What have you learned so far about sexual stereotypes, beliefs, and attitudes?

What have you learned so far about sexual stereotypes, beliefs, and attitudes? Your discussion should specifically incorporate all the readings from 9/5-9/21 (Silvestrini, Jhally, Rodriguez, and Bjork-James), and the film “The Purity Myth” (screened in lecture on 9/21). ONLY USE ARTICLES I ATTACHED Your essay must be a minimum of 800 words please use double-spacing, 12-point font, and insert page numbers. When citing materials, you may use any academic citation style (e.g. APA, MLA, ASA), as long as you use it consistently and cite all materials used. When formatting citations, you may use footnotes, endnotes, or a bibliography, as you prefer.

Requirements: min 800 words

Full Terms & Conditions of access and use can be found athttps://www.tandfonline.com/action/journalInformation?journalCode=wjhm20Journal of HomosexualityISSN: (Print) (Online) Journal homepage: https://www.tandfonline.com/loi/wjhm20LGBTQ Incorporated: YouTube and theManagement of DiversityJulian A. RodriguezTo cite this article: Julian A. Rodriguez (2023) LGBTQ Incorporated: YouTube andthe Management of Diversity, Journal of Homosexuality, 70:9, 1807-1828, DOI:10.1080/00918369.2022.2042664To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/00918369.2022.2042664Published online: 23 Feb 2022.Submit your article to this journal Article views: 1326View related articles View Crossmark dataCiting articles: 1 View citing articles

LGBTQ Incorporated: YouTube and the Management of DiversityJulian A. Rodriguez, PhDDepartment of Sociology, University of California, Santa Cruz, California, USAABSTRACTLesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ) people use the video-sharing service YouTube to educate and entertain audiences. However, YouTube, a subsidiary of Google, has a fraught history with LGBTQ users. Informed by digital ethno-graphy and content analysis, this paper illustrates the com-pany’s strategic incorporation of LGBTQ creators and their video content. On the one hand, I show how YouTube publicly presents LGBTQ people’s diversity in terms of race, ethnicity, nationality, gender, sexuality, and mental health status. On the other hand, the platform privately discriminates against LGBTQ users creating content about queer sex education, lesbian sexu-ality, and transgender identity—topics in conflict with advertis-ing and community guidelines. YouTube’s discriminatory practices (closely tied to automated algorithms) include demo-netization, age restriction, video deletion, account termination, and harassment facilitation. Ultimately, this paper cautions against uncritical celebrations of social media industries’ recog-nition of the LGBTQ community.KEYWORDS LGBTQ; transgender; diversity; YouTube; social media; algorithms; advertising; discrimination; harassmentIntroductionIn April 2018, the owner of Transthetics, a business that provides penile prosthetics for transgender men, found that YouTube terminated his account without warning (Transthetics, 2018). After appealing the decision, he received a brief response within 24 hours:Hello, Thank you for contacting us. We have carefully reviewed your account appeal. Your account has been terminated due to repeated or severe violations of our Community Guidelines on Nudity and Sexual content. YouTube is not the place for nudity, pornography or other sexually provocative content. For more information, please visit our Help Center. Sincerely, The YouTube TeamCONTACT Julian A. Rodriguez [email protected] Department of Sociology, University of California, Santa Cruz, 1156 High Street, Santa Cruz, CA 95064, USA.JOURNAL OF HOMOSEXUALITY 2023, VOL. 70, NO. 9, 1807–1828 https://doi.org/10.1080/00918369.2022.2042664© 2022 Taylor & Francis Group, LLC

YouTube outlines exceptions to its policies against nudity and sexual content. Most notably, it allows content that is informational and educational. Even so, the platform deemed Transthetics’ videos offensive despite them providing product background and educational information to a historically excluded group. Just two months after the denied appeal, YouTube publicly declared to lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ) YouTubers, “We are so proud of the contributions you have made to the platform; you’ve helped make YouTube what it is today” (Ariel & Victor, 2018).1The Transthetics incident is instructive. It gestures toward LGBTQ YouTube users who create and circulate videos about their identities, experi-ences, and expertise. It also underlines YouTube’s management of the content that circulates on the platform, and this management is based on vague and inconsistent expectations of sexuality. At the same time, YouTube’s statements illustrate the platform’s efforts to maintain its appearance as a progressive company even though its practices negatively affect LGBTQ creators.Working from the premise that social media platforms always manage and intervene in the user-generated material on them (Gillespie, 2015), this paper illustrates how YouTube selectively incorporates LGBTQ creators and their video content. Through digital ethnography and content analysis, I argue that YouTube, a subsidiary of tech giant Google, publicly presents itself as a site of LGBTQ inclusion and diversity. On the other hand, the company privately polices LGBTQ YouTubers producing commercially controversial videos about their identities and lives. Before turning to the present study, I review relevant literatures on LGBTQ media representation, social media modera-tion, and algorithms.Media industries, marketing, and LGBTQ diversityTwentieth-century media industries largely ignored LGBTQ existence, but they offered limited depictions of gay men and lesbian women (Gross, 2001; Rodriguez, 2019). Hollywood’s Motion Picture Production Code, for example, banned direct references to homosexuality from the 1930s to 1960s, and Hollywood soon after adopted an “alphabet soup” rating system (ranging from G to NC-17) that provides more restrictive ratings to queer representa-tions (Gross, 2001; Russo, 1987). Entertainment and news media relied heavily on stereotypes: gay men as promiscuous “sissies,” lesbian women as burly “dykes,” and gay and lesbian people as miserable and suicidal (Alwood, 1996; Gross, 2001; Rodriguez, 2019; Russo, 1987; Streitmatter, 2008).The 1990s marked a turning point where images of well-adjusted, successful gays and lesbians began to flourish. Even so, scholars illustrate that these depictions are intertwined with heteronormativity and niche marketing (Campbell, 2005; Chasin, 2000; Clark, 1991; Fejes & Petrich, 1993; Gluckman & Reed, 1997; Gross, 2001; Peñaloza, 1996; Rodriguez, 1808J. A. RODRIGUEZ

2019; Streitmatter, 2008). In particular, market researchers launched stu-dies on white, middle-class, cisgender gays and lesbians, erroneously con-cluding that all gays and lesbians were ideal consumers and trendsetters with high incomes. Businesses then commodified gay and lesbian subcul-tural styles for mass consumption, and advertisements with gay and lesbian subtext appeared across offline and online media outlets (Campbell, 2005; Chasin, 2000; Clark, 1991; Gross, 2001; Peñaloza, 1996). At the same time, entertainment and news industries made a push for socially relevant programming suitable for this new market, yet they maintained a heteronormative expectation that gay and lesbian people lead sexless lives (Fejes & Petrich, 1993; Gross, 2001; Streitmatter, 2008; Yep & Elia, 2012).Scholars emphasize that the new market-based recognition contributes to skewed representation in terms of identity and experiences (Chasin, 2000; Gross, 2001; Martin, 2021; Peñaloza, 1996; Streitmatter, 1995; Yep & Elia, 2012). To illustrate, Peñaloza (1996) remarks that “portrayals of gays/ lesbians as gorgeous, well-built, professionally successful, loved and accepted” appear “at the expense of those more distanced from and threatening to the mainstream, such as the poor, ethnic/racial/sexual minorities, drag queens, and butch lesbians” (p. 34). Gross (2001), drawing from cultural studies scholar Stuart Hall, similarly suggests that media contributes to a segregated visibility that keeps intact white heteronorma-tivity. For instance, while transgender people were not culturally absent during the twentieth century, news outlets and cinema often conflated transgender existence with homosexuality (Gross, 2001; Russo, 1987; Skidmore, 2011). Transgender people were compelled to conform to defi-nitions of “respectable” gender and sexuality, and images of transgender people as murder victims, psychotic murderers, and sexual deceivers con-tinued to circulate both prior to and well beyond the 1990s (Ryan, 2009; Skidmore, 2011).Relatedly, from the twentieth to early twenty-first century, racially minor-itized members of the LGBTQ community appeared rarely in comparison to their white counterparts. When they were present, media portrayed them as particularly exotic, deviant, or unintelligent (Skidmore, 2011; Streitmatter, 2008). In other cases, characters of color were relegated to side storylines, and they reinstated heteronormative expectations of desexualization and tra-ditional gender performances (Martin, 2021; Yep & Elia, 2012). Martin (2021), for instance, illustrates how Black-cast sitcoms treated Black gay characters “as a narrative problem that must be solved,” eventually being discarded to continue to a heterosexual plotline (p. 17). Although mass media industries are presenting more racial, ethnic, and gender difference, LGBTQ advocates carry a persistent concern about diversity—both in terms of its absence and how media industries approach it.JOURNAL OF HOMOSEXUALITY1809

Social media moderation and algorithmsNew media scholars, particularly those writing from a feminist perspective, point to the political and commercial underpinnings of social media. The literature underlines that social media platforms use human moderators and algorithm-driven filters to manage user-generated content (Bishop, 2018; Fredenburg, 2020; Gillespie, 2010, 2015, 2018; Glatt & Banet-Weiser, 2021; Noble, 2018; Roberts, 2016). As Gillespie (2015) succinctly states, platforms intervene: They pick and choose by facilitating, deleting, promoting, suspend-ing, and hiding materials. To illustrate, Gillespie (2018) points to Facebook workers removing images of breastfeeding mothers for violating policies against nudity. Platforms also commonly promote content that is racist, misogynistic, or otherwise hateful (Noble, 2018; Roberts, 2016). In this line of thought, Roberts (2016) describes how commercial content moderators for “MegaTech” allowed images of blackface to remain online despite some pro-test from fellow employees. As Roberts explains, social media firms like MegaTech risk losing users by appearing too restrictive, thereby losing the ability to offer user data to advertisers. Nonetheless, social media companies downplay interventions like these, intending for them to become invisible to users (Gillespie, 2015, 2018; Roberts, 2016).As mentioned above, algorithms play a critical role in platform’s content management (Bishop, 2018; Fredenburg, 2020; Gillespie, 2010, 2015, 2018; Glatt & Banet-Weiser, 2021; Noble, 2018). Notably, Noble (2018) details how Google’s search engine perpetuates misrepresentations of women of color as hypersexualized, pornified, and unprofessional. Coining the phrase “algorith-mic oppression,” Noble maintains that search algorithms are based on human decision-making and therefore reflect and reproduce human bias. That is, algorithms are neither objective nor neutral, and Noble argues that algorith-mic oppression is not merely a glitch in the system but is inherent to Google’s services. In a parallel line of inquiry, Bishop suggests that YouTube’s algorithm promotes cosmetics video bloggers (“vloggers”) who are middle class and produce feminized content amenable to YouTube’s brand and advertising partners. In turn, YouTube intentionally hides and obscures videos inconsis-tent with these commercial goals, contributing to stratification by class and gender.Building on the work of LGBTQ media researchers and feminist new media scholars, I consider how YouTube represents LGBTQ diversity and intervenes in LGBTQ user’s video content. Previous scholarship illustrates that lesbian, gay, and transgender YouTubers use the platform to build community, develop personal brands, and engage in potentially transformative politics (Fredenburg, 2020; Glatt & Banet-Weiser, 2021; Lovelock, 2017; Miller, 2019; Raun, 2018). At the same time, some scholars mention YouTube’s algorithm-based age restric-tion, demonetization, and deletion of LGBTQ users’ videos (discussed further 1810J. A. RODRIGUEZ

in my results section) (Bishop, 2018; Fredenburg, 2020; Glatt & Banet-Weiser, 2021). In particular, Fredenburg’s (2020) research-informed documentary ela-borates on YouTube’s performance as an ally to LGBTQ users while algorith-mically discriminating against them. Along with Fredenburg’s work, the present study is one of the first to focus on the YouTube company itself when considering the LGBTQ presence on the platform.Methods and materialsThis work is part of a three-year digital ethnography of YouTube, with a focus on LGBTQ video creators and their audiences. Digital ethnography (also referred to as cyber or virtual ethnography) is an established approach in sociology and other disciplines of media, communication, and technology study (Hampton, 2017; Murthy, 2008; Robinson & Schulz, 2009). It relies on real-time observations both offline and online, but it may also be based on a review of online materials from earlier times (Hampton, 2017). For the current study, I incorporated offline observation, online observation, and content analysis. As with traditional ethno-graphy, my goal was to immerse myself within a social setting and describe the lives of those within it (Babbie, 2014; Madden, 2010). Rather than privileging data from any single source, I relied on multiple information streams to reveal the practices of the YouTube company alongside the perspectives and experi-ences of LGBTQ people who use the platform. This ethnographic approach provided a more comprehensive view of the YouTube setting.Data collectionMy data collection began with offline fieldwork at VidCon USA, the annual convention for online video creators, fans, and brands. The event ran from June 20 to June 23, 2018. There, I attended panel discussions and presentations featuring LGBTQ YouTubers, whom I located through the biographies on the VidCon webpage. I recorded written fieldnotes, which I later converted to digital format, and I audio recorded the panels, totaling approximately 20 hours. In the months after the event, I transcribed the audio and assembled the transcripts with the fieldnotes.Offline fieldwork directed me to public materials from the YouTube plat-form itself. These included the Community Guidelines and Advertiser- Friendly Content Guidelines. The guidelines then led me to related informa-tion distributed across YouTube’s public blog, about and FAQ pages, help site, official Twitter and Instagram profiles, product forums, and partner pages. The specific topics included nondiscrimination policies; diversity statements; inclusion and outreach program information; monetization and money- making guidelines; algorithm explanations; and resources for video creators, brands, press, and software developers. This data amounted to 146 webpages.JOURNAL OF HOMOSEXUALITY1811

