Silvia Semenzin’s new book, “Internet isn’t a place for women,” lands like both a warning and a call to arms. For Princess‑Daisy readers who juggle social feeds, shopping apps and the occasional digital detox, this is essential reading: Semenzin maps how the promise of an open, democratic internet has been hollowed out by male‑dominated design, biased algorithms and online cultures that too often reproduce real‑world misogyny. As Daisy, I want to translate that urgency into practical takeaways — why this matters for our daily lives, and what we can do to reclaim digital spaces.
From early computing pioneers to today’s gender gap
Semenzin reminds us of a surprising historical twist: computing and early information systems benefited from significant contributions by women. Over time, however, as tech industrialised and monetised, leadership, product teams and platform policies skewed heavily male. That shift shaped priorities — what gets built, who’s visible, whose safety matters — and established norms that now hide behind the seemingly neutral language of “algorithms” and “data.”
Algorithms: not neutral, never neutral
At the heart of the book is a simple but vital point: algorithms learn from data that reflects human society — with all its biases. Recommendations, ranking systems, content moderation and ad targeting therefore often replicate and amplify gendered prejudices. Practically, that can mean lower visibility for women creators, disproportionate harassment, or advertising systems that assume men are the default. Semenzin pulls these abstract mechanisms into sharp relief, showing how design choices translate into everyday exclusions.
Online cultures and the rise of toxic communities
Semenzin does not shy from the darkest corners of the web. She documents communities — notably incel subcultures — that organise around resentment, misogyny and, in some cases, violence. These groups don’t exist in a vacuum: they exploit platform affordances (anonymity, algorithmic amplification, weak moderation) to recruit, coordinate and radicalise. For women who use the internet for work, creativity or social life, the implications are profound: our safety, mental health and freedom of expression are at stake.
Why this matters to our everyday life
The internet is no longer an optional sphere of leisure. It shapes employment opportunities, political participation, access to services and even healthcare information. When digital systems and platforms systematically disadvantage women — by making their voices less visible, their data less protected, or their safety less prioritized — inequality migrates into every corner of life. Semenzin’s argument is urgent because the stakes are not theoretical: they’re practical and immediate.
Practical steps women can take now
These are not silver bullets, but they’re realistic, empowering practices women can adopt while broader systemic reforms are pursued.
What Semenzin asks of institutions and designers
Beyond individual measures, the book insists on structural change. Semenzin calls for algorithmic audits, transparency requirements, gender‑balanced design teams and enforceable moderation standards that treat harassment and gendered harm as priorities. She argues that policy, product and public funding must align: building a safer, fairer web requires regulation that enforces transparency and accountability, not just voluntary pledges.
Imagining alternative digital futures
One of the book’s most hopeful threads is its insistence that another internet is possible. Semenzin encourages women to “repopulate” tech — to learn, build and imagine alternative imaginaries for digital platforms. This ranges from community‑driven social apps to feminist design frameworks that centre care, accessibility and representative governance. It’s a creative and political project: changing the web’s defaults by changing who designs them.
How Princess‑Daisy readers can get involved
“Internet isn’t a place for women” is at once a diagnosis and a manual for resistance. For those of us who use the web to shop, create, parent, campaign or connect, Semenzin’s book is an invitation to move from passive consumption to active shaping. The internet reflects who builds it — and by expanding that diverse community of builders and decision‑makers, we can begin to tilt the culture and policies that currently exclude so many voices. That’s not just desirable: it’s essential — for equality online and off.
