undertakes is universalist
and if it supports everyone’s right (including their own) to speak from
the abstracted, alienated position of no body in particular, while taking
it upon itself to construct a future feminist emancipation that miracu-
lously subsumes the needs of every body?
Laboria Cuboniks dedicates an entire paragraph in the manifesto
to nuancing their notion of universality, which in its relevance to this
discussion deserves full mention:
Xenofeminism understands that the viability of eman-

cipatory abolitionist projects – the abolition of class,
gender, and race – hinges on a profound reworking
of the universal. The universal must be grasped as ge-
neric, which is to say, intersectional. Intersectionality
is not the morcellation of collectives into a static fuzz
of cross-referenced identities, but a political orienta-
tion that slices through every particular, refusing the
crass pigeonholing of bodies. This is not a universal
that can be imposed from above, but built from the
bottom up – or, better, laterally, opening new lines of
transit across an uneven landscape. This non-absolute,
generic universality must guard against the facile ten-
dency of conflation with bloated, unmarked particu-
lars – namely Eurocentric universalism – whereby the
male is mistaken for the sexless, the white for raceless,
the cis for the real, and so on. Absent such a universal,
the abolition of class will remain a bourgeois fantasy,
the abolition of race will remain a tacit white-suprem-
acism, and the abolition of gender will remain a thinly
veiled misogyny, even – especially – when prosecuted
by avowed feminists themselves. (PARITY, 0x0F)
The first question is how much universality is left in this universal.

A “non-absolute” universal might be said to be yet another oxymo-
ron, in which case the same question arises as for scalability: Why
call it so if it is not? More importantly, however – admitting for the
sake of argument that such a universal is possible, which in fact is
certainly arguable, albeit not convincingly addressed in the text – the

second question is how this universal actually takes shape in practice
and whether XF succeeds in its ambitious “reworking of the universal”
as “a political orientation that slices through every particular,” despite
its abstracting tendencies. What follows addresses these questions by
returning to the core issue of accountability and extending it to an ex-
amination of how exactly the universal substantiates in the manifesto.
Poet and radical feminist Adrienne Rich in her seminal lecture for
the “Conference on Women, Feminist Identity, and Society in the
1980s” held in Utrecht, the Netherlands in 1984, titled “Notes to-
ward a Politics of Location,” offers additional thoughts on the issue of
accountability. Especially, she addresses the inevitable compromise of
accountability in the face of disembodiment, or of the “faceless, race-
less, classless category of ‘all women’,” under the “‘deadly sameness’ of
abstraction,” which she is not tongue-tied to designate as a “creation
of white Western self-centeredness.”20 No, Laboria Cuboniks does not
speak for “all women.” But “every human” is equally if not more face-
less, raceless, and classless; as is the abstracted, singular, fantastical
category of “feminist emancipation”; as is the chronically recurrent
and deeply mystifying “we” with which the text is permeated: “It is
imperative that we develop an ideological infrastructure,” “we must
overhaul,” “we must engineer,” “How are we to become,” “How do
we build,” “the desires we want,” “the problems we face,” “We should,”
“We need,” “we see,” and so on and so forth. Who is “we”? And why
is it speaking for “us”?
Is “we” everyone, everywhere? Or is it everyone in the West? Or
just the feminists? All of them, or just the technofeminists, or rath-
er the cyberfeminists? Is it Western feminists? Does “we” include
feminists in rural communities in large swathes of Asia, Africa, and
Central/South America, for instance, who have no privileged access
to technology? What role is there for them to play within Laboria
Cuboniks’ self-ascribed task of constructing the future through “The
radical opportunities afforded by developing (and alienating) forms of
technological mediation”? Laboria Cuboniks explicitly recognizes that
“no one can claim [digital tools’] comprehensive accessibility.” But in
noting that most of “the world’s poor is adversely affected by the ex-
panding technological industry” takes it upon itself to combat “these
20 Rich, A., pp.219, 221.

conditions as a target for elimination” (all: INTERRUPT, 0X08).

