(#56): casting off the critics
We're both too concerned with ourselves and other people.
In a mid-March newsletter, the publication byline mentioned frustration with the current era of “self-indulgent” writing on the internet. Later, they shared their founder, Megan O’Sullivan’s thoughts on it, which essentially longed for writing as a craft instead of a means to achieve viral internet fame.
Since the dawn of the internet, there’s always been people rating its content as worthwhile or wasteful – that’s part of what initially made internet culture subversive. Even today, despite a more privatized internet than its inception, there’s still a degree of untamed territory online, where anyone can post or share just about anything, whether or not anyone else agrees with or enjoys it. There’s something both joyfully and frighteningly democratic about that, and I think it provides fertile ground for critics who provide optional guard rails by proclaiming what belongs, what’s interesting, or what’s offensive.
I’m struck by byline’s/O’Sullivan’s observation not necessarily because I agree with it as criticism or critique, but because I think it captures a fundamental truth about the state of society, not just online, but in general. In the essay, O’Sullivan said:
I once saw Fran Lebowitz give a well-known writer the harsh but honest advice of writing about something other than themselves. It needed to be said. When I think about writing that left a mark on my brain, it’s essays like The Crane Wife and Joan Didion’s On Self Respect—stories that start with the personal but eventually make a much bigger, universal point outside of the self. Pieces that are also really, really well written. I can’t help but feel like we are moving further and further away from that.
People today are thinking about themselves, and those who think and live like them, a lot. The idea of Fran Lebowitz telling another writer not to write about themselves recalled a piece of advice from Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life, that I repeat to myself often: don’t assume that everything that happens to you is interesting. I also remembered actress Jemima Kirke’s memorialized answer to an Instagram Q&A respondent who asked for advice for “unconfident young women.” She said: “I think you guys might be thinking about yourselves too much.”
Of course we’re thinking about ourselves! American society is literally built on the idea of individualism: the notion that every person alone possesses the freedom and ability to access what they need to achieve the life they’re entitled to. We’re taught to believe that the circumstances of our lives aren’t the product of social forces and institutions acting on them, but of our own moral character and work ethic. Essentially, that everything we need in life exists inside ourselves! What a profound, early, and repeated lesson on self-importance.
Add to that social media companies successfully transforming individual consumers into products and framing data collection as crucial opportunities for full-time connection with others. The American loneliness bred by individualism maintains soft soil that social media companies mine, uncovering information about consumer trends and habits that help platforms keep people scrolling, while advertisers fine-tune strategies for marketing and selling products.
Meanwhile, algorithms are training everyone on social media to believe that in any context, they are the target audience. In a May 2024 article for The Chronicle of Higher Education, Eileen G’Sell outlined how her students struggle understanding context or identifying target audiences or the authors of different sources of information, because their brains are trained to consume short-form content missing context clues and citations, fed to them by algorithms based on their preferences. They think every piece of media examined in their coursework was created for consumption specifically by their generation. That’s not their fault, it’s simply the product of one of the mainstream methods of information-sharing today.
In January 2025, after much lamentation from people online, TikTok went dark for 12 hours in line with President Biden’s signed legislation declaring that its parent-company, ByteDance (headquartered in China) had to divest from the company or the app would become inaccessible after the deadline. When the ban went into effect, Donald Trump extended it 75 days, which ends this coming weekend, on April 5. It’s uncertain whether Trump will extend the ban again, and of course, several companies are expressing interest in buying the platform.
Notably, in the 12 hours between TikTok going dark and getting restored, many people described a sense of grief over the loss of that particular medium. Many felt like TikTok was the most positive form of social media, where people forged the closest thing possible to real-life connections by bonding over information-sharing. In contrast, I saw a lot of people posting on Instagram about the dread of returning to that platform, labeling it inauthentic, contrived, and judgmental… kind of like middle school.
The TikTok algorithm doesn’t suggest content based on who you follow, it suggests content based on what you engage with, which provides the perception that it’s really listening, understanding, and anticipating who you are. In a recent session, my therapist said: “Human beings are reliant on other people to reflect our reality.” She said this in a conversation about the importance of true friendship. If technology cleverly, subtly, reflects our perceived individual realities, it provides a false sense of community that’s completely dependent on further engagement with the tech. It’s part of why influencers don’t simply discuss their followers, but their “communities.” Real community requires mutual dependence and shared intimacy. There’s nothing shared about most influencer communities, especially between the creator and the “community,” other than superficial information like recent purchases, preferred aesthetics, hobbies, or interest in subject matter – it’s really the stuff of small talk.