I supplemented with other online materials: LGBTQ YouTubers’ videos and social media posts, journalistic reports, and digital fieldnotes. For this portion of the research project, I followed the YouTube, Twitter, Instagram, and Twitch profiles of LGBTQ VidCon panelists, among other LGBTQ creators whom I located through Google searches and VidCon panelists’ discussions. I purposively reviewed their new and previously uploaded social media con-tent about YouTube’s algorithm, advertising, diversity efforts, and Community and Advertiser-Friendly Guidelines. In addition, I incorporated news coverage on YouTube’s disputes and controversies. In doing so, I aimed to uncover instances that shed light on the platform’s stated public practices and unstated practices. I located the news articles through Google searches and video creators’ profiles. The process resulted in approximately 25 web pages and articles from news and entertainment organizations, including Buzzfeed News, Forbes, Polygon, The Guardian, The Verge, The Washington Post, Tubefilter News, and Variety. Finally, during online data collection, I recorded fieldnotes describing LGBTQ YouTubers’ videos and messages, YouTube’s practices, controversial events, and emerging themes and questions.The observational research presented here was unobtrusive, involving no direct communication with individuals in the field (Babbie, 2014; Lee, 2019). As Lee (2019) suggests, unobtrusive observation is appropriate for busy or noisy environments or settings where participants are unable to respond freely, as I found during the tightly scheduled VidCon presenta-tions. Later portions of the project included online contact with VidCon panelists and other video creators. I used the research findings to strengthen my knowledge of YouTube and inform the recruitment and interview process. However, I do not present interview data in this writing.Data analysisI used the data software NVivo for content analysis. Content analysis is a flexible technique for analyzing textual and visual data obtained through electronic media and ethnographic observations, among other sources (Hsieh & Shannon, 2005; Kondracki, Wellman, & Amundson, 2002). To examine the fieldnotes, transcripts, webpages, and articles, I used conven-tional content analysis: a qualitative method where “researchers avoid using preconceived categories” and “immerse themselves in the data to allow new insights to emerge” (Hsieh & Shannon, 2005, p. 1279). This form of analysis reflects a grounded theory methodology (Glaser & Strauss, 1967).1812J. A. RODRIGUEZ

Ethical concernsThe study conformed to all Institutional Review Board (IRB) requirements at the host institution (Protocol #HS3159). Offline fieldwork built on VidCon’s Code of Conduct, which allowed attendees to record, transcribe, and display recordings in any format. Online materials for this portion of the project were public, with the IRB waiving consent requirements. LGBTQ YouTubers dis-cussed in later sections have openly and publicly disclosed their LGBTQ identities.Results and discussionUsing Campbell’s (2005) writing as a framework, I underline YouTube’s “Janus-faced design.” Through his analysis of the online affinity portals Gay. com and PlanetOut.com, Campbell illustrates the relationship between corpo-rate commerce and historically marginalized groups. He suggests that the sites displayed themselves through two faces: their “community face” (the image presented to users) and their “corporate face” (the image aimed at advertisers). With their community face, the portals presented themselves as inclusive spaces for gay and lesbian users, attracting them to share personal information that would become available to advertisers. With their corporate face, the sites promoted themselves to business clients by offering them user data and market research on the gay community. Although Campbell is principally concerned with surveillance, his emphases on advertising and online plat-forms’ dual nature are useful for my analysis.Here, I argue that YouTube strategically manages diversity on the platform. I conceptualize the management of diversity as interventions in media resources and materials about, by, and for underrepresented communities. Extending the ideas of Gillespie (2015), interventions include instances of distribution, promotion, monetization, restriction, and deletion, as I elaborate on below. YouTube publicly presents itself as a progressive site of LGBTQ diversity while privately discriminating against LGBTQ users, espe-cially those creating materials that are inconsistent with YouTube’s commu-nity and advertising policies. My analysis here echoes Fredenburg’s (2020) assertion that YouTube acts as an ally to LGBTQ users when convenient for the company.YouTube’s public face: Partnership, diversity, and social progressYouTube’s business model is closely tied to the company’s relationships with its “partners,” which include users and advertisers. Indeed, YouTube relies on selling advertising space and user clicks to other brands. The company received substantial publicity following Google’s buyout of the JOURNAL OF HOMOSEXUALITY1813

platform for $1.65 billion in 2006. From the onset, Google intended to develop YouTube’s potential for profit, stating in a press release that the buyout combined a growing video entertainment community with estab-lished expertise in creating new forms of online marketing (Wasko & Erickson, 2009). In large part because of advertising revenue, Google stated that YouTube generated $15 billion in 2019 (Statt, 2020). Given the plat-form’s partnerships, I agree with Gillespie (2010) in proposing that cultural intermediaries like YouTube must use strategic discourses to present them-selves to multiple constituencies and “carve out a role and a set of expecta-tions that is acceptable to each and also serves their own financial interests” (p. 353).YouTube aims some of its most meticulous efforts at advertisers. Immediately after visiting the “YouTube Advertising” page, I received a pop- up box with instructions to call the platform’s toll-free number for help in signing up for an advertiser account (YouTube, 2020). Text prominently urges advertisers to “[b]e seen where everyone is watching,” creating a new outlet to reach potential customers and creating results for small-, medium- and large-sized businesses alike. YouTube’s materials provide specific tips and resources for advertisers. These include guides to lighting, filming, and editing advertisements; measuring and refining ad impacts; and reaching marketing goals, including building awareness and ad recall, growing con-sideration and interest, and driving action. Besides confirming that adver-tisers can reach the exact YouTube users they wish, YouTube provides case studies and success stories to inspire other businesses of every size. From fashion, education, food, and media to real estate, retail, transportation, and consulting, the case studies span all industry types. Additionally, YouTube publicizes its Google Preferred Lineups: a program that allows advertisers to place ads on the top five percent of YouTube creators’ video channels, as determined by its algorithm.As mentioned above, video creators are another essential partner for YouTube. The opening lines of the “YouTube Creators” website encourage YouTubers to “explore everything you need to get inspired, engage, and thrive” (YouTube, 2021c). Featuring some of the most successful YouTubers from diverse backgrounds and content categories, an accompanying intro-ductory video encourages creators “from all walks of life, from all corners of the world” to create one’s self, community, and culture. “Push us, dare us, and surprise us by being creative,” the video states. At the same time, the website provides a bevy of practical resources: The Creator Academy provides exten-sive steps to getting discovered, growing a YouTube presence, targeting audiences, building community, accessing video analytics, and making rev-enue. The YouTube Partner program gives access to additional resources and features—significantly, the ability to share in advertising revenue (also referred to as becoming monetized).1814J. A. RODRIGUEZ

YouTube visually represents LGBTQ creators who differ along axes of race, ethnicity, nationality, gender, sexuality, and mental health status, portraying a picture of social progress and cultural diversity. For example, through its subscription-based service YouTube Premium, the platform promotes a range of LGBTQ stories. Most notably, YouTube has distributed This Is Everything, a film that documents the gender transition and rise to celebrity status of white, transgender YouTuber and author Gigi Gorgeous. In addition, YouTube has supported the development of Escape the Night, a web series written by Joey Graceffa, one of the most popular gay creators on the platform. The series, released in 2016 and inspired by Graceffa’s love of the 1985 film Clue, centers on a murder mystery where fellow YouTubers find themselves transported to different periods and contexts. LGBTQ video creators from diverse racial-ethnic backgrounds have received roles on the show: Asian/ Latina and trans makeup creator Nikita Dragun; Latino gay makeup artist Manny Gutierrez; multiracial and bisexual fashion vlogger Eva Gutowski; and white bisexual documentarian Shane Dawson, among others.Since 2013, it has become a Pride Month custom for the YouTube team to share textual and audio-visual materials about the LGBTQ community. On the company’s public blog, we can find statements about YouTube being “inspired and amazed by the ways that [LGBTQ] people have used YouTube to broad-cast their message, empower their community, and even catalyze social change” (Braun, 2013). The platform, according to these messages, has become “a place where anyone can belong no matter who they are or who they love” (YouTube Team, 2016). In turn, “videos from this community are as varied and exceptional as the group of people making them” (Ellis, 2017), with LGBTQ users developing “an extraordinary legacy of turning adversity into creativity and self expression” (Ariel & Victor, 2018). Video montages have accompanied each of these blog posts, with the video descriptions, titles, thumbnails, and content emphasizing the pride and community themes. Trendy hashtags—#ProudToPlay, #ProudToCreate, #ProudToLove, #ProudToBe, #YouTubePride2021—accompany the statements and montages to bring attention to the company’s efforts.To take an example, the 2018 #ProudToCreate video includes a thumbnail of proud LGBTQ marchers and describes how YouTube is celebrating voices that shape the past, present, and feature (YouTube, 2018). The montage leverages stories and images from LGBTQ people working through YouTube as well as creatives outside YouTube. Among those featured, for example, are Black trans Broadway actress Peppermint; Asian singer-songwriter and lesbian Hayley Kiyoko; Black musician and bisexual Janelle Monae; white Olympian and gay YouTuber Adam Rippon; white gay vloggers Tyler Oakley and Connor Franta; Black gay makeup artist Patrick Starr; and Black gay satirist and comedic vlogger MacDoesIt. Clips flash of LGBTQ people dancing, skateboarding, figure skating, marching, playing instruments, singing, JOURNAL OF HOMOSEXUALITY1815

applying makeup, sewing, and recording personal vlogs. Featuring music from gay bounce artist Big Freedia, the montage includes soundbites such as, “There is nobody in the media that is exactly like me, yet there are hundreds of people that relate a lot to me,” and, “We sort of encourage each other to create the kind of future we want to see.” In this manner, the blog posts, hashtags, and montages function as displays of social difference.In partnership with fellow media company Upworthy, the platform has released a guide outlining steps for social change videos, again drawing from stories by and about LGBTQ individuals (Upworthy, n.d.). “Your strength is your voice. Use it,” the report urges, and “find the story” because “striking visuals and personal stories that make important ideas come alive” are just as relevant raw information. In addition, spread your own courage, the compa-nies state, because “going there”—despite feeling vulnerable—can help build community and help others identify with you. Finally, communities are complicated, so learn from them, and provide a call to action. Nestled in the lists of steps is an eight-minute video from Dan Savage sharing his experiences as a gay Catholic, which ultimately launched the highly publicized It Gets Better Project aimed at reducing suicide among LGBTQ youth. In a similar vein, a six-minute video from bisexual sex educator Laci Green provides the details of her depression diagnosis at the age of fifteen, her profound struggles to find joy in living, and her suicidal episodes throughout her life.YouTube’s Creators for Change initiative has similarly borrowed LGBTQ creators’ voices and stories. As part of the initiative, YouTube mentors and promotes partner “role models” to create films that tackle a range of social issues in the aims of bridging communities and increasing tolerance and understanding. The global and diverse role models are prominently and visually represented on the Creators for Change website, tackling topics like race- and class-based incarceration, women’s beauty standards, Islamophobia, and hearing disabilities. To add, LGBTQ creators like Riyadh K, a gay Iraqi journalist and author, offers a documentary on Swaziland’s first Pride March; Murilo Araújo, a Black queer Brazilian journalist and content creator, presents a video on the stigmatization and criminalization of Black men; Victoria Volkóva, a Mexican trans vlogger and self-love advocate, shares an interview about trans women’s experiences and the impact of the LGBTQ community on Mexico.I read the public materials as attempts to market YouTube as a site of cultural progress and economic activity while facilitating opportunities for advertisers and select video creators. In this way, the platform aims to further solicit members of these constituencies while maintaining the support of those already recruited. Although these constituencies have distinct interests, their continued presence ensures YouTube’s growth. With its public face, YouTube seemingly moves beyond exclusionary histories of LGBTQ media representa-tion by visually displaying content and producers that acknowledge social 1816J. A. RODRIGUEZ

difference. YouTube’s recognition thus challenges what Peñaloza (1996, p. 34) refers to as “pervasive images of white, upper-middle class, ‘straight looking’ people” of the LGBTQ community. Yet YouTube chooses what materials and users thrive. My intention here is not to diminish the work of the LGBTQ creators YouTube has represented and promoted. Their efforts have offered outlets for the development of community and mental resilience, and creators are critically aware of the limits YouTube places on them (Fredenburg, 2020; Glatt & Banet-Weiser, 2021). Even so, YouTube selectively incorporates the LGBTQ stories and producers useful for its business purposes.YouTube’s private face: Discrimination and harmYouTube publicly lists rules for users to maintain their accounts and content on the platform. The company crystallizes the rules in its Community Guidelines and Advertising-Friendly (“Ad-Friendly”) Content Guidelines. The “guidelines” are not gentle suggestions for creators and viewers. Rather, they are expectations for what content and user accounts are eligible for advertising revenue, labeled as age-restricted, or removed from the platform entirely, as I explain in later subsections. Through its guideline enforcement, YouTube discriminates against LGBTQ video creators it claims to support, but the platform does not intend its discriminatory enforcement to become public. At the same time, LGBTQ YouTubers continue to comment on and criticize YouTube’s practices, shedding light on the inconsistency between the com-pany’s public and private faces.Any individual who uses YouTube must follow the Community Guidelines while the Ad-Friendly Content Guidelines explain how video creators can share in revenue from advertisements. YouTube suggests that the Community Guidelines safeguard users: “Our Community Guidelines are designed to ensure our community stays protected. They set out what’s allowed and not allowed on YouTube, and apply to all types of content on our platform, including videos, comments, links, and thumbnails” (YouTube, 2021a). In previous years, YouTube characterized the community rules—which are numerous and intricate—as “common sense.” With the Ad-Friendly Guidelines, creators must self-rate their content and choose to turn ads on or off their video materials based on whether they align with brand interests. Violation of the policies may lead to ads being permanently disabled on YouTubers’ channels.2The rules against nudity, sexual content, and adult content are the most ambiguous and widely contested among LGBTQ video creators. As Gillespie (2018) notes, platforms’ rules against sexual content are broad, meant to cover a tremendous amount of material—accidental nudity, visually titillating acts, representations of sex toys, sexual language and entendre, and extreme por-nography, to name only some materials. YouTube offers a deceptively direct JOURNAL OF HOMOSEXUALITY1817

explanation, stating that content that is meant to be “sexually gratifying” is disallowed by community standards and ineligible for advertising. YouTube prohibits depictions of genitals, breasts, or buttocks for sexual purposes; or pornography depicting acts, genitals, fetishes, or objects for sexual purposes. Additionally, content that blurs these lines—provocative dancing or kissing, pantsing or voyeurism, graphic or lewd language, and blurred or incidental nudity, among other content—is also subject to removal. However, YouTube has exceptions for nudity and sexual content. More specifically, the platform allows in its community rules “nudity when the primary purpose is educa-tional, documentary, scientific, or artistic, and it isn’t gratuitous” (YouTube, 2021b). Context is of central importance such that a documentary about breast cancer is acceptable, but out-of-context clips of the documentary are unac-ceptable. Moreover, in its Ad-Friendly Content Guidelines, YouTube states that sexual education and general discussions of relationships and sexuality are eligible for ads.YouTube prohibits hate speech, harassment, and hateful content—separate categories that noticeably overlap. In the Community Guidelines, hate speech refers to materials meant to incite violence or hatred against protected groups (defined on the basis of race, ethnicity, nationality, religion, caste, disability, age, veteran status, sexual orientation, sex/gender, gender identity, and experi-ences with a major violent event). YouTube has admitted previously that identifying and labeling material as hateful is a “delicate balancing act,” but the platform has since removed this acknowledgment. Harassment and cyber-bullying (defined as threatening or targeting individuals based on protected group status or physical traits) similarly violate community policies. In the Ad- Friendly Content Guidelines, hateful content refers to material that disparages, humiliates, or incites hate or discrimination against protected groups or individuals. “Non-hurtful” references to protected groups or individuals’ opinions are ad-friendly while disparaging, shaming, and malicious materials are not ad-friendly.DemonetizationAs mentioned earlier, web platforms like YouTube rely on human moderators and algorithms to sort and label user-generated materials (Bishop, 2018; Fredenburg, 2020; Gillespie, 2010, 2015; Glatt & Banet-Weiser, 2021; Noble, 2018; Roberts, 2016). One function of YouTube’s algorithm is to determine which videos are subject to demonetization (Fredenburg, 2020; Glatt & Banet- Weiser, 2021). If creators are part of the YouTube Partner Program and follow the Ad-Friendly Content Guidelines, their content is eligible for monetization, meaning that they can share in advertising revenue for their videos. Within the first hours of an upload, YouTube uses machine learning to look at a video’s metadata (descriptions, tags/keywords, automated captions, titles, and thumb-nail images) to determine if the video can remain monetized or becomes 1818J. A. RODRIGUEZ