So is the role of feminists in these communities limited to being the
saved ones?
Who knows – one can only guess at a faceless face. But while the
“we” is left unnamed, there are clues in the text about who is not in-
cluded. They show how Laboria Cuboniks’ abstracted disengagement
from its own limited localities and its megalomaniac ambitions to
speak for all evidence an inconsideration of political accountability
and thereby a renunciation of objectivity, specifically feminist objec-
tivity. For example, on the topic of the family, they state:
“We see too well that reinventions of family structure and domes-
tic life are currently only possible at the cost of either withdrawing
from the economic sphere – the way of the commune – or bearing its
burdens manifold – the way of the single parent. If we want to break
the inertia that has kept the moribund figure of the nuclear family
unit in place … we must overhaul the material infrastructure and
break the economic cycles that lock it in place.”
Clearly, “The task before us” is in any case not that of the millions
of people living in the polygamy belt stretching across sub-Saharan
Africa, “from Senegal through to Tanzania, in which it is not uncom-
mon for a third of married women to share their husbands.”21 This
whole section of the planet – and many others, in which the Western
trend of the nuclear family is by far the minority family structure
– recognizes nothing in the two singular, “only” options described
above: either withdrawing from the economic sphere or bearing its bur-
dens manifold. Rather, their domestic realities are shaped by the far
more common structure of the extended family – and the particular
set of problems that derive from it – which includes parent(s) and kin
from outside the nuclear family and is common not only in sub-Sa-
haran Africa, but also in large parts of Asia, the Middle East, and
Central and South America.22 That is a substantial part of the global
population whose realities are left unaddressed in this manifesto for
the future. And who are nevertheless subsumed into a “we” who out-
lines the problems “we” face and defines the solutions “we” should
21 Fenske, J., “African polygamy: Past and present,” in: https://voxeu.org/article/

african-polygamy-past-and-present (November 9, 2013).
22 http://worldfamilymap.ifstudies.org/2015/articles/world-family-indicators/
family-structure.
seek. This fails to account for the unspoken yet undeniably practiced
assumption, articulated by Rich already in 1984, “That only certain
kinds of people can make theory; that the white-educated mind is
capable of formulating everything; that white middle-class feminism
can know for “all women”; that only when a white mind formulates is
the formulation to be taken seriously.”23
That this is not an accusation is primarily because it is impossible
to hold anyone accountable who circumvents the conditions for ac-
countability by abstracting themselves from the specific localizations
of the bodies they inhabit. And that is exactly the point. As long as the
god trick remains operative, their abstraction is no less prone to that of
“abstract masculinity” (a term coined by Nancy Hartstock in 1983),
nor to what Haraway describes as the “perverse capacity – honed to
perfection in the histories of science tied to militarism, colonialism,
and male supremacy – to distance the knowing subject from everyone
and everything.”24
In her critique of her own myopic vision as a younger writer and
feminist, Rich in her “struggle for accountability” explicitly names
the specific, non-abstracted determinants of her particular body and
the histories and conditions that inscribe it: those of “a United States
citizen,” “a Jew,” “a feminist,” “a lesbian,” “a woman”; “privileged,”
“female,” “White.” The matter is not to circumvent these determi-
nants but to name them, in order to – only then – be able to pose the
real question: “How do we actively work to build a white Western
feminist consciousness that is not simply centered on itself, that resists
white circumscribing?”25
“Pick up again the long struggle against lofty and privileged ab-
straction. Perhaps this is the core of revolutionary process.”26
23 Rich, A., p.230.

