Kestral  in the  Tildeverse

Earlier today I threw a post into the Fediverse about the unkindness of some FOSS communities in response to a post written by Ruben Schade about an experience he had talking about people using Windows. It connected a few dots in my brain, taking me back to a conversation I'd had with KDE developer Aks (I love KDE) and other posts I'd read from Terence Eden about usenet usage, and it all got me thinking about the communities that have both welcomed and pushed me away over the last few years. Ineractions that had a tangible impact on the direction of my life and my passion for certain interests and projects.

It's almost like we're a complex web of humanity or something, and all of our interactions go on to shape the direction of the world? Who knew.

Such a Scene Kid

It was the mid 90s, and I obsesively collected cover disks from the many computer magazines that I had on order at the local newsagents. I absolutely loved checking out the demos and various tools and utilities contained within, and as these were floppy disks they tended to showcase relatively tiny programs. I remember with delight picking one up that promised a feature on 'computer music' and couldn't wait to get it home. As a musician and a computer nerd, I was so excited to learn what mod tracking was and hear about this 'demoscene' thing.

I was in love. ScreamTracker 3 was a pig to get working with my cheap SoundBlaster knockoff, but I managed it and was able to listen to so many of the great bits of sample music contained within. Then I noticed all the text that came with each song - the samples had ASCII - and I could read all about the creators of the music I was starting to love. One, it seemed, was based at the University of Oxford, about an hour away from me, and included a postal address for people to send suggestions and donations to.

The internet was so much purer back then, who'd doxx themselves these days?

Anyway, I got a couple of quid together from my pocket money and typed up a really enthusiastic letter to the Oxford-based mod musician, which I posted off on my way to school one morning. I was thirteen, and didn't really expect a reply. But a couple of weeks later, a heavy envelope arrived through the letterbox. The musician had not only taken the time to write back, but had included more music, more shareware, and loads of instructions on how to get started and which meetups I could go along to.

I never forgot that. We corresponded for a few more months before he - I assume - graduated. I only knew his first name, but I'm forever grateful for Alex, the Oxford student who wrote fantastic mod music and took the time to be kind to someone interested in the community of which he was a part. I enthused about the demoscene and still keep my hand in when I can, although admittedly not as often as I'd like to. It gave an enthusiast hope, and turned them into a contributor and community member.

The Bad Actor

I've always been one of those jack-of-all-trades type people, which is why I work in academia and theatre and tech and music and healthcare and... yeah. You get the idea. But one thing I've always loved and wanted to do more of was acting. In my mid 20s I was starting to seriously look at how to break into this a bit more seriously, having chickened out of going to drama school in Liverpool a few years previously. So I started to ask around for advice, and found someone who had gone from tech to acting who seemed like the ideal person to help. I bought him lunch and listened as he started to tell me that, at 25, I was now far too old to really hone my craft. And not really naturally good looking enough. He spent 90 minutes telling me all the reasons no acting community would accept me, why I'd never make it, and how I should leave it to people like him who had more natural talent, better looks, and generally more life ahead of them.

I was crestfallen, and it totally killed my confidence.

While I did go on to do some voice acting, it's taken me years to get over that particular bit of bad advice. Now that's not all the actor's fault - I had plenty of other mental health stuff to deal with - but he effectively blocked off a whole community, a whole passion I wanted to explore, by being a gatekeeper. I still hear his voice sometimes when I'm feeling particularly low on self-confidence, proving that shitty people really can haunt you forever. I'm grateful to have some amazing friends in the theatre & performance space these days and am busy working on new creative projects for stage and screen... but really, I feel sad that I lost so much time and passion and confidence.

So What Does This Mean?

These are just two examples from my life on how kindness and empathy can make or break their participation in a community, and change the path they take in life. I strongly believe that people should be free to pursue every dream, try everything they want to try - you know - as long as it's not murder or anything awful that hurts others. But nobody is an island, and community is all around us, everywhere. On our streets, in our workplaces, in our coffee houses and supermarkets and IRC channels. We are all participating in communities every day, conciously or not.

FOSS communities are no different.

A flood of shitty comments when you make a positive change via pull request can stop someone wanting to participate further. Telling newbies to get lost doesn't just doom your project to failure, but it turns entire swathes of people off from contributing to anything, and potentially turns them off from tech altogether. Telling someone they should switch to Linux when they have a legitimate need to run Windows likely makes them even less likely to try it, as it gives people a negative impression of the people who are users and enthusiasts.

Wear My Shoes?

The whole 'walk a mile in the shoes of your customer' addage is a bit worn out these days, especially since most startups use shit like that to appear friendly while they steal your data/soul/mind, but its roots are fairly pure. Just stop and consider where someone else is stood. Why gatekeep them? Why berate them? Can you, instead, treat them with kindness, empathy, and support? Can you signpost, encourage, and thank for their interest?

If you can - if we all can - then I think we might just make all of our communities a little better.

And if you can't? Maybe just... stop typing and walk away? Go make yourself a nice cup of tea. I promise you'll find something else to yell at later.