YouTube have at this point become known for taking the uncontroversial moral stance on terms-of-service violations even when there’s little proof to back up their commitment. The platform served as the initial battleground for LGBT+ individuals, couples, and collectives to voice their grievances about their disillusion with mainstream media, and their videos have made it far easier a prospect for a youthful generation of LGBT+ people to come out, regardless of culture, provenance, religion, ethnicity, race, or any other identity marker. The message for LGBT+ unity was compelling because it was difference-agnostic, and its intersection with other forms of oppression only further emboldened that message of solidarity. For a while, people could comfortably say that their video sharing adventures were one of the only ways they could connect with a community they might’ve been isolated from, or otherwise felt not beholden to, but YouTube — this behemoth of a social sharing platform — has morphed into such a sharp recreation of our bleakest penchants for bigotry, that it has become impossible to ignore just how detrimental to queer people’s safety it has lately become. Not only in physical terms, but also in financial and emotional ones.