24 Haraway, D., p.581.
25 Rich, A., p.219.
26 Idem., p.213.
References
Haraway, D. (1988), “Situated Knowledges: The Science Question in Feminism and
the Privilege of Partial Perspective,” Feminist Studies, Vol. 14, No. 3. (Autumn,
1988), pp.575-599.
Rich, A. (1984), “Notes toward a Politics of Location.” Talk given at the First
Summer School of Critical Semiotics, Conference on Women, Feminist Identity
and Society in the 1980s, Utrecht, Holland, June 1, 1984. Retrieved from:
people.unica.it/.../Adrienne-Rich-Notes-Toward-a-Politics-of-Location.pdf
Tsing, A.L. (2015), The Mushroom at the End of the World: On the Possibility of Life in
Capitalist Ruins. New Jersey: Princeton University Press.
BIOS
Christina Grammatikopoulou (PhD) is an art theorist living in
Thessaloniki. Her work focuses on art and digital technology, with
a particular interest in disinformation networks, social media, and
feminism. She is the founder of the Barcelona-based art magazine
Interartive (interartive.org). She currently teaches Art History and
Digital Culture at the Aristotle University in Thessaloniki.
Cornelia Sollfrank (PhD) is an artist, researcher, and university

lecturer living in Berlin. The recurring subjects in her artistic and
academic work in and about digital cultures are artistic infrastruc-
tures, new forms of (political) self-organization, authorship and in-
tellectual property, as well as technofeminist practice and theory.
She was co-founder of the women-and-technology, -Innen, and Old
Boys Network collectives and currently is a research associate at the
University of the Arts in Zürich, Switzerland for the project “Creating
Commons.” For more information, see artwarez.org
Femke Snelting develops projects at the intersection of design, femi-

nisms, and free software. She works with and for Constant, a Brussels-
based association for art and media. With co-researcher Jara Rocha
she activates “Possible Bodies,” a project interrogating the concrete
and fictional entities of “bodies” in the context of 3D technologies.
Femke currently teaches at the Piet Zwart Institute (experimental
publishing, Rotterdam) and a.pass (Brussels).
149
hvale vale is a feminist writer, activist, practitioner of the power of

erotic, and thinker @ the margins. She connects women’s rights,
sexual rights, and the internet poetically, politically, and practically
and advocates for the #feministinternet. She discovered and learned
about technology-related issues through her work, so her engagement
with the internet and digital rights ranges from policy advocacy to
facilitation, networking, and capacity building. Most of all, she loves
co-plotting and learning from people. She does storytelling and hides
in plain site.
Isabel de Sena is a Berlin-based independent curator, writer, and ed-

itor focusing on feminist approaches at the intersection of art, sci-
ence, and technology. Her recent work includes publications for the
Oberhausen Short Film Festival, NGbK, and DAAD Berlin, and as
a curator for Martin-Gropius-Bau (Berlin), Pasadena Arts Council
(Los Angeles), and Tokyo Wonder Site. Isabel is a lecturer at NODE
Center for Curatorial Studies (Berlin) and, since 2016, a guest lec-
turer at CalArts (Los Angeles). Currently she works as a curator and
exhibitions manager at FACT Liverpool.
Rebecca van Dyck is a native of Los Angeles. Since 1980 she has
lived in Hannover, Germany, where she studied German literature,
English linguistics, and social psychology. She works as a freelance
translator and copyeditor, primarily in the area of modern and con-
temporary art.
Sophie Toupin is a PhD candidate in the Department of Art History

and Communication Studies at McGill University, Montréal, Canada.
Her current research examines the relationship between technology
and anti-colonialism. She also explores the links between technolo-
gy, feminism, and activism through ethnographic studies and proj-
ects. She is one of the co-founders of FemHack, a feminist hacklab
in Montréal and one of the co-organizers of the TransHackFeminist
Convergences. Some of her publications can be found at: https://mc-
gill.academia.edu/SophieToupin
Spideralex is a sociologist and holds a PhD in social economy. She

is the founder of the Catalan cyberfeminist collective, Donestech,
which explores the links between gender and technologies, develops
Bios // 151
action research, documentaries, and training. For the last four years,
she has coordinated an international program called “The Gender
and Technology Institutes” focused on privacy and security (digital,
physical, psycho-social) oriented at women human rights defenders
and women activists around the world. She is also the editor of two
volumes exploring the panorama of technological sovereignty initia-
tives. She lives on the internet and sometimes can be found in her
community in Catalonia.
Some of her work can be found at:
https://legacy.gitbook.com/@sobtec
https://donestech.net/
https://calafou.org/
Yvonne Volkart (PhD) is a lecturer in art and media theory at the

