The thing is, what I really mean, Facebook sucks, but then again, no
I'm guessing you do not need much convincing of this. It is the source of angst, anxiety, doom-scrolling, mis-information, and just plain useless bullshit, plus cute puppy and kitten videos. It is also where I can most easily keep up with what my friends in Hawaii, California, Oregon, Whatcom & Pierce Counties as well as other places you say, and I agree. When I was riding transit all the time this was a welcome distraction from the usual queer/transphobic crap that is part and parcel of my existence, staring, inappropriate questions, intentional and also unintentional shaming.
I deleted mine in November of 2019 and did not create a replacement until January. Too many pictures of my own misery, too many reminders of hurt and trauma. Too much baggage as I switched from a student life to a professional life. My days of throwing philosophical and political bombs was largely over. In one sense this completed my evolution to transfeminist killjoy, MA.
During the no-Facebook time I watched multiple old movies, read about a dozen books, spent some time reading up on feminist and trans academia on Twitter, got some much needed rest, went on lots of walks, caught up on a significant amount of music listening that had been acquired but never heard, and bolstered my queer theory knowledge base with a deep dive into embodiment and queer and transgender sexuality. I also caught up with musical favorites like the Furtwangler Tristan und Isolde recording, female punk bands, Sibelius symphonies, Maria Callas's Tosca, and Miles Davis circa 1964-1970.
Now, nearly a year later I wish I could just delete it again and forget it. The amount of misinformation and groupthink often wears me down and makes me long to return to a near media-free life. This was something I spent a good deal of the 1990s living, a near monastic existence of living life and reading a lot and meditating. In a different way than my present circumstances it was a very thrilling time, full of personal progress, meditation, creativity and it was liberally peppered with sex.
A year ago I was just finishing my thesis and getting awarded my first Master's degree. I published and was reasonably proud of my efforts, more importantly what I ended up doing was closer to what I originally intended than what academia kept trying to push me toward. My teaching sideline gig was just starting to blossom with a sociology of gender class at University of Washington Tacoma. I was floating on top of the world in many ways.
...........Culture, social media and the Trump years...........
Today to think outside of the socio-cultural orthodoxy is heresy. How dare you think that Star Wars ran out of gas and anything of interest to say in the 1980s, how could you not have completed Twin Peaks V. 2, or understand just how cool X band is...etc. Stop. Enough. I have not watched TV for decades and do not care about how “woke” your show is with its “representation” that somehow matters. I know it does, but it is not all that key to actual change and that is often lost in those kinds of discussions.
A friend used to say often, “culture is not your friend”. As the years roll by this simple statement has grown to take on a much deeper meaning in my life. I'll do my own thinking for myself thank you very much. I do not need you or the cultural mavens, let alone some person I do not know sitting behind a keyboard and who knows how much geographical space, telling me what is and is not worthy of my attention, let alone devotion.
Facebook, Twitter, Instagram... these corporations are cultural pimps. Neither are they your friend. Can they be used for good, yes, but I've come to the conclusion that the scales are largely balanced on the consumerist/patriarchal groupthink side rather than the creative expression of people sharing, or being a generator of significant cultural or artistic trends let alone change. It is not black or white. They sell you your own experiences, and a healthy dose of often sexy, desirable things you'll never have (not always consumer goods, sometimes deeper more impactful things), while also giving you just enough of what you and your uniqueness do want that it becomes somewhat indispensable as a method of connecting with friends and relatives in different places as well as a nexus point for culture in many forms. It terms of human contact it has replaced the Sunday afternoon phone calls that used to be part of the routine of life when I was a child and teenager. But it also replaced going outside to a large degree. And if we do we have our technology at the ready in our pocket or backpack, purse.
I see firsthand the debilitating effects hyper media consumption has had on those close to me. While I know a bunch of very interesting switched on people who represent lots of different identities, they tend to be better educated (this is my white and educational privilege) and what could be termed sophisticated consumers of media and art. Far too many of them have succumbed to the non-stop cycle of news, and how it represents consumption of media (and goods) in what passes for mainstream American culture. I've seen the stress, anxiety, fear, depression and experienced how people changed into something they were not before. Optimism and patience replaced with cynicism and anxiety would be the easiest way to describe it but that falls far short of the phenomena I am describing. It does however serve as a baseline upon which to discuss this change in people I am describing.
I am not entirely immune from this process myself despite the above statements. My educational and racial privilege does grant me access to a much wider range of information, art, and culture than many people. It is hard not to be painfully aware of it given my academic and professional interests. But it does not shield me from occasionally falling victim to this process.
.............Feminist killjoy's and the power of memoir.............
I have often suffered from a form of imposter disease. Despite year after year of exceptional academic and professional results, it persists. While it is diminishing finally I am decidedly struggling to fully adopt the personification of “professional”. My life really has been one long strange trip, much of it was anything but thoughtful or professional. Perhaps this new awareness is creating a kind of cognitive dissonance in me that I have not resolved internally. Perhaps my recent marriage and having the life that comes with spending a lot of time with the one you love has also forced me to reflect and make value judgments more as my time is even more tight now and I have a new priority of making room for time with her.
I call this transformation my growing up. My favorite feminist killjoy Ph.D., and mentor, Dr. Raechel Anne Jolie, has been a source of much information that led to intellectual insight as well as personal growth. Something about how she looks at the world re-activated dormant (mostly queer and femme) parts of myself that had been locked away carefully for survivals sake. But I digress, and this is not a trauma story, nor is it my version of new age hokey folk advice on how to transform yourself and win big now!
If you like your feminism intersectional, slightly queer, anti-racist, decolonizing, crip friendly and pro-trans check out the podcast “Feminist Killjoy's Ph.D. Many times I have followed a link from something posted in Raechel's Twitter account, or I heard in one of the archived episodes of the badass podcast she used to do with Dr. Melody Hoffmann (herself a badass academic and bike transportation advocate). One of those rabbit holes led me to Michelle Tea's book, “How To Grow Up: A Memoir”. Another was to Gayle Rubin's brilliant “Thinking Sex: Notes for a Radical Theory of the Politics of Sexuality” (more on this later I'm sure).
I resonated with Tea's memoir and it comforted me and made me laugh at my own misadventures as I contemplated what kind of future I wanted now that I was single (at the time) and my academic and professional life were starting to take off. Michelle and I both had to go through a growing up process later in life and I was blessed to have had her wonderful book as a way to prompt me. Her amusing anecdotes made the more painful parts of the process not seem so deadly serious, or boring for that matter.
............................
Fast forward to the November 2020 election. The last four years have been an epic socio-cultural and political shitshow with tragic consequences when things were already pretty dire. The refresh key on my phone, pad, and desktop got worn out all over again during the weeks leading up to and immediately following the recent election. As with the difficult and often terrifying past five years, during the past three weeks that lying criminal bastard did a perfect job of taking up way too much space in my own and apparently much of the planets collective conscious. It was nearly impossible not to get caught up in the maelstrom.
Time to move on. Time to let go of Facebook, maybe this time for good. Or so radically alter my habits around it as to not let it infect my own little slice of heaven or the ambitious goals I have set out for myself.
Seems we could all use some mercy now. Sometimes that means cutting yourself some slack. This past week I did in what was a dramatic fashion for me. Part of the growing up process.