I’ve always had a tricky relationship with social media. Having been born in the same generation as Facebook and Instagram, I grew up making friends and connecting with them online. You’d think this would mean that I’m good at translating my humanity into images, videos, and three-line shower thoughts, but I’m really not. (I’m skeptical that anyone truly is)
The mechanisms and algorithms keep transforming, so every time I think I’ve gotten the hang of it, I realize I have to catch up, again. Even though I’ve spent a few years as a social media assistant and then director, I’m good at creating, not — whatever kind of wisdom you need for SEO optimization, which is just a fancy way of saying post engagement. Views, comments, likes. How do you get people to like you? We all perform to a certain degree, conscious or not, to get that sweet digital validation.
Sure, we perform face to face as well. When meeting a friend, I might say “I’m great” even if my dog just died. In real life, however, there is the privilege of time. If I’m not doing well, my friend has the opportunity to notice that my smile doesn’t quite reach my eyes. My friend may choose to broach the topic gently, and, if I’m ready to share how I truly am, to hear me with her whole presence. Real life gives us the fullness of time and space. Online disconnects us from our bodies, demands us to engage with an infinite number of people all at once (I am referring, of course, to the infinite scroll. In the old days of 2005, you had to click ‘next page’ to view more content. Now, there is no such thing, only an endless stream of content accessible with one touch of a finger).
Nevertheless, it exists. Social media. So, like many others, I use it as a tool. Or at least, I try to use it as a tool. Always, I catch myself conflating online with the real thing. When it comes to advocacy and activism, and when it comes to spirituality. A grid of pictures with captions and 24-hour-long stories imprints themselves on my mind as I wonder if I’ve contributed enough to this issue or that discourse. This self-assessment is not quite an honest reflection, not at all a holistic account of my intentions. Rather, it is a thin projection of my ideal self, manicured for everyone I know and could ever know. Like all things that attempt to be perfect, it falls incredibly short and forgets the real purpose: connection.
As an activist, I wonder if social media can ever be a tool or if it is merely another prison: a panopticon in which we are both the prisoners, performing for an audience, and the prison-guards, maintaining conformity through perpetual observation (I found this paper by Matthew Stein useful in understanding Michel Foucault’s theory as applied to social media).
I’m in the process of divesting from social media because it doesn’t help me become a better person or a better activist. In order for me to fully leave online spaces, though, I need healthy community spaces: parks; open kitchens; safe and free third spaces for recreation and gatherings. As inhospitable as social media is, it’s oftentimes the better option over the dreary unsafe urban spaces many of us live in.
One day, perhaps, we’ll have a network of physical spaces where social workers, activists, and artists meet and support each other regularly. For now, I say this to you over Substack.