Like most people, I have a fraught, storied history with social media. I still remember the first time I joined CompuServe and AOL in the early 1990's as I entered my teens, finding myself in chat rooms with creepy strangers. I can feel the chaos of unruly flirting in ICQ chats in college, and how my then asexual mind bristled with anxiety. The image of Facebook's launch on our campus is clear in my mind, as are the dozens of outrageously long public debates with my evangelical uncle about God, abortion, and LGBTQ rights. I recall first joining Twitter, and thinking that I would try sharing a bit more of myself in small pieces, and that turning into a hellscape of hate speech, call outs, and hollow advocacy. At some point, I started blogging on Medium to reflect about all of this, sharing my academic blogging practices, observing the boundaries I set with filter bubbles, ruminating on the isolation of social media during the COVID-19 lockdowns, and eventually on my departure from Twitter, and what I learned by leaving.
All of this, in hindsight, has felt like a bad 30 year relationship that all led back to investing in IRL spaces and relationships in my local community. (As we all did before the internet was a thing). And it was all capstoned by Katherine Cross's lovely dismissal of social media, Log Off, which carefully pleads for us all to remember that, in fact, social change happens in the streets, in conversation, and through community, not through our little positional sieves online.
And yet, despite all of the problematic moments, there is one thing I miss: shouting out to the void about the things and people I'm proud of. I can be proud in private, of course, and I do. And the recognitions of my own pride, and my pride in those I care for, teach, and learn with are the most meaningful. But there are ways that these private forms of pride just don't seem loud enough sometimes. I want people to know about what we're discovering in research, that I'm hard at work at big problems, that the people I work with are doing amazing things.
I've noticed this because of the rare moments were I do get to share something I'm proud of. Maybe our university writes a story about me, and I get to talk about my work, and the wonderful people I do it with. Or I join for a conversation on local news, making the work of my university and the ideas of my research community visible. Or I get to speak about the very intimate work I do with trans youth to power, at a city council meeting, or our state legislature. Or in the annual merit reviews I write, when I get to reflect on my year, share my accomplishments, and think about what comes next. These punctuated moments of pride, while infrequent, feel validating, at a time when I often feel beat down by a transphobic and anti-intellectual world as invalid and unwanted.
While these bigger moments are valuable, lately I've wanted to celebrate the smaller wins. Even tiny ones. I think it's a byproduct of the many ways my personal and professional life have become enshrouded in decay and despair. Budget cuts left and right. The loss of food at professional events. The weekly news of another state that wants to erase me from public life. The depths of self harm that arise in the youth communities I work in. The whole thing is a just a big downer and the occasional press or marked milestone just isn't enough.
And so I've decided to return to social media in a limited way, focusing on this one specific use case. I plan to write on microblogging platforms about three specific kinds of content:
- Sharing something that I'm personally proud of working on or accomplishing during a work day. For example, if I were posting today, I'd say something like, Today was full of many nuanced conversations about faculty governance. I'm proud of being present in those conversations, sharing incisive recommendations that centered equity, and sharing the space with others.
- Sharing a discovery I've made with students and collaborators, usually in the form of a research paper or resource that I'm proud of. Today I might have posted, Did you see Megumi's RESPECT paper from last April? It was such a gentle peek into the rich complexities of instructional design in multilingual learning settings.
- Sharing someone I'm proud of or grateful for in my personal or professional life, to recognize their role in my life and work. Earlier this week I might have posted, This Tuesday I went on a tour of the new Lambert House renovations. I am floored. I am in awe of not only the staff's vision, but the incredible care in shaping a space that centers youth voices, dreams, and visions for community space.
I'm hoping to post one of these a day, as a way to mark the end of my work day, to reflect on the emotions that I feel from the day, and to help me transition to my evenings of rest and reconnection with my family. I want this to feel like a ritual, one that centers my own wellness and growth, while also publicly amplifying the positive work in my life.
I don't know if returning to social media is a good idea. I may find that these little sprinklings aren't really doing it for me, and find a more substantial way to share with the people in my life, without boring them with the details outside their domains of concern. Or I might find, like I did on Twitter, that the world is full of trolls and hate who want to spread shame and conflict. Or maybe I'll just find it distracting, as social media always has been, and reclaim my little bits of time for the real work. Or just maybe, this tiny prosocial practice will find its way into my daily habits, and I can feel a bit better about the long hard days of this administration.
I'll let you know how it goes, either there or here, or hopefully someday in person, over a drink or meal.