I have an admirable friend, let’s call him “Pedro”, who often releases his monthly newsletter and blog as much as a week ahead of time. I am so inspired…no…I am NOT! I am so panicked…OMG “Pedro”, is it (the next month) already?
To deal with this, I have been trying to compose my blogs ahead of time, to avoid this panic, and if I’m honest, to see if I can “one-up” “Pedro”. Ah, but he is a far more experienced writer, and I, I must edit. Sometimes to completely rewrite the whole thing. Last month I hand-wrote my blog. Then as I typed it into the computer it morphed into an entirely different essay. (I admit that was kinda fun!) And then that essay was tweaked and adjusted and whatnot. Thus the first of the month remains my bloody-good-enough goal…
All this to say that I am writing this “shitty first draft”, (thank you, Anne Lamott) on January 20th, which this year in the United States is simultaneously (tragically) Martin Luther King Day and inauguration day. The irony (tragedy) of this juxtaposition is lost on no one…
Today we celebrate a revered courageous black civil rights leader I am old enough to remember alive, whose speeches I have listened to many times and read and re-read. I’ve been uplifted by his message, the melodious tone of his resonant voice, the poise and musicality of his delivery, and the content of his character.
And we “celebrate” … the opposite.
What to do? Friends, I will not witness it. I will not hear that voice, see that man, observe the Titanic-like trajectory of my native country. Today I begin four years of opting out.
I will instead turn to my art as both comfort and an act of resistance.
While you may think that “playing with crayons" is an abnegation of one’s civic responsibilities, there is nothing that an autocratic regime fears more than free-thinkers, artists, and the creative spirit. Except all that from a woman! Check-mate.
It's not that anything I create is overtly political, though—who knows?—it might move in that direction under these conditions. It's that the mere act of not following the crowd, not conforming, being an individual and "speaking out” is enough to scare them. Witness: Entartete Kunst (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Degenerate_art),“Degenerate Art”.
By “them” I include the disgraced “leader”’s power-hungry billionaire pals infiltrating the government. They count on us not being able to disconnect from their products and services. They count on us to keep making them richer and richer.
Yes, these platforms—Facebook, Instagram, Amazon—are culture-defining. But I have agency, and I can make my choice to participate or not. And from here on out, I choose not. I opt out.
They count on us not grabbing our own agency, not being able to resist the pull, not being able to separate ourselves from the herd. They count on us being cowards and sheep and—especially—not bothering. They count on us drinking the Koolaid, the intoxicating brew of “if you’re not there, you don’t exist”.
I admit that exiting these platforms is not entirely heartbreaking for me. For quite some time FaceBook is not so much fun. Ads and algorithms, no thank you. Instagram was much more fun when it was just square photos—ah, the power of limitation to spark creativity! Now it is just another “Pachinko machine” of bells and whistles and disorienting distraction. (Why is it so hard to keep things simple? I know: the growth model). Twitter was fun when everyone was limited to 140 characters, prizing pithiness. A challenge! Now?…X?…just no).
Now they can’t be bothered to check for facts (or even pretend to)…and they gerrymander the algorithms to favor what will fool the incurious and feed the billionaire-greed even more. Another no. (And, what is wrong with these people? Of what could a billionaire possibly be in need? Oh, that’s a rich question indeed…To answer it honestly, from my viewpoint: they need love and to play with crayons.) Beatles: “Can’t buy me loooooooove……” Sigh.
Don’t get me wrong, I have absolutely loved being in touch with long-lost friends (I moved abroad, after all), and connecting with new people on social media. But I can’t support the evil (and I don’t use the word lightly) owners. Friends and readers: we will meet by other means.
(It appears that the whole point of this “free” online real estate was for AI to “scrape” up human-produced “content”…in order to sell it back to us at enormous profit… a story for yet another day.)
There are other platforms, in my case my personal site , my YouTube Channel, and Linkedin.
I’m also newly on Substack where I’m writing about all things creativity—come check it out!
And thus it was that on the evening of January 20th, 2025, I tuned out the news, and tuned in to a lovely dinner with a lovely friend, followed by art-making deep into the night. This, to me, is a worthy existence: opting out so I can tune in.