Snapping Into Isolation: How We Lost Community at the Tipping Point of Change
Exploring the parallels between domestic violence, government tactics, and the fight for true community and liberation in a digital age
I had this one just waiting because I know abuse when I see it. Take a breath, drink some water, and move your body.
The disintegration of social connections—both online and offline—is not an accident. It’s a tactic as old as control itself. Watching the world around us unravel, where once-thriving platforms like TikTok are threatened with disappearance, mutuals and friends dissolve into digital dust, and social bonds feel increasingly fragile, one can’t help but see parallels to the isolating dynamics of domestic violence. These same tactics are now playing out on a systemic level, creating a perfect storm of disconnection right as we face a critical political and social shift.
This severing isn’t just about algorithms or government policies; it’s about how isolation keeps people controllable. In domestic violence, abusers separate victims from their support networks to ensure their dependency and compliance. On a societal scale, we’re witnessing something eerily similar. We’re being severed from each other, right when we most need true community and collective resistance.
And yet, as Americans, we’ve long harbored the belief that we can "save the world." It’s a saviorist mindset rooted in supremacy culture, where the illusion of global intervention distracts from the fact that we can’t even save ourselves. This is the same mentality I challenge in anti-racism work when I tell people:
Start with your own community. Start with yourself. Until we dismantle the hierarchies within, we can’t possibly build something better outside.
The Recipe for Isolation: A Systemic Tactic
When we consider how systemic oppression works, it becomes clear that isolation is intentional. In a political landscape teetering on the edge of transformation, the goal isn’t just control—it’s to prevent connection. Connection is dangerous to systems of power because it breeds accountability, solidarity, and action.
The disappearance of community spaces—whether physical or digital—serves to fracture movements. Platforms like TikTok, despite their flaws, became hubs for organizing, storytelling, and collective education. Their potential erasure is not just about privacy or policy; it’s about breaking the bonds of mutual care and understanding. Without connection, resistance weakens.
This mirrors the tactics of domestic violence abusers: isolate, control, silence. The parallels are chilling. Just as survivors need support networks to escape abuse, we, as a society, need true community to escape the cycles of systemic harm.
Saviorism: A Distraction from Internal Healing
There’s a saying I often use in my anti-racism work: You can’t dismantle systems you’re still invested in. This is especially true of saviorism, a cornerstone of supremacy culture. Americans have long operated under the illusion that we can "save" others while neglecting the harm within our own borders.
This saviorism isn’t altruism—it’s control dressed as benevolence. We see it in how the U.S. positions itself as a global leader while failing to address the inequities in healthcare, education, housing, and community safety at home. It’s a pattern I see in anti-racism spaces as well, where people jump to “fix” others without doing the work of unlearning their own biases or examining the systems they benefit from.
To truly dismantle supremacy culture, we must let go of saviorism and turn inward. Liberation begins with self-reflection, with recognizing the ways we’ve internalized hierarchies and control. Only then can we build the kind of intentional, intersectional communities that liberation demands.
How the Government Mirrors Cycles of Domestic Violence: TikTok as a Case Study
Control thrives on disconnection. Whether it’s in abusive relationships or oppressive systems, the playbook remains the same: destabilize, isolate, and manipulate until dependency is the only option. The TikTok ban and its sudden reversal are more than a political maneuver—they’re a reflection of how systems of power mirror the cycles of abuse, leaving people destabilized and reliant on those in control.
For many, this moment activated something deeper than frustration. The emotional whiplash of having connection threatened and then “restored” mirrored the tactics of domestic violence. It also revealed the fragility of systems we rely on to build community and sustain ourselves. By looking at these patterns through the lens of domestic violence and decolonization, we can better understand how these dynamics operate—and how to break free.
The "Snap" as a Metaphor for Isolation and Control
The sudden threat of losing TikTok, a platform that connects millions, felt like a snap—a moment of disintegration that disrupted connection, community, and expression. For marginalized creators, small businesses, and activists, TikTok is more than entertainment; it’s a vital space for visibility, solidarity, and survival. The looming ban was a stark reminder of how easily systems of power can sever those connections.
This tactic mirrors the dynamics of domestic violence, where isolation is a deliberate strategy. In abusive relationships, the abuser isolates their victim from friends and family to maintain control. On a systemic level, governments and institutions use similar tactics to weaken resistance. By threatening to erase platforms like TikTok, they disrupt networks of solidarity, making collective action harder to sustain.
Historical Parallels: Colonization relied on isolation to destabilize communities. Indigenous peoples were removed from their lands, separated from their families, and stripped of cultural practices to fracture resistance. Similarly, the TikTok ban aimed to disrupt a space where marginalized communities have built resilience and power.
When connection is severed, people are left scrambling for alternatives, often turning back to the very systems that caused the harm. This is how control is maintained—not just through the initial act of disconnection but through the dependency it creates.
