Seeing Red, or Why I Left Facebook (Baaaaaa)

See me, right there?  Hi.

So, in case you didn't see it on CNN or Huffington Post, I've left facebook.

If you couldn't give a hoot--an opinion to which you are most genuinely entitled, because after all, who am I to think anyone should care, it's not like it's a world event--you can stop reading now.  Just sayin'.   Don't be reading all of this and then leaving some comment like "Who cares?" (not that anyone will see it since I moderate comments...bwah ha ha....but still), even if "Who cares?" is the most frequently posted comment on most news sites.... and of course People magazine.  Really.  People read articles about the pregnancy weight of whichever one of the Kardashian sisters is pregnant right now (I have no idea), and then they take the time to leave a comment that says "Who cares?" Who cares?  Um....You.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

On the other hand, if you're interested (which I am, because, well, it's me) or curious (because you're that kind of person...I love me some curious people) or perhaps a wee bit jealous (which I know some of you are), read on.

So here's the deal.

I didn't leave facebook because it ate (or killed, depending on the generosity of my mood) my blog a couple of years back, although I've thought of that many times.

I didn't leave facebook because it's one huge addictive massive time suck that has negatively impacted much of  my work and my life. That's a really good reason, though.

I didn't leave facebook because I don't value community or staying in touch with my friends from kindergarten, summer camp, music festivals, or chorus.  Those are good things about facebook, and I'll miss them.  Although, come to think of it, you're getting warm.

It is possible that I may not have left facebook permanently.  While I'm away, I'm going to spend some good time working out at the bullshit gym, strengthening my bullshit deflecting muscles.  I'm gonna devote some portion of my day to working at the lab, testing out those new sprays that make facebook posts slide right off without leaving any powdery residue or unsightly stains.  I'm going to go to Use-Facebook-Infrequently-And-Don't-Care-About-Anything-You-Read Camp.  We'll see.

I understand that this is new, because, well, I just left, so I haven't thought this through so perfectly yet.  But my reasons are timely, and hell, this is my blog, so I'm gonna write about them.

The short version, for those of you who have read about as much as your attention span will tolerate, is: I left facebook over gay marriage.

I mean, that's completely inaccurate and incomplete and doesn't even resemble the truth, but I am aware that, if you're a good little soldier and you read this post all the way to the end, that's what some of you are going to come out saying.  It will be wrong, but that's all you will have gotten out of it.  So I'm saving you some time.  Okay.  Fine.  I left facebook over gay marriage.

Ding ding!  Tram Stop Number Two.  We will be stopped here for thirty seconds for those who wish to disembark at this point.

You see, I'm singl.....

I know how you think.  I was about to start a sentence with "I'm single, not partnered..." and I could hear your brains clicking and saying "aha!" and linking that sentence to that "I left facebook over gay marriage" thing.   See how that works?  Well, you're gonna think what you're gonna think.

I'm single.  Not partnered.  So I mostly have myself to talk to.   Yeah.  You might think it doesn't make a difference (especially from the privileged perspective of being partnered).  But it does.

I live in a town that I moved to solely so that there would be really good public schools for my daughter (an admittedly questionable elitist and capitalist choice that I still struggle with every day)--perhaps needless to say, I don't live in a hotbed of radical lesbian feminist politics.  Hmm.  Come to think of it, I don't think that there is such a thing as a hotbed of radical lesbian feminist politics anymore, but, hey, a girl can dream.  So I don't feel a lot of community where I live and spend a lot of my time. 

I'm a mom.  I'm the kind of mom that believes when you're a mom, that goes at the top of your list.  I get that not everyone feels that way.  I do.  So I spend a lot of my time with 13 year olds, cooking, packing lunch, and driving to events.  (This stretches my anti-assimilation muscles further than they can bear, all on its own.)

I'm a lesbian who came out into an enveloping community of strong, resistant, proud women.....and into a community of some loving, wonderful men, the great majority of whom were dead by the time I'd been out for six or seven years.

Facebook is perfect (or deadly) for people like me.  It's a little glimpse of community, a tease.  One of my friends said, a while back now, that facebook was like "sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name".  So...like a bar, I guess (which could explain my dissatisfaction right there)...but that's not how I took it.  I know that feeling.  We all know that feeling.  Hanging out with friends.  A place where people are glad when you pop in to visit.  Where you chat a bit and then you go back.  Nothin' wrong with that.   That's why I am was there.  Keep up with the latest, chat with friends, see what people are up to, take a break from being a single mom in an affluent (gag) suburb.  The way life used to be when LGBT people weren't so focused on being "just like you."

