How Black People have Influenced Social VR Against the Odds
Juneteenth and Black Social VR in 2024
For this article, we are fortunate to have social VR creator Kipp_VR with HarlemXR, and guest author K. Guillory from The Metaculture joining us with their testimonies, writing, editing and art contributions!
PAST
by K. Guillory
The early days of virtual worlds were filled with a lack of knowledge of how to handle its experimental population. Back then, Second Life's dream of land permanence was the standard; this meant users could traverse abandoned digital cities, and discover all sorts of weird things that existed there. You could see everything from the first virtual object spawned, to a tomb enshrouding a dead user's avatar as their digital resting place.
For me, the random appearance of literally anything on the road was a thrill. That enthusiasm was dampened one day, however, when I came upon an ugly land parcel filled with a racially charged message.
Back then, Second Life didn't have policies against flying Confederate flags or Nazi symbols. It also didn't object to themed parcels that focused on turning Black identity into sexual fetishes. Those were things that had to be spoken up and fought for, one by one. The official feature request ticket to ban racial slurs on the platform's marketplace was filed by me less than ten years ago from this article's publication.
What stood before me was a population of mannequins featuring Black stereotypes, all going about their daily frozen lives while surrounding a statue of Barack Obama. WAKE UP, BLACK PEOPLE!, its signage proclaimed. I tried to ignore it and kept on the road. But I found another one just like it, this time dedicated to Black people in stereotypical orientation towards the subject of welfare. And then another one. And another. There were three or four in total.
I remember one day sitting on the phone with Second Life's founder as we finally hashed out the problem of users demonizing Black life through parcel listings. My conversation partner was well-meaning, but certainly embarrassed and unhappy at how things had gotten to this point. I could tell he didn't want that though, and I was happy to highlight what needed to change. Together, we sorted out the issues so future residents wouldn't run into this level of hate again.
Our society tends to frame speaking up as problematic, even when it leads to improvements for everyone. Why make such an issue, they ask? Why say anything at all when things are good enough?
But I'm here to tell you: as someone who's had to do this to be comfortable in the metaverse, speaking up is necessary. What makes Black lives better makes everyone's lives better.
That's just the way it is.
PRESENT
by
“I know that we are not a majority in social VR. We are another minority in the VR space. Sad to say, but I'm just looking at the reality of stuff.” —Kipp_VR
Kipp_VR (he/him) and I originally met in AltspaceVR before it was shut down in March 2023. In the aftermath of that platform's closure, Kipp attempted event-hosting in Spatial before eventually moving on to VRChat. Creating worlds and events for communities like The Komplex and SkySong, he also leads free Blender and Unity classes for anyone to learn how to create in social VR.
We met to discuss his latest creative works and how he’s managed to bring Black culture into social VR with safety in mind. As we talked, the sun dimmed into an overcast gray over the virtual world we stood in.
“I know that we are not a majority in social VR,” says Kipp_VR, gesturing as I looked on. His avatar wore a classic white T-shirt that was popular with Black fashion in the ‘90s. “We are another minority in the VR space. [...] When I first came on to VRChat, there were spaces that I would go into just to check out a beautiful world and maybe build socially with people. But around the time I started talking or asking a question, here it comes.
“‘What are you doing here, n*****?!’ You know, it was always something.” Yeah. The same old thing. For most Black users in VR, those who self-identify will eventually encounter that moment.
Nowadays, Kipp is more knowledgeable on how to deal with aggression in virtual public spaces. Sadly, it’s a method of adaptation. “Now when I come into these places when people are spewing these comments, instead of getting back into some argument with “f*** you” [...] I just point at them and block them out of my experience now.
“There are so many toxic people in social VR,” he explains. “And they look at this literally as a game. True enough, you can go to worlds where you can play games. The platform itself is built using a gaming engine. However, these interactions that you have are not a game. This is social VR. Some of these spaces are for the social aspect of it.”
As the metaverse grows, it’s inevitable that the knowledge for how to deal with bigotry will grow. Still, that knowledge is only spread with purposeful thought and action. “There are some of us in here that won't just sit around and have you just be that way openly,” says Kipp. “Just being disrespectful and then saying, ‘Oh, I'm just playing.’ [...] I'm creating events and spaces for people that don't have to deal with that type of toxicity.”
I drew away from the interview to sit with my own reflections of being a Black man in social VR, and choosing to be in an avatar that reflects my image over the years.
I’ve had the opportunity to enjoy social VR from before the pandemic. For better and worse, it has somewhat mirrored my social life in base reality. I can get to know and make more friends from more countries than I’ll ever see physically. After my first exposure to VR through Google Cardboard, I even established a university student organization to orient new users to what this new technology could do.
Yet, in light of the vast potential that social VR has, I continue to ask myself what can’t be done there as much as what can. Since the pandemic began, I’ve found myself spending more hours in social VR, eventually connecting with new Black friends and enjoying life in another reality. I’m not sure how I would have done without it in these years. Lately, I have to manage my time spent on particular interests with it.
That said, I have often found myself in a familiar place of meeting other people, but not seeing the people or culture I know best represented. In the process of not seeing more Black people to relate to in social VR, I’ve witnessed some of the visible and invisible barriers that kept us–and continue to keep us–from fully enjoying life in another reality.
Visible barriers manifest as uncanny, non-representative Black avatars with weird hair, or default VR display head straps that are physically incompatible with Black hairstyles. Invisible barriers are trickier: PC-only worlds and the cost of investing in VR-ready PCs limit access to the true graphical fidelity of social VR. It can also come in the form of needing time (that you don’t have) to learn skill sets in pipelines built for a game developer just to learn how to customize your avatar.
Getting into social VR as a Black person is one thing, but getting yourself into social VR as a Black person is quite another. Despite the barriers facing us as Black people (and I certainly haven’t listed them all), I’ve still witnessed us.
Us as ourselves, emanating through pixels and meshes with distinct body language, seasoning unseasoned realities with our distinct social flavors. It’s challenging to put into words at times how beautiful it is when we are together, in our favorite parties and familiar spaces, seeing how we know and support one another through our lives’ peaks and valleys.
FUTURE
The communal presence is real, and that’s what keeps our faith in the future.
What we see for us in VR’s future is us. Us existing everywhere in other realities, as we’re in physical reality, making a difference and being an ever-present social force. We see what we carry in physical reality, but we share an active interest in having more ownership in our influence where and when we do influence the world with our culture.
We see this interest taking shape to become multiple platforms of our own in any reality, when and where we choose. Perhaps most importantly, we see our presence continuing to progress and evolve with accessibility in mind, allowing fewer barriers to keep our fellow Black people from each other in other realities. And if that’s too much, then what you should understand is this: We exist in multitudes culturally already. But we need to be sure we’re good in the next form of the Internet, too.
In the following article, we take a look at one of the leading examples of Black movement across realities over the years with Harlem Film House, led by BoogieXR.
