The Social Trap: A Sockpuppet Internet
I used to really spill my shit onto the Internet, just reaching to connect with anyone.
At the ripe age of 18, I created my first online profile. Desperate for someone to listen without judgement or unsolicited advice, I opened my heart onto a keyboard for anyone to hear me without them actually hearing me.
It took a while to latch on but eventually, they trickled in one by one. After that, it wasn’t long before I was sifting through constant (mostly positive) commentary falling in threads beneath each LiveJournal entry. I was able to express my feelings and discuss my problems with people who knew me up close, who had known me for years and those who only knew my internet persona; those who had never met me in the flesh and likely never would.
Writing was a healthy coping mechanism that I had been utilizing for years but finally took to another level, made it available to the public and it lead to creating all types of relationships. It allowed me to let people in but also keep them at arm’s length. The screen was a translucent shield. My grievances, my hopes, my dreams and fears were visibly naked to anyone that I wanted to let in but they could never touch me.
The perfect balance for about five years.
But then it fizzled out. The comments were fading and I watched my audience dissipate one by one.
The phase came to a crawling halt and the greater part of me was learning that, like us, the internet had it’s phases and LiveJournal was losing relevancy. People were moving on. The generation who latched onto chat rooms and message boards and then moved onto Instant Messenger and making celebrities out of MySpace profiles was once again moving onto the next thing, whether it was on or offline.
But that little ego of mine was persistent on something else: the comments stopped appearing because my friends stopped caring about me.
I took it personal.
Now a decade beyond one of my last LiveJournal entries, I know better, but that does not stop me from paying too much attention to who interacts with me, who is a spectator and who simply uses social media to line their pockets. I think the tendency is to believe that our audience only extends to those who interact with each post but its easy to forget that our internet presence reaches much further than that. Even the private messages, emails and secret groups cannot promise confidentiality. All it takes is one forward, one screen shot and a post to break rules and tarnish trust.
People are watching and many of them will not say a word. Now is when it’s especially easy to know this because of the transparency that Instagram and Facebook offer with the story views. Some users are creating bots and/or using tools to grab your attention and attract you back to their account. A few are creating fake accounts to remain anonymous while they view your life through stories.
Recently, a photo of mine (above) was used by a Catfish on a dating app. While this wasn’t the first time photos of me or my work were stolen and used inappropriately, this one hit the closest to home knowing that the profile was made in close proximity to where I live. Two different men informed me of this fruadulent account less than a day apart. At first I found it a little funny, passing it off because it’s the internet and photos get stolen and misused all the time. I passed it off and sucked up the blame because I know that I am running a risk every time I post a photo.
But that’s not okay.
Knowing that specific photo was only posted on Instagram straight from my phone coupled with noticing blank profiles viewing my stories, I know that I either have to lock down my public profile, blocking out anyone that I do not give permission to access, or I have to assume it’s someone whom I actually know. Who’s already been given that permission.
The fact of the matter is that we have a couple hundred or thousand people following us on any social media platform. Some of which we may have met in real life and some we will never come into physical contact with. A part of me still yearns for that connection; a desire for transparency and vulnerability. Where do we draw a line? When we already have real life “friends” who misjudge our character, how are we to assume that anyone online has the ability or the inclination to know any better?
Has my generosity and loyalty to the world wide web made it more difficult to draw close to my personal relationships?
Has my affinity to the internet made it too easy for me to actually disconnect from others? From myself?
Who can we trust?
At one point, the screen made sharing safe and accessible. Now it feels like we’ve come full circle, no longer feeling secure but instead, like we’re living in an overwhelming fishbowl filled with more garbage than we are mentally and emotionally equipped to handle. That’s only the tip of the iceberg with the dangers of the internet…we haven’t even touched the corrupt political influences, the scammers, the mob mentality, how social media aids in Sex Trafficking or how YouTube may be affecting our children.
Perhaps I’ll change my tone tomorrow but I’m feeling a deep urgency to unplug. Since that is not an option for the line of work that I do or even who I am as a person, I’ll make a valiant effort to scale back and be diligently mindful of what it is that I share with the Bills, Toms, Marks and Anonymous of the Internet.
