89
easy to operate: you don’t need to download an app,
use a specific browser or operating system, or even
have an account. The company’s cloud-based opera-
tion allowed it to scale relatively seamlessly. Virtual
backgrounds lend both novelty and privacy.
A snowballing effect fueled momentum: the more
users signed onto Zoom, wrote trend pieces, created
Zoom memes and saw it being used on TV, the more
others gravitated toward the platform. It didn’t hurt
that the once ubiquitous Skype had stagnated as its
parent company Microsoft prioritized another video
platform, Teams, or that young people were already
familiar with the platform, thanks to its presence in
educational institutions.
Zoom may have been boosted by its very name—
crisp, familiar and informal, with positive connota-
tions. “I’ve never seen anything happen so fast,” says
Carmen Fought, a linguistics professor at Pitzer Col-
lege in California, “but it’s never been the case that
everybody needed a word for something all at the
same time.”
Professional sectors were the first to adapt to
Zoom en masse. By June, 42% of the U.S. labor force
was working from home full time, according to a
Stanford study. Big banking and international busi-
nesses turned to Zoom in droves; so did 125,000
K-12 schools, partially because Yuan offered them
the platform for free.
Zoom also became a lifeline for fostering com-
munity at a moment of acute isolation. Sprawling
video parties broke out every weekend, including
Club Quarantine, a queer virtual Toronto nightclub
that blossomed into an international phenomenon.
On Saturday nights, stars like Charli XCX and Lady
Gaga stopped by to cavort with hundreds of revel-
ers, including those with disabilities who had pre-
viously been shut out of nightlife culture. “Acces-
sibility has been a gap in the industry. It wasn’t in
the forefront until we were all forced to be online,”
Ceréna, a co-founder of Club Quarantine, says.
But while some events moved smoothly to the
virtual world, other, weightier ones—like religious
ceremonies and funerals—proved more challenging.
When Estelle Kaufman, 92, died in San Antonio in
July, her grandson Brad and their Jewish temple or-
ganized a Zoom memorial service. The service went
off without a technical hitch: family and friends from
around the country tuned in, reminisced and shared
their pain. But Kaufman says their emotions were
somewhat dulled, the catharsis shallow. “It seemed
hard for some people to get out what they wanted to
say, because of the box they were locked in,” he says.
THE YEAR
IN ZOOM
Clockwise from top
left: A wedding in
New York; dancers of
the Bolshoi Theatre
in Moscow perform
in their homes; a
family in New York
celebrates their
child’s first birthday;
a church service in
Germany
THOMAS DWORZAK—MAGNUM PHOTOS (4)