demonetized (Marissa, 2017). If YouTubers feel like the automated system made a mistake, they can issue an appeal; after a creator initiates an appeal, an “expert reviewer” compares the content and metadata against the Ad-Friendly Content Guidelines to decide. However, reviewers have “parameters around which appealed videos get reviewed first to make sure we review those videos that are getting substantial traffic” (Marissa, 2017). In this manner, content that has not already reached a visibility threshold may stay demonetized without review for longer periods—sometimes for months.Despite YouTube making exceptions for content that is educational, the platform’s algorithm has consistently demonetized videos with LGBTQ termi-nology in metadata. According to numerous LGBTQ activists and sex educa-tors, the words have included, for example, “gay,” “lesbian,” “trans,” “transgender,” “queer,” “drag queen,” “LGBTQ,” and “pride.” One such crea-tor is Chase Ross, a white trans activist and educator who has uploaded videos to YouTube since 2006. In 2018, Ross publicly shared on Twitter that YouTube’s algorithm demonetized his videos when he referenced transness in his video titles. Elsewhere, Ross explained,I had a video that . . . in the beginning, I put “trans” in the title. It was demonetized instantly. Then I deleted, reuploaded it without the title, and it was monetized. I deleted [and] re-reuploaded it with the trans title, and it was demonetized again. And that’s happened with three videos. I’ve done this test three times, and it’s just like no one’s paying attention to that. (Field notes, June 22, 2018)Ross even changed the name of his video files and keywords to “family friendly” to finagle the algorithm, but YouTube still demonetized the videos, likely from reading other metadata. Ross has often received reminders that his educational materials help viewers come to terms with their trans identities, health, and bodies, but this significance has escaped YouTube’s algorithm. Ross, like other LGBTQ educators, work on the fringes of what YouTube and their advertising partners deem controversial and potentially unprofitable.In 2019, the Demonetization List Project further confirmed the platform’s algorithmic discrimination. Intending to reverse engineer the algorithm and help struggling video creators avoid demonetization, the project researchers tested 100 videos with LGBTQ-related titles (Ocelet AI, 2019). YouTube’s algorithm demonetized 33 of the videos with titles such as, “Gay and Lesbian Guide to Vienna—VIENNA/NOW,” “LGBT Tik Tok Compilation in Honor of Pride Month,” “Top 10 Lesbian Couples in Hollywood Who Got Married,” “Lesbian Princess,” and “Lesbian daughters with mom.” The researchers then replaced the LGBTQ terminology with the words “friend” and “happy,” and the videos were instantly labeled advertiser friendly. Even so, Susan Wojcicki, YouTube’s CEO, denied that this demonetization process was occurring and maintained that YouTube was working to make its machine learning fair (Ocelet AI., 2019).JOURNAL OF HOMOSEXUALITY1819

Age restriction and video removalLike with demonetization, YouTube relies on a combination of automated technology and human moderation to “flag” a video for age restriction or removal based on Community Guidelines (Bishop, 2018; Fredenburg, 2020; Glatt & Banet-Weiser, 2021). The majority of flags comes from algorithmic machine learning, but a flag can also come from the platform’s Trusted Flagger program composed of NGOs, government agencies, and individuals. In addi-tion, YouTube relies on community flagging where video viewers can alert the platform to content in potential violation of community parameters. Following the flagging process, an official YouTube reviewer will take one of a few actions: keep the video live, without further action; age restrict, or render it invisible to users under the age of 18; or altogether delete the video. Age- restricted videos generally violate Ad-Friendly Content Guidelines and there-fore are ineligible for monetization. If the reviewer deletes the video, the creator will first receive a warning; subsequent violations result in a Community Guidelines “strike.” Although creators can appeal a Community Guidelines strike and age restriction, appeals are rarely successful.In 2017, LGBTQ creators joined the #YouTubeIsOverParty trend on Twitter, publicizing that the platform was age restricting videos referencing LGBTQ relationships and identities (Hunt, 2017). A swath of LGBTQ creators discussed their age-restricted content, such as videos discussing coming out experiences, Black LGBTQ trailblazers, and Asexual Awareness Week. British YouTuber NeonaFiona shared that the videos mentioning her bisexuality and girlfriend were restricted while those not specifying her partner’s gender were not. Even so, company representatives attempted to recuperate the event by stating that only “mature” or “sensitive” content would be filtered, leading many LGBTQ educators to question whether their identities were innately controversial.The experiences of Chase Ross are similarly illustrative given that YouTube has age restricted many of his videos and in some cases removed them. Among those age restricted videos are from his “Trans 101” series introducing issues of gender dysphoria, pronouns, therapy, passing, transitioning, fertility, hor-mone blockers, hormone replacement therapy, and top and bottom surgeries. In a video titled “my channel is going to be deleted . . ..” uploaded May 28, 2018, Ross revealed his troubles with YouTube’s flagging system (Ross, 2018). Ross noted in the opening lines,I think that there are a—not one person—a group of people who targeting my channel and flagging every single video. If you recall last year, I did have a problem with this where a bunch of my videos started to get age restricted, and I was like, ‘Why is this happening?’ . . . We’re on 144 [of over 700] videos right now, and I’m not even joking with that number. . . . Everything that could be age restricted is age restricted.1820J. A. RODRIGUEZ

Indeed, Ross explained that a friend showed him images of a trans- exclusionary radical feminist group that would direct members to flag a video immediately after Ross uploaded one. Even though a YouTube reviewer must decide the outcome of a video flag, the targeting appears successful despite skirting against YouTube’s anti-harassment Community Guidelines policy. Even more, the platform issued a strike to Ross’ channel after removing one of his videos:I literally got a strike on my account for video that’s five years old of me just talking about a packer. . . . And it’s a joke video, too, like whatever I was trying to make didn’t work out, so I was like, ah, it’s a joke. There was a strike [for sexual content . . .] And that was just—other trans creators have gotten strikes. My friend Aaron has got a strike. He was showing a video about how to self-administer testosterone shots. Strike on his account. And then another friend went to go pick up this prescription in a video. Strike on his account! (Field notes, June 22, 2018)As Ross indicated, trans creators were especially susceptible to Community Guidelines account strikes, which could lead to channel deletion.Account terminationOne of the harshest forms of consequence is channel/account termination. When YouTube deletes an account, all the videos are removed, and the owner may be unable to access or create other accounts. YouTube can terminate a channel for having three Community Guidelines strikes in 90 days, a single case of severe abuse, or an entire channel dedicated to guideline violations. LGBTQ channel deletion is not uncommon. The Transthetics example pre-sented in the opening pages of this writing is a prominent example (Ross, 2018; Transthetics, 2018).Hart, better known as Hartbeat, also found one of her accounts terminated in May 2018. Her proudly Black and lesbian web series SimLivNColor (titled after In Living Color, the sketch comedy show with a largely Black cast) is a “mystery/drama/comedy” using voiceovers and digital avatar models from the video game The Sims 4 (SimLivNColor, 2020). Many of the characters are queer people of color and feature a range of skin tones and gender presenta-tions. The show has gained some viewer recognition for its portrayal of avatar nudity, but the series explores a range of sensitive issues: queer gender pre-sentation, sex work and sexual intimacy, infidelity, partner abuse, gun vio-lence, drug use, and incarceration, to name only some topics.Shortly after uploading the third video of the web show’s second season (which YouTube neither demonetized nor age-restricted), Hart awoke to find her SimLivNColor channel deleted. In the past, the channel had received Community Guidelines strikes for violating sexual content and nudity poli-cies, yet Hart received little reason for the termination itself. In her own words, “The channel still got terminated. I don’t even have the answer to how it JOURNAL OF HOMOSEXUALITY1821

happened, but at least I had fun while I was doing it. That is so nuttery buttery to say” (Field notes, June 22, 2018). At the same time, she admitted and understood that her series may seem controversial to some: “You know, my series is really inappropriate, so if you go search SimLivNColor, just expect a lot of Sims titty—like, a lot of it” (Field notes, June 22, 2018). Hart has successfully reuploaded some of the SimLivNColor series to an alternate channel by blurring the avatar nudity, and she has started her own website to share the episodes. Nonetheless, her experiences highlight how minoritized creators who focus less on community respectability have difficulty escaping YouTube’s moderation and policy systems.Harassment facilitationAmong LGBTQ video creators, harassment from viewers is a commonplace and seemingly expected part of the YouTube ecology. YouTube ignores and sometimes actively facilitates anti-LGBTQ abuse despite guidelines against hate speech, harassment, and hateful content. For example, YouTube has yet to correct the anti-trans feminist targeting of Chase Ross’ videos because it is integrated into the viewer flagging system.Carlos Maza, a former video producer for the Strikethrough series on the U.S. news website Vox, has likewise experienced harassment with minimal intervention from YouTube. The left-leaning Strikethrough video series explored news media in the age of Trump, eliciting years-long harassment from Steven Crowder. Crowder is a former Fox News Contributor who hosts what he describes as the “The NUMBER ONE conservative late night comedy show” on YouTube (Ghosh, 2020; Hern & Paul, 2019). Maza, a gay Latino, flagged many of Crowder’s videos for violating YouTube’s community policies, and he also posted a video compilation of Crowder’s attacks, which included phrases like “gay Mexican,” “lispy queer,” and “token Vox gay atheist sprite.” Following moderators’ review of Crowder’s flagged videos in June 2019, YouTube commented: “[W]hile we found language that was clearly hurtful, the videos as posted don’t violate our policies” (Ghosh, 2020). The next day, YouTube reversed its decision, remarking that Crowder’s channel “has harmed the broader community and is against our YouTube Partner Program policies,” leading to the demonetization of Crowder’s content while allowing his account to stay online. Crowder later removed the videos in question and his off-site merchandise, including tees with the slogan “Socialism Is For Fags.” After Crowder reapplied to YouTube’s Partner Program, the platform reinstated him in August 2020, making his content again eligible for monetization.Ash Hardell, a white nonbinary sex educator and author of The ABCs of LGBT+, has spoken directly about YouTube’s algorithm promoting abusive content. In “Someone Leaked my Job . . . and it Sucked,” a video essay uploaded July 21, 2019, Hardell shared the fear they felt when another YouTuber non-consensually shared private information about (“doxxed”) 1822J. A. RODRIGUEZ

Hardell’s five-year day job as a flight attendant (Hardell, 2019). Hardell contextualized the video leak by discussing the transphobic, misgendering, sexually suggestive, and crude harassment they receive: images with breasts and bras superimposed over Hardell’s body, scripted videos mocking Hardell’s partner, hate art displayed in another channel’s image banner, and frequent transphobic comments. Hardell feared that anti-transgender and other hateful viewers could fabricate stories and images to get them fired in light of their job position becoming public. After contacting an entertainment lawyer, Hardell shared the following in their video essay:Attempts to contact the doxxer, get a video taken down, or even respond publicly almost always results in more controversy and traffic to the original post or issue. It gives the original post a huge uptick or boost in YouTube’s algorithm, and that video will start showing up in the recommended section of your videos. So basically the more you try to address or handle a problem, the harder it becomes to escape it. What a broken system!YouTube’s tolerance of abusive and discriminatory content did not surprise Hardell, who had received years of harassment with little intervention from YouTube. They described the platform’s inaction as a “slap in the face” after YouTube exploitatively used LGBTQ content in its public promotional mate-rials (Paul, 2019).Based on the experiences of Hardell and other creators, I suggest that repre-sentations of LGBTQ inclusion and diversity do not ensure equal treatment or safety. Social media companies intend for their interventions to become invisible (Gillespie, 2018; Roberts, 2016), but YouTube highlights that the company’s practices become invisible for some creators more than others. The platform’s regulation of LGBTQ content would have remained private if creators had not called attention to the inconsistency between YouTube’s inclusive depictions and its guideline enforcement. YouTube and its parent company Google claim that the algorithm recommends videos to users simply based on what they search, watch, and desire (Covington, Adams, & Sargin, 2016; Noble, 2018; YouTube, 2019). To be sure, the algorithm incorporates viewer engagement when recom-mending and hiding user-generated material (Bishop, 2018; Gielen & Rosen, 2016), as Hardell’s experience confirms. Nonetheless, LGBTQ users suggest that YouTube’s machines have learned incorrectly, facilitating the platform’s anti- LGBTQ discrimination. This finding bolsters Noble’s (2018) assertion that algo-rithms are never value-neutral; they reflect their designers’ biases and blind spots.ConclusionYouTube sets parameters for, but not does determine, the video production of LGBTQ users. While I incorporated the experiences and perspectives of LGBTQ video producers, further research should examine how creators JOURNAL OF HOMOSEXUALITY1823

negotiate and engage with the platform’s guidelines. Current scholarship suggests that these YouTubers strategically balance their public service with their business and monetization goals, and some creators choose to prioritize one over the other (Fredenburg, 2020; Glatt & Banet-Weiser, 2021; Lovelock, 2017; Miller, 2019; Raun, 2018). A growing body of LGBTQ and feminist media scholarship details the online intersections among gender, sexuality, race, ethnicity, and class (Bishop, 2018; Campbell, 2005; Glatt & Banet-Weiser, 2021; Noble, 2018; Roberts, 2016). However, further study is warranted, particularly research on social media content producers with multiple minor-itized identities.As discussed earlier, the present study is one of the first to examine YouTube as a company and platform when considering the LGBTQ pre-sence. Based on the findings, I want to conclude by cautioning against wholesale celebrations of LGBTQ social media recognition. Indeed, YouTube diverges from earlier media histories by depicting a spectrum of LGBTQ social differences. Even so, platforms like YouTube demonstrate the persistent policing of LGBTQ people based on expectations of respectability and profitability. For example, YouTube’s discriminatory practices parallel Hollywood providing harsher ratings to LGBTQ films and the television industry desexualizing gay and lesbian characters (Fejes & Petrich, 1993; Gross, 2001; Martin, 2021; Yep & Elia, 2012). The YouTube platform differs in that its regulations are heavily algorithm-based, with human moderators confirming or reversing the algorithm’s decisions. In the end, while the media and technology are newer, the story of discrimination is still much the same.Notes1. When I discuss “LGBTQ” people, I am referring to those who openly identify as LGBTQ. “YouTubers,” “users,” and “creators” refer here to individuals who produce videos to share on the YouTube platform.2. A YouTube channel refers to creators’ public YouTube webpage where they upload videos and messages.AcknowledgmentsThe author would like to thank Herman Gray, Deborah Gould, and Julie Bettie for their feedback on earlier drafts of this material.Disclosure statementNo potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).1824J. A. RODRIGUEZ