Global Saviorism vs. Local Neglect
In the justification for the TikTok ban, we see a familiar narrative: the U.S. government positioning itself as the savior, acting in the name of “national security.” This echoes a broader pattern of global saviorism, where America often prioritizes control over genuine care, focusing on global influence while neglecting systemic issues at home.
This saviorism is deeply rooted in supremacy culture. It’s the same mindset that fuels performative allyship in anti-racism work—offering surface-level solutions while avoiding the harder work of addressing internalized hierarchies. Just as abusers claim their control is for the victim’s benefit, the U.S. government framed its actions around TikTok as protective. In reality, the ban was a distraction from the government’s own failures to address data privacy, corporate accountability, and equitable digital spaces.
Colonial Connections: This savior narrative is not new. Colonizers often positioned themselves as benevolent protectors, claiming to “civilize” those they oppressed. In both cases, the focus on saving others distracts from the harm being perpetuated by the savior’s own actions.
True liberation requires turning inward, addressing the systemic inequities within before attempting to project power outward. It also requires rejecting the false narrative of protection when it’s being used to mask control.
Lessons from Anti-Racism Work
Anti-racism education offers an important lesson: you cannot dismantle external systems of oppression without first addressing the hierarchies within. This applies to both interpersonal dynamics and systemic relationships. Performative allyship, like performative governance, fails to create meaningful change. Instead, it reinforces dependency and perpetuates harm.
Accountability vs. Performance: Just as allyship fails when it centers the ally’s comfort over community accountability, the government’s actions with TikTok fail to address the root issues. Surveillance, censorship, and control remain intact, even as the ban is reversed. These performative gestures create the illusion of freedom while maintaining the structures of harm.
The work of anti-racism—and decolonization—teaches us that true liberation is rooted in intentional, intersectional communities. Whether in personal relationships or systemic dynamics, connection must be built on care, accountability, and mutuality—not control.
The Need for True Connection
Liberation begins with connection. Systems of power, whether abusive partners or colonial governments, thrive on disconnection and dependency. To break free, we must return to collective care and community, creating networks that cannot be controlled or disrupted by those in power.
Decolonization as a Blueprint: Decolonization offers a path forward. It’s about reclaiming relationships—between people, communities, and the land—that have been severed by systems of harm. It teaches us that autonomy and connection are not opposites; they are interdependent.
Building Alternatives: Apps like Zello and Briar, mutual aid networks, and local organizing efforts provide examples of decentralized connection. These tools remind us that true community is not a commodity—it’s a collective resource.
As TikTok users faced the possibility of losing access, many began to imagine what connection might look like beyond centralized platforms. This moment is an opportunity to build systems of care and communication that are resilient, rooted in autonomy, and resistant to control.
True Connection Beyond Control
What does true connection look like? It’s more than digital mutuals or performative allyship. It’s rooted in accountability, care, and shared purpose. It’s the antithesis of isolation—it’s interdependence.
True community can’t be built through systems that prioritize profit or power. It must exist beyond the control of governments, algorithms, or institutions. This is why I center community in my work, whether it’s through decolonized parenting circles, healing retreats, or the LIBERATE Framework™. It’s why I remind people that liberation isn’t just about breaking systems—it’s about building something better together.
A Call to Action
The TikTok ban and reversal are more than a political game—they are a reflection of the cycles of control that shape our systems and relationships. To break free, we must challenge these dynamics at every level.
Reflect on Your Role: What does true connection look like in your life? How can you foster relationships that are rooted in care, accountability, and liberation?
Invest in Community: Support and participate in networks that prioritize collective well-being over profit or power. Explore decentralized communication tools and local organizing efforts.
Reject the Cycle: Name the harm, reclaim your autonomy, and work toward building systems that are rooted in mutual care—not dependency.
True connection cannot thrive under control. It must be built intentionally, through relationships that prioritize care, accountability, and freedom.
A Call to Reconnect
We are at a tipping point. As the digital and physical spaces that connect us dissolve, we have a choice to make: Will we accept isolation, or will we fight for connection?
This isn’t just a question for activists or educators. It’s a question for everyone who has ever felt the ache of disconnection, the longing for community, the hope for something better. We can’t save the world until we save ourselves—and saving ourselves begins with reconnecting, not just to others but to the parts of us that have been fractured by systems of harm.
Let this be a call to action. Build true community, beyond the reach of control. Foster relationships that are rooted in care and accountability. And most importantly, remember: Liberation begins with connection.
How the Government Mirrors Cycles of Domestic Violence: TikTok as a Case Study
Abuse isn’t confined to relationships—it’s a pattern that extends into systems of power. The cycles of domestic violence—control, manipulation, fear, and coerced dependency—are echoed in how governments exercise authority over the people they claim to serve. The recent TikTok ban and reversal are a glaring example of how these cycles play out on a systemic level, activating trauma and reinforcing dependency.
By looking at the dynamics of domestic violence, we can see how these patterns are superimposed onto the relationship between the government and its citizens. The TikTok saga provides a case study in how control is wielded, destabilizing trust and exploiting our reliance on connection.