Dear reader,
The first time I deleted all my social media accounts was less than a year after getting on them. Since then, I have done the same thing with different apps more times than I care to admit. There is not one single thing I like about them, yet for some reason, they have a hold on me. Every time, I have had to come back with my tail between my legs. I can't break free.
There are numerous reasons as to why I didn't have an Instagram account for years and why, even now that I do, I use it like Taylor Swift does—to promote my work. (Aside from the chance to look pretentious when people ask for my Instagram, I mean). To put it simply, I felt that I wasn't really living, so I deleted it and disabled my account. I felt free from the constant need for validation from people and from knowing all the latest memes and weekly obsessions. Sure, sometimes it felt lonely being the only one in a room who didn't get the joke, but I also had a better-than-thou feeling. I felt like I had done what most people had failed to do. You might argue the need for validation that I experienced while being on social media translated into the need for the admiration I got when I told people I wasn't on social media. Well, you might be right. But then again, I had given myself a chance to live, to do the things that I wanted to do in life; things that I saw myself doing masterfully in 20 years, without thinking about how if I wanted to have done them, I had to actually do them. I gave myself the time to read, write, and socialize. But looking back, I don't think it really made that big of a difference. Deleting social media didn't automatically make me do the things I valued. That was and is another journey that I'm on.
As somebody who represents a punching bag for many groups of people online, in a country so divided that seeing eye to eye with somebody on all stances is nearly impossible, and in a political climate that, rightfully so, is constantly making people furious, it was hard to stay on some of the apps. Give humans a place where they can share every thought that crosses their mind without being ostracized from their community when they say something stupid or strange, without seeing the real-life consequences of their words on other people's lives first-hand, and watch it destroy lives. It's easy to hide behind a clever Twitter handle and a vague picture. The power of being anonymous is so intoxicating; that you would not believe the things you could get away with saying. From the snarky comment about somebody's weight to the messy breakup story with screenshots and receipts for the whole internet to see, to full-on hate crimes. It's so easy to forget we're talking to and about real people. Sympathy goes down the toilet if you can't see the people who are hurting, even if you are the one on the giving end of it. Even when I was passive, even when I was not actively posting on social media, the pressure of having to see all the hate and the death threats directed at somebody with whom I shared an opinion was not bearable. And one day, I couldn't take it anymore. So I deleted every single app except for YouTube. Again, you might argue that I had to learn to stay on the side of the app with the people "from my team," but I don't think that should be how societies, even online communities, work. There should be a happy medium, a place that gives everybody the chance to grow and the chance to make mistakes and learn from them. This applies to even the ones with whom we disagree, even the ones who are actively trying to take away what little rights we have, and the ones who are killing our kids. If there is one YouTuber I would quote, it is definitely ContraPoints; this is engraved on my brain: we demand change, and we fail to provide people with the space to do so. Today, it seems, more than ever before, the internet is not that space.
However, these past two years, it has gotten particularly difficult to stay off of them if you live here. I remember telling a foreign friend who also wasn't on social media (hi Ben, if you’re here) about the days when I, the person who had sworn off Instagram, would kill for a VPN that would allow me to have access to the internet. The days when the valves of free speech and free information had been shut off. In those days, everybody felt the power of media and how it helped people be heard. Every morning, before even putting on my glasses, I would try my hardest to get access to the internet, read all the bad news I could find, let it sink into my soul, and break my heart a little more. I thought I would rather be in the know and miserable than blissfully unaware of all the atrocities occurring very near to me daily. I debated with everybody who would listen on this topic. I was too proud to admit the soul-crushing power that it had over me was making me want to go on a "fast". There wasn't a day when I wasn't feeling the weight of either climate change or "current affairs" on my chest. I don't think a social media cleanse, as the Westerners call it, is feasible or favorable in this corner of the world. Although I remember many of the people I know getting off of it when it was all going down because they couldn't bear all the death and all the sorrow of it all. It's not like you can avoid the news! But at least you won't have thirty videos of it shoved down your throat before you even had a chance to digest the ones that you saw yesterday. We don't have the privilege of being able to stay off the internet. We can't not know what is happening around us because it might cost us our lives. And that is why, even to this day, I read bad news like a vitamin supplement every day before breakfast. It still devastates me to my core, but I think I have learned tactics to put it aside for the rest of the day in order to be able to live. I can distinguish between the things that I have and I don't have control over, and I don't let the anxiety of the latter ruin my life.
Me, the little aspiring journalist that I am, I can't not know (maybe I have to bring this up to my therapist). And it is becoming increasingly apparent to me that it is impossible to be offline in my situation. My expectations of being a writer were shaped by Jo March, Judy Abbot, and worst-case scenario, Colette and Emily Dickinson. I thought my future would involve having to beg publishers to read, consider, and print my work. Not in my wildest dreams did I think I would be checking the stats of my latest post on Substack and be upset that fewer people are reading me. Don't get me wrong! I feel extremely lucky that I can share my work and open myself to criticism, meet people who are on the same path that I am, and who can keep me motivated and yet grounded. I can't and won't take that for granted. But I also hate having to promote my work. It's not that relevant to me yet, but I hate that it has become the responsibility of the author to promote their book. To go on TikTok and do a little dance to get the algorithm to find the people who would like the book. I am bitter about having to do all that, not only because it doesn't align with my fantasies as a child but also because it feels disingenuous and silly. So I downloaded fucking Instagram again. To post about my work here, and also as a teacher (that is another rant that I will save you from). To put a little poster on my little Instagram story to encourage people to read me. (even when it doesn't work!) Even if I had to sit down with the old-timey publisher, he would probably hate crime the likes of me and treat me worse than the people on X. I have realized I have to let the fantasy die here because it's holding me down. The cold hard truth is that if I don't move with the current, it will leave me behind.
Well, this was my very long way of saying, after much deliberation, I am now on X. I think it's absolutely going to break my heart if somebody treats me like how I remember being treated on that app. But I have it on good authority that it would help with the "stats". Follow me at @ValizadeNaz.
Thank you for taking the time to read this long, angry rant. I truly appreciate you being here. I'm curious—how do you use social media? I'd love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to write back and let me know!
All the love,
Naz
P.S. The painting above is The Death of Chatterton by Hnery Wallis. I learned about Chatterton in a play by Alfred de Vigny that I suggest checking out. It’s the true story of a young poet who commits suicide because his work isn’t enough to support him.
I absolutely loved this long-form content of yours Naz! Very relatable! I can’t tolerate how disgusted I am after mindlessly scrolling, yet somehow I refuse to get out and I know very few people whose relationship with social media isn’t an addictive abusive one.
I completely understand the struggle of feeling trapped by social media, yet feeling like it's necessary for self-promotion and staying informed...
I'm curious, how do you think you'll approach using X differently this time around?
Thanks for sharing your thoughts Naz, I'll definitely be following you on X!