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1Advertising, Gender and Sex:What’s Wrong with a Little Objectification?Sut JhallyI start this paper with an assumption: Advertising is a very powerful form of socialcommunication in modem society. It offers the most sustained and most concentratedset of images anywhere in the media system. The question that I wish to pose andattempt to give an answer to from this assumption is what lies behind the considerablepower that advertising seems to have over its audience. Particularly I wish to do thiswithout reverting back to one-dimensional explanations of manipulation and the useof sophisticated techniques by advertisers. I do not want to deny this element (there isof course a huge amount of accumulated knowledge in the advertising industryconcerning persuasion) but I wish to probe culturally rather than technically.Erving Goffman in his book Gender Advertisements [1979] was concerned withsimilar types of questions although he did not phrase them in the same way. Heinstead asked another question: why do most ads not look strange to us? Goffmanbelieves that when we look at ads carefully, they are in fact very strange creations,particularly as regards their portrayals of gender relations. He shows us that inadvertising the best way to understand the male/female relation is to compare it to theparent/child relation in which men take on the roles of parents while women behaveas children normally would be expected to. In advertising women are treated largelyas children.Goffman supports his argument by pointing to a number of aspects of gender relationsin advertising. For instance, in examining the portrayal of hands, he finds thatwomen’s hands usually are shown just caressing an object, or just barely touching it,as though they were not in full control of it, whereas men’s hands are shown stronglygrasping and manipulating objects. Goffman is concerned with what such socialportrayals say about the relative social positions of men and women. Beds and floors,for example, are associated with the less clean parts of a room; also, persons usingthem will be positioned lower than anyone who is sitting or standing. A recumbentposition also leaves people in a poor position to defend themselves and thus puts themat the mercy of others. These positions are of course also a ‘conventionalizedexpression of sexual avail-ability.’ Goffman’s sample of ads shows that women andchildren are pictured on beds and floors much more than are men. In addition, womenare constantly shown ‘drifting away’ mentally while under the physical ‘protection’ of amale, as if his strength and alertness were enough. Women are also shown in thefinger-to-mouth pose, directly reminiscent of children’s behavior. Further, when menand women are shown in physical contact, invariably the woman is ‘snuggling’ into theman in the same way that children solicit protection and comfort from their mothers.If grown women are largely treated as children in ads, why does this not look strangeto us? Goffman comments that indeed the most negative statement we could make ofadvertisements is that as pictures of reality, they do not look strange to us. To answer

2this question, he reverts back to the vocabulary of social anthropology, particularly theconcepts of ceremony, display and ritual. These are actions, or events, that seek to givestructure and stability to a shared social life, to communicate the system of meaningwithin which individuals are located and within which they must be viewed. It is theuse of this cultural resource that makes ads resonate with meaning for the audience.Ad maker Tony Schwartz [1973] has given the most eloquent expression of this’resonance’ theory of communication, whereby ‘the critical task is to design ourpackage of stimuli [ads] so that it resonates with information already stored within anindividual and thereby induces the desired learning or behavioral effect.’ Schwartz’sconcern is not with the message itself as a communicator of meaning, but rather withthe use-value of the message for the audience. ‘The meaning of our communication iswhat a listener or viewer gets out of his experience with the communicator’s stimuli.The listener’s or viewer’s brain is an indispensable component of the totalcommunication system. His life experiences, as well as his expectations of the stimulihe is receiving, interact with the communicator’s output in determining the meaningof the communication.’ [p. 25] The job of the advertiser is to understand the world ofthe segmented audience, so that the stimuli that is created can evoke the storedinformation: it has to resonate with information that the listener possesses. However,we should not confuse this resonance with reflection. As adman Jerry Goodis says:Advertising doesn’t always mirror how people are acting,but how they’re dreaming… In a sense, what we’re doing iswrapping up your emotions and selling them back to you.[In Nelson 1983]Thus advertising draws its materials from the experiences of the audience, but it re-formulates them in a unique way. It does not reflect meaning but rather constitutes it.Advertisers, according to Schwartz, should be in the business of ‘structured recall’. Thepurpose is to design commercials that create pleasurable emotions that will betriggered when the product is viewed in the marketplace. As Schwartz says: ‘I do notcare what number of people remember or get the message. I am concerned with howpeople are affected by the stimuli.’ [p. 69]Goffman is particularly interested in how advertisers use the cultural resource ofgender and how they reconstitute what gender means in social terms. While ‘sex’refers to the biological distinction between males and females, ‘gender’ is the culturespecific arrangement of this universal relationship. Specific relations between menand women are very different the world over and can be given many differentdefinitions depending upon the specific cultural pattern that exists in any society. Assuch, of course there is nothing natural about gender relationsÑthey are sociallydefined and constructed. As such, any culture must constantly work to maintainexisting gender relations. This is achieved during the course of social life by ‘genderdisplays’Ñthese are conventionalized portrayals of the ‘culturally establishedcorrelates of sex’. In our daily interactions we are constantly defining for ourselves andother people what it means to be male and female in this society. From the way wedress, the way we behave, and the structure of our interactions, to things such as body

3postures and ceremonial activities (opening doors, giving up chairs, etc.) we arecommunicating ideas about gender using culturally conventionalized routines ofbehavior. These displays, or rituals of gender behavior, help the interpretation ofsocial reality, they are guides to perception. It is from these conventionalizedportrayals of gender that advertising borrows so heavily, and that is the reason why,according to Goffman, most ads do not look strange to us, for they are an extremelyconcentrated reflection of one aspect of our social livesÑthey are a reflection of therealm of gender displays. Advertisers largely do not create the images they depict outof nothing. Advertisers draw upon the same corpus of displays that we all use to makesense of social life. ‘If anything, advertisers conventionalize our conventions, stylizewhat is already a stylization, make frivolous use of what is already somethingconsiderably cut off from contextual controls. Their hype is hyper-ritualization.’This however is not merely a simple reflection of realityÑads are neither false nor arethey true. As representations they are necessarily abstractions from what they ‘reflect’.Indeed, all communication is an abstraction at some level. For too long the debate ongender has been focused on the extent to which advertising images are true or false.Ad images are neither false nor true reflections of social reality because they are in facta part of social reality. Just as gender displays are not true or false representations ofreal gender relations, neither are ads true or false representation of real genderrelations or of ritualized gender displaysÑthey are hyper-ritualizations thatemphasize some aspects of gender displays and de-emphasize others. As suchadvertisements are part of the whole context within which we attempt to understandand define our own gender relations. They are part of the process by which we learnabout gender.In as far as our society defines sex as gender through culture (and not through biologyor nature), we are not fundamentally different to any other past or present society. Allcultures have to define gender for their own purposes and they all haveconventionalized forms to accomplish this socialization. Gender relations are socialand not natural creations in any setting.However, I believe that our culture is different in one very important sense. Gender isonly one aspect of human individuality; political, occupational, educational, creative,artistic, religious and spiritual aspects etc. are also very important elements ofindividuals lives. Human existence is potentially very wide and very varied in theexperiences it offers. In our culture though, advertising makes the balance betweenthese things very differentÑindeed, everything else becomes defined through gender.In modem advertising, gender is probably the social resource that is used most byadvertisers. Thousands of images surround us everyday of our lives that address usalong gender lines. Advertising seems to be obsessed with gender.There are two reasons for this obsession. First, gender is one of our deepest and mostimportant traits as human beings. Our understanding of ourselves as either male orfemale is the most important aspect of our definition of ourselves as individuals. Itreaches deep into the innermost recesses of individual identity. Second, gender can be

4communicated at a glance (almost instantly) because of our intimate knowledge anduse of the conventionalized codes of gender display. Advertisers are trying to presentthe world in ways that could be real (Goffman calls ads ‘commercial realism’.) and sothey arc forced to draw upon the repertoires of everyday life and experience. Whatbetter place to draw upon than an area of social behavior that can be communicatedalmost instantly and which reaches into the very core of our definition of ourselves. AsGoffman writes: ‘one of the most deeply seated traits of man, it is felt, is gender,femininity and masculinity are in a sense the prototypes of essentialexpressionÑsomething that can be conveyed fleetingly in any social situation and yetsomething that strikes at the most basic characteristics of the individual.’While every culture has to work to define for its members what gender relationsshould be, no other culture in history, I believe, has been this obsessed with explicitportrayals of gender relations. Gender and (because of the way in which gender hasbeen narrowly defined) sex have never been as important as they are in our culture.Never in history has the iconography of a culture been so obsessed or possessed byquestions of sexuality and gender. Through advertising, questions of sex and genderhave been elevated to a privileged position in our cultural discourse.The reasons why this should be the case are not mysterious. First, the ‘discoursethrough and about objects’ that is a part of the cultural discourse of any society comesto be defined largely through marketplace information in the consumer society. Thatis, it fills the void that is left when the traditional institutions that provided thismeaning decline in influence, [see Jhally 1987] Within the domain of advertising,imagistic modes of communication historically have become more important as hasthe need for concentrated or instant forms of communication, [see Leiss et al 1986]Gender communication meets the needs of advertising very nicely here.This may also offer an answer as to where the power of advertising derives from. Therepresentations of advertising are part of the context within which we define ourunderstand of gender. Advertising draws us into our reality. As Judith Willimson[1978] writes on this point:Advertising seems to have a life of its own; it exists in and out ofother media, and speaks to us in a language we can recognize buta voice we can never identify. This is because advertising has no’subject’. Obviously people invent and produce adverts, but apartfrom the fact that they are unknown and faceless, the ad in anycase does not claim to speak from them, it is not their speech.Thus there is a space, a gap left where the speaker should be; andone of the peculiar features of advertising is that we are drawn into fill that gap, so that we become both listener and speaker,subject and object. [Williamson 1978 p. 13-14]We do not receive meaning from above, we constantly re-create it. It works throughus, not at us. We have to do the work that is not done by the ad, ‘but which is only

5made possible by its form’. We are drawn ‘into the transformational space between theunits of the ad. Its meaning only exists in this space; the field of transaction; and it ishere that we operateÑwe are this space. [1978 p. 44] This crucial mediation by theaudience is the basis of what Schwartz calls ‘partipulationÕ whereby the ad does notmanipulate the audience but invites their participation in the construction of meaning.It is also behind Marshall McLuhanÕs notion that the audience ‘works- in theconsumption of the television image. These systems of meaning from which we drawthe tools to complete the transfer are referred to by Williamson as referent systems.They constitute the body of knowledge from which both advertisers and audiencesdraw their materials As such mass media advertising literally plays the role of amediator. For the audience to properly ÔdecodeÕ the message (transfer meaning),advertisers have to draw their materials from the social knowledge of the audiencethen transform this material into messages (Ôencode’), developing appropriate formatsand shaping the content in order that the process of communication from audience-to-audience be completed. [Hall 1980]The question is, what gets changed in this process for clearly advertising does not andcannot reflect social reality. As hyper-ritualistic images, commercials offer anextremely concentrated form of communication about sex and gender. The essence ofgender is represented in ads. That is the reason why advertising is relatively immunefrom criticism about its portrayals of gender. The existing feminist critiques (thosebased on the content analysis of occupational roles in ads and those that focus on theforms of theObjectification of women) are pitched at an intellectual level that does not recognizethe emotional attraction of the images. We cannot deny the messages of advertising;we cannot say they are false because they bear some resemblance to ritualized genderrelations. Further we cannot deny them because we define ourselves at our deepestlevel through the reality of advertising. We have to reach a socially acceptedunderstanding of gender identity in some way. It is not an option one can refuse. If wedo not cope at this level then the evidence suggests that it is very difficult to cope atany level. Gender confusions cloud the entire domain of social identity for individuals.To completely deny the messages of advertising is to deny our definition of ourselvesin gender and sexual terms Ð it is to deny ourselves as socially recognizable individualsin this culture. As Wendy Chapkis writes in her book Beauty Secrets [1986], ‘Themost important function of gendered appearance is to unambiguously distinguish menfrom women’. [p 129] If the dominant definitions of gender are not accepted, ‘deviantÕindividuals are relegated to the perverted section of our culture (e.g., transsexuals,transvestites). I believe that is the reason why the feminist critiques concerningregressive representations in advertising have not been very successful; they have notrecognized the basis of its attraction. The attraction for both men and women isimportant to recognize, although it is of course varied in its specific focus: in terms ofthe representation of women, men want possession of what they see while womenidentify with it.If the critique does not recognize this attraction then the attack on advertisingbecomes an attack on people. People thus feel guilty about being attracted to the

6images of advertising while being told that they should not find them attractive. Muchof the best feminist writing on sexual imagery has of course been directed atpornography rather than advertising (or the two have simply been equated as thesame). Ellen Willis writes of this for pornography:Over the years I’ve enjoyed various pieces of pornographyÑsomeof the sleazy Forty-second Street paperback sortÑand so havemost women I know. Fantasy, after all, is more flexible thanreality, and women have learned, as a matter of survival, to beadept at shaping male fantasies to their own purposes. Iffeminists define pornography, per se, as the enemy, the resultwill be to make a lot of women ashamed of their sexual feelingsand afraid to be honest about them. And the last thing womenneed is more sexual shame, guilt and hypocrisyÑthis time servedup as feminism. [1983, p. 462]Similarly film theorist Annette Kuhn in her book The Power of the Image [1985]comments on the pleasures of ‘reading’ the film text:Politics is often thought of as one of life’s more seriousundertakings, allowing little room for pleasure. At the same time,feminists may feel secretly guilty about their enjoyment of imagesthey are convinced ought to be rejected as politically unsound. Inanalyzing such images, though, it is possible, indeed necessary, toacknowledge their pleasurable qualities, precisely becausepleasure is an area of analysis in its own right. ‘Naive’ pleasurethen, becomes admissible. And the acts of analysis, ofdeconstruction and of reading ‘against the grain’ offer anadditional pleasureÑthe pleasure of resistance, of saying ‘no’: notto ‘unsophisticated’ enjoyment, by ourselves and others, ofculturally dominant images, but to the structures of power whichask us to consume them uncritically and in highly circumscribedways. [p. 8]A critique of advertising has to start by giving people permission to recognize thepleasure, the strength, of the images of advertising, of where that power rests. Fromthat, we can start to unfold the exact role that advertising plays in our culture from acritical perspective. There is of course a great danger involved in this move, for therecognition of pleasure becomes a distorted conception if it is not simultaneouslycontextualized within the context of (in this case, patriarchal) power relations.Pleasure can be used against people under the guise of freedom.Now, the definition of gender and sexual identity is a difficult activity at the best oftimes; in modern consumer society this difficulty is compounded by individuals being’bombarded’ by extremely concentrated images of what gender is about. Advertising itseems has a privileged place in the discourse on gender in consumer societies due to

