Loners,
I've been struggling with what to say since the inauguration. I have convinced myself that, as public figures, we are supposed to comment on everything, and public expectation demands it. It wasn't always this way. In the early days of the internet, we used our website and eventually social media to say the things we were afraid no one would hear otherwise. This might have been born of the feeling from our own youth, that we lived in a world that was nothing like the one we wanted to live in. We sought out people who thought like us, or more importantly, inspired us to think about everything differently. We protested, we were critical of the government and institutions. We demanded change of not only our friends and family but our coworkers and the larger industries around us. This work wasn't done on the internet, but we shared our ideas there, and I suppose that gave the impression that its role in the work was more important than it actually was.
The impulse to communicate, combined with the ease of posting on social media, hasn't always brought out the best in all of us, IMO. The ways in which things have changed for the worse are pretty awful. I hate the way the internet and social media make me feel. I can prescribe myself breaks, delete apps from my phone, but the feeling remains. After the Surgeon General deemed social media in need of warnings, I found myself thinking of it the way many think about cigarettes, highly processed food, and alcohol. I think of it as an addiction. Even though I'm not active on social media (and I haven't really been for almost 8 years), I still feel drawn into the conversation because whatever distance I manage to personally create from the source, the source is still the main artery through which we run our business and manage our public profile.
It still draws me in during moments of crisis. When news broke about the fires in Los Angeles, I downloaded Instagram. Then, a few days later, I deleted it. On inauguration day, I avoided the news for hours, and then before bed, I found myself downloading Instagram. By morning, I once again deleted it. I want to be like Zadie Smith and her husband, who only use flip phones and write down directions before they leave the house. I want to be the version of me before all of this.
When I started getting well-intentioned (slightly panicked) text messages and emails warning me to unfollow the VP and Presidential accounts on Instagram, I had a surprising reaction. Why? Shouldn't I stay up to date on what these elected officials are saying and doing (however dystopian)? If it was of importance to me before, wouldn't it become more so now? Does my unfollowing them have any impact whatsoever on the horrifying executive orders the President signed on day one? No.
Perhaps this effort to cleanse ourselves and our feeds of people who we disagree with is the clearest example of how toxic it is to create an entire social network around being a follower.
Do I feel hopeful? It's cliché, but I want to be. Especially for Sid. I want him to grow up in a world like the one that (however briefly) had seemed to advance in ways that greatly enhanced the lives of so many who'd never before felt equal. I want to believe it is possible to live in a world without war and brutality. To care about the earth as much as we care about our self-interest. I want to see leaders and people in positions of power that are representative of us all. I'm teaching Sid not to bite, not to hit, not to push. I'm teaching him how to understand his emotions, how to regulate them, and to be gentle and kind. I'm teaching him to share, and how to both receive and show love. I want him to know that he can make mistakes, and that making mistakes doesn't mean you are both punished but never forgiven. I want him to live in a world that mirrors those values and ideas. It will forever baffle me why we don't all want that.
And yet, I have searched for understanding because something is rotten through the whole fruit. I plan on doing a lot more listening this year and hopefully engaging in conversations that might be difficult but hopefully extending and accepting some olive branches along the way.
Editorial note: My little musical additional makes this a little bit like a scene from Jerry Maguire. You’re welcome.
Also, any background noise that sounds like paper crinkling is…paper crinkling. Mickey is sleeping in a large cardboard box stuffed with paper, next to my desk .
Second editorial note: The image used (pigs) is for Emy and only she knows why. I love you Emy.
Sara
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