A Social Experiment: Notes from the Frontlines of Fanbase and the Psychology of Social Audio
By DaniMarie
It’s been nearly a year since I first jumped head-first into the social audio streets of Fanbase—wide-eyed, voice-ready, and full of fire. Back then, I was charged up. I came in hot, pitching new ideas, building community, and making room for voices I knew deserved amplification. It felt like the early days of any movement: electric, promising, urgent.
But somewhere along the way, the electricity turned into static.
This isn’t a sob story or a sub. This is a social experiment. One where the platform is the lab, the users are the subjects, and the psychology of how people show up in spaces—especially Black-led ones—is what I’ve been quietly studying.
The Fanbase Field Study: 5 Types of Users
If I had to categorize the humans of Fanbase, I’d say they fall into five primary groups:
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The Firestarters: They come in excited, loaded with ideas, ready to build. But quickly learn the app is already directed by a visionary founder—and there’s limited room for additional shaping. That spark either fades... or fizzles into frustration.
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The Critics: Loud. Confrontational. Always ready to challenge leadership and name what’s wrong. Sometimes necessary, but often exhausting.
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The Peek-a-Boos: They pop in, pop out. They're watching. Waiting. Observing the shift—but rarely invested.
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The Loyalists: They've staked their claim. They have their room, their crew, and they’re clocking in like it’s a 9-5. These are the community’s backbone—even when the platforms hits rough patches.
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The Investors (with Expectations): The current investment floor is $399, but some folks walk in with that check and expect $25K-level results overnight. They’re vocal, heavily opinionated, and often laser-focused on timelines and ROI—sometimes at odds with the natural pace of tech development or community growth.
It’s an interesting layer to witness financial buy-in doesn’t always equal understanding of startup culture—or grace for Black-led innovation trying to scale with limited resources.
I’ve seen each of these personas in action. I’ve probably been a few of them at different points. And it’s all part of what makes Fanbase—and any social audio space—a fascinating human case study.
When Passion Turns to Pause
I stopped showing up every day. Not because I didn’t care, but because I did—too much. The more emotionally invested I became, the more I started noticing how hard it is to maintain momentum when your efforts feel like they exist on the fringe of influence. Fanbase is led by someone with a strong vision—which I respect. But strong vision can sometimes mean closed feedback loops. Especially when that feedback comes from people outside the inner circle.
And still, out of nowhere, someone recently shouted me out in a room. Someone I didn’t even know was watching. Someone who felt helped. That moment mattered. Because it reminded me that while the system may not always acknowledge you, the people often do. (P.S. I’m still sharing a free welcome gift—packed with essential resources to jumpstart your content creation journey, including tips, ideas, templates, and tools to elevate your social audio presence.)
Leadership, Access & Identity
The dynamic between users and platform leadership on Fanbase is unique—especially because it’s Black-led. Isaac is present. Visible. Accessible. And because of that, users feel entitled to a level of feedback and responsiveness that other platforms never offer.
But presence is not permission.
And proximity doesn’t equal policy.
It’s a delicate balance. And when leadership feels close, but decisions feel far away, tension brews. The social psychology of access and perceived control hits hard in Black spaces—especially when we’re used to being shut out elsewhere.
The Tech Treadmill
Add to all of this: bugs, crashes, lagging growth, and looming competitors with billion-dollar budgets (Substack, TikTok, etc.). Fanbase isn’t just building a platform—they’re racing against giants. And many of us are watching to see if they’ll hit their stride or collapse under the weight of expectation and tech fatigue.
Final Thoughts: The Real Experiment
What happens when you give a community a mic, a room, and a founder who might actually listen? What happens when that same community brings its trauma, passion, ego, brilliance, and burnout into one live stream?
You get a social experiment.
You get Fanbase.
I’m not here to bash or beg. I’m just documenting the patterns. Studying the culture. And maybe, just maybe, sparking the kind of reflection that makes us all ask better questions—not just about the platform, but about ourselves.
If you’ve been part of this experiment—whether front row or from the balcony—I’d love to hear your reflections. Drop a comment, share your story, or repost this for someone else who’s been asking “Is it just me?”
Because no, it’s not just you.
A Personal Note:
I want to extend my deep appreciation to everyone who offered kind words and support during my time of grief. Your messages didn’t go unnoticed. For those who have followed my journey more closely, I’ve been documenting the past ten weeks in full transparency on Fanbase Exclusive. It’s a space where I’ve chosen to share what couldn’t fit into status updates—raw, reflective, and real-time. Thank you for holding space for me there.
#SocialExperiment, #FanbaseVoices, #SocialAudio, #DigitalCommunity, #BlackTech, #CreatorCulture, #PlatformPsychology #Itisidanimarie #Fanbase #CreatorElevation
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