Abstract
This article examines how Finnish young people (ages 16–19) navigate digital intimacy through voice, privacy, and platform use. Drawing on reflexive thematic analysis of asynchronous focus group discussions conducted on Discord, the study explores how participants manage exposure and vulnerability in digital spaces through selective boundary work. Voice, in particular, emerges as a key marker of intimacy and privacy: a conduit for affective connection, yet also a site of corporeal risk. The study proposes a relational framework, where privacy, intimacy, and voice are co-constitutive and introduces the concept of ‘intimacy architectures’ to describe how young people calibrate access and proximity across platforms. Findings show that youth strategically favour ephemeral, history-free communication tools, avoid sharing phone numbers, and resist voice-based interaction depending on cultural and linguistic context. These practices illustrate a nuanced negotiation of digital embodiment, identity, and control. The study contributes to emerging scholarship on sonic intimacy and offers new insights into youth digital culture in a datafied society.
Introduction
Ninety-eight percent of Finnish youth aged 16–24 use the web several times a day, and 92% engage with social media platforms (Official Statistics of Finland [OSF], 2020). For many, digital platforms have become primary spaces for social interaction, raising essential questions about how these environments shape their understanding of privacy and intimacy. This paper examines digital boundary work – both symbolic and concrete – within the private-intimate nexus of young Finnish individuals’ digital lives, exploring how they navigate matters perceived as private or intimate in online settings.
Using an inductive approach and reflexive thematic analysis, this study draws on semi-structured focus groups conducted via Discord with 17 young participants aged 16–19. It investigates how young people selectively use digital platforms to regulate access to their personal lives, manage online relationships, and maintain control over their personal information. In addition, this research expands the discourse on digital intimacy by examining the role of voice as a medium of closeness, connection, and community in digital spaces, as the idea of the specificity of physical voice emerged organically from participants. Through the concept of ‘sonic intimacies’ (Pettman, 2017), this article critically analyses how participants perceive and articulate the affective and relational dimensions of voice, such as voice notes, video/audio recordings shared on social media, and live voice interactions, in online communication.
This article argues that the research participants’ physical voice carries a profound sense of meaning in the public-private-intimate nexus in the digital lives of young Finnish individuals, shaping how these young people experience connection and self-expression. By analysing these articulations, this study contributes to broader discussions on intimacy in the context of a data-driven culture, offering new insights into the intersection of voice, digital communication, and affect.
To frame this analysis, the article introduces a relational perspective on privacy, intimacy, and voice, conceptualising them not as isolated elements but as dynamically co-constitutive. Voice, in particular, emerges as a boundary marker that both invites and resists intimacy: a conduit for affective connection that also reveals aspects of the self participants may wish to protect. Through this lens, the study explores how participants navigate digital intimacy via platform use and boundary-setting practices, culminating in what are described as ‘intimacy architectures’, contextual calibrations of access, exposure, and proximity across digital environments.
Research context
The rise of social media has transformed interpersonal relationships (Rosen, 2022), reshaping digital interactions and blurring boundaries between public and private spheres (Quinn & Papacharissi, 2018). Digitalisation has redefined intimacy, enabling emotional closeness without physical proximity (Koch & Miles, 2021). While constant connectivity fosters new forms of intimacy (Hobbs et al., 2017), it also raises complex questions about privacy, trust, and emotional connection. As technology evolves, so do the ways individuals navigate intimate relationships.
Extensive research has examined digital communication, intimacy, and privacy (e.g. Campbell, 2022; Chambers, 2013; Jamieson, 2013; Scarcelli & Mainardi, 2019; Thorhauge et al., 2020; Watson et al., 2021), with many studies exploring how individuals manage self-presentation and relationships online (e.g. Baym, 2015; boyd, 2014; Chambers, 2013; Kopecka-Piech & Sobiech, 2022). However, much of this scholarship on digital intimacy focuses on digital platforms’ impact on sexual practices and romantic relationships (e.g. Hobbs et al., 2017; Smith et al., 2019), often conflating intimacy with sexuality. Yet, as Paasonen et al. (2023) argue, intimacy extends beyond romantic and sexual dimensions. Although the term ‘intimacy’ is often associated with romantic and sexual relations, it also encompasses deeply personal and emotionally significant connections. Just as intimacy should not be reduced to its sexual dimensions, it also cannot be equated solely with private experiences.
While prior research has often treated privacy and intimacy as adjacent but distinct domains, this study follows scholars such as Marwick (2023) and Duguay (2022) in treating privacy not merely as a protective boundary but as an active, political, and affective negotiation. As Marwick (2023) argues, privacy is no longer a personal boundary to be defended, but a political and affective negotiation of power, visibility, and vulnerability within networked publics. Duguay (2022), in turn, demonstrates how queer users navigate platform architectures by selectively disclosing aspects of the self, depending on perceived safety and affective alignment. As I will demonstrate later in this article, my findings resonate with both, yet extend their frameworks into the sonic: the use or refusal of voice becomes a way to structure access and calibrate relational intimacy. Here, the negotiation is not only visual or textual but embodied and aural, adding a corporeal dimension to networked privacy.
In digital contexts, privacy becomes a precondition for intimacy, and vice versa: managing one’s visibility, availability, and vulnerability is a way of shaping who is allowed access to moments of closeness. When participants curate their use of voice, for instance, they are not simply hiding or revealing content but crafting a felt sense of proximity and protection.
Intimacy and privacy are often treated as adjacent but distinct: privacy refers to the control of access, seclusion, and confidentiality, while intimacy involves emotional closeness and selective vulnerability. Yet in digital contexts, the boundary between the two is frequently blurred. Something may be private without being intimate, like a password, while something intimate, such as a vulnerable voice message, may occur in semi-public spaces. This study aligns with Berlant’s (2008) concept of ‘intimate publics’, viewing intimacy not as confined to the private sphere but as socially and digitally mediated. Within these publics, practices and platforms mediate affective ties and emotional exposure.
Building on this framework, I approach privacy not solely as an individual right or static condition, but as an affective negotiation of access and proximity (Duguay, 2022; Marwick, 2023). Participants’ use of voice in digital environments illustrates how intimacy and privacy are not merely co-occurring, but co-produced: withholding voice becomes a form of privacy management; sharing voice becomes an act of vulnerability. This study contributes to emerging scholarship that understands digital boundary work as a triadic negotiation, where privacy, intimacy, and voice intersect to structure how youth construct meaningful social architectures online.
Digital boundary work refers to how individuals regulate access to their personal lives, balance online and offline presence, and curate content for different audiences. For young Finnish individuals who participated in my study, this includes controlling self-presentation, managing multiple accounts, and using privacy settings and messaging apps to navigate social interactions. By investigating how a cohort of 17 young Finnish individuals (16–19) navigate privacy and intimacy through digital boundary work, this study shifts attention from conventional self-presentation to the affective, relational, and embodied dimensions of voice-based communication. Integrating the concept of ‘sonic intimacies’ (Pettman, 2017), it examines how vocal expression fosters emotional depth, closeness, and social connection in digital spaces.
While research on digital intimacy has primarily focused on text-based and visual communication, the role of voice as an affective and embodied medium remains understudied, with ASMR (Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response) 1 being a rare exception. This study addresses this gap by analysing how young people use voice to navigate privacy, intimacy, and digital boundaries, offering new insights into the interplay between vocal expression, digital communication, and affect in contemporary digital culture.
Research design
This article serves as a comprehensive documentation of the adaptation of conventional face-to-face research discussions into the digital realm. Scholars conducting qualitative research faced numerous challenges during the COVID-19 pandemic, as documented by Kara and Khoo (2022). Finland declared a state of emergency twice, allowing the government to implement measures such as restricting people’s movement, closing public spaces and businesses, and limiting public gatherings. Lockdowns and social distancing made accessing research participants in face-to-face settings difficult, forcing me to look at various digital platforms and redesign my study to adapt to the situation. During COVID-19, digital tools were a practical choice for research amid societal restrictions and social distancing. The selection of semi-structured focus groups conducted via Discord was driven by the platform’s popularity among the target demographic. While the COVID-19 pandemic initially influenced the shift to online data collection, the choice of Discord as a research environment was also grounded in methodological relevance. Given the topic of digital intimacy and privacy, a digital-native research setting provided ecological validity and aligned with the communicative practices under investigation. Indeed, internet research and digital ethnography have long-standing traditions in media and communication studies (see franzke et al., 2020; Markham, 2006). This study contributes to this tradition by adapting focus group methodology to an asynchronous, platform-based format.
Despite its evident prominence, it is perplexing that only a few peer-reviewed research articles have been published to date that genuinely delve into Discord’s potential as a rich and prolific ground for qualitative research. Notably, only a handful of scholars have made substantial empirical contributions to this topic, as exemplified by the groundbreaking works of Santiago and Mattos (2023), Robinson (2022) and Kruglyk et al. (2020) in their studies on online learning and literacy engagements. Discord’s widespread use among Finnish youth makes it an ideal setting for exploring the subtleties of intimacy in a familiar and comfortable setting for participants. This approach ensures ecological validity and allows for an in-depth exploration of how the young perceive intimacy within digital communities.
