When I became a journalist, I was advised to subscribe to Twitter.
I don't have to post irrelevant observations in which everyone can really recognize themselves, which everyone can really like and which would
True to the now unspeakable mantra that a good journalist is everywhere, but not concerned with anything – not even a good one!
– mean, I don't have to do that on Twitter either.
But as a young journalist, you should be there like a good journalist!
So I signed up without tweeting.
Within a year I managed to get a good 100 journalists to follow me – no jokes!
Caroline O Jebens
Editor in the society department at FAZ.NET.
Follow I follow
Through Twitter I found out amazing things about myself. Among other things, who I am: Based on the little data I had fed the algorithm with over a year – name, email address, likes – it spit out metadata: Me spoke German and English, okay, but also supposedly Finnish, Dutch and Swedish!
I was flattered that a vocabulary limited to subway stations and "I'll have [the dish of the day] and a glass of wine with it" was recognized as a genuine knowledge of the language.
Knowing my great-great-great-grandfather's language would have made him proud (han vilar i fred!).
But I had more in common with him: according to Twitter, I had his gender!
Under "Gender" it said: "male".
I was a man, no, better: a journalist!
Maybe even a good one?
One who is able
Rather Vladimir than fictional Dolores
I clicked the arrow next to my new gender.
I was told, "If you haven't already entered a gender, you'll be assigned the one that most closely matches your account based on your profile and activity.
This information will not be displayed publicly.” Maybe for the better.
Nevertheless: Why was I secretly a man, what characterized my masculine behavior?
Why journalist, not journalist?
I compared the accounts I followed to those of journalists with a large number of followers.
Her gender was also not publicly displayed by Twitter.
I still assumed they were female because they were posting about "female issues".
equality and things like that.
Some even said "She/Her" even though they obviously had long hair and colorful clothes!
In my profile picture at the time, I was wearing heart-shaped pink glasses with long hair that an Instagram filter had put on my nose.
My "bio" was: A filter is a filter is a filter is a filter is a filter.
That Twitter recognized me as Vladimir rather than the fictional Dolores: impressive.
"I'll leave it at that"
But from Twitter's point of view, I wasn't a world-famous author, but a small-time journalist.
who followed me
96 percent journalists.
But not like me, but authors, editors-in-chief, translators!
With relevant newspapers!
Maybe Twitter had miscalculated and interpreted my polite silence as belonging to them.
I considered contacting Twitter and asking: How am I given this honor?
I did not do it.
I hadn't tweeted at this point.
What could the Twitter team tell me?
“Our algorithm speaks in the generic masculine!
Enjoy feeling meant!” I took a screenshot of my gender classification, my first tweet.
I wrote: "Whatever that means.
I'll leave it at that.” After all, I'm not supposed to get involved with anything.
Even if she's a good one.
Or even one that I belong to.Keywords: