5.2.24 - These Phones Will Be the Death of Me: A Rant
Just up here on my high horse barking down at myself.
These phones will be the death of me. I’m one of those old people at the concert watching the youths TikTok dance and stare into their phones the entire performance. “God, look at them! They’re obsessed! It’s sick!” Youths aside, we’re all fucked.
My screentime hovers around 6 hours/day; while most of that is in service of my job, much of that time is also spent responding to texts, keeping up with my group chats, and obviously doomscrolling. My eyes are burning by the end of the day and that book I’ve been trying to get through for months remains on page 27.
I snap out of a trance and look over at Nate sitting next to me on the couch and snickering to himself while watching some video. We’re just two married folk sat next to each other in silence; we didn’t need 40 years of marriage and a lack of conversation to get us to this point — just these two shiny devices. Has it been 5 minutes or 50 minutes? Time is a construct. We tell ourselves, “It’s been a long day, let me just catch up on my messages, let me just watch this video real quick, let me just…” An indeterminate amount of time later, we’re lost in the boundless abyss of the Internet. My phone gets to see my smiling face, receive my laughter, gain my focus, not my husband.
The Social Dilemma laid it all out there — how exactly we’ve become addicted. It’s by design and I am not immune; I’m aware and disturbed and addicted just the same. I’m on Zillow endlessly looking at homes we can’t afford, I’m pinning hairstyles on Pinterest my 4C hair will never achieve, I’m saving recipes on Instagram I’ll never cook, I’m collecting date night ideas and yoga stretches and ideas and projects that’ll never come to fruition. Before bed, I’m watching Sasha Colby dance to “PURE/HONEY” for the 18th time, as if I don’t have my family prayer call at 8am. During prayer call, I’m checking my email and responding to texts from last night. I go on TikTok — which I only downloaded for work purposes — to look up a restaurant for date night. Next thing you know, I’m 10 videos deep into the analysis of JoJo Siwa’s rebrand. How I got there and when, between looking up Mediterranean restaurants in West Village, is beyond me. Hearing folks try to convince themselves they’re in control of their TikTok usage feels like I’m listening to an addict declare they’re going ‘California sober’— you hear their logic, you support them in said logic, but you’re also side eyeing the entire thing. We used to soothe ourselves with cartoons and a good book or journaling, now I’m watching a woman remodel her kitchen and soon after, I’m pressing submit on my Amazon cart for new dish towels. I feel myself getting got everytime, but I can’t seem to shake the dopamine running through my veins.
When did I go from uploading photo albums, tagging my friends, and writing funny captions, volleying back and forth in the comments with inside jokes, to posting OOTDs? Seemingly overnight, social media has morphed from a sphere where we used to connect with old friends and build community over shared memories to a place where we’re still kinda doing those things but now it feels like an afterthought. We used to actually connect in the golden era of Facebook, MySpace, and Snapchat. Now, when I go on Facebook or Instagram, I’m immediately attacked by new features and sponsored posts. TikTok is basically just QVC and, saddest of them all, Twitter is dead. We’re no longer the owners of social media, we’re just getting owned. Capitalism wins again and the purity of what used to be fun and about connection has become diluted.
I hate feeling like I’m competing with a device for your attention. I’m at the point of triggered where Nate and I will be deep in conversation and he’ll pick up his phone to simply check the time and I’ll full-on snap. The sheer trigger that this device is interrupting my story has me ready to square up. My co-host and I once collabed with fellow podcasters, one of whom was online shopping on their phone as we recorded. My mom has gotten deep into audiobooks and will perpetually have one earpod in as she’s going about the house — I’m talking to myself for a hot minute before she or I realize. My dad and I plan a movie night and within the hour, he’s on his phone peeking up at the movie in steady increments. Is no activity pure anymore? My friend is telling a story and can’t remember the name of the blah blah blah; she grabs her phone to look it up. Can we not have a conversation, watch a movie, or get lost in our memories without the phone somehow barging in? Who cares what time it is? Who cares about that actor’s name in that movie we can’t remember? The instantaneous answers we’ve become accustomed to thanks to Google has made us unable to live in mystery. We tell ourselves “Ah, this small insignificant task on my phone is mindless.” We’ve convinced ourselves that we’re now masters of multitasking, while missing the nuances of the movie plot. And believe me, I’m no saint – I was sat next to my dad Pinteresting my dream home as we watched The Graduate.