Participants were selected through purposive sampling, aiming to gather a demographically diverse group of individuals within the age range of 16 to 19 years, all of whom are active Discord users. In aiming for diversity, we sought variation in participants’ gender identity, geographic location (urban vs. rural), educational background (vocational vs. academic tracks), and linguistic/cultural background. The final sample included individuals identifying as male, female, and non-binary, with both Finnish and foreign cultural heritage represented. The strategic alliance forged with digital youth work organisations, harbouring a pre-existing cohort of young Finns, emerged as a pivotal enabler. These organisations already had well-functioning youth work services and programmes online. Our partnership facilitated the cultivation of interest and involvement among young Finnish Discord users, effectively integrating them into the fabric of my study.
Ethical considerations
Given the digital nature of the study, special attention was paid to issues of consent, privacy, and anonymity. I strategically created dedicated private servers meticulously calibrated to the tenets of my study. I used private invitations and ensured that only authorised individuals could access the otherwise closed study server. Participants were provided with detailed information about the study, including how data would be stored and used. Consent was obtained through a digital form, with participants retaining the option to withdraw at any point. To protect anonymity, pseudonyms were used in the transcripts, and any potentially identifying information was omitted. I have approached questions of research ethics as a methodological praxis, saturated by notions of responsibility (TENK, Finnish National Board on Research Integrity, 2019, 2023), care (Noddings, 1988) and respecting young people’s fundamental rights (United Nations General Assembly, 1989). The goal of solving situated ethical issues has been to avoid unintentional ‘epistemological violence’ (Teo, 2010) and to make well-informed and balanced judgements, guided by, for example, Markham (2006, 2018a, 2018b), franzke et al. (2020) and the TENK, Finnish National Board on Research Integrity (2019, 2023).
Data collection and procedures
Through a careful review of the literature on focus group organisation (Hennink, 2014; Liamputtong, 2016; Puchta & Potter, 2004), I refined the purpose, topics, and intended audience of the focus group discussions. These discussions were conducted over 4 weeks via Discord, employing an asynchronous format that allowed participants to contribute at their convenience rather than in real-time. This approach enabled more reflective engagement, as participants could revisit and expand on previous discussions.
Participants were grouped into three smaller clusters of 5–6 individuals to foster intimate and sustained dialogue. These clusters remained consistent across all 4 weeks to support trust-building and thematic continuity. Focus groups were asynchronous: discussions unfolded over a rolling message board, rather than in real-time, allowing participants to reflect, respond at their own pace, and revisit earlier posts. Participants did, in practice, make use of this affordance by revisiting earlier contributions to elaborate or clarify their views. While the discussions were primarily text-based, participants occasionally used emojis, images, and reactions to enrich their responses. However, video sharing and live voice discussions were not employed, in keeping with the participants’ preferences and comfort zones.
Themed discussions explored the complex interplay between networked media and understandings of intimacy in digital environments. Each week, we moved from general understandings of intimacy to the specific digital practices young participants engaged in regarding intimate interactions. Figure 1 illustrates how these weekly discussions were structured and themed.
Structure and themes of the weekly focus group discussions.
To ensure continuity, the same core group of participants engaged across all 4 weeks, allowing for a deeper exploration of evolving perspectives. At the end of each week, I summarised key discussion points and prompted participants to share any final thoughts. The asynchronous nature of the discussions also meant that participants could revisit earlier conversations, fostering richer, more layered insights. Each weekly discussion focused on a specific theme, with structured yet flexible prompts guiding the conversation. While I facilitated and moderated the discussions, I allowed room for organic dialogue, ensuring that participants could introduce topics and perspectives beyond the initial prompts. Discussions varied in length depending on participant engagement, but on average, each session involved extensive exchanges spanning multiple contributions per participant. Focus groups were conducted in small participant clusters to cultivate a comfortable and open discussion environment. This setup, combined with Discord’s interactive features (e.g. threaded discussions, replies and mentions, reactions and emojis, and image and video sharing), enabled dynamic yet structured conversations. The digital format facilitated candid engagement, as participants could communicate in a low-pressure, familiar environment, fostering a rich tapestry of experiential narratives and collective insights.
Analysis
After conducting the focus group discussions, the next step was to analyse the discussion data. To begin this process, I first familiarised myself with the data. I also reviewed the field notes I had taken during the discussions. To sort out the empirical data and ensure the analysis’s validity, I conducted a reflexive thematic analysis using the framework developed by Braun and Clarke (2022). This approach allowed me to systematically categorise and structure the data and generate initial codes to identify key phrases and notions that stood out. Initial coding was inductive and open-ended. Examples of early codes included ‘controlling contact lists’, ‘texting = safety’, ‘Snapchat = closeness’, ‘voice is vulnerable,’ and ‘platform boundaries’. These were later refined into broader themes such as ‘platform-level boundary work’, ‘ephemerality and temporal control’, ‘voice as embodied intimacy’, and ‘intersectional digital negotiations’. These themes reflect both structural and affective dimensions of digital boundary work and were validated through multiple rounds of theme refinement and peer debriefing. I also sought feedback from peer-reviewed literature to validate my findings and ensure they accurately represented the data.
Reflexivity and scope
The findings presented here are not intended to be generalised to all Finnish youth. Rather, this study offers situated insights into the digital practices of a purposively selected, non-representative group of 17 individuals. As with most qualitative research, the aim is not to produce generalisable results but to uncover patterns of meaning and relational dynamics that can inform broader theoretical and methodological conversations.
While Discord, as the digital setting of my study, enabled flexible and in-depth interactions, it also excluded nonverbal cues that are present in face-to-face communication. Future research could benefit from combining digital ethnography with more traditional in-person interview methods to gain a more comprehensive understanding of digital intimacy and boundary work. Furthermore, future studies could use comparative approaches across different social media platforms and user groups to capture the diverse ways in which digital intimacy and privacy management are navigated in various online spaces.
Analysis and findings
Building boundaries on a platform level
I mainly use WhatsApp when I want my messages to be saved. I also use WhatsApp every day in my school group, work and hobby-related groups, the family group, and with some close friends. I think what’s characteristic of WhatsApp is that I send more official messages there, usually only to people I already know. — I also use Snapchat every day. I keep streaks, so I snap specific people every day. Snapchat is also the easiest way to talk to ‘unknown’ new people. — On Snapchat, I often talk to close friends instead of WhatsApp because it’s faster, and the pictures make it even more personal since you can see the other person’s expressions. I actually have a lot of Snapchat-only friends I’ve met through there. Discord is more about talking either with random people or with my classmates about homework, politics, or different games. So, it’s really all over the place. No one really takes these discussions too seriously, so Discord is kind of like a community where everyone understands that not everything is meant to be taken seriously. I love Discord because the voice chat makes it possible to speak casually and easily. Sometimes it’s nice to hear other people’s voices too. I only use email for school and work-related things. Normal messages I only send to my grandma :))
The above account from a participant in the study accurately reflects how all the young people involved in the research use various digital tools for communication, depending on who they are talking to and the context in which the communication takes place. In the comprehensive 4-week semi-structured focus group discussions, a nuanced understanding of the distinct purposes served by various platforms emerged. Microsoft Teams, WhatsApp, and the phone’s native texting function were identified as ‘task-oriented channels’, facilitating academic pursuits, work-related matters, hobbies, and more formal family or relative connections. For instance, Microsoft 365’s or Google’s collaborative features were framed as dedicated workspaces, offering tools such as chat, video meetings, and file sharing within professional and educational settings. In contrast, Snapchat and Discord emerged as platforms primarily used for casual socialising with peers and engaging in discussions with both familiar and unfamiliar individuals of a similar age. These platforms function as spaces beyond the everyday routine, offering an environment perceived as informal and unconventional, specifically curated for peer interactions and leisure.
Through the focus group discussions, a clear desire and necessity surfaced among young individuals – the need to establish firm social boundaries at the platform level. For example, the phone’s native texting function was often reserved exclusively for messages to ‘grandmas’, confining everyday interactions perceived as ‘formal’ to specific platforms and functionalities. Simultaneously, casual interactions among peers were strategically confined to apps where the presence of older generations, colloquially referred to as ‘boomers’, was less prevalent. This delineation of platforms suggests that digital boundary work is not merely a preference but a structured mechanism of social organisation. The platforms considered most meaningful by participants were those that facilitated numerous peer discussions and provided opportunities to observe and engage in the activities of their social circles.