7its prominence in our daily lives. As a result what advertising says about gender is avery important issue to understand. Gender could be defined in many ways(achievement, control of our lives, independence, family, creativity, etc). It is a multi-dimensional aspect of human individuality. In advertising however gender is equatedalmost exclusively with sexuality. Women especially are defined primarily in sexualterms. What is important about women is their sexual behavior. As the debate onpornography has indicated, viewing women from this narrow and restrictedperspective can result in treating women as less than truly human. The concentrationon one aspect of behavior detracts from seeing people as people. Rather they are seenas standing for something or being associated with one thing. As Judith Williamsonnotes on this point:If meaning is abstracted from something, from what ‘means’ it,this is nearly always a danger signal because it is only inmaterial circum-stances that it is possible to ‘know’ anything,and looking away from people or social phenomenon to theirsupposed abstract ‘significance’ can be at worst an excuse forhuman and social atrocities, at best, a turning of reality intoapparent unreality, almost unlivable while social dreams andmyths seem so real. [1978, p. 169]This is the basis of the feminist critique of objectification of course. When subjectivityis denied then one need not worry about people as people but only as how they mayfurther your ends. Objects have no interest, no feelings, no desires other than the waythey effect yours. Women become defined as an object for the other. Withinadvertising this is reflected in four basic ways in terms of the representations ofwomen: 1) as symbols for an object and thus exchangeable with it; 2) as a fragmentedobject made up of separate component parts that are not bound together in anycoherent way to create a personality; 3) as an object to be viewed; and 4) as an objectto be used.I want to stress that gender identity is constructed in part through socialrepresentations of which the most pervasive and powerful form in the consumersociety are those associated with advertising (for women especially, much morepowerful than those of pornography). The social construction of gender identity is notan option, it is a necessity. Judith Williamson writes more broadly on this:Advertising may appropriate, not only real areas of time andspace, and give them a false content, but real needs and desiresin people, which are given a false fulfillment. We need a way oflooking at ourselves: which ads give us falsely. . . we need tomake sense of the world: which ads make us feel we are doingin making sense of them [1978 p. 169]The radical feminist literature has drawn a conclusion from this analysis ofcontemporary patriarchy and its representations. Feminism requires the articulationof new types of gender relations and new types of sexuality. In rejecting standard

8notions of beauty and sexuality (vital in a patriarchal culture for the construction offemale identity) others have to be provided. Within the debate on pornography thishas led to calls for ‘erotica’ vs. pornography or a sexuality that focuses on’relationships’. Again Ellen Willis has commented insightfully on these issues inrelation to pornography and the women’s movement:In the movement’s rhetoric pornography is a code word forvicious male lust. To the objection than some women get off onporn the standard reply is that this shows how thoroughlywomen have been brain-washed by male values… And the viewof sex that most often emerges from talk about ‘erotica’ is assentimental and euphemistic as the word itself: lovemakingshould be beautiful, romantic, soft, nice, and devoid ofmessiness, vulgarity, impulses to power, or indeed aggression ofany sort. Above all, the emphasis should be on relationships,not (yuck) organs. This goody-goody concept of eroticism is notfeminist but feminine. [1983, p. 464]That is, in the political battle with the standard forms of patriarchal sexuality (and ofcourse representations) there has to be an alternate, a different option, defined. Thiscannot be left to talk about the future and not basing our present actions on utopianpossibilities. In the battle over gender we have to have that alternative vision now.The problem for feminists who reject the standard notions is to build a positive onethat will attract people (both men and women). It is to recognize that culture is abattlefield, a site of contestation of visions and definitions of social relations (bothÔreal’ and imagined). I think that up to now that alternative has simply not been onearound which to rally people. The cultural battle has been lost. Even a radicalfeminist such as Susan Brownmiller can recognize the problem. She says:On bad days, I mourn my old dresses, I miss the graceful flow offabric. . . and pretty colors. Sensible shoes announce anunfeminine sensibility. . . Sensible shoes aren’t fun. . . Sensibleshoes aren’t sexy… They are crisply efficient. As a matter ofprinciple I stopped shaving my legs and underarms severalyears ago, but I have yet to accept the unesthetic results… I lookat my legs and know they are no longer attractive, not even tome. They are simply legs, upright and honest and that ought tobe good enough, but it isn’t. [In Chapkis 1986, p 131]Wendy Chapkis also asks how women’s liberation ended up on the sensible side overthe sexual, the Ôefficient, upright and honestÕ over the colorful and fun . Ultimately ofhow the choice came down to one between principle and pleasure.What a grim post-revolutionary world in envisioned. Artifice-free functional clothing is genderless and often comfortable. It

9is also unquestionably sensible attire for many activities. Butwhat would functional clothing look like if our intended activityis sex. Mightn’t a lacy bra or sheer stocking have erotic appealless because they are symbols of female powerlessness andmore because they are familiar symbols of female sexuality.[1986, p. 133]If gender symbols have a legitimate erotic role, then the challenge seems to be to find away to allow for gender play without gender privilege. As Wendy ChapkisÕ 8 year oldsister says about this in relation to her future life: ÔMy sister is a feminist. I am goingto just like her when I grow up. Except I’m going to dress better’.Judith Williamson referred before to advertising providing a false way of looking atourselves, a false fulfillment of real needs and desires. I also want to argue that adsgive us a false way to look at ourselves but I wish to establish where precisely falsitylies. It does not lie in the individual advertisement. There is nothing necessarily ÔfalseÕabout the consumption of individual messages. That is what draws us in. Individuallyeach message communicates a certain meaning. Each individual ad is produced for acertain strategic purpose in terms of communication. Conventionalized sexual imagery(i.e., high heels slit skirts, nudity) draws us in and makes an ad attractive for us. It isvery difficult to criticize a single ad in isolation unless it is blatantly sexist or violent.Even the ones that explicitly objectify women become attractive or draw us in becauseobjectification is a pleasurable part of sexuality. More and more of the feministliterature is starting to recognize this quite fundamental point that we all objectifymen and women in some way at some time, that it can fulfill a socially positivefunction. As Ann Snitow [1985] notes in commenting upon Objectification andpornography:The danger of objectification and fragmentation depend oncontext. Not even in my most utopian dreams can I imagine astate in which one recognizes all others as fully as onerecognizes oneself. . . The antipomography campaignintroduces misleading goals into our struggle when it intimatesthat in a feminist world we will never objectify anyone, nevertake the part for the whole, never abandon ourselves to themindlessness or the intensities of feeling that link sex withchildhood, death, the terrors and pleasures of the oceanic.Using people as extensions of one’s own hungry will is hardly anactivity restrained within the boundaries of pornography, [p.116]Wendy Chapkis recognizes that ‘there is something impossibly earnest about thedemand that we feel sexual attraction only in a non-objectified, ungendered fashion Itmay be impossible not to objectify an attractive stranger. Until one learns enough tofill in the blanks, the attraction can’t help but be built on the image s/he chooses toproject and the fantasy which the observer then creates.’ [p. 134] Recognizing that

10gender play and variation is difficult in a mainstream heterosexual world, Chapkisgives some pertinent examples from her lesbian experiences of how Ôobjectification’may be used in creative and pleasurable ways (for both, not just one side) where poweris not so rigidly exercised. ÔI slowly press myself against the fading pretense of butchrestraint And then withdraw. She wants feminine, I’ll give her feminine: promising butdeliberately delaying her release. Now I lead this subtle dance. My painted nails flash amessage that has nothing to do with passivity. Those fingers dipped in blood and redlacquer can penetrate her depths… These are symbols of control and surrender. Butthey are fluid; mouth and fingers, sheer underwear and leather ties, teasing out awoman’s desire.’ [p 136]Similarly, Cynthia Peters and Karen Struening [1988] write in Zeta magazine:Although there are important insights in the work of thosetheorists who challenge and repudiate men’s objectification ofwomen, there is a moment in the objectification process thatmust be saved. We are all sexual objects, and it is a good thingthat we are. Sexual interactions require that we be able to seethe other as a source of pleasure and sexual gratification… Wemust ask ourselves, do we want a world where the gaze isalways evaded, in which words are never used to tease and flirt,in which the body is never seen as an object of sensual desire?Must sexuality be barred from the theater of public spaces? [p.79]Parts of daily life do have to do with sexuality and thus there is nothing wrong withindividual messages that focus on sex and gender. (That is, unless one took amoralistic stance on advertising in which some messages are inherently unacceptablefor public or private, viewing. Groups on the political right criticize advertising fromthis perspective Similarly some radical feminist theorists would argue against theseimages on the basisthat all representations of heterosexual sex are representations of patriarchaldomination.) Some parts of sexuality have to do with objectification, so thatindividual ads in that sense are not false. The falsity arises from the system of images,from the ads as a totality and from their cumulative effect. All (or at least many)messages are about gender and sexuality. It seems that for women it is the only thingthat is important about them. The falsity then arises from the message system, ratherthan individual ads. It arises from the institutional context within which ads areproduced and suggests that attempts to modify its regressive features should beconcentrated at this level.The argument I have made depends wholly on an understanding of the context ofsocial phenomenon. While there is nothing wrong with a little objectification, there isa great deal wrong and dangerous with a lot of objectificationÑthat is when one isviewed as nothing other than an object. Peters and Struening again write:

11Many women walk through public spaces fearing the gazes,gestures and words directed at them. Although many womenbring sexuality into the streets with fashion and body language,they do not think of the street as an entirely safe place forsexual play. They can (and do) seek the gaze of the other, butmost women are aware of the attendant dangers. They knowthey cannot be objects of sexual attention with impunity. Manywomen have ambivalent responses to being addressed as sexualobjects. While some women experience the gratification andpleasure. . . many others recount feelings of humiliation, anger,out-rage, and diminished self-esteem, [p. 79]Commentating from a lesbian perspective, Wendy Chapkis recognizes not only thepleasure but the danger of sexual play in a world of male violence, ‘where sexuallyprovocative means asking to be attacked’. It is little wonder that many women simplywithdraw from the standard conceptions of beauty, especially in public spaces.Escapes from this situation are difficult to imagine but imagined they must bebecause, despite all I have said about pleasure and objectification, we cannot forgetthat the advertising system offers us the most negative and dangerous set of images ofsexuality and gender anywhere in our culture. Battles can take place on all kinds ofindividual levels over definitions concerned with definitions of gender and the body.But they will be relatively meaningless unless one can effect the overall context of theirinterpretation. The ‘discourse through and about objects’ (of which advertisingsexuality is a part) is at the present time a profoundly undemocratic discourse. It iscontrolled only by advertisers and media. What is needed is not monitoring ofindividual images but a restructuring of the total system of images so that sexualitycan be separated from objectification and objectification can be separated frompatriarchal power. We need to take back the erotic, not construct a new eroticismusing none of the symbols of the past. To redefine, for example, silk stockings assymbols of female sexuality rather than to expel them from the lexicon of a new femalesexuality. Wendy Chapkis writes: ‘Sex, like its sister appearance, should be made morefun not more of a burden. Playing with the way we look, creating a personally orsexually provocative image has pleasures of its own. Denying ourselves those pleasuresbecause they have been used against us in the past is understandable but hardly thefinal word in liberation’. [p. 146]Within Marxist social theory it has been recognized that whatever comes aftercapitalism will depend on the development of productive forces under capitalism, thatthere are progressive tendencies and movements within the belly of the beast. Could asimilar case be made with regard to the cultural realm? Can the progressive elementsof contemporary culture be rescued and recontextualized in the transition to a moreegalitarian society? Can we base a cultural politics on some of the products andoutcomes of the contemporary cultural marketplace? Or will a future society involve atotal overthrowing of capitalist social and cultural relations.

12Some objects, phrases, and images have a deep connotative meaning that makes themincredibly powerful symbols of identification. We cannot simply give them away to theforces of reaction. One way to accomplish this would be to force new voices ofliberation, new erotic images of the diversity of female beauty, into the presenttotalitarian discourse, to intervene at the level of the system of images, ‘to dissolve thecommercial monopoly on sex appeal’. [Chapkis 1986 p. 146]ReferencesChapkis, W.1986 Beauty Secrets. Boston: South End Press.Goffman. E.1979 Gender Advertisements. New York: Harper and Row.Hall, S.1980 Encoding/Decoding. In S. Hall, D. Hobson, A. Lowe and P. Willis, eds.,Culture, Media, Language. London: Hutchinson.Jhally, S.1987 The Codes of Advertising. New York: St. Martin’s Press.Kuhn, A.1985 The Power of the Image. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.Leiss, W., Kline, S. and Jhally, S.1986 Social Communication in Advertising. Toronto: Nelson.Nelson, J.1983 As the Brain Tunes Out the TV Admen Tune In. Globe and Mail.Peters, C. and Struening, K.1987 Out on the Street. In Zeta, February.Schwartz, T.1976 The Responsive Chord. New York: Anchor.Snitow, A.1985 Retrenchment Versus Transformation: The Politics of the AntipomographyMovement. In V. Burstyn, ed., Women Against Censorship. Vancouver:Douglas & Mcintyre.Williamson, J.1978 Decoding Advertisements. London: Marion Boyars.Willis, E.1983 Feminism, Moralism and Pornography. In A. Snitow, C. Stansell and S.Thompson, eds., Powers of Desire: The Politics of Sexuality. New York:Monthly Review Press.

