I’ve spent almost two decades working in social media.
I’ve built campaigns that reached millions of people. I’ve helped brands find their voice in increasingly crowded spaces. I’ve been in the rooms where the industry reflects on itself, and where I’ve helped inform how government, influencers, regulators, and the platforms themselves understand and shape the space. All of this means that I spend a lot of time thinking about social media – how people use it, the spaces we create, and the communities we raise.
Participatory social media, where audiences are active to create, shape, discuss and influence something tangible – art, ideas, processes, products, knowledge exchange, experiences, spaces, philosophies, cultural storytelling, lore, fandoms, the list is long – is my favourite version of what social media can be. It’s the most powerful for brands and creators, it’s the most engaging for audiences, and it’s the version that enables the formation of true and meaningful online communities.
Which is why this reflection starts somewhere slightly unexpected.
Please stay with me on this.
Many years ago, I was sucked into the vortex of Bravo TV’s magnum opus, OG Vanderpump Rules. I longed for someone to discuss the show with. None of my friends were fans, and so I had to venture to the r/vanderpumprules subreddit to find my community.
One of the best things about Reddit was when, every now and then, one of the VPR cast members would randomly appear in a thread and respond directly within the fan discussions. Not as a polished version of themselves, but as a person, in the same space as everyone else. Fans would collectively lose their minds when this happened, relishing the opportunity to be in hallowed digital proximity to Ariana Madix or Katie Maloney, and to have the chance to ask them directly if it was, in fact, actually ‘about the pasta’.
That shift in access changed the experience. The show was no longer something people just watched, but rather something many felt adjacent to. Something you could engage with, even if you were only observing. And looking back, what made those moments significant wasn’t just the access but also the community built on shared foundations: fans who recognised Scheana Shay’s ‘Good As Gold’ for the banger that it is, and who would only finish the sentence ‘I don’t know what I’ve done to you …’ with ‘but I’ll take a pinot grigio’.
It’s Not Just That We’re Closer
Social media collapses distance. It brings creators closer to audiences, institutions closer to individuals, ideas closer to the people who want to engage with them.
You can see this everywhere. Professors sharing research on YouTube that would otherwise sit behind academic walls. Museums located oceans and air miles away, using Instagram Stories to debut and tour exhibits. Venues streaming live performances to Twitch. Health professionals using TikTok to speak on topics like mental health and sexual safety, that perhaps once felt inaccessible or uncomfortable for some. All of that creates proximity, but proximity alone does not create something meaningful.
We have all seen close access used in ways that still feel distant. Content that reaches people without really involving them. Information that is technically available but not truly inviting. So something else has to be present to make it a moment that brings people together.
Intent Is What Gives Proximity Meaning
What made those Reddit moments feel different was not just that a cast member showed up, but rather how they showed up. There was a sense of good faith in the interactions. A willingness to meet people where they were, rather than managing the conversation from above it. Treating the space as shared rather than owned.
That same dynamic is what separates participatory social media from everything else. It is the difference between:
- answering and acknowledging
- sharing and inviting
- being visible and being present
When intent is grounded in curiosity, openness, and a genuine interest in exchange, proximity starts to work differently. People do not just receive what is put in front of them. They feel able to question it, build on it, sit with it, or return to it. This is the version of social media that I actively help my partners to build.
What This Looks Like In Practice
You can see this combination of proximity and intent in how certain brands design ongoing behaviours.
With LEGO, participation is built into recurring formats. Their social channels regularly spotlight fan creations through community highlights and creator features, and they amplify builds that originate outside the brand. The LEGO Ideas platform extends this further, where fan submissions are voted on and can become official products. Social media then reinforces that loop by recognising the people behind the ideas, not just the ideas themselves. Over time, this creates an expectation that contribution is not only welcome, but valued.
With Canva, participation is shaped through accessibility and visibility. Their content consistently reflects how people are actually using the product, from templates to creator spotlights to seasonal design challenges. The effect is cumulative. It signals that design is not reserved for a few, and that contribution at any level has a place. People are not just consuming ideas, they are seeing themselves within them.
With Figma, participation is embedded more deeply into the ecosystem. Community files are shared, remixed, and built upon in public. Designers regularly post work in progress, invite feedback, and contribute to shared resources that others can extend. Events like Config then carry those ideas into broader conversations that continue across social platforms. The brand amplifies this behaviour, but does not try to control it. The community drives it forward.
Alongside these brand-led examples, there is a growing layer of creators and organisations opening up their process and knowledge in ways that feel both practical and generous.
Audio producers like Kenneth Blume (Kenny Beats) break down how tracks are made using minimal setups, removing some of the intimidation that surrounds music production. Artists like Finneas O’Connell have shown how widely recognised work can come from small, home-based environments, walking through decisions in a way that makes the process feel accessible.
In filmmaking, creators such as Mark Bone and Danny Gevirtz focus less on polished outcomes and more on how things are made. Lighting, framing, constraints and trade-offs are explained in a way that invites others to try, rather than simply observe.
And in a different but equally important way, organisations like Crisis Text Line use social media to reduce barriers to support. By explaining what reaching out looks like, what conversations involve, and how to seek help when needed, they make something that can feel uncertain or intimidating more approachable. The participation here is not about content creation, but about access. About making it easier for someone to take a step they might otherwise avoid.
Across all of these examples, the pattern is consistent. Knowledge is not treated as something to hold back. It is shared in a way that assumes curiosity and invites engagement.
That assumption changes how people show up. They are not just watching a finished product, they are being brought into the thinking behind it. Even if they never contribute visibly, their understanding deepens. The work feels closer, more accessible, and more human.
Participation, in this sense, is not always about visible contribution. It is about being invited into the process. It is about reducing the distance between how something is made, understood, or experienced, and the people encountering it.
This is where proximity and intent come together most clearly. Not as an abstract idea, but as something that plays out in small, practical ways across different corners of social media every day.
Participation Requires Good Faith
Participatory spaces rely on a shared understanding that people are there not just to extract value, but to exchange it. That questions are welcome, that ideas can be explored, that contributions, even small ones, are acknowledged. It does not mean everything is perfect or always positive, but there is an underlying sense that the space is being shaped with care.
That intent is felt, even if it is not explicitly stated. And when it is present, it changes how people behave. They stay longer. They return. They pay closer attention.
Why This Still Feels Worth Holding Onto
There is a lot of valid criticism of social media, and much of it comes from how proximity is used without that underlying intent. When access is high, but care is low, the experience can feel transactional, or sometimes even unsafe. But that is not the only way these platforms can function.
There are still people using them to open things up, to share knowledge more freely, to create space for curiosity and thought exchange. To make others feel seen, included, or able to contribute. We see it in meaningful contexts, in education, in health, in culture, in creativity. That does not happen by accident, and it still feels like something worth building towards.
Claire Joachim | Managing Director
P.S.: If the name ‘Madison Marie Parks-Valletta’ means anything to you, then we were probably in the same subreddits circa 2013, and you should send me an email.