The proactive stance of research participants in demarcating platform-specific boundaries illustrates a tangible expression of digital boundary work (see, for example, Quinn & Papacharissi, 2018). The ongoing process of differentiating between those they resonate with and those perceived as ‘others’ aligns with Baym’s (2018) exploration of the ‘intimate work of connection’ and Zelizer’s (2005) concept of ‘relational work’. By framing this phenomenon as ‘boundaries of belonging’ (Jaworsky, 2016), digital boundary work highlights how participants categorise their social bonds and roles, employing strategic measures to manage these connections in digital spaces. As Quinn and Papacharissi (2018, p. 361) explain ‘[B]oundary management extends beyond individual control to become a collective process; and the ‘rules of friendship,’ or the social norms and expectancies regarding social relationships, become highly relevant to how weaker relational forms are negotiated and maintained’.
Moreover, digital boundary work is not solely symbolic but also material. Participants take concrete actions to enforce these boundaries, such as adjusting privacy settings, creating separate accounts for different social contexts, or muting notifications from specific platforms. These deliberate practices illustrate how digital boundary work is not simply about navigating social norms but also about leveraging the technological affordances of platforms to regulate access to intimacy.
The participants’ digital boundary work further demonstrates how social and technological infrastructures are deeply intertwined. As Paasonen et al. (2023) suggest, social connections today must inherently include technological considerations. They argue that we should ‘expand considerations of the connections that impact us, and which we depend on, to include both social and technological connections, so that the infrastructures involved are simultaneously vital attachments to people (individuals, groups, and other constellations) and dependencies on the operability of devices, platforms, and information networks’ (Paasonen et al., 2023, pp. 286–287). This research reveals that digital boundary work is a mechanism through which young people manage their social contours and delineate their interests, reinforcing their respective social roles. The digital spaces participants curate become not only settings for interaction but also expressions of their agency over intimacy, belonging, and self-presentation in the contemporary data-driven landscape. Through this boundary work, specific platforms evolve into sources of more profound and meaningful connections, embodying what Berlant (1998, p. 284) refers to as ‘connections that impact people, and on which they depend for living’.
Balancing between the public-private-intimate nexus
The participants’ explicit matrices delineating different relationship types prompt significant inquiries into how, where, and with whom they collaboratively construct their digital social intimacy. By meticulously differentiating daily engagement practices and social roles within platform spaces, participants establish distinct boundaries that encompass specific individuals, primarily peers, within their more intimate digital sphere, while relegating others to the periphery. This selective engagement with platforms such as Snapchat and Discord underscores the role of platform affordances in shaping intimacy. Unlike task-oriented platforms where interactions are bound by functional constraints, these platforms foster spontaneous and ephemeral peer interactions, reinforcing youth-centric modes of intimacy. This aligns with Berlant’s (1998) notion of affective attachments but also points to a contemporary shift, where intimacy is not just about deep, sustained connection but also about curated, transient exchanges that provide a sense of closeness without long-term social obligations.
In our focus group conversations, participants consistently cited the ability to express themselves freely as a primary reason for favouring history-free platforms (see Handyside & Ringrose, 2017). As one of the participants described,
I feel uncomfortable if my messages are always visible. I personally like it when they’re only there for a limited time. And if you send pictures, for example, they’re not stored there. They stay for a maximum of 10 seconds and then disappear.
The ephemeral nature of these platforms – where interactions disappear rather than being permanently recorded – was seen as fostering more open and candid communication, reducing the fear that past exchanges could later be scrutinised or weaponised. This emphasis on transient communication suggests that young people perceive impermanence as a safeguard for authenticity, mirroring the fleeting nature of in-person conversations. As one research participant describes,
In communication methods without history, there’s perhaps something similar to a regular conversation, where you can tell what the other person said but not show it. Personally, I’m a bit bothered by the thought that even though my messages can be shared, for example, through screenshots, even if there’s nothing wrong with them in a way. Especially when reading some WhatsApp conversations from a couple of years ago, it does make me feel a bit embarrassed; the mindset and jokes were quite different back then.
Unlike traditional digital interactions, which are often archived and searchable, history-free platforms offer a form of privacy that is not just about restricting access to information but about controlling its lifespan, thus redefining digital privacy beyond conventional security concerns. However, this preference goes beyond concerns of privacy alone; it speaks to the way intimacy is experienced, performed, and protected in digital spaces. By opting for transient interactions, participants are not only managing privacy but also curating an intimate sphere that mirrors the fluid, non-archived nature of in-person conversations. As one research participant formulates,
But I guess that’s the whole idea of Snapchat: short, everyday messages and pictures that still convey emotions. Those history-free platforms are probably great for conversations too – there’s something appealing about messages disappearing and being so tied to the moment.
