Let there be skateboards in the Kingdom of Zuckerberg
I quietly left the Kingdom of Zuckerberg in the winter of 2021. Why I left should be obvious; I wanted to reclaim my mental health, my attention, I wanted to draw my own algorithm, I wanted my data to be mine, and I wanted my relationships to be defined by active engagement instead of passive consumption.
Whenever someone told me to checkout this Facebook group or that Instagram account, I begrudgingly replied, "I am not on social media," to which they usually responded with, "That sounds so nice," or "I wish I could do that," or "Good for you." No one ever responded, "Why?"
No one–that is–except for my teenage son.
As of writing this, Phin is fifteen years old, and I've kept him off of Instagram for those fifteen years. I was on Facebook and Instagram before he was born, and it took me most of his life to make the change and lead by example. I tried as best I could to pass on these values to him with the hopes that he might learn to build a life that is less dependent upon the whims of a few billionaires. Don't worry; I know how I sound.
"But dad, I need Insta. I can't get sponsored without Insta," he began to plead with me the older he got.
"Need? Can't? These words aren't acceptable," I would often reply. "Do what you love to do. If you want to skate, then simply skate and the world will come to you."
It's not bad advice, but it is admittedly tone-deaf. Phin's world is a digital world. It's a portable and bite-sized world. It's a world largely built upon the foundations of Meta, Google, TikTok. It's everywhere, and it's everything. Nothing is owned. Your data is not your own. We're cooked, so stop tripping!
Is my resistance of the social media empire something worth resisting or am I simply getting old?
"Hey you kids get off my wifi!"
I know which of those I want to be true, and I know which of those my son thinks is true.
On the one hand, I believe we are what we can remember, and the more we outsource our memory while simultaneously giving up our attention is... bad. On the other hand, I don't think we know for sure who we are becoming as a result of this technology and this is not the first time that human beings have been radically transformed by technology.
My point is that there's no real answer here, just a variety of stories, each with as little certainty as the other. The only thing to do is to pick a path and step forward into that uncertainty: follow the way of the moth.
I finally budged and just before Christmas of this year, I let Phin get an Instagram account (@imnotphin). I knew this was coming. I naively thought it would come when he turned eighteen, but I wasn't so naive that I ignored what this day would mean for me. The day I opted-out of social media, I knew that it wasn't forever, that I would return whenever and where ever Phin entered (@etc.paul).
I want to follow him; see him. I want to be interested in the things he's interested in. I want his world to be my world; our world. My beliefs haven't changed–I still hate the Metaverse and being back feels as though I have entered occupied territory–but I love my son more. Reentry is essential.
My ideals were developed for my well-being. I exerted those ideals onto Phin for his well-being. We protect the ones we love, but protection is only a small fragment of love. Protection alone is an incomplete love, and if left unattended, protection can very easily turn into control. What I am finding to be the more direct pathway to love is curiosity.
Phin, I am curious about you, and I am interested in what you're interested in. I am here with you in this kingdom that I resent, but I am here with you nonetheless. May this love fill you and guide you forward. I can't wait to see how you will shape and transform this world of ours. Lead the way!