Full Terms & Conditions of access and use can be found athttps://www.tandfonline.com/action/journalInformation?journalCode=wjhm20Journal of HomosexualityISSN: (Print) (Online) Journal homepage: https://www.tandfonline.com/loi/wjhm20LGBTQ Incorporated: YouTube and theManagement of DiversityJulian A. RodriguezTo cite this article: Julian A. Rodriguez (2023) LGBTQ Incorporated: YouTube andthe Management of Diversity, Journal of Homosexuality, 70:9, 1807-1828, DOI:10.1080/00918369.2022.2042664To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/00918369.2022.2042664Published online: 23 Feb 2022.Submit your article to this journal Article views: 1326View related articles View Crossmark dataCiting articles: 1 View citing articles

LGBTQ Incorporated: YouTube and the Management of DiversityJulian A. Rodriguez, PhDDepartment of Sociology, University of California, Santa Cruz, California, USAABSTRACTLesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ) people use the video-sharing service YouTube to educate and entertain audiences. However, YouTube, a subsidiary of Google, has a fraught history with LGBTQ users. Informed by digital ethno-graphy and content analysis, this paper illustrates the com-pany’s strategic incorporation of LGBTQ creators and their video content. On the one hand, I show how YouTube publicly presents LGBTQ people’s diversity in terms of race, ethnicity, nationality, gender, sexuality, and mental health status. On the other hand, the platform privately discriminates against LGBTQ users creating content about queer sex education, lesbian sexu-ality, and transgender identity—topics in conflict with advertis-ing and community guidelines. YouTube’s discriminatory practices (closely tied to automated algorithms) include demo-netization, age restriction, video deletion, account termination, and harassment facilitation. Ultimately, this paper cautions against uncritical celebrations of social media industries’ recog-nition of the LGBTQ community.KEYWORDS LGBTQ; transgender; diversity; YouTube; social media; algorithms; advertising; discrimination; harassmentIntroductionIn April 2018, the owner of Transthetics, a business that provides penile prosthetics for transgender men, found that YouTube terminated his account without warning (Transthetics, 2018). After appealing the decision, he received a brief response within 24 hours:Hello, Thank you for contacting us. We have carefully reviewed your account appeal. Your account has been terminated due to repeated or severe violations of our Community Guidelines on Nudity and Sexual content. YouTube is not the place for nudity, pornography or other sexually provocative content. For more information, please visit our Help Center. Sincerely, The YouTube TeamCONTACT Julian A. Rodriguez [email protected] Department of Sociology, University of California, Santa Cruz, 1156 High Street, Santa Cruz, CA 95064, USA.JOURNAL OF HOMOSEXUALITY 2023, VOL. 70, NO. 9, 1807–1828 https://doi.org/10.1080/00918369.2022.2042664© 2022 Taylor & Francis Group, LLC

YouTube outlines exceptions to its policies against nudity and sexual content. Most notably, it allows content that is informational and educational. Even so, the platform deemed Transthetics’ videos offensive despite them providing product background and educational information to a historically excluded group. Just two months after the denied appeal, YouTube publicly declared to lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ) YouTubers, “We are so proud of the contributions you have made to the platform; you’ve helped make YouTube what it is today” (Ariel & Victor, 2018).1The Transthetics incident is instructive. It gestures toward LGBTQ YouTube users who create and circulate videos about their identities, experi-ences, and expertise. It also underlines YouTube’s management of the content that circulates on the platform, and this management is based on vague and inconsistent expectations of sexuality. At the same time, YouTube’s statements illustrate the platform’s efforts to maintain its appearance as a progressive company even though its practices negatively affect LGBTQ creators.Working from the premise that social media platforms always manage and intervene in the user-generated material on them (Gillespie, 2015), this paper illustrates how YouTube selectively incorporates LGBTQ creators and their video content. Through digital ethnography and content analysis, I argue that YouTube, a subsidiary of tech giant Google, publicly presents itself as a site of LGBTQ inclusion and diversity. On the other hand, the company privately polices LGBTQ YouTubers producing commercially controversial videos about their identities and lives. Before turning to the present study, I review relevant literatures on LGBTQ media representation, social media modera-tion, and algorithms.Media industries, marketing, and LGBTQ diversityTwentieth-century media industries largely ignored LGBTQ existence, but they offered limited depictions of gay men and lesbian women (Gross, 2001; Rodriguez, 2019). Hollywood’s Motion Picture Production Code, for example, banned direct references to homosexuality from the 1930s to 1960s, and Hollywood soon after adopted an “alphabet soup” rating system (ranging from G to NC-17) that provides more restrictive ratings to queer representa-tions (Gross, 2001; Russo, 1987). Entertainment and news media relied heavily on stereotypes: gay men as promiscuous “sissies,” lesbian women as burly “dykes,” and gay and lesbian people as miserable and suicidal (Alwood, 1996; Gross, 2001; Rodriguez, 2019; Russo, 1987; Streitmatter, 2008).The 1990s marked a turning point where images of well-adjusted, successful gays and lesbians began to flourish. Even so, scholars illustrate that these depictions are intertwined with heteronormativity and niche marketing (Campbell, 2005; Chasin, 2000; Clark, 1991; Fejes & Petrich, 1993; Gluckman & Reed, 1997; Gross, 2001; Peñaloza, 1996; Rodriguez, 1808J. A. RODRIGUEZ

2019; Streitmatter, 2008). In particular, market researchers launched stu-dies on white, middle-class, cisgender gays and lesbians, erroneously con-cluding that all gays and lesbians were ideal consumers and trendsetters with high incomes. Businesses then commodified gay and lesbian subcul-tural styles for mass consumption, and advertisements with gay and lesbian subtext appeared across offline and online media outlets (Campbell, 2005; Chasin, 2000; Clark, 1991; Gross, 2001; Peñaloza, 1996). At the same time, entertainment and news industries made a push for socially relevant programming suitable for this new market, yet they maintained a heteronormative expectation that gay and lesbian people lead sexless lives (Fejes & Petrich, 1993; Gross, 2001; Streitmatter, 2008; Yep & Elia, 2012).Scholars emphasize that the new market-based recognition contributes to skewed representation in terms of identity and experiences (Chasin, 2000; Gross, 2001; Martin, 2021; Peñaloza, 1996; Streitmatter, 1995; Yep & Elia, 2012). To illustrate, Peñaloza (1996) remarks that “portrayals of gays/ lesbians as gorgeous, well-built, professionally successful, loved and accepted” appear “at the expense of those more distanced from and threatening to the mainstream, such as the poor, ethnic/racial/sexual minorities, drag queens, and butch lesbians” (p. 34). Gross (2001), drawing from cultural studies scholar Stuart Hall, similarly suggests that media contributes to a segregated visibility that keeps intact white heteronorma-tivity. For instance, while transgender people were not culturally absent during the twentieth century, news outlets and cinema often conflated transgender existence with homosexuality (Gross, 2001; Russo, 1987; Skidmore, 2011). Transgender people were compelled to conform to defi-nitions of “respectable” gender and sexuality, and images of transgender people as murder victims, psychotic murderers, and sexual deceivers con-tinued to circulate both prior to and well beyond the 1990s (Ryan, 2009; Skidmore, 2011).Relatedly, from the twentieth to early twenty-first century, racially minor-itized members of the LGBTQ community appeared rarely in comparison to their white counterparts. When they were present, media portrayed them as particularly exotic, deviant, or unintelligent (Skidmore, 2011; Streitmatter, 2008). In other cases, characters of color were relegated to side storylines, and they reinstated heteronormative expectations of desexualization and tra-ditional gender performances (Martin, 2021; Yep & Elia, 2012). Martin (2021), for instance, illustrates how Black-cast sitcoms treated Black gay characters “as a narrative problem that must be solved,” eventually being discarded to continue to a heterosexual plotline (p. 17). Although mass media industries are presenting more racial, ethnic, and gender difference, LGBTQ advocates carry a persistent concern about diversity—both in terms of its absence and how media industries approach it.JOURNAL OF HOMOSEXUALITY1809

Social media moderation and algorithmsNew media scholars, particularly those writing from a feminist perspective, point to the political and commercial underpinnings of social media. The literature underlines that social media platforms use human moderators and algorithm-driven filters to manage user-generated content (Bishop, 2018; Fredenburg, 2020; Gillespie, 2010, 2015, 2018; Glatt & Banet-Weiser, 2021; Noble, 2018; Roberts, 2016). As Gillespie (2015) succinctly states, platforms intervene: They pick and choose by facilitating, deleting, promoting, suspend-ing, and hiding materials. To illustrate, Gillespie (2018) points to Facebook workers removing images of breastfeeding mothers for violating policies against nudity. Platforms also commonly promote content that is racist, misogynistic, or otherwise hateful (Noble, 2018; Roberts, 2016). In this line of thought, Roberts (2016) describes how commercial content moderators for “MegaTech” allowed images of blackface to remain online despite some pro-test from fellow employees. As Roberts explains, social media firms like MegaTech risk losing users by appearing too restrictive, thereby losing the ability to offer user data to advertisers. Nonetheless, social media companies downplay interventions like these, intending for them to become invisible to users (Gillespie, 2015, 2018; Roberts, 2016).As mentioned above, algorithms play a critical role in platform’s content management (Bishop, 2018; Fredenburg, 2020; Gillespie, 2010, 2015, 2018; Glatt & Banet-Weiser, 2021; Noble, 2018). Notably, Noble (2018) details how Google’s search engine perpetuates misrepresentations of women of color as hypersexualized, pornified, and unprofessional. Coining the phrase “algorith-mic oppression,” Noble maintains that search algorithms are based on human decision-making and therefore reflect and reproduce human bias. That is, algorithms are neither objective nor neutral, and Noble argues that algorith-mic oppression is not merely a glitch in the system but is inherent to Google’s services. In a parallel line of inquiry, Bishop suggests that YouTube’s algorithm promotes cosmetics video bloggers (“vloggers”) who are middle class and produce feminized content amenable to YouTube’s brand and advertising partners. In turn, YouTube intentionally hides and obscures videos inconsis-tent with these commercial goals, contributing to stratification by class and gender.Building on the work of LGBTQ media researchers and feminist new media scholars, I consider how YouTube represents LGBTQ diversity and intervenes in LGBTQ user’s video content. Previous scholarship illustrates that lesbian, gay, and transgender YouTubers use the platform to build community, develop personal brands, and engage in potentially transformative politics (Fredenburg, 2020; Glatt & Banet-Weiser, 2021; Lovelock, 2017; Miller, 2019; Raun, 2018). At the same time, some scholars mention YouTube’s algorithm-based age restric-tion, demonetization, and deletion of LGBTQ users’ videos (discussed further 1810J. A. RODRIGUEZ

in my results section) (Bishop, 2018; Fredenburg, 2020; Glatt & Banet-Weiser, 2021). In particular, Fredenburg’s (2020) research-informed documentary ela-borates on YouTube’s performance as an ally to LGBTQ users while algorith-mically discriminating against them. Along with Fredenburg’s work, the present study is one of the first to focus on the YouTube company itself when considering the LGBTQ presence on the platform.Methods and materialsThis work is part of a three-year digital ethnography of YouTube, with a focus on LGBTQ video creators and their audiences. Digital ethnography (also referred to as cyber or virtual ethnography) is an established approach in sociology and other disciplines of media, communication, and technology study (Hampton, 2017; Murthy, 2008; Robinson & Schulz, 2009). It relies on real-time observations both offline and online, but it may also be based on a review of online materials from earlier times (Hampton, 2017). For the current study, I incorporated offline observation, online observation, and content analysis. As with traditional ethno-graphy, my goal was to immerse myself within a social setting and describe the lives of those within it (Babbie, 2014; Madden, 2010). Rather than privileging data from any single source, I relied on multiple information streams to reveal the practices of the YouTube company alongside the perspectives and experi-ences of LGBTQ people who use the platform. This ethnographic approach provided a more comprehensive view of the YouTube setting.Data collectionMy data collection began with offline fieldwork at VidCon USA, the annual convention for online video creators, fans, and brands. The event ran from June 20 to June 23, 2018. There, I attended panel discussions and presentations featuring LGBTQ YouTubers, whom I located through the biographies on the VidCon webpage. I recorded written fieldnotes, which I later converted to digital format, and I audio recorded the panels, totaling approximately 20 hours. In the months after the event, I transcribed the audio and assembled the transcripts with the fieldnotes.Offline fieldwork directed me to public materials from the YouTube plat-form itself. These included the Community Guidelines and Advertiser- Friendly Content Guidelines. The guidelines then led me to related informa-tion distributed across YouTube’s public blog, about and FAQ pages, help site, official Twitter and Instagram profiles, product forums, and partner pages. The specific topics included nondiscrimination policies; diversity statements; inclusion and outreach program information; monetization and money- making guidelines; algorithm explanations; and resources for video creators, brands, press, and software developers. This data amounted to 146 webpages.JOURNAL OF HOMOSEXUALITY1811

I supplemented with other online materials: LGBTQ YouTubers’ videos and social media posts, journalistic reports, and digital fieldnotes. For this portion of the research project, I followed the YouTube, Twitter, Instagram, and Twitch profiles of LGBTQ VidCon panelists, among other LGBTQ creators whom I located through Google searches and VidCon panelists’ discussions. I purposively reviewed their new and previously uploaded social media con-tent about YouTube’s algorithm, advertising, diversity efforts, and Community and Advertiser-Friendly Guidelines. In addition, I incorporated news coverage on YouTube’s disputes and controversies. In doing so, I aimed to uncover instances that shed light on the platform’s stated public practices and unstated practices. I located the news articles through Google searches and video creators’ profiles. The process resulted in approximately 25 web pages and articles from news and entertainment organizations, including Buzzfeed News, Forbes, Polygon, The Guardian, The Verge, The Washington Post, Tubefilter News, and Variety. Finally, during online data collection, I recorded fieldnotes describing LGBTQ YouTubers’ videos and messages, YouTube’s practices, controversial events, and emerging themes and questions.The observational research presented here was unobtrusive, involving no direct communication with individuals in the field (Babbie, 2014; Lee, 2019). As Lee (2019) suggests, unobtrusive observation is appropriate for busy or noisy environments or settings where participants are unable to respond freely, as I found during the tightly scheduled VidCon presenta-tions. Later portions of the project included online contact with VidCon panelists and other video creators. I used the research findings to strengthen my knowledge of YouTube and inform the recruitment and interview process. However, I do not present interview data in this writing.Data analysisI used the data software NVivo for content analysis. Content analysis is a flexible technique for analyzing textual and visual data obtained through electronic media and ethnographic observations, among other sources (Hsieh & Shannon, 2005; Kondracki, Wellman, & Amundson, 2002). To examine the fieldnotes, transcripts, webpages, and articles, I used conven-tional content analysis: a qualitative method where “researchers avoid using preconceived categories” and “immerse themselves in the data to allow new insights to emerge” (Hsieh & Shannon, 2005, p. 1279). This form of analysis reflects a grounded theory methodology (Glaser & Strauss, 1967).1812J. A. RODRIGUEZ