The distinction between privacy (a matter of restricting access) and intimacy (a matter of selective vulnerability) is particularly salient here. Privacy, in a conventional sense, refers to keeping information hidden or secure, while intimacy involves the intentional sharing of certain forms of closeness with selected individuals (Jamieson, 2012). Participants’ preference for history-free communication suggests that intimacy, in their digital interactions, is not necessarily about secrecy but about maintaining control over moments of connection – who sees them, how long those moments last, and whether they can be revisited. In this light, digital platforms become tools for crafting temporal intimacy, where the ephemeral nature of interactions itself is an intimate act, allowing individuals to be present in the moment without the weight of future accountability.
The phone number as a specific boundary
One of the key revelations from this study was the participants’ strong reluctance to share their phone numbers, positioning them as a particularly sensitive and immovable form of personal data in the public-private-intimate nexus of their digital lives. Unlike usernames, which offer flexibility and anonymity, a phone number is a fixed identity marker, difficult to change and nearly impossible to separate from one’s real-world self. Participants found this permanence unsettling, particularly because it enables unrestricted, direct access.
As one participant noted,
I personally use Snapchat the most, and it’s the easiest way for me to get to know new people. Asking for a phone number, which is needed for apps like WhatsApp, feels somehow very personal to me.
A phone number grants an entryway not only into communication but into expectation and obligation: It allows not just messages but potential calls, voicemail drops, and cross-platform tracking. This explains why young people are increasingly strategic about who crosses this boundary, as it determines not just connection but control: who has a lasting, unrestricted means of reaching them versus who remains in a controlled, app-specific space. As one participant noted:
Whenever someone sends me a message on WhatsApp – meaning they somehow got my phone number – I immediately get this feeling like, ‘Oh, so now we’re friends?’
Building on Zelizer’s (2005) notion of relational work, this reluctance to share phone numbers reflects deliberate boundary-drawing in digital sociality – a resistance against forced intimacy and social pressure. In this sense, privacy is not just about what is shared but about what is actively withheld as a form of agency. Furthermore, in line with boyd’s (2014) concept of context collapse, phone numbers disrupt the segmentation of social spaces, collapsing casual, professional, and intimate networks into a single point of contact. By resisting this collapse, young people are asserting a crucial form of digital self-defence, choosing when, how, and by whom they are reachable.
Voice at the nexus of privacy and intimacy
Interestingly, this reluctance to share personal phone numbers connects with another layer of negotiation within the public-private-intimate nexus: the hesitation to use platforms for voice communication. Participants expressed discomfort in using their physical speech voice, framing voice as an inherently personal and intimate aspect of self-presentation. Unlike text, which allows for a degree of detachment and strategic curation, voice communication carries emotional inflection, spontaneity, and embodied presence, making it more vulnerable and revealing.
This finding builds upon Paasonen et al.’s (2023) argument that digital intimacy is not solely about personal relationships but is also shaped by platform affordances and technological constraints. If, as Berlant (1998) suggests, intimacy is about ‘connections that impact people, and on which they depend for living’, then the participants’ cautious approach to voice-based communication signals a broader shift in how intimacy is being negotiated in datafied culture. The act of speaking, especially when it is recorded or retrievable, adds a new layer of vulnerability, potentially making voice a private-intimate boundary similar to personal phone numbers.
As mentioned earlier, none of the research participants associated digital intimacy with online sexual communication or visual self-presentation. Instead, without being imposed by a predefined framework, they positioned the physical voice as an inherently intimate boundary marker. This challenges dominant narratives of digital intimacy, which often focus on textual and visual self-disclosure (Paasonen et al., 2023), and instead foregrounds sonic intimacy (Pettman, 2017) as a crucial site of relational negotiation.
Participants consistently framed their speech voice as an exclusively personal and embodied attribute, reserved for only the closest of relationships within digital environments. This was not merely a matter of preference but an active process of boundary maintenance – a refusal to let their voice circulate freely in digital space, where it might be exposed to scrutiny, misinterpretation, or unwanted contact.
As one participant articulated,
Many of my friends with foreign backgrounds like to send voice messages on WhatsApp. Personally, I prefer messaging in text. I also don’t enjoy making calls unless absolutely necessary.
Here, the reluctance to use voice-based communication is not simply about discomfort – it is an act of intimacy regulation. Unlike text, which allows for a degree of detachment and revision, the voice is deeply tied to the material body, carrying emotional inflection, social markers, and vulnerabilities that cannot be easily concealed (Edgar, 2019). The hesitancy to engage in voice-based communication suggests that for these young people, intimacy is not just about emotional closeness, but about controlling exposure to their embodied self in digital spaces.
