Why I Chose to Study MA Global Media and Digital Communications at SOAS
Why I Chose to Study MA Global Media and Digital Communications at SOAS
Lilato Madiri
Since 2017, I have been working in community management, building digital networks and nurtured spaces for brands across various industries—engaging people at the intersection of culture, communication, activism, and commercialisation.
Looking back now, this involvement gave me first-hand experience of how digital media and online communities were reimagining the structures of voice, visibility, and power. But something kept tugging at me: a desire to ground what I was doing in a broader global and historical context—especially as we’ve been living through such wild, historic, and culture-shifting times.
I returned to academia because I truly believed we were experiencing a turning point. In my view, the West was finally waking up to the realities that the global majority and its diaspora have long known. That kind of collective rupture—particularly the heartbreak of 2020 and the Black Lives Matter movement—created a sense of urgency. As a Zimbabwean woman in the diaspora, I needed tools not just to react to what was happening, but to understand it, name it, and imagine alternatives. Because for the most part, I am an optimist.
If I was going back to study, it had to be at one place and one place only. I didn’t want to study media through a Western lens—so it was a clear yes to SOAS.
Why Studying Media Now Matters More Than Ever
We’re in a media moment like no other. TikTok, clickbait headlines, AI-generated misinformation, “bros” with podcasts, Patreon, streaming—everything is contested, and everything is up for grabs. Media literacy can no longer be optional. It must be foundational—taught early, taught often, and taught critically.
Media power and resistance have always been intertwined. Look at who gets silenced and who gets platformed, and you’ll understand a society’s politics. If media is censored, so is dissent. If media is open, so is the path to liberation. That’s why media scholars can’t stay in their silos. We need to come online, create content, share knowledge, and meet people where they already are—on screens.
We are living through a profound media shift—one that is not only technological but also ideological, emotional, and political. The stories we tell, the platforms we use, and the voices we hear (or don’t hear) are all up for negotiation. In such a moment, studying media isn’t just relevant—it’s essential.
Today, the vast majority of people access news through social media platforms. TikTok, Instagram Reels, and short-form videos are overtaking traditional outlets in reach, particularly among younger generations. But this shift isn’t just about format. It marks a deep change in how people encounter truth, how attention is engineered, and how narratives are manipulated.
What used to be the domain of media professionals—fact-checking, source evaluation, long-form analysis—is now interwoven with entertainment, algorithms, and virality. We’re not just reading the news; we’re swiping past it. We’re laughing, crying, and scrolling through global crises without time to pause. And increasingly, even traditional outlets are adapting to these logics, employing clickbait headlines, meme aesthetics, and reactive content to stay visible.
Meanwhile, the rise of AI has introduced an even more insidious complication: what happens when you can’t trust that what you’re seeing even happened? With deepfakes, manipulated clips, and AI-generated “news,” the boundaries between real and fabricated are blurred. Context collapses. Memory becomes malleable. And in this state of confusion, disinformation flourishes.
This is why media literacy must become a priority—not just in universities, but in everyday life. We need critical media education that teaches not just how to use media, but why it matters who creates it, who funds it, and who benefits from its circulation. That kind of education cannot begin too early or be too widely available.
As a media student, especially one grounded in decolonial perspectives, I’ve come to see that power operates not only through what we are allowed to see, but through the frameworks we are taught to interpret it. That’s why I care deeply about the intersection of media, memory, and marginality. In a digital world moving at relentless speed, memory is at risk. And when memory fades, so does accountability.
The danger isn’t just forgetting the past—it’s letting someone else rewrite it. A truth and pain many around the world know too well.
When you grow up diasporic, like I did, you often live with fractured narratives: songs you remember that your siblings don’t, political events that feel personal but are unarchived, cultural touchpoints that mean everything in one space but are unintelligible in another. That’s what digital media has the power to do at scale—offer fragmented timelines where people experience the same event in entirely different ways. It’s not just about fake news. It’s about fractured truth.
This is where media and resistance intersect.
Studying media through a critical lens helped me understand that censorship, silencing, and propaganda are not just things that happen “elsewhere.” They’re baked into the architecture of media itself—into what gets funded, whose stories get algorithmically boosted, and whose pain gets turned into content.
If media reflects a society’s politics, then a society with restrictive, polarised, or manipulated media is likely experiencing the same at a governmental level. Media doesn’t just reflect the state—it often prefigures it.
So we, as students and scholars, have a responsibility. We can’t afford to stay holed up in academic institutions writing essays no one reads. If media is going digital, then scholarship must follow. We need critical voices—those with training, context, and care—to enter the public arena and meet people where they are. Education, especially in media, cannot be gatekept any longer.
I would love to see more of my professors online, offering short videos or open-access resources. I want institutions like SOAS to extend their critical frameworks to wider audiences. There is a real hunger for context, for analysis, for nuance—and right now, much of that space is being filled by influencers with opinions, not scholars with experience. And that has consequences.
Social media has given us the illusion that everyone’s voice holds equal weight. But a loud voice is not the same as an informed one. The most dangerous thing about the current media climate isn’t disagreement—it’s when misinformation is wrapped in confidence and sold as fact.
There are so many accessible courses on how to go viral or how to profit from being online—but very few about how to understand media systems themselves. That’s why studying media now is about more than understanding content creation or communication strategies. It’s about understanding how power works. It’s about who gets to shape the collective memory of this moment, and how we resist attempts to erase, distort, or silence it.
This work isn’t optional. It’s survival.
What’s Next: On Diaspora, Memory, and Decolonial Media
In my Masters dissertation, I explore gatekeeping as a decolonial practice in digital diasporic media. I looked at how BIPOC creators are resisting platform invisibility – building new models for community, care, and content on their own terms.
What I’ve come to believe deeply is that memory is fragile, and the pace of digital media can erase it before it even settles. We’re living side by side with people who remember the same events differently—or not at all—because of the digital timelines they inhabit. So the work of archiving, of documenting, of resisting forgetting, has never been more urgent.
I want to be part of a media practice that holds memory—across generations, across platforms. And studying media at this critical juncture has made that not only part of my awareness, but part of my responsibility.
Why SOAS
When I came to SOAS, I didn’t have a specific end goal in mind. I came for the experience, the exposure, the language to understand the world differently. I came for the vibes—and I wasn’t disappointed.
Studying as a postgraduate is a unique experience. I cherished the generational and cultural differences within my cohort, even though I wish there had been more bonding across groups. I think that was partly shaped by timetabling and the split between home and international students. But I found connection through other spaces.
The SOAS Feminist Society helped me find a sense of community when I felt isolated. I also appreciated how my research—centred on diasporic voices—was not something I had to justify. It mattered by default. The environment made that possible. It wasn’t an echo chamber—race, religion, class, and gender all still played a role—but it was a place where people genuinely cared.
To anyone considering SOAS, I say: do it. Be bold. Be open. Read widely. Think critically. And go all in.
If I had to describe my year at SOAS in one word?
Unfurling—a slow, radical untethering into something freer.
Bio
Lilato Madiri is pursuing an MA in Global Media and Digital Communications at SOAS. Zimbabwean born, raised and based in the UK, she is passionate about diasporic media, decolonial storytelling, and digital community-building. Outside of her studies she is a Freelance Community Manager, and building NHAKA – a new-gen beauty space rooted in heritage and culture.