Ethical concernsThe study conformed to all Institutional Review Board (IRB) requirements at the host institution (Protocol #HS3159). Offline fieldwork built on VidCon’s Code of Conduct, which allowed attendees to record, transcribe, and display recordings in any format. Online materials for this portion of the project were public, with the IRB waiving consent requirements. LGBTQ YouTubers dis-cussed in later sections have openly and publicly disclosed their LGBTQ identities.Results and discussionUsing Campbell’s (2005) writing as a framework, I underline YouTube’s “Janus-faced design.” Through his analysis of the online affinity portals Gay. com and PlanetOut.com, Campbell illustrates the relationship between corpo-rate commerce and historically marginalized groups. He suggests that the sites displayed themselves through two faces: their “community face” (the image presented to users) and their “corporate face” (the image aimed at advertisers). With their community face, the portals presented themselves as inclusive spaces for gay and lesbian users, attracting them to share personal information that would become available to advertisers. With their corporate face, the sites promoted themselves to business clients by offering them user data and market research on the gay community. Although Campbell is principally concerned with surveillance, his emphases on advertising and online plat-forms’ dual nature are useful for my analysis.Here, I argue that YouTube strategically manages diversity on the platform. I conceptualize the management of diversity as interventions in media resources and materials about, by, and for underrepresented communities. Extending the ideas of Gillespie (2015), interventions include instances of distribution, promotion, monetization, restriction, and deletion, as I elaborate on below. YouTube publicly presents itself as a progressive site of LGBTQ diversity while privately discriminating against LGBTQ users, espe-cially those creating materials that are inconsistent with YouTube’s commu-nity and advertising policies. My analysis here echoes Fredenburg’s (2020) assertion that YouTube acts as an ally to LGBTQ users when convenient for the company.YouTube’s public face: Partnership, diversity, and social progressYouTube’s business model is closely tied to the company’s relationships with its “partners,” which include users and advertisers. Indeed, YouTube relies on selling advertising space and user clicks to other brands. The company received substantial publicity following Google’s buyout of the JOURNAL OF HOMOSEXUALITY1813

platform for $1.65 billion in 2006. From the onset, Google intended to develop YouTube’s potential for profit, stating in a press release that the buyout combined a growing video entertainment community with estab-lished expertise in creating new forms of online marketing (Wasko & Erickson, 2009). In large part because of advertising revenue, Google stated that YouTube generated $15 billion in 2019 (Statt, 2020). Given the plat-form’s partnerships, I agree with Gillespie (2010) in proposing that cultural intermediaries like YouTube must use strategic discourses to present them-selves to multiple constituencies and “carve out a role and a set of expecta-tions that is acceptable to each and also serves their own financial interests” (p. 353).YouTube aims some of its most meticulous efforts at advertisers. Immediately after visiting the “YouTube Advertising” page, I received a pop- up box with instructions to call the platform’s toll-free number for help in signing up for an advertiser account (YouTube, 2020). Text prominently urges advertisers to “[b]e seen where everyone is watching,” creating a new outlet to reach potential customers and creating results for small-, medium- and large-sized businesses alike. YouTube’s materials provide specific tips and resources for advertisers. These include guides to lighting, filming, and editing advertisements; measuring and refining ad impacts; and reaching marketing goals, including building awareness and ad recall, growing con-sideration and interest, and driving action. Besides confirming that adver-tisers can reach the exact YouTube users they wish, YouTube provides case studies and success stories to inspire other businesses of every size. From fashion, education, food, and media to real estate, retail, transportation, and consulting, the case studies span all industry types. Additionally, YouTube publicizes its Google Preferred Lineups: a program that allows advertisers to place ads on the top five percent of YouTube creators’ video channels, as determined by its algorithm.As mentioned above, video creators are another essential partner for YouTube. The opening lines of the “YouTube Creators” website encourage YouTubers to “explore everything you need to get inspired, engage, and thrive” (YouTube, 2021c). Featuring some of the most successful YouTubers from diverse backgrounds and content categories, an accompanying intro-ductory video encourages creators “from all walks of life, from all corners of the world” to create one’s self, community, and culture. “Push us, dare us, and surprise us by being creative,” the video states. At the same time, the website provides a bevy of practical resources: The Creator Academy provides exten-sive steps to getting discovered, growing a YouTube presence, targeting audiences, building community, accessing video analytics, and making rev-enue. The YouTube Partner program gives access to additional resources and features—significantly, the ability to share in advertising revenue (also referred to as becoming monetized).1814J. A. RODRIGUEZ

YouTube visually represents LGBTQ creators who differ along axes of race, ethnicity, nationality, gender, sexuality, and mental health status, portraying a picture of social progress and cultural diversity. For example, through its subscription-based service YouTube Premium, the platform promotes a range of LGBTQ stories. Most notably, YouTube has distributed This Is Everything, a film that documents the gender transition and rise to celebrity status of white, transgender YouTuber and author Gigi Gorgeous. In addition, YouTube has supported the development of Escape the Night, a web series written by Joey Graceffa, one of the most popular gay creators on the platform. The series, released in 2016 and inspired by Graceffa’s love of the 1985 film Clue, centers on a murder mystery where fellow YouTubers find themselves transported to different periods and contexts. LGBTQ video creators from diverse racial-ethnic backgrounds have received roles on the show: Asian/ Latina and trans makeup creator Nikita Dragun; Latino gay makeup artist Manny Gutierrez; multiracial and bisexual fashion vlogger Eva Gutowski; and white bisexual documentarian Shane Dawson, among others.Since 2013, it has become a Pride Month custom for the YouTube team to share textual and audio-visual materials about the LGBTQ community. On the company’s public blog, we can find statements about YouTube being “inspired and amazed by the ways that [LGBTQ] people have used YouTube to broad-cast their message, empower their community, and even catalyze social change” (Braun, 2013). The platform, according to these messages, has become “a place where anyone can belong no matter who they are or who they love” (YouTube Team, 2016). In turn, “videos from this community are as varied and exceptional as the group of people making them” (Ellis, 2017), with LGBTQ users developing “an extraordinary legacy of turning adversity into creativity and self expression” (Ariel & Victor, 2018). Video montages have accompanied each of these blog posts, with the video descriptions, titles, thumbnails, and content emphasizing the pride and community themes. Trendy hashtags—#ProudToPlay, #ProudToCreate, #ProudToLove, #ProudToBe, #YouTubePride2021—accompany the statements and montages to bring attention to the company’s efforts.To take an example, the 2018 #ProudToCreate video includes a thumbnail of proud LGBTQ marchers and describes how YouTube is celebrating voices that shape the past, present, and feature (YouTube, 2018). The montage leverages stories and images from LGBTQ people working through YouTube as well as creatives outside YouTube. Among those featured, for example, are Black trans Broadway actress Peppermint; Asian singer-songwriter and lesbian Hayley Kiyoko; Black musician and bisexual Janelle Monae; white Olympian and gay YouTuber Adam Rippon; white gay vloggers Tyler Oakley and Connor Franta; Black gay makeup artist Patrick Starr; and Black gay satirist and comedic vlogger MacDoesIt. Clips flash of LGBTQ people dancing, skateboarding, figure skating, marching, playing instruments, singing, JOURNAL OF HOMOSEXUALITY1815

applying makeup, sewing, and recording personal vlogs. Featuring music from gay bounce artist Big Freedia, the montage includes soundbites such as, “There is nobody in the media that is exactly like me, yet there are hundreds of people that relate a lot to me,” and, “We sort of encourage each other to create the kind of future we want to see.” In this manner, the blog posts, hashtags, and montages function as displays of social difference.In partnership with fellow media company Upworthy, the platform has released a guide outlining steps for social change videos, again drawing from stories by and about LGBTQ individuals (Upworthy, n.d.). “Your strength is your voice. Use it,” the report urges, and “find the story” because “striking visuals and personal stories that make important ideas come alive” are just as relevant raw information. In addition, spread your own courage, the compa-nies state, because “going there”—despite feeling vulnerable—can help build community and help others identify with you. Finally, communities are complicated, so learn from them, and provide a call to action. Nestled in the lists of steps is an eight-minute video from Dan Savage sharing his experiences as a gay Catholic, which ultimately launched the highly publicized It Gets Better Project aimed at reducing suicide among LGBTQ youth. In a similar vein, a six-minute video from bisexual sex educator Laci Green provides the details of her depression diagnosis at the age of fifteen, her profound struggles to find joy in living, and her suicidal episodes throughout her life.YouTube’s Creators for Change initiative has similarly borrowed LGBTQ creators’ voices and stories. As part of the initiative, YouTube mentors and promotes partner “role models” to create films that tackle a range of social issues in the aims of bridging communities and increasing tolerance and understanding. The global and diverse role models are prominently and visually represented on the Creators for Change website, tackling topics like race- and class-based incarceration, women’s beauty standards, Islamophobia, and hearing disabilities. To add, LGBTQ creators like Riyadh K, a gay Iraqi journalist and author, offers a documentary on Swaziland’s first Pride March; Murilo Araújo, a Black queer Brazilian journalist and content creator, presents a video on the stigmatization and criminalization of Black men; Victoria Volkóva, a Mexican trans vlogger and self-love advocate, shares an interview about trans women’s experiences and the impact of the LGBTQ community on Mexico.I read the public materials as attempts to market YouTube as a site of cultural progress and economic activity while facilitating opportunities for advertisers and select video creators. In this way, the platform aims to further solicit members of these constituencies while maintaining the support of those already recruited. Although these constituencies have distinct interests, their continued presence ensures YouTube’s growth. With its public face, YouTube seemingly moves beyond exclusionary histories of LGBTQ media representa-tion by visually displaying content and producers that acknowledge social 1816J. A. RODRIGUEZ

difference. YouTube’s recognition thus challenges what Peñaloza (1996, p. 34) refers to as “pervasive images of white, upper-middle class, ‘straight looking’ people” of the LGBTQ community. Yet YouTube chooses what materials and users thrive. My intention here is not to diminish the work of the LGBTQ creators YouTube has represented and promoted. Their efforts have offered outlets for the development of community and mental resilience, and creators are critically aware of the limits YouTube places on them (Fredenburg, 2020; Glatt & Banet-Weiser, 2021). Even so, YouTube selectively incorporates the LGBTQ stories and producers useful for its business purposes.YouTube’s private face: Discrimination and harmYouTube publicly lists rules for users to maintain their accounts and content on the platform. The company crystallizes the rules in its Community Guidelines and Advertising-Friendly (“Ad-Friendly”) Content Guidelines. The “guidelines” are not gentle suggestions for creators and viewers. Rather, they are expectations for what content and user accounts are eligible for advertising revenue, labeled as age-restricted, or removed from the platform entirely, as I explain in later subsections. Through its guideline enforcement, YouTube discriminates against LGBTQ video creators it claims to support, but the platform does not intend its discriminatory enforcement to become public. At the same time, LGBTQ YouTubers continue to comment on and criticize YouTube’s practices, shedding light on the inconsistency between the com-pany’s public and private faces.Any individual who uses YouTube must follow the Community Guidelines while the Ad-Friendly Content Guidelines explain how video creators can share in revenue from advertisements. YouTube suggests that the Community Guidelines safeguard users: “Our Community Guidelines are designed to ensure our community stays protected. They set out what’s allowed and not allowed on YouTube, and apply to all types of content on our platform, including videos, comments, links, and thumbnails” (YouTube, 2021a). In previous years, YouTube characterized the community rules—which are numerous and intricate—as “common sense.” With the Ad-Friendly Guidelines, creators must self-rate their content and choose to turn ads on or off their video materials based on whether they align with brand interests. Violation of the policies may lead to ads being permanently disabled on YouTubers’ channels.2The rules against nudity, sexual content, and adult content are the most ambiguous and widely contested among LGBTQ video creators. As Gillespie (2018) notes, platforms’ rules against sexual content are broad, meant to cover a tremendous amount of material—accidental nudity, visually titillating acts, representations of sex toys, sexual language and entendre, and extreme por-nography, to name only some materials. YouTube offers a deceptively direct JOURNAL OF HOMOSEXUALITY1817

explanation, stating that content that is meant to be “sexually gratifying” is disallowed by community standards and ineligible for advertising. YouTube prohibits depictions of genitals, breasts, or buttocks for sexual purposes; or pornography depicting acts, genitals, fetishes, or objects for sexual purposes. Additionally, content that blurs these lines—provocative dancing or kissing, pantsing or voyeurism, graphic or lewd language, and blurred or incidental nudity, among other content—is also subject to removal. However, YouTube has exceptions for nudity and sexual content. More specifically, the platform allows in its community rules “nudity when the primary purpose is educa-tional, documentary, scientific, or artistic, and it isn’t gratuitous” (YouTube, 2021b). Context is of central importance such that a documentary about breast cancer is acceptable, but out-of-context clips of the documentary are unac-ceptable. Moreover, in its Ad-Friendly Content Guidelines, YouTube states that sexual education and general discussions of relationships and sexuality are eligible for ads.YouTube prohibits hate speech, harassment, and hateful content—separate categories that noticeably overlap. In the Community Guidelines, hate speech refers to materials meant to incite violence or hatred against protected groups (defined on the basis of race, ethnicity, nationality, religion, caste, disability, age, veteran status, sexual orientation, sex/gender, gender identity, and experi-ences with a major violent event). YouTube has admitted previously that identifying and labeling material as hateful is a “delicate balancing act,” but the platform has since removed this acknowledgment. Harassment and cyber-bullying (defined as threatening or targeting individuals based on protected group status or physical traits) similarly violate community policies. In the Ad- Friendly Content Guidelines, hateful content refers to material that disparages, humiliates, or incites hate or discrimination against protected groups or individuals. “Non-hurtful” references to protected groups or individuals’ opinions are ad-friendly while disparaging, shaming, and malicious materials are not ad-friendly.DemonetizationAs mentioned earlier, web platforms like YouTube rely on human moderators and algorithms to sort and label user-generated materials (Bishop, 2018; Fredenburg, 2020; Gillespie, 2010, 2015; Glatt & Banet-Weiser, 2021; Noble, 2018; Roberts, 2016). One function of YouTube’s algorithm is to determine which videos are subject to demonetization (Fredenburg, 2020; Glatt & Banet- Weiser, 2021). If creators are part of the YouTube Partner Program and follow the Ad-Friendly Content Guidelines, their content is eligible for monetization, meaning that they can share in advertising revenue for their videos. Within the first hours of an upload, YouTube uses machine learning to look at a video’s metadata (descriptions, tags/keywords, automated captions, titles, and thumb-nail images) to determine if the video can remain monetized or becomes 1818J. A. RODRIGUEZ