This interplay of vulnerability and control illustrates the triadic nature of digital boundary work, where voice functions as both an intimate gesture and a privacy mechanism. It is not merely that voice is private or intimate, but that its use – or refusal – actively constructs a space where privacy and intimacy are co-negotiated.
Sonic intimacy as embodied vulnerability
To fully grasp the participants’ reluctance to use their voice in digital spaces, it is crucial to turn to the concept of sonic intimacy (Pettman, 2017). Sonic intimacy extends beyond verbal content, emphasising the affective and relational dimensions of sound, how the timbre, pitch, and cadence of a voice mediate social presence and emotional proximity. Pettman argues that the voice, much like touch, is an extension of the physical self, making it inherently vulnerable when digitised. As he states: ‘If the eyes are the window to the soul, then the voice is the sound of that soul’ (Pettman, 2017, p. 4).
The significance of vocal intimacy lies in its corporeality. Unlike text, which creates a level of abstraction, the voice carries an imprint of the speaker’s physicality, subjectivity, and affective state. As one research participant articulated while pondering why they do not prefer talking on a phone,
I use voice messages very rarely, and making phone calls is somehow irritating to me because I don’t really know how to talk on them when I can’t see the other person’s expressions. I usually avoid making calls!
Building on Klausen’s (2021) assertion that intimacy is always embodied, the voice can be understood as a sonic extension of the embodied self, entangled in intersecting power structures. While some participants expressed discomfort with voice-based communication, this did not always stem from an explicit articulation of voice as a personal identifier. Rather, their comments often reflected a more general unease related to spontaneity, communicative confidence, and lack of visual cues. However, when situated within the broader discursive patterns of selective exposure and boundary-setting, this avoidance of voice can also be read as part of a relational practice of privacy: withholding one’s voice is one way of maintaining control over affective and corporeal presence in digital space.
If, as Edgar (2019) suggests, the voice is an aural map of the physical body, then speaking aloud in digital spaces is not just an act of communication but an act of self-exposure. This may explain why participants associated voice-based interaction with heightened vulnerability, particularly in a datafied world where their voices can be recorded, stored, and analysed without consent.
Cultural narratives and the construction of digital intimacy
Interestingly, participants did not frame their reluctance to use voice messages or calls solely in terms of personal preference but also in terms of national cultural narratives about Finnish communication norms. Multiple participants echoed the stereotype of Finns as introverted and reserved, positioning text-based communication as a reflection of national temperament:
I believe that text messaging is meaningful for Finns because we (generalisation) are often a bit reserved, especially with unfamiliar people. Personally, I always send texts and don’t like to send voice messages, even though it is often a quick and efficient way to handle things. Calling is also something I hate. I’ve also noticed that people abroad overwhelmingly prefer voice messaging over texting. This might be because speaking is easier and faster, or perhaps texting in Finland is clearer and less stressful for introverted individuals.
These statements highlight how cultural narratives shape digital communication habits, reinforcing the idea that voice-based interaction is overly intimate in the Finnish context. Drawing on Brolsma et al. (2022), national discourses do not merely describe cultural traits but actively produce and sustain social practices. Here, digital intimacy is shaped not just by individual preference but by shared cultural understandings of sociality, comfort, and distance.
From a Foucauldian perspective, these cultural discourses function as regulatory frameworks, subtly dictating which forms of digital intimacy are socially acceptable. The perceived Finnish preference for text-based communication is not just a passive norm but an active mode of boundary-setting, a way of reinforcing social distance and maintaining control over one’s digital presence. This suggests that the rejection of voice-based communication is not just a technological preference but a deeply embedded cultural practice that reinforces the private-intimate nexus in digital spaces.
Contrasting perspectives: voice as a tool of accessibility
However, this framework is not universally applicable. My research participants from foreign backgrounds challenged this norm, presenting an alternative perspective on the role of voice in digital communication:
It can be that cultural habits play a role. If I want to handle things quickly, I prefer to call and get an immediate response. I can’t wait. — It might also be that Finnish is not an easy language; you need to write really well to make others understand. For me, it took a lot of time to become proficient in writing.
For these participants, voice-based communication was not framed as intimate but as a tool of efficiency and accessibility. This contrast underscores how linguistic and cultural factors shape digital boundary work differently across social groups. While Finnish-born participants viewed the physical voice as a source of corporeal vulnerability, foreign-background participants highlighted its function as an equaliser, reducing barriers posed by written-language proficiency.
This divergence suggests that intimacy in digital spaces is intersectionally mediated: It is not just about individual choices or national cultures but about how one’s position within linguistic and social hierarchies influences communication preferences. Individuals with less confidence in written Finnish saw voice as a necessity rather than an intimacy risk, highlighting how structural factors shape access to digital intimacy practices.