The affinity created by receiving a constant stream of content curated especially for our personal tastes and comfort has also collectively lowered our tolerance for different opinions, ideas, and approaches. In order to engage in robust debate and persuasion, you have to know your opponent’s argument. The lack of curiosity fostered by spoon-fed entertainment and information means most people aren’t interested or prepared to engage with anyone who disagrees with them. So we’ve mostly stopped, replacing debate with disparagement, division, or, worst of all, apathy.
One of the latest trends I’ve noticed in how people post online, is that if they’re going to speak out about a political, social, or civil rights issue, they’ll only speak out about the ones that affect people they identify with. Last week, on March 24, was the anniversary of the death of the liberation theologian, Óscar Romero, who was killed in 1980 while celebrating mass. In his lifetime, he gave many inspiring sermons about what humans owe each other, but one of my favorites is about peace:
Peace is not the product of terror or fear.
Peace is not the silence of cemeteries.
Peace is not the silent result of violent repression.
Peace is the generous,
tranquil contribution of all
to the good of all.
Peace is dynamism.
Peace is generosity.
It is right and it is duty.
According to Romero, the good of society depends on the contributions of everyone, which requires an ability to step outside of ourselves and think about what life is like for other people. While I do think the structure of our society and the many pleasures peddled toward consumers encourage everyone to prioritize themselves, everything people share online – the good, the bad, and the ugly – isn’t simply a hollow play at fame. For better or worse, people are asking for attention, they’re trying, they’re seeking connection.
The foundation of the critique that most of the writing published online is more focused on viral fame than quality prose suggests that the majority of content people are publishing is “bad.” By whose standard? Who decides what’s interesting, well-crafted, worth sharing and reading? Anne Lamott’s famous book on writing came out in 1994, before people recorded and distributed every facet of life online, and while there’s value in being discerning, and I agree that skills separates great artists from the good ones, what’s interesting is completely subjective. Think about how many typically mundane moments make us cry for strangers on the internet. I think we’d miss those seemingly silly stories if they disappeared tomorrow.
Of course, I believe there’s writing, art, and other creative work that’s objectively good, and maybe even objectively bad. Critics of various kinds push and explore boundaries, spark debate, and ultimately inspire more and better art. But as Charli XCX immortalized in a baby tee: They don’t build statues of critics. Yes, we’re all definitely thinking about and writing about ourselves too much, but Nora Ephron, one of the greats, famously lived by the motto: “Everything is copy.”
There are days I’m annoyed about how long it’s been since I encountered a really impactful piece of writing, but sifting through the silly, superficial, cringey, and some-times outright unbearable haystack of internet sludge to find a few impeccable needles teaches me about other people. How they’re experiencing and sharing the world, what feels interesting or important to others, different levels of privilege, and a lot more. When it’s unbearable, I stop. That’s what books are for. Pretentiousness and preciousness about what other people are posting or writing about and whether it deserves our attention is just as boring as relentlessly being served the exact same content over and over by algorithms. The fun is in finally finding what feels worthwhile.
Hot
Trans Day of Visibility - Today is Trans Day of Visibility, and now more than ever it’s important to speak up in solidarity and support of trans people. Here’s a great petition to sign from the ACLU to help protect transgender people’s freedom and safety.
For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women) by Japanese Breakfast - Two months ago, I told a friend that I wasn’t as into Japanese Breakfast’s last album so wasn’t sure if I wanted to see them on this tour. Scratch that completely. I really love this album, and have an especially soft spot for it given one of my friends nicknamed me “sad girl,” for a time in high school. <3
Luminscent Creatures by Ichiko Aoba - One of my friends recommended Ichiko Aoba to me recently and this is a great soundtrack to Spring.
Bothered
“The Encampments” - I really want to see this new documentary about last year’s university encampments demanding divestment from colleges and more transparency about investments. A lot has been said about these students, but there have been so few opportunities for them to share their stories and the motivation behind their activism in their own words.
The abduction of activists across the U.S. - There’s a frightening trend taking place right now where the U.S. is openly taking political prisoners, particularly international students, regardless of the legality of their immigration status. The first amendment is clearly in danger.
“US added to international watchlist for rapid decline in civic freedoms,” The Guardian - I’m frustrated watching the discourse unfold in our current political moment. It’s easy to act like the scary or abhorrent acts going on right now magically appeared with the current administration. That’s not how history or humanity work. Every. Administration. leading up to this moment helped create the conditions we’re in now. We’d be better off acknowledging and actually learning from that context than continually trying to slap the same old, chewed-up piece of bubblegum on a worsening break in the dam every four years.
You made it. Thank you. Leaving you with this: