Social Media

Like many Americans, I am feeling a lot of ways. Specifically, for the purpose of this blog today, I am vacillating between grief, rage, and uncertainty. Like many Americans, I am very attached to my own comfort and my own sense that I am in control of my life and my experience. That exceptionalism has its pros and cons, but what I see of it now is that it makes it difficult for me to release what is no longer worth hanging onto. 

I’ve run into this before. Still, it shows up. 

I joined Facebook when I was a senior in high school. Before that, I spent time on the chat apps of MSN and AIM and on forums. I like connecting with people that are not only in my immediate circle. Back then, most of what I did on the social media webpage (because I did not have an iPhone) was share photos and post back and forth on people’s walls, and they on mine. When Instagram came along, it took me a bit to catch on, but then I liked it quite a bit. Seeing vacation photos, photos from parks and birthdays, sharing my own. Like a voluntary and varied vacation slideshow right there in my hand. 

As I got older and lived in different places, traveled to different destinations, I met people. College in Savannah, Georgia. A conservatory in NYC. A month-long yoga intensive with people from all over the place. A couple of deeply moving trips to Pennsylvania, foraging and meditating in the old forests. A pregnant trip to Puerto Rico. The music scene, here in Arkansas, that I have been apart from for a few years for various reasons. I liked these people, and I was happy to keep track of them, even as we graduated and moved on to different spots and life phases. 

And they got to keep track of me. Some of the people who are most supportive of whatever random creative thing I’m doing are people who live hours or days away from me now. Even some people I’ve never met in person, only chatted with online. 

But now my feeds are mostly reels and commentary from strangers. Advertisements and propaganda and rage bait. I am seeing far-right influencers more than ever. And the owners of these platforms are giggling and getting in line behind an open-mouthed fascist who is a danger to me and to so many people I love. 

Hence the grief. Hence the rage. 

And then the uncertainty… where to now?

How to keep track of this wide net of beloved, admired souls without affirming that the platforms now represent?

I am still working on it. Luckily, many people smarter than I am asking that same question. 

For now, it helps a little bit to acknowledge what these spaces once were to me. So that perhaps I can move on to the business of letting go. 

Comments on this post are open, if you like.