As Marwick (2023) argues, privacy is no longer a personal boundary to be defended, but a political and affective negotiation of power, visibility, and vulnerability within networked publics. Duguay (2022), in turn, demonstrates how queer users navigate platform architectures by selectively disclosing aspects of the self-depending on perceived safety and affective alignment. My findings resonate with both yet extend their frameworks into the sonic: the use or refusal of voice becomes a way to structure access and calibrate relational intimacy. Here, the negotiation is not only visual or textual but embodied and aural, adding a corporeal dimension to networked privacy.
Discussion: expanding the public-private-intimate nexus in digital spaces
The negotiation of public, private, and intimate boundaries is central to how young people navigate digital interactions. This study highlights how they actively manage these dimensions, particularly through their preference for history-free platforms that allow for transient communication. Unlike traditional digital spaces where interactions are archived and retrievable, these platforms offer a privacy model that is not simply about restricting access but about shaping the lifespan of shared moments. This impermanence fosters a form of intimacy grounded in the ability to be present without the burden of long-term accountability. In this sense, privacy and intimacy are not separate domains but dynamically interwoven: privacy is about controlling access to information, while intimacy is about regulating vulnerability.
The reluctance to share phone numbers further illustrates how young people fine-tune the boundaries between public, private, and intimate spheres. Unlike usernames, which can be changed or discarded, phone numbers represent a form of permanence and unrestricted access that makes them particularly sensitive. By withholding this information, participants engage in what Zelizer (2005) describes as ‘relational work’, actively shaping the structure of their social connections. This boundary-setting suggests that digital privacy is not simply about secrecy but about managing accessibility, deciding not just what is shared but who is granted persistent access, through which channels, and under what conditions.
Beyond text-based interactions, voice emerges as a key factor in this negotiation, revealing the embodied and affective dimensions of digital intimacy. While digital platforms are often framed as spaces that amplify voices, reduce participation barriers, and foster civic engagement (Mihailidis, 2018), this study challenges such assumptions by illustrating how voice can be experienced as both a conduit for connection and a site of exposure. Unlike text, voice carries corporeal markers – such as tone, accent, and inflection – that can heighten vulnerability, making it a crucial boundary marker in the public-private-intimate nexus. In the Finnish context, where voice is culturally coded as deeply personal, young people often prefer textual communication as a means of maintaining control over their social interactions. The affective dimensions of voice – its temporality, spatiality, and corporeal presence – complicate simplistic narratives of digital participation.
In this framework, voice functions as a key boundary marker within the public-private-intimate nexus, operating at three levels:
1.
2.
3.
Taken together, the findings suggest that privacy, intimacy, and voice should be understood not as discrete concepts but as a dynamic triad, where each dimension shapes and is shaped by the others. Participants’ reluctance to share their voice stems not only from fears of surveillance or embarrassment but also from a desire to retain control over their intimate self. In this sense, voice becomes a site where privacy is enacted and intimacy negotiated. The notion of ‘intimacy architectures’ captures this logic: young people construct temporary, platform-specific configurations that manage access and emotional exposure. Within these architectures, the voice can be withheld, modulated, or shared depending on the context, much like spatial boundaries in offline life.
Conclusion
This study sheds light on the sophisticated ways young Finnish individuals navigate privacy and intimacy in digital realms. Through digital boundary work, participants strategically manage their social interactions by favouring platforms that facilitate controlled and ephemeral communication. The selective sharing of voice further underscores the participants’ nuanced approach to digital intimacy, highlighting the emotional depth and relational closeness conveyed through vocal expression.
The findings offer valuable insights into the evolving nature of privacy, intimacy, and identity in our data-driven world. By examining the practices of digital boundary work and the role of voice in digital communication, this study contributes to a richer understanding of how young people manage their digital lives. It underscores the importance of considering both symbolic and material aspects of digital boundary work and the emotional and relational dimensions of voice in digital interactions.
Future research could build on these findings by exploring the intersection of voice, digital communication, and affect in different cultural contexts. In addition, incorporating a mixed-methods approach could provide a more comprehensive understanding of how young people navigate privacy and intimacy in digital spaces. This study lays the groundwork for further exploration into the intricate dynamics of digital boundary work and sonic intimacies among youth.
Footnotes
Funding
The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This work was supported by the Strategic Research Council at the Academy of Finland (grant number 360596) and the Emil Aaltonen Foundation (grant number 230193 N1 V).
Declaration of conflicting interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.