I assure you, this is not a procedural issue, or even a fit of cynicism.  It's about community.  The kicker leads back to that age old conversation, the one that was used to represent "us" (whoever "us" is) in the Supreme Court of the United States (did you hear it?) the one that is one of my least favorite conversations anywhere, anytime.   "We deserve rights because we can't help it", "who would choose this?", "no one in their right mind would choose to be gay".  Yeah.  The argument in our favor before the Supreme Court included the sentence:  "[it became unconstitutional] when we as a culture determined that sexual orientation is a characteristic of individuals that they cannot control."  Great.  Now it's enshrined in the federal record.

Poor us, we couldn't change this if we wanted to.

Bullshit.  There are plenty of us out there who could change it.  And have.   Some of us (especially women, whose stories are buried under the "legitimate" research that focuses exclusively on gay men)  did choose it, and aren't sorry, and aren't victims of this "horrible life where everyone hates us".   I'm one of those.  And WHY did I choose it?  Not because of the sex.  Not because I think women are "hot" (I don't care for, or even understand that concept, no matter who it applies to).  Because the women's community, which has long been, at least in part, a euphemism for the lesbian community, at least in the place that I came out, was a wonderful, wonderful place.  Warm.  Welcoming.  Alternative.  Accepting.  Diverse.  Contrary.  Loud.  Activist.  Feminist.  Radical.   A positive, wonderful, political choice.

So.  This week.

The massive proliferation of red HRC (no, I'm not linking to them) logos made it clear to me, in a more final, permanent, way, that that community is dead, at least in my pretty large circle.  I've kind of known it for awhile.  But I have been practicing my best denial skills, and it's been working pretty well.  Until this.

I have always held, deep in my soul, that if I were ever to find myself in this sort of crowd, I would leave:

 I'm Jewish.  When a family member dies, we cover our mirrors.  It symbolizes a withdrawal from society's gaze, a recognition that mourning is lonely and silent.

And so I left.

Ironically, a few weeks ago, a facebook friend posted a meme that said, aptly: "The only thing worse than being alone is being with people who make you feel alone."   Touché.

So now you probably want the brief takeaway, because that's how people are these days (you see?  I'm catching on).  I told you already.  You can say "Robin left facebook because of gay marriage."

Oh.  You want the REAL takeaway?

Robin left facebook because she felt as if she found herself in a massive community of people who, almost without exception, have no qualms about playing right into the marketing scheme of a big, wealthy, corporation, and then defending it as benign.   Because I found myself nearly swept along in a nationalistic, flag-waving march for assimilation.  Because, in an almost flawless enactment of quasi-Orwellian groupthink, a voice of dissent is like screaming into a chasm--and frankly, I have enough of that in my life already without inviting it into my living space through a brightly lit screen.

Lighten up, Robin.  It was great.  It's a history making event.  People were supporting us, everywhere.  I loved seeing that sea of red.  It meant so many people were with us.  It's not a reason to leave.  It's just a symbol for marriage equality, and we were just saying we're in favor of it.  You're making too big a deal of it. I don't understand why you wouldn't be excited about gay people getting equal rights.

I am excited about gay people getting equal rights.  I'm excited about all people getting equal rights, leaving none behind.   Ya know, with the emphasis on the none.

And it's not a "symbol of marriage".  It's a logo.  Like this:

Or this:

 

Or this:

(Just in case you don't know what that last logo is (I know you know the first two), it's the logo of the ACLU.  You know.  The people who argued the case in our favor before the Supreme Court.  You know.  An organization that is actually related to the cases currently before the highest court in the land.   An organization that doesn't focus its time and money on slick marketing campaigns.)

The equal sign, red or not, is a logo, created in 1995 by Stone Yamashita design firm.  A logo of a $50 million dollar business, that overpays its executives and which many people within the LGBTQ community (especially those ambivalent about assimilation) do not regard as their advocate of choice.

So, you still want the "blurb".

I am a lesbian. But before that, I am a woman and a feminist.  And before that, I am a person who believes in the inherent danger of groupthink, especially in the current culture of corporate capitalism run amok.  And before THAT, I'm one of those moms who did not let her kid wear shirts with promiment "GAP" or other logos on them...I long ago joined the surprisingly large league of mothers who have told their children (as part of their education), "If they want us to advertise for them, they can pay us."

That'll do.

Hot tip:  I already mentioned that I moderate comments.  I don't do that because I like some of you and not others (though that might be true).  I do it because there is a HUGE amount of spam that floods into the comments sections of blogs, and it's a LOT to keep up with.  So it's easier to moderate.  That being said, please don't send me comments that tell me that I need to learn not to take this stuff so personally.  I've been listening to that shit my whole life.   I am who I am, and I like that I'm principled and analytical, and I have people in my life who like that I'm that way, too.  Actually, say it if you must, but be aware that I can respond to comments, and I will then feel free to tell you what you need to learn.  Deal?

P.S.  Oh.  Even though I'm not seeing them anymore, much gratitude to my few friends who changed their facebook profile pictures to GLAD, or Lambda Legal, or the ACLU. Even one or two different ones (not including knockoffs of the HRC logo) helped.  And even more gratitude to people who changed their profile photos to pictures of themselves at their weddings or commitment ceremonies, or just together with their families of choice.  And even more to those who just left it all alone, so we could all see your face and remember who we're doing all of this for.

Conspiracy 101 for Old Farts

Tonight, after 11 months of living in this house, my small dog (Puck) discovered that there is another dog that looks a great deal like him living in the dishwasher.  I was fortunate to be able to capture their first encounter with one another before the FBI swoops in to give some cockamamie explanation, like it's a reflection, or something paranoid like that.  When are they going to accept that it is, indeed possible, for there to be another small black dog living in my dishwasher and stop trying to pull one over on us?

Speaking of conspiracy theories (which I was, right there, in case you didn't know), I've got something to run by you, although I'm not usually one to subscribe to such stuff.  

Okay, so maybe I am.  What's it to you?

In any case, I've been having some thoughts about the new "upgrade" (now there's a case when it is entirely appropriate to use quotes, as opposed to the sign that says "lettuce" in the grocery store, which makes you wonder what it really is, or, at the very least, where the produce guy went to school) on Facebook.  As I posted there a couple of days ago, I don't get it.   I thought the word "upgrade" or "new format", when applied to a website, was supposed to imply improvement, debugging, new features, or helpful adaptations.  This was a full site overhaul, and none of those words seem to apply.  So I am confused (which is nothing new, but still).  And confusion sets me to pondering, which you pretty much know by now.

And in my pondering, I've come up with an answer.  You knew I would.  I knew I would too.

I don't think it was a system overhaul at all.   I don't think they meant to "improve".  Some people think the redesign was to accommodate more ads--that might be true, but I don't think that's it.  I think (ready? here it comes!) that its a conscious move on the part of the 20-something facebook developers to return facebook to its roots and thus to its rightful owners (and citizens).  

You see, over the past year or so, there has been article after article and commentary after commentary on the web, in newspapers, on the radio, on tv, about how the fastest growing demographic on facebook is the old folks.  Like me.  Yup, the old farts are taking over facebook, and using it to reconnect with friends from childhood, from college, from camp, from wherever. And the kids, as you might expect, are upset.  Some of their parents are now on facebook.  Ew. And since the owners and developers of facebook are, in fact, said kids, they probably feel the same way.  They've probably got thousands of emails from their peers and former loyal members saying "GET MY PARENTS OFF OF HERE!".  So they're doing their best.  They've changed their format so that all the parts that are most appealing and helpful to the older set are now gone or difficult to find, and the parts that the kids like (like knowing when their friends are sitting in class, or going to the bathroom, or seeing who was at the party last night, or seeing how stupidly one of their friends types when they're drunk) are more prominent. My guess is that they understand this tool and market better than we give them credit for.  

They're right. All of the old people hate the new format.  Many have stopped using facebook so much.  Most (that I know, anyway) are complaining.  When they get sick of the new format (just imagine if there are further "upgrades"??), they'll leave.  Facebook will be returned to its original glory, and the world will be safe for democracy (and teenagers).  

I'm telling you, this is what's going on.  

This is where we come in.

See, I'm the type who sees a hole and wants to fill it (who sees a wrong and wants to right it....er, "write" it?)  Like most other times, filling this particular hole would require me to possess or develop an entire set of skills that I do not currently have.  In this case, software development--more specifically, coding skills that would let me develop a social networking site.  But maybe somebody out there, reading this blog DOES have those skills, and if so, please feel free to steal my idea.  It's a good one.  