Caribbean Moms and Aunties love sending around videos of Internet foolishness. Remedies for sore throats, Caribbean people doing dumb shit, Google slideshows to classical music reminding me that Jesus loves me. I chewed my Mom out once for sending me those videos and told her to stop because three other Aunts were sending me the same ones. Today, I have multiple group texts in iMessage and on Instagram with friends sending around sometimes funny, sometimes heartwarming, sometimes infuriating videos of other Internet foolishness. Swap out my Aunts’ Whatsapp message for my friends’ group texts — what is even the difference? I guess, I’m more interested in a video my friends might send me versus another five-minute long Lord’s Prayer written in flowers from my Grandma, but I still find it hard to keep up with all this content I did not ask for. In our doomscroll, we find gems and want to share them with each other – look at us trying to connect! But, multiply that by five different group texts and now I have a backlog of more nonsense to consume.
Speaking of texting, I will respond to you when I feel it’s necessary. This false obligation to answer our text messages ASAP — I rebuke it. I sometimes go days before I respond to people. I assess your importance and respond accordingly, leaving you pinned on my iMessage until it’s your turn — that’s my brutal truth. I feel grabbed at from every angle and our overcommunication is sometimes draining. I’ve trained my family into realizing if they call or text me, chances are they’re going to voicemail or will get a response maybe in a few hours. When I turned off my alerts and notifications a few years back, it was to suppress that jump I did as soon as my phone dinged. I haven’t looked back since and at least feel in control of my accessibility even if it makes others frustrated by my elusiveness.
I’ve been reconciling my relationship to my phone and social media a lot lately because I realized overnight I became a “content creator.” One minute we’re watching The Bachelor and barking about these crazy white people, the next we’re purchasing $800 cameras and revamping our video quality because the world of audio storytelling has now become a visual one. In the old days, we recorded an episode and tweeted about it. We owe our overnight success to Monday night live tweeting and the buzz circling around #BachelorNation about these two black girls talking their shit. Our digital street team of OG listeners did the work of spreading the word while filled with pride of being early adopters. Now, the labor of self-promotion has become indeed laborious.
Those luddites who don’t partake in social media live in a world of ignorant bliss I no longer have access to; instead, I’m in deep. We’ve amassed 36K on Instagram due to funny videos, memes, and us being us. I remember the day we joined TikTok — I was especially resistant. On top of podcasting, we were making original content on TikTok and hoping it would entice folks to check out our podcast. Our follower counts grew steadily, our download numbers and paid subscribers at a much slower pace. Hearing out in the wild “Oh my god, are you that girl from Instagram?” infuriated us. No girl, I’m that bitch with the podcast. Did you check it out or did that damn IG reel satiate you enough?
We’re enslaved to an algorithm we cannot understand. We recently had a video hit a million views on IG and we have no idea why and we made zero point zero zero dollars from it. I feel all types of ways about these platforms and yet I’ve built a business off of it. I speak critically about social media and yet here I am creating content to keep people hooked and make a sale. The hypocrisy isn’t lost on me; I’ve gotten myself into a bit of a pickle…
On date night, I’m thinking to myself “This would make great content.” The algorithm loves an interracial couple, this swanky restaurant is giving, NYC is looking cute tonight. In my head, I’m building the reel, knowing I can give the people what they want. But instead, I choose not to. My personal Instagram is still on private in my last-ditch effort to keep something sacred. Am I allowed boundaries or is my whole life up for consumption?
I’m not opposed to being sold to on social media. Hell, most of my Christmas presents last year were recommendations from my favorite influencers and those eerily accurate IG ads – saved me a lot of holiday stress, not gonna lie. I think where I struggle is now being the one doing the selling and the fear that one day I’ll wake up and be peddling flat tummy tea because I set zero boundaries. All creators say they want to make content that feels authentic. I’m no different and if I’m going to “sell out” let me at least peddle some shit I’m proud of.
Nate and I rented an Airbnb in PA once — we called it our cabin in the woods. On one of the days, we did a 24-hour digital detox at Tricia Hersey’s request. No phones and no screens for a full 24-hours. The look of utter fear in Nate’s eyes when I first suggested the detox was pure comedy. It was rough — the amount of reaches for my phone to be met with the air; my addiction never felt more crystal clear. We haven’t done a detox like that since. Now, however, when we go to bed, we leave our phones out in the kitchen rather than on our nightstands. Instead of waking up and immediately grabbing our phones, we now wake up, walk out to the kitchen, and then grab our phones. It’s a joke. I have been reading more before bed however and I did crochet a blanket last year and am currently working on my next. My mom is crocheting her umpteenth baby blanket for this phantom grandchild of hers and my dad is using YouTube to learn Spanish before their trip to Barcelona. On Monday nights and on date nights, Nate and I make an effort to be unplugged. We’re trying…
I want to feel connected to the people around me. I want the air of mystery to return. I want to make each other laugh rather than that random on the Internet. I want to read my book on the subway and not stare at my phone attempting to will the cell service to work 50 feet below ground. I want these things and yet my phone has me in a mean chokehold. I’ve chosen the profession I’ve chosen and have no control over the way of the industry. Do we just lay down our swords and surrender or do I purchