huiyyu

I’m not a gamer, I don’t really play games, and I don’t keep up with every new release. But that doesn’t mean I don’t see how much gaming is a big part of online life. It’s not just about playing anymore, it’s about streaming, connecting, and even learning. For many people I know, gaming has shaped the way they speak, think, and interact online.

A few of my friends told me their English improved a lot because of gaming. Some of them started playing multiplayer games when they were kids, and those games were all in English. They had to learn fast to understand the game, talk with other players, and join conversations in chat. As Rinaldo (2022) says, language learning has been significantly influenced by playing video games. The most beneficial areas were pronunciation and vocabulary. Gaming gave them a kind of everyday language environment, even though it wasn’t a “lesson.”

At the same time, platforms like Twitch and YouTube Gaming have turned games into something people watch, not just play. Gamers stream their screens and talk to viewers live. It’s like hanging out in someone’s room while they play, fun, random, and full of inside jokes. Some streamers are more like influencers now. It’s not just gaming, it’s entertainment, personality, and community.

Games like Minecraft, Among Us, or Valorant also act like social spaces. Friends don’t just go online to win, they go to spend time together, talk, and relax. Jono and Bakar (2021) mention that, throughout the MCO time, media entertainment channels have helped to deliver authentic information and relieve the stress that Malaysians face.

Even though I’m not a gamer myself, I see how games shape culture. They build skills, form friendships, and give people a place to belong. For some, it’s just fun. For others, it’s where they found their voice, even in another language.

Reference:

Jono, S. N. F., & Bakar, M. S. A. (2021). Entertainment media channels usage patterns during the Movement Control Order (MCO) period in Malaysia. International Journal of Academic Research in Progressive Education and Development, 10(3). https://doi.org/10.6007/ijarped/v10-i3/11102

Have you ever read a hateful comment on social media and thought: How is this still up? Like… a person literally wrote that. And no one, human or machine, stepped in?

It’s 2025 and somehow, we still think algorithms can police human emotion, nuance, and intent. But the truth is, as platforms keep automating moderation with cold, rigid systems, more people are getting hurt. “Freedom of speech” is being twisted into a free pass to be cruel. And the worst part? No one’s really accountable.

Right now, AI handles most of the content moderation, scanning for keywords, banning posts, and flagging violations. But words aren’t just data. They carry tone, culture, and emotion. That’s something no bot fully understands.

That’s why I believe that legal experts and psychologists should take the wheel. These aren’t just trolls anymore, we’re talking about people weaponising words, gaslighting strangers, or exploiting trauma in viral comment threads. Jayanti (2023) makes a strong case: it’s time for clear industry standards with interdisciplinary leadership. We need people who understand harm, not just code.

Venkatesh et al. (2021) explain that current governance models copy the logic of law enforcement, with punishments, bans, and account removal. But they ignore the human side: restorative justice, emotional repair, and community health. Why are we okay with deleting a comment but not helping the person who was hurt by it?

And let’s be honest: the system is broken. Rochefort (2023) calls it an “anemic” regime, fragmented, politicised, and completely lacking cohesion. Even governments can’t agree on how to define or deal with this mess. Every platform has its own rules, and none of them seem to be working.

So… what if the solution isn’t more AI, but more empathy? More listening. More collaboration between tech, law, psychology, and education. The internet is real life now, and we need real people guiding its rules.

✨Just a thought: algorithms can detect keywords, but only humans can truly understand impact. Maybe governance should start there. ⚖️

References:

Jayanti, A. (2023, April 13). To break the standstill of social media governance, we need industry standards. The Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs. https://www.belfercenter.org/publication/break-standstill-social-media-governance-we-need-industry-standards

Rochefort, A. (2023). SOCIAL MEDIA GOVERNANCE VIA AN “ANEMIC” POLICY REGIME? HOW BOUNDARY SPANNING, COMPETING ISSUE DEFINITIONS, LACK OF COHESION, AND ADMINISTRATIVE FRAGMENTATION IMPEDE REGULATORY REFORM. AoIR Selected Papers of Internet Research. https://doi.org/10.5210/spir.v2023i0.13486

Lately, I’ve noticed something strange happening when I scroll through Instagram. Every story, every selfie, every video, I can barely tell what people really look like anymore. Including myself. I catch my reflection in the mirror after using a filter and think, Wait… why don’t I look like that in real life? 😶

Why Do Filters Only Focus on Facial Features?

