Privacy Church is a living guide to digital privacy, uniting knowledge, tools and people that care. Most privacy stuff assumes you already know what you're doing. We don't. We start with why it matters, then walk you through what to actually do. News, communities, toolkits, concepts. The gap between "I know this is bad" and "I know what to do about it" in privacy is massive – closing that gap is our goal.
Privacy Church
We called it a church because of the sanctuary connotation, a safe space held by your community. Privacy has a brand problem. It sounds paranoid, technical, like you're already in trouble. We wanted the opposite. Somewhere you'd want to hang out, agnostically.
Every visual element is designed to resist extraction. The logo, the colors, the textures—all are intentionally hard to scrape, index, or feed into surveillance systems. We recall zines, early web, lo-fi publishing: aesthetics that exist outside the "clean" platform design built to extract.
The wordmark uses opposing slants—retalic and italic—colliding in the middle to signify community coming together and forming resistance. The backward pull is refusal and the forward lean is momentum. Together, they hold tension inherent to digital activism in current time. The slant wordmark exists as a clear break from institutional logo, towards experimental type that aligns with the core value of the app.
As an alternative logo and keychain merch. We made the logo a little cross. Head, arms, body. I mean, if you're going to call something a church, you might as well commit to the bit.
Memes are how culture actually moves online—fast, funny, shared. But they're also optimized for the feed—crisp, scrapable, built to be indexed. We keep the language, break the format. By dithering meme imagery, we preserve the cultural resonance while refusing the visual fidelity that platforms demand. Dither images uses visual noise as protection. It's a way of staying fluent without being compliant.