demonetized (Marissa, 2017). If YouTubers feel like the automated system made a mistake, they can issue an appeal; after a creator initiates an appeal, an “expert reviewer” compares the content and metadata against the Ad-Friendly Content Guidelines to decide. However, reviewers have “parameters around which appealed videos get reviewed first to make sure we review those videos that are getting substantial traffic” (Marissa, 2017). In this manner, content that has not already reached a visibility threshold may stay demonetized without review for longer periods—sometimes for months.Despite YouTube making exceptions for content that is educational, the platform’s algorithm has consistently demonetized videos with LGBTQ termi-nology in metadata. According to numerous LGBTQ activists and sex educa-tors, the words have included, for example, “gay,” “lesbian,” “trans,” “transgender,” “queer,” “drag queen,” “LGBTQ,” and “pride.” One such crea-tor is Chase Ross, a white trans activist and educator who has uploaded videos to YouTube since 2006. In 2018, Ross publicly shared on Twitter that YouTube’s algorithm demonetized his videos when he referenced transness in his video titles. Elsewhere, Ross explained,I had a video that . . . in the beginning, I put “trans” in the title. It was demonetized instantly. Then I deleted, reuploaded it without the title, and it was monetized. I deleted [and] re-reuploaded it with the trans title, and it was demonetized again. And that’s happened with three videos. I’ve done this test three times, and it’s just like no one’s paying attention to that. (Field notes, June 22, 2018)Ross even changed the name of his video files and keywords to “family friendly” to finagle the algorithm, but YouTube still demonetized the videos, likely from reading other metadata. Ross has often received reminders that his educational materials help viewers come to terms with their trans identities, health, and bodies, but this significance has escaped YouTube’s algorithm. Ross, like other LGBTQ educators, work on the fringes of what YouTube and their advertising partners deem controversial and potentially unprofitable.In 2019, the Demonetization List Project further confirmed the platform’s algorithmic discrimination. Intending to reverse engineer the algorithm and help struggling video creators avoid demonetization, the project researchers tested 100 videos with LGBTQ-related titles (Ocelet AI, 2019). YouTube’s algorithm demonetized 33 of the videos with titles such as, “Gay and Lesbian Guide to Vienna—VIENNA/NOW,” “LGBT Tik Tok Compilation in Honor of Pride Month,” “Top 10 Lesbian Couples in Hollywood Who Got Married,” “Lesbian Princess,” and “Lesbian daughters with mom.” The researchers then replaced the LGBTQ terminology with the words “friend” and “happy,” and the videos were instantly labeled advertiser friendly. Even so, Susan Wojcicki, YouTube’s CEO, denied that this demonetization process was occurring and maintained that YouTube was working to make its machine learning fair (Ocelet AI., 2019).JOURNAL OF HOMOSEXUALITY1819

Age restriction and video removalLike with demonetization, YouTube relies on a combination of automated technology and human moderation to “flag” a video for age restriction or removal based on Community Guidelines (Bishop, 2018; Fredenburg, 2020; Glatt & Banet-Weiser, 2021). The majority of flags comes from algorithmic machine learning, but a flag can also come from the platform’s Trusted Flagger program composed of NGOs, government agencies, and individuals. In addi-tion, YouTube relies on community flagging where video viewers can alert the platform to content in potential violation of community parameters. Following the flagging process, an official YouTube reviewer will take one of a few actions: keep the video live, without further action; age restrict, or render it invisible to users under the age of 18; or altogether delete the video. Age- restricted videos generally violate Ad-Friendly Content Guidelines and there-fore are ineligible for monetization. If the reviewer deletes the video, the creator will first receive a warning; subsequent violations result in a Community Guidelines “strike.” Although creators can appeal a Community Guidelines strike and age restriction, appeals are rarely successful.In 2017, LGBTQ creators joined the #YouTubeIsOverParty trend on Twitter, publicizing that the platform was age restricting videos referencing LGBTQ relationships and identities (Hunt, 2017). A swath of LGBTQ creators discussed their age-restricted content, such as videos discussing coming out experiences, Black LGBTQ trailblazers, and Asexual Awareness Week. British YouTuber NeonaFiona shared that the videos mentioning her bisexuality and girlfriend were restricted while those not specifying her partner’s gender were not. Even so, company representatives attempted to recuperate the event by stating that only “mature” or “sensitive” content would be filtered, leading many LGBTQ educators to question whether their identities were innately controversial.The experiences of Chase Ross are similarly illustrative given that YouTube has age restricted many of his videos and in some cases removed them. Among those age restricted videos are from his “Trans 101” series introducing issues of gender dysphoria, pronouns, therapy, passing, transitioning, fertility, hor-mone blockers, hormone replacement therapy, and top and bottom surgeries. In a video titled “my channel is going to be deleted . . ..” uploaded May 28, 2018, Ross revealed his troubles with YouTube’s flagging system (Ross, 2018). Ross noted in the opening lines,I think that there are a—not one person—a group of people who targeting my channel and flagging every single video. If you recall last year, I did have a problem with this where a bunch of my videos started to get age restricted, and I was like, ‘Why is this happening?’ . . . We’re on 144 [of over 700] videos right now, and I’m not even joking with that number. . . . Everything that could be age restricted is age restricted.1820J. A. RODRIGUEZ

Indeed, Ross explained that a friend showed him images of a trans- exclusionary radical feminist group that would direct members to flag a video immediately after Ross uploaded one. Even though a YouTube reviewer must decide the outcome of a video flag, the targeting appears successful despite skirting against YouTube’s anti-harassment Community Guidelines policy. Even more, the platform issued a strike to Ross’ channel after removing one of his videos:I literally got a strike on my account for video that’s five years old of me just talking about a packer. . . . And it’s a joke video, too, like whatever I was trying to make didn’t work out, so I was like, ah, it’s a joke. There was a strike [for sexual content . . .] And that was just—other trans creators have gotten strikes. My friend Aaron has got a strike. He was showing a video about how to self-administer testosterone shots. Strike on his account. And then another friend went to go pick up this prescription in a video. Strike on his account! (Field notes, June 22, 2018)As Ross indicated, trans creators were especially susceptible to Community Guidelines account strikes, which could lead to channel deletion.Account terminationOne of the harshest forms of consequence is channel/account termination. When YouTube deletes an account, all the videos are removed, and the owner may be unable to access or create other accounts. YouTube can terminate a channel for having three Community Guidelines strikes in 90 days, a single case of severe abuse, or an entire channel dedicated to guideline violations. LGBTQ channel deletion is not uncommon. The Transthetics example pre-sented in the opening pages of this writing is a prominent example (Ross, 2018; Transthetics, 2018).Hart, better known as Hartbeat, also found one of her accounts terminated in May 2018. Her proudly Black and lesbian web series SimLivNColor (titled after In Living Color, the sketch comedy show with a largely Black cast) is a “mystery/drama/comedy” using voiceovers and digital avatar models from the video game The Sims 4 (SimLivNColor, 2020). Many of the characters are queer people of color and feature a range of skin tones and gender presenta-tions. The show has gained some viewer recognition for its portrayal of avatar nudity, but the series explores a range of sensitive issues: queer gender pre-sentation, sex work and sexual intimacy, infidelity, partner abuse, gun vio-lence, drug use, and incarceration, to name only some topics.Shortly after uploading the third video of the web show’s second season (which YouTube neither demonetized nor age-restricted), Hart awoke to find her SimLivNColor channel deleted. In the past, the channel had received Community Guidelines strikes for violating sexual content and nudity poli-cies, yet Hart received little reason for the termination itself. In her own words, “The channel still got terminated. I don’t even have the answer to how it JOURNAL OF HOMOSEXUALITY1821

happened, but at least I had fun while I was doing it. That is so nuttery buttery to say” (Field notes, June 22, 2018). At the same time, she admitted and understood that her series may seem controversial to some: “You know, my series is really inappropriate, so if you go search SimLivNColor, just expect a lot of Sims titty—like, a lot of it” (Field notes, June 22, 2018). Hart has successfully reuploaded some of the SimLivNColor series to an alternate channel by blurring the avatar nudity, and she has started her own website to share the episodes. Nonetheless, her experiences highlight how minoritized creators who focus less on community respectability have difficulty escaping YouTube’s moderation and policy systems.Harassment facilitationAmong LGBTQ video creators, harassment from viewers is a commonplace and seemingly expected part of the YouTube ecology. YouTube ignores and sometimes actively facilitates anti-LGBTQ abuse despite guidelines against hate speech, harassment, and hateful content. For example, YouTube has yet to correct the anti-trans feminist targeting of Chase Ross’ videos because it is integrated into the viewer flagging system.Carlos Maza, a former video producer for the Strikethrough series on the U.S. news website Vox, has likewise experienced harassment with minimal intervention from YouTube. The left-leaning Strikethrough video series explored news media in the age of Trump, eliciting years-long harassment from Steven Crowder. Crowder is a former Fox News Contributor who hosts what he describes as the “The NUMBER ONE conservative late night comedy show” on YouTube (Ghosh, 2020; Hern & Paul, 2019). Maza, a gay Latino, flagged many of Crowder’s videos for violating YouTube’s community policies, and he also posted a video compilation of Crowder’s attacks, which included phrases like “gay Mexican,” “lispy queer,” and “token Vox gay atheist sprite.” Following moderators’ review of Crowder’s flagged videos in June 2019, YouTube commented: “[W]hile we found language that was clearly hurtful, the videos as posted don’t violate our policies” (Ghosh, 2020). The next day, YouTube reversed its decision, remarking that Crowder’s channel “has harmed the broader community and is against our YouTube Partner Program policies,” leading to the demonetization of Crowder’s content while allowing his account to stay online. Crowder later removed the videos in question and his off-site merchandise, including tees with the slogan “Socialism Is For Fags.” After Crowder reapplied to YouTube’s Partner Program, the platform reinstated him in August 2020, making his content again eligible for monetization.Ash Hardell, a white nonbinary sex educator and author of The ABCs of LGBT+, has spoken directly about YouTube’s algorithm promoting abusive content. In “Someone Leaked my Job . . . and it Sucked,” a video essay uploaded July 21, 2019, Hardell shared the fear they felt when another YouTuber non-consensually shared private information about (“doxxed”) 1822J. A. RODRIGUEZ

Hardell’s five-year day job as a flight attendant (Hardell, 2019). Hardell contextualized the video leak by discussing the transphobic, misgendering, sexually suggestive, and crude harassment they receive: images with breasts and bras superimposed over Hardell’s body, scripted videos mocking Hardell’s partner, hate art displayed in another channel’s image banner, and frequent transphobic comments. Hardell feared that anti-transgender and other hateful viewers could fabricate stories and images to get them fired in light of their job position becoming public. After contacting an entertainment lawyer, Hardell shared the following in their video essay:Attempts to contact the doxxer, get a video taken down, or even respond publicly almost always results in more controversy and traffic to the original post or issue. It gives the original post a huge uptick or boost in YouTube’s algorithm, and that video will start showing up in the recommended section of your videos. So basically the more you try to address or handle a problem, the harder it becomes to escape it. What a broken system!YouTube’s tolerance of abusive and discriminatory content did not surprise Hardell, who had received years of harassment with little intervention from YouTube. They described the platform’s inaction as a “slap in the face” after YouTube exploitatively used LGBTQ content in its public promotional mate-rials (Paul, 2019).Based on the experiences of Hardell and other creators, I suggest that repre-sentations of LGBTQ inclusion and diversity do not ensure equal treatment or safety. Social media companies intend for their interventions to become invisible (Gillespie, 2018; Roberts, 2016), but YouTube highlights that the company’s practices become invisible for some creators more than others. The platform’s regulation of LGBTQ content would have remained private if creators had not called attention to the inconsistency between YouTube’s inclusive depictions and its guideline enforcement. YouTube and its parent company Google claim that the algorithm recommends videos to users simply based on what they search, watch, and desire (Covington, Adams, & Sargin, 2016; Noble, 2018; YouTube, 2019). To be sure, the algorithm incorporates viewer engagement when recom-mending and hiding user-generated material (Bishop, 2018; Gielen & Rosen, 2016), as Hardell’s experience confirms. Nonetheless, LGBTQ users suggest that YouTube’s machines have learned incorrectly, facilitating the platform’s anti- LGBTQ discrimination. This finding bolsters Noble’s (2018) assertion that algo-rithms are never value-neutral; they reflect their designers’ biases and blind spots.ConclusionYouTube sets parameters for, but not does determine, the video production of LGBTQ users. While I incorporated the experiences and perspectives of LGBTQ video producers, further research should examine how creators JOURNAL OF HOMOSEXUALITY1823

negotiate and engage with the platform’s guidelines. Current scholarship suggests that these YouTubers strategically balance their public service with their business and monetization goals, and some creators choose to prioritize one over the other (Fredenburg, 2020; Glatt & Banet-Weiser, 2021; Lovelock, 2017; Miller, 2019; Raun, 2018). A growing body of LGBTQ and feminist media scholarship details the online intersections among gender, sexuality, race, ethnicity, and class (Bishop, 2018; Campbell, 2005; Glatt & Banet-Weiser, 2021; Noble, 2018; Roberts, 2016). However, further study is warranted, particularly research on social media content producers with multiple minor-itized identities.As discussed earlier, the present study is one of the first to examine YouTube as a company and platform when considering the LGBTQ pre-sence. Based on the findings, I want to conclude by cautioning against wholesale celebrations of LGBTQ social media recognition. Indeed, YouTube diverges from earlier media histories by depicting a spectrum of LGBTQ social differences. Even so, platforms like YouTube demonstrate the persistent policing of LGBTQ people based on expectations of respectability and profitability. For example, YouTube’s discriminatory practices parallel Hollywood providing harsher ratings to LGBTQ films and the television industry desexualizing gay and lesbian characters (Fejes & Petrich, 1993; Gross, 2001; Martin, 2021; Yep & Elia, 2012). The YouTube platform differs in that its regulations are heavily algorithm-based, with human moderators confirming or reversing the algorithm’s decisions. In the end, while the media and technology are newer, the story of discrimination is still much the same.Notes1. When I discuss “LGBTQ” people, I am referring to those who openly identify as LGBTQ. “YouTubers,” “users,” and “creators” refer here to individuals who produce videos to share on the YouTube platform.2. A YouTube channel refers to creators’ public YouTube webpage where they upload videos and messages.AcknowledgmentsThe author would like to thank Herman Gray, Deborah Gould, and Julie Bettie for their feedback on earlier drafts of this material.Disclosure statementNo potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).1824J. A. RODRIGUEZ

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