The most popular filters do one thing really well: smooth skin, plump lips, big eyes, narrow noses. The "Instagram face," is everywhere. It's like the algorithm decided we all need to fit one mold to be considered beautiful, and the mold looks eerily similar to a digitally altered mix of Bella Hadid, Kim Kardashian, and anime (The ‘Instagram’ Effect: Filters Shape Our Perception of Beauty, 2025).

We’ve reduced “beauty” to symmetry, clear skin, and certain proportions. But what about laughter lines? Quirky teeth? Freckles that don’t stay in place? Constant exposure to filtered faces reshapes what we believe is “normal.” And it’s exhausting (Social Media’s Influence on Beauty Standards: The Impact of Filters – Goals Plastic Surgery®, 2023). I miss when a face told a story, not just a filter setting.

We’re not just consumers, we’re creators, participants. Being digitally literate means being aware of how tech shapes our perception, especially of ourselves. Sunstrum (2014) says filters can distort self-image and fuel insecurity. So maybe the real question isn’t “Should we stop using filters?” but “Can we separate play from pressure?”

Filters can be fun, but they’re not the full picture. Maybe beauty isn’t broken, it’s just being redefined. Let’s not let an algorithm write the whole story for us. 💭✨

References

The ‘Instagram’ effect: Filters shape our perception of beauty. (2025, February 23). https://www.drseanplasticsurgery.com/the-instagram-face-effect-how-filters-are-shaping-our-perception-of-beauty

Social media’s influence on beauty standards: The impact of filters – Goals Plastic Surgery®. (2023, December 22). https://transform.goalsplasticsurgery.com/social-medias-influence-on-beauty-standards-the-impact-of-filters/

Social media today is full of bodies. Not just people’s lives or stories, but their abs, jawlines, hips, and curves. From fitness pages to “what I eat in a day” vlogs, we’re surrounded by images that show what’s considered attractive or “ideal.” It’s not just fashion anymore, it’s body standards. And a lot of them are unrealistic.

Platforms like Instagram and TikTok play a big role in shaping this. They’re visual, fast-paced, and full of influencers showing their bodies, not just naturally, but after plastic surgery, extreme fitness routines, or cosmetic procedures. While everyone has the right to change their body, the issue is how those changes are shown online. Often, they’re not openly discussed, which gives off the impression that those results are natural or easily achieved (Scolere et al., 2018).

This creates pressure. When we constantly see “perfect” bodies, it can make us feel like our own bodies are not good enough. According to research, this kind of content can lead to lower self-esteem, body dissatisfaction, and even disordered eating behaviours, especially among teenagers and young women (Gorbatov et al., 2018).

That’s why health education is important, not just in schools, but on social media too. We need to know how to look at content with a critical eye. What’s real? What’s edited? What’s been surgically enhanced? These are questions that matter when it comes to our health and mindset.

So where does digital citizenship come in?

Being a responsible digital citizen means thinking about what we post, follow, and support. Are we only liking one type of body? Are we comparing ourselves to someone who hasn’t shared the full story? Are we using our platforms to lift up real, diverse bodies, or just the “perfect” ones?

Everyone deserves to feel seen and accepted, without needing to change their body to fit into a trend. No body is wrong. What’s wrong is pretending there’s only one way to look.