Let's call it a "spinoff".  It's been done in television for years.  Let's do it on the web.  Let's take all those facebook features that we like and start our own social networking site.  Let's make it just like facebook, but better.   For example, it could have a "help" button.  And lots of other things that we old farts like.  And let the kids go back to the equivalent of raising your hand to tell your teacher (and friends) that you have to go number two.  

Here.  I've made the new header. 

Take it.  Run with it.  I'll be your first customer.

Hip Hip Hooray or Oh, My Aching Back!

I can't tell you how much I love it that the old geezers have taken over Facebook. I can't tell you how much I love that. But I'm gonna try.

I love it that a social networking site, created, built and maintained by the whatever-letter-generation they're called (I can't be bothered keeping up with such things) is growing and thriving not with the help of their peers, but with the help of their parents' peers (or in some cases, their grandparents'). I'm giddy.

I've been thinking about what that's about. Is it that young people, who may have never known "community" or the experience of running into all your friends while trick-or-treating after dark (with no parents along, of course--parents don't go trick-or-treating, they stay home and give out candy, frevvins sake!), imagined that they could create it while sitting alone in front of a keyboard? A generation looking for connection, but for some reason unable to find it in the "real" world? I'm not sure whether it has occured to anyone that it might help to remove the earbud from one ear, the bluetooth headset from the other, and put the cell phone away? (the irony of this is that I just read the earbud story courtesy of one of my "old" friends on Facebook!)

Don't get me wrong. I have earbuds. I have a cell phone. I even send text messages. I'm as addicted to my iphone as anyone else.

But I also remember community. I remember when there was no such thing as "playdates". You just went outside, or knocked on a door, or went down to the local ice cream store, and hung out with friends. And then you came home when you were hungry, or it was dark, or someone told you to. And the amazing thing is that all those people, the ones who sat on the stainless steel aluminum cases at the ice cream shop, the ones who I only knew by their "camp names", even the ones that tortured me as a child, bullying me in school...they're all on Facebook.

(I'm realizing here that my references make it sound like I grew up in Mayberry, which I most definitely did not. And I'm also realizing that if you know that reference, my point is probably already made. Speaking of Mayberry, there's someone I haven't found yet...the hometown friend of my next door neighbor in my freshman dorm in college...we took English comp together. We sat in the back and made jokes about the small-town naivete of our professor, who I now realize was probably a grad student, now that I know such things. One time, when I walked in for an exam, tense as a result of being ill prepared, he--the friend of a friend, not the professor--started softly whistling the theme song. It loosened me right up, and still makes me laugh more than 30 years later. I'm gonna go look for him on Facebook when I'm done here. Remind me.)

I have been contacted by people from my high school that doesn't exist anymore that I can't even believe remember me (I was largely a non-entity in high school). I am in regular contact with my friends from summer camp. I have reconnected with one of my dearest friends from second grade, with whom I walked home from school and said and did the goofy things that only second graders do--and we have the privilege of understanding for the first time the whys and hows of our connection at seven years old and share our amazement that some thread of it persists after all these years. I am able to marvel at the photos of my friends' children, who are older than some of my coworkers, and probably older than the folks who started Facebook. And I'm part of a current community, getting to know my friends right down the street a whole lot better than I might otherwise, in our hurried and overcommitted lives. 

So I guess what I'm saying is that I have to face it. Again. I'm a statistic, a blatant example of a market demographic. It happened to me once before several years back when ownership of my first ipod sold me irrevocably on Apple products (exactly as they intended...damn!). And now here I am again.

I've always been pretty attached to my anarchic, rebel self--well, maybe not always, but recently, anyway (yes, I realize that "recently" is a relative term). I wear what I want (which brings to mind another recent FB conversation on the rules and restrictions regarding the wearing of linen in the winter months--of course, I was in the "who gives a flying #&*, wear whatever you want" camp). I accept that I'm "odd" (I've now learned that when that happens, you just remind yourself that you're an artist--it works every time). I know I use too many parentheticals. And ellipses. Too bad.

I think it's cool that the old farts are takin' over the airwaves. Wait. I think "airwaves" is not the current (or correct) term. Maybe that just proves my point.

I gotta go. The world in which "friend" is a verb is calling. See ya there.