Social media is having a disaster of id. In the 15 months since a change of ownership rocked the muse of Twitter—now confusingly rebranded X—opponents have scrambled to rekindle the attract and affect of the platform that first reshaped, then outlined, and finally dominated the net social universe of the 2010s. Almost all have failed, and the reason being easy: None of them are Twitter.

“I’ve told myself several times that I would get off Twitter, but 15 years later, and I’m still on the app,” says Kary Jackson, who joined the platform in 2009 after a pal created an account for him. “I was sitting in one of my marketing classes in undergrad, and I got this BBM [BlackBerry Messenger message] from my best friend. Not knowing who or what Twitter was, I logged in. My very first tweet was ‘How do you use this?’”

Like most customers, Jackson rapidly tailored to its rhythms, and located camaraderie amongst like-minded Black customers, a lot of whom have been forging what would quickly be often called Black Twitter, the platform’s artistic and cultural engine. What initially fascinated Jackson in regards to the service—live-tweeting, bonding over shared experiences, and the audacious honesty of its customers, a number of of whom have been experimenting with new codes of expression—can also be what has saved him on the platform as continued adjustments, from a rise in advertisements to the delegitimization of reports, have soured its utility below the possession of Elon Musk. “As insufferable as Twitter has become, it’s still very important,” he says. “When major events happen, whether it’s dealing with our nation, or even pop culture, Twitter is always my go-to source for real-time updates.”

Jackson isn’t alone. The reported mind drain of customers has appeared to have minimal consequence on the boulevard of Black Twitter, the place first-wave customers share a way of possession over the platform. “I’m not letting no white man run me off this app. We built this shit, brick by brick,” consumer @fabfreshandfly tweeted just lately.

“X’s user base and monthly visits have declined somewhat since the takeover, but the magnitude of those declines has been moderate,” says Deen Freelon, a professor of communication on the University of Pennsylvania who makes a speciality of computational social science. “Some evidence suggests that the declines are mostly due to fewer new users joining the platform as opposed to longtime users abandoning it. X still seems to have quite a vibrant Black community, and I can’t say I’ve noticed fundamental shifts in its collective behavior.”

Fundamental shifts—no. What has occurred, as an alternative, is a renewed emphasis on creating areas of mundane connection inside the platform’s more and more disordered ecosystem. “We are still here, thriving through the apocalypse by supporting each other and laughing at nonsense,” consumer @PaperWhispers tweeted final week.

Alterations to the algorithm and a laissez-faire method to moderation have lent X an air of sustained mayhem. Black Twitter, although, is unbothered. Many customers have doubled down on nourishing areas of enjoyment amid the lawlessness taking place throughout the timeline. “I still look forward to live-tweeting my weekly shows, live-tweeting award ceremonies, and engaging with my mutuals,” says Jackson, who lives in Houston and works in human assets. More just lately, he’s seen that there are moments when Black Twitter feels harking back to less complicated instances. “Black Twitter is gatekeeping harder than ever, which I love. There’s a certain sector that does not allow Black Twitter to be infiltrated. I absolutely love when outsiders get whacked over the head, and everyone else just follows suit. We really are like a family.”