During the class computer lab session last week, I had a funny idea. We were exploring Second Life to experience for ourselves what Tom Boellstorff describes in his ethnography of this virtual world - why not track down the author himself? It was hilariously easy - I clicked on the "People" button on the toolbar at the bottom of my SL client window, clicked the "+" button to open up the friend search window, and typed in "Tom Bukowski". Two names appeared: tom.bukowski and tommy.bukowski. Choosing the more professional-sounding of the two, I sent a friend request alongside a message saying "Interested in the anthropology of virtual worlds".
I didn't expect much. Coming of Age in Second Life is four years old now - academically, there was no reason for Tom Boellstorff to continue his existence as a Resident after finishing his book. But, surprisingly, I received an email the next day saying "Tom Bukowski has accepted your friend request!". And, just like that, I'm now "friends" with the author. This, despite the fact that the only interaction that has ever occurred between us was that one-way message sent alongside a friend request. Now I'm faced with a dilemma. Do I still call the author by his full name? Calling him Boellstorff would seem to distant, now that we're friends! But calling him Tom... well, would that be too familiar?
In his chapter on Intimacy, Tom (maybe if I keep using his first name, I'll get used to it) describes friendships as "... the foundation of cybersociality; the friend is the originary social form for homo cyber" (p157). Many residents of SL describe online friendships as being more intimate - when relationships between people occur without any context of gender, race, and age, instead of "get[ting] to know someone from the outside in... in Second Life you get to know someone from the inside out." Tom mentions how one of his SL friends, amidst an episode of loneliness - once called him over to her virtual house and asked him to hold her and slow dance with her. As their virtual avatars hold each other and dance, his friend says, "...Hold me tight. I need friends now" (p159). I can't speak for everyone, but this is something I would have a hard time asking even my closest actual friends to do.
But hold on a moment. This sounds nothing like the "friendship" I have with Tom right now (I still feel uncomfortable calling him that!). There seems to be two different forms of "friendship" in SL and in online communities in general, and for discussion purposes perhaps it'd be best to separate the word "friendship" (established relationship with another person) with the word "friend". "Friend" has taken on a much different meaning in online communities, especially with the advent of social media sites like Facebook. In these sites, and in games like SL, there is no option to add people to your contact list as "acquaintances". Either you know someone and "friend" them, or you don't know them and thus don't "friend" them. As a consequence, calling someone a "friend" no longer implies that you've established a friendship with them - it simply means you are at least casually mutually acquainted. I have 255 friends on Facebook (a relatively meager amount, to be honest). I interact regularly with at most fifty of them, and could identify maaaaaaybe two-thirds of them by their faces.
How many of them would I call my friends? I don't know. On one hand, some definitely don't qualify under the criteria of friendship that I've grown up with - ones that I've developed before really getting involved in virtual communities. On the other hand, the word is continuously being redefined by these very same online communities. The very act of accepting a friend request from someone I only know casually constitutes a conscious intent on my part to bring this person deeper within my social circle. I feel more connected to some people I've met simply because we're Facebook friends. Is it technology expanding my social capacities? Or is it cognitive dissonance - I've labeled this person as a "friend", so I must like him or her! I don't know anymore. Maybe I'll ask Tom, I bet he knows.
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