A Return To Nuance
On leaving left-think social media
On the evening of November 8th, I sat in my kitchen sobbing, the phone I’d been glued to for hours facedown beside me. The rage, despair, and in-fighting I’d gorged on all day via social media congealed in my gut, making me feel sick. And in a way, I was. I was even contemplating whether I ever wanted to speak to my parents again, because they had voted for Him. Every negative thought set off an equally negative emotion, inflaming and infecting me like a blood-borne virus. My tears were not the quiet, dignified tears of a simple electoral defeat but the body-wracking, mentally anguished wails of an impending nervous system meltdown.
How could I continue to live in a world that no longer seemed like a safe, loving, or rational place? How could I look my children in the eye and tell them it would all be okay when not only had the ‘bad guys’ won, but the leftist movement I’d aligned myself with for years was already busy tearing itself apart, hurling blame and vitriol at each other with as much ferocity and hatred as those it claimed to abhor? I felt not only unwell but unstable, unmoored.
Though I hadn’t drunk in nearly four years, I found myself pawing through my cupboards looking for a forgotten bottle of booze like a wild animal might tear through garbage searching for discarded scraps of meat, my desire to anaesthetise my pain briefly overpowering my determination to maintain my sobriety. Thankfully no secret stash was found and the moment of madness passed, but it scared me into realising that something was very wrong with how extreme my reaction was to the outcome of an election in a country I no longer live in and have no intention of returning to.
Normally I would add a disclaimer here, acknowledging the serious impact of far-right ideologies on those with far fewer privileges than me, lest anyone accuse me of trivialising the issues at hand or centring myself in the discussion. But I’m not going to do that this time. There will be no caveats or apologies. No more tripping over my tongue or my feet, tying myself up in knots trying to please everyone in every way. Because the truth is, someone else will always have it worse or go through something worse than me. All I have is my own thoughts and experiences, my own life, and that’s all I can speak about authoritatively and truthfully.
That night, I deleted all the social media apps from my phone, planning a short break of a week or two, at most. I knew a detox would be good for me but I thought it would be really hard and really boring, like exercise I hate doing but feel better for afterward. So I’m as surprised as anyone that, four weeks in, I have no desire to return. How could I when the positive effect on my mental health has been so immediate and profound? I genuinely didn’t realise how toxic Instagram (my main app) had become and how unhappy social media was making me until I was free of it. Now that I’ve tasted that freedom, I don’t think I can go back.
Without the noise of thousands of strangers in my ear, and without bearing witness to the constant mudflinging that occurs there, I can finally hear my own thoughts and form my own opinions, not just parrot whatever outrage is being spoon-fed to the masses that day. I’ve also felt immense relief at not being pressured to communicate with friends via trending videos, something I was never really into. I can’t believe I’m that odd for not wanting my social interactions to be based largely around dumb videos and snarky memes, or our shared traumas and social identities. The level of banality, victim complex, and self-obsession taking place in those echo chambers is unhealthy, and I want no part of it anymore.
Though at the heart of the progressive movement lies a noble desire for justice, equality, and compassion, the means used to achieve those ends have, at times, been the opposite of that. Is that who we want to be? Us Leftists liked to think we’re kinder, fairer, more intelligent and evolved than the Right, but we are often just as bad as them. Worse, in fact. Because we won’t even admit that we are also operating from places of ego, fear, and self-preservation, that we are also dehumanising those who think differently from us. The worst of us have become shallow, cynical, misanthropic, narcissistic people whose only tool for feeling better about themselves is to tear others apart.
The constant backbending and tiptoeing required to be A Good Liberal these days is so utterly exhausting, that it has sometimes made me too scared to even speak. Me, a 90s riot grrrl feminist who has screamed and marched in the streets and confronted fascist assholes for decades, too frightened to voice an opinion online to like-minded strangers. FUCK THAT NOISE. No, in fact, fuck that SILENCE. Our feminist foremothers would be turning over in their graves at how effective our own movement has been at getting women to shut up and sit down, and at how meekly we’ve obeyed. It’s astounding, truly.
Look, I’m not becoming one of those strange converts from far-left to alt-right, railing against vaccines and cancel culture in a huge swing from one side of the pendulum to the other. I still very much believe in everything I did before. But there are deep, divisive problems within liberal politics and the social justice movement that need to be acknowledged and addressed before we will ever get a single thing done. And until more of us start speaking up about these problems, and remove ourselves from the influence of group-think social media bullies masquerading as activists, we will remain largely powerless and ineffective.
In the meantime, I am returning to nuance. I am returning to deep thought via the deliciously slower pace of Substack, where I’ve seen a lot of intelligent and respectful discourse taking place. Witnessing countless others who want to create art and share insights instead of spreading hate and shouting insults brings me immense joy, and makes me feel like I’ve finally found my people. Maybe there is hope for us yet.
All I know is that since I left social media, I no longer feel sick. The virus has cleared from my body. With an open mind and heart, I have begun to heal and to hear again. And this time it’s not others’ voices in my ear, but my own.
I've wanted to write this for a long, long time but have been too scared, so thank you for sharing these thoughts! Recent events have shown that even people once considered friends can turn into bullies. The irony is that despite their calls for me to use my voice, they don't want the real, authentic me, they want a group-think robot. And because I refuse to be that, I am silenced.
Well done for stepping away.
My attempts to find spaces that support my mental health, like this place - and building the DD Patreon where hopefully I can create a haven for DDs without the dangerous, manipulative algorithms - is ongoing.
The problem we have is the human desire to find echo chambers, rather than put in the effort to build brave spaces where disagreement doesn't turn into violence but creates mutual understanding, compromise and creative solutions. It seems most people are not at all interested in putting in that effort.