Academy of Art and Design FHNW Basel where she also heads the
research project “Ecodata – Ecomedia – Ecoaesthetics.” Together with
Karin Ohlenschläger (LABoral, Gijon) and Sabine Himmelsbach
(HeK, Basel), she recently curated the exhibition “Eco_Visionaries. Art,
Architecture and New Media After the Anthropocene.” Her complet-
ed research projects include “Times of Waste.” She was a member of
Old Boys Network.
https://www.fhnw.ch/de/personen/yvonne-volkart
http://times-of-waste.ch

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Minor Compositions Open Access Statement – Please Read

However, it is against the purposes of Minor Compositions open access approach

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If you have any questions please contact the publisher: minorcompositions@gmail.com.

Edited by Cornelia Sollfrank

Released by Minor Compositions 2020

Minor Compositions is a series of interventions & provocations drawing from

Minor Compositions is an imprint of Autonomedia

Creating New Worlds . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35

Feminist Principles of the Internet –

Viral Performances of Gender . . . . . . . . 89

Stirring the Embers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137

Translated by Valentine A. Pakis

“We have to become practiced in warfare. That

“There’s no need to fear or hope, but

“Men and things exchange properties and

“The new planetary consciousness will

“Pick up again the long struggle against

What relation do technology and gender have with one an-

1 Judy Wajcman, TechnoFeminism (Cambridge, UK: Polity, 2004).

as disembodied truth, Haraway stresses its social aspects, including

and the (political) imaginaries associated with it actually were,5 even

5 See Wajcman, TechnoFeminism, 63; and Helen Hester’s discussion of “political

to combine historical approaches with current practices and to for-

8 See the contribution by Spideralex in this volume.

10 Quoted from Yvonne Volkart’s article in this volume.

to examine. Just as nothing can exist outside of technology, technolo-

as “everything that we do to maintain, continue, and repair “our”

technical categories such as software and hardware, to include “gen-

Spideralex has put together a collective document for this publica-

18 See Christina Grammatikopoulou’s contribution in this volume.

Latin-American cyberfeminists are willing to engage in on all levels.

In her text, Christina Grammatikopoulou investigates a series of

In her contribution, Yvonne Volkart opens up a new dimension

20 Coined by Donna Haraway, the term “natureculture” denotes the co-origination

gender and heterosexuality, but also a concern about developing spe-

In the final chapter, Isabel de Sena initiates a long-overdue critique

Ayesha1 sees herself as a feminist hacker. Her Twitter handle

Twitter, as well as the “Block Bot” function to block known stalkers

their desire to rethink forms of resistance against a system of produc-

the symbiosis between practice and theory, in addition to recognizing

responses to online violence, since the latter is omnipresent and re-

Goldenberg, it is essential to take into consideration gender, ethnic-

transnational resistance practices and solidarity. At these meetings, the

The practice of “Doing it Together”

spaces, with an emphasis on community, feminist hackers attempt to

The policy of visibility

marginalized, not to say excluded, in public space. Since these count-

• Is a situated technology. She5 [the feminist server] has a sense of

• Knows that networking is actually an awkward, promiscuous

These principles reveal a rooting in the concept of situated knowl-

6 Freely adapted by the author and by the editor.

The co-production of knowledge and solidarity

8 Another GTI was organised in June 2016 in Ecuador.

the form of a manifesto addressing issues of intersectionality, linking

The materiality of the technology

10 In the short history of hackspaces, hacklabs have come to be regarded as more