References:

Gorbatov, S., Khapova, S. N., & Lysova, E. I. (2018). Personal Branding: Interdisciplinary systematic review and research agenda Frontiers in Psychology, 9. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2018.02238

Style is personal — but sustainability is political. Especially when you’re sweating through your baju on a humid Penang day.

Fast fashion is cheap, trendy, and everywhere. But it’s also wasteful, unethical, and full of greenwashing. We know this. Still, in Malaysia’s tropical heat, slow fashion isn’t always the practical hero it claims to be.

Sustainable brands often push thick cottons, heavy denims, and stiff linens. Pretty, yes. Breathable? Not really.

Global reports praise rental fashion, vintage hauls, and circular wardrobes. But for many Malaysians, shopping still means visiting a store, checking fabric quality in person, and making sure it fits, and fits the weather. Plus, let’s be honest: a lot of “ethical” clothing still costs way more than most people can afford.

But the story is shifting, and a big part of that shift is happening online.

On TikTok and Instagram, young Malaysian influencers are starting to change the conversation. Some are calling out greenwashing, explaining what terms like “organic” or “recycled” really mean, and sharing alternatives from small local labels that use eco-friendly materials or fair labour. Their content isn’t just stylish, it’s also educational. As Ray & Nayak (2023) highlight, influencers play a key role in shaping how sustainability is seen by younger audiences and turning awareness into action.

This is one way digital citizenship shows up today. It’s not just about activism or protest, it’s also about how we use social media to make smarter choices and support better industries. It’s about influence being used for good.

And it matters in Malaysia. Online shopping is rising fast here, and platforms like Instagram and Shopee are shaping fashion trends and buying habits more than ever (bin Abdul Lasi et al., 2021). If influencers push for ethical, climate-friendly options, that pressure can actually lead to change.

The problem was never that people didn’t care. It’s that slow fashion didn’t always care about us, our heat, our budgets, our lives.

So the real question isn’t just “Is it sustainable?” It’s: Is it breathable? Is it inclusive? Is it honest? 🍃☀️

References:

bin Abdul Lasi, M., Halabi, K. N. M., Jantan, A. H., & Azahari, M. H. (2021). Marketing technologies and its effect towards online purchasing behaviour of fashion consumers in malaysia. Rigeo, 11(12).

Being online today is about more than just scrolling, watching, or liking. It’s about using your voice. To me, digital citizenship means understanding that what we do online, even small actions like reposting, sharing a story, or using a hashtag, can have real impact in the world.

One strong example of this is the #MeToo movement. It started as a hashtag to raise awareness about sexual harassment and assault. But it quickly became something much bigger. Millions of people, mostly women, shared their stories and experiences. Many of these stories had never been told before. The internet became a space for honesty, emotion, and community.

I think what made #MeToo powerful was how personal it was. People weren’t just repeating news headlines. They were sharing their own experiences in their own words. That helped others feel brave enough to speak up too. According to a study by Levy and Mattsson (2023), reports of sex crimes increased by 10% after the movement went viral, and that effect lasted for over two years. That shows how digital communities can support real-world change.

But online activism also has its challenges. Sometimes movements go viral and then fade away like a trend. Sometimes people jump in without understanding the full story. And not every voice gets the same attention, for example, stories from women of colour or from outside the West often don’t go as far. A study by Michael and Haller (2023) points out that media can shape these moments into dramatic “scandals,” which can be good for getting attention, but also risky for the people involved.

Even with all these issues, I think #MeToo showed how much power online platforms can have when people use them with purpose. Being a digital citizen isn’t just about protecting your privacy or posting safely, it’s also about standing up for what’s right and supporting others.

Last, I think it’s about choosing how we want to use our voice online.

I hope I could use mine to listen, try my best to speak up when needed, and to be part of something that matters 🩷

References:

Levy, R. E., & Mattsson, M. (2023). The effects of social movements: Evidence from# MeToo. Available at SSRN 3496903.

