Grieving the social media of my dreams
I’ll share this on social media for a week to “get the word out.” After that, hopefully, you found me, and we’re drinking Aperol spritz somewhere while listening to a record, and I’m taking 100 film photos of us going crazy.
In 2022, I deleted Twitter after 15 years of use.
Today, Mark Zuckerberg, founder and CEO of Meta, announced a change in policy for his social media platforms that would make more racist, homophobic, and conspiracy theories thrive on his sites. It’s a shift that has been coming for a long time. And while you can read many articles about the trajectory, political influence, and overall political identity of Mark Zuckerberg and how we ended up here, I won’t spend a lot of time on it.
I’m writing this post to grieve some of the connection I’ll likely lose by leaving platforms like Facebook, Instagram, and Threads – the latest incarnation of Zuckerberg’s plan to control our dopamine levels. The truth is that I’ve had a hard time removing myself from these platforms, even as their algorithms have frustrated my ability to reach the people I want to talk to. I haven’t nurtured as much of the community I’ve enjoyed nor interacted with the type of creative content I aspire to.
I’m simply tired of seeing your dumb memes and dance moves. I’m tired of seeing you pimp out your kids for an advertising buck. I’m tired of one idea turning into a million copycats in less than 24 hours. I’m tired of the dopamine collapses.
But it’s hard. I think about some of the interactions I won’t see anymore. I’m worried I’ll lose touch with people I think I need to keep in touch with. I’m anxious about not having a place to share my photography with people.
Yet, that’s why I’m here, and it’s why I invest in this tiny corner of the digital world for myself.
Maybe this is the time to simplify everything, to get back to my roots of cultivating the things I love, regardless of anyone’s interest. I tell myself I’ll still have magazines, cinema, photography books, art galleries, postcards, and newspapers to read. I’ll dive into novels, talk to my local shopkeepers, and meet photographers in person.
I’d love to still keep in touch.
The one thing my resurgence with writing and creating has given me is a sense of direction and place. What hasn’t felt like a constant fight is publishing on this website and my bi-monthly Substack newsletter (you can sign up for free). My goal has always been to continue creating work and sharing that work, but I don’t think I can continue supporting the ad spaces on Meta platforms.
So, for now, I guess I’ll be here, on Substack, firing up Flickr, and via text message if you have my number. In the real world, I’ll be somewhere between record stores, bookstores, and Seattle areas with lots of people and graffiti. And maybe we’ll run into each other, or you’ll share your website, and I can subscribe to your Substack, and all of that quality and depth we’re aching for will happen.