Love Island UK is one of those shows that’s hard to stop watching. It’s full of pretty people, sunny beaches, and lots of drama. But behind all the romance and arguments, the show is also a clever system made to get people talking, online and offline.

What makes Love Island so popular isn’t just the show itself. It’s everything that happens around it, like the memes, the fan pages, the tweets, and the endless comments. Fans become part of the story. We follow contestants like they’re our friends (or enemies), and talk about them like we know them. According to Deller (2019), this is how reality TV works today, viewers aren’t just watching, they’re involved.

But sometimes, it goes too far.

Fans online often take sides quickly. People get judged, criticised, or even bullied based on small parts of what we see on screen. Platforms like Reddit or TikTok can turn a contestant into a “hero” or a “villain” overnight. The show is edited in a certain way, but online fans take it further. As one article from L’Hoiry (n.d.) says, Love Island is successful not in spite of all this drama, but because of it.

From a business point of view, it makes sense. Reality shows are cheaper to produce than dramas, and fans help promote the show just by sharing clips and arguing online. It creates attention, which helps the show get more views, more ads, and more money.

Still, there’s a downside. Some contestants, especially those who look or act differently, often get more hate. It reminds me that the internet doesn’t treat everyone equally. Being “seen” can sometimes make people more vulnerable.

In the end, I think shows like Love Island make us think we’re in control, because we can vote or comment , but really, the show decides what we see. And that shapes how we talk, think, and react. It’s fun, but also a little uncomfortable when you look closer.

We think we’re in control, but the show decides what we see.

References

Deller, Ruth A, (2019) Extract:  'Chapter Six: Reality Television in an Age of Social Media' Download 'Chapter Six: Reality Television in an Age of Social Media' in Reality Television: The TV Phenomenon That Changed the World (Emerald Publishing). 

L’Hoiry, X. (2019). Love Island, Social media, and sousveillance: new pathways of challenging realism in reality TV. Frontiers in Sociology, 4. https://doi.org/10.3389/fsoc.2019.00059

When I scroll through social media, I see a pattern that’s hard to ignore. There are tons of posts, warnings, and advice aimed at women: 🔸 Don’t walk alone at night 🔸 Don’t wear this 🔸 Don’t drink too much 🔸 Don’t trust strangers

t’s everywhere, Instagram infographics, safety TikTok, even Tumblr threads. But what’s strange is this: almost no one is telling men not to hurt, not to harass, not to assault. The focus is always on what women should do to avoid danger, not on how to stop the people causing it.

Why?

It feels like online spaces have adopted the same ideas society has always pushed: that women are responsible for their own safety, even when the danger isn’t their fault. It’s like the internet just copied the same old rulebook, just with hashtags and pastel graphics.

One blog post I found really made me stop and think. The writer shared how, before her goddaughter went to college, she didn’t give advice about classes or careers, she gave tips on how not to get raped.

She said:

“Why are we taught how not to get raped, but no one teaches boys not to rape?”

That question has stuck with me ever since.

Platforms like Tumblr used to offer a space where women could challenge this double standard. Hashtags like #YesAllWomen became places where people shared the unfairness of living in fear. They talked about the small things, crossing the street when someone’s behind you, pretending to be on the phone, and how exhausting it is to live that way.

But even online, things aren’t equal. After Tumblr’s 2018 content ban, a lot of posts about feminism, sex education, and personal stories got taken down. These weren’t dangerous posts, they were honest and important. But still, they disappeared. As Seager (2024) writes, even platforms that seem progressive can still control and silence feminist voices, especially when they don’t fit into the “safe” or “acceptable” image platforms want to show.

To me, it’s clear: telling women how to stay safe is not enough. What we really need is for platforms, communities, and especially men to take more responsibility. Because women aren’t the problem, and they shouldn't be the only ones asked to change.

References:

Seager, R. (2024, December 9). Feminist Fandoms - NECSUS. NECSUS. https://necsus-ejms.org/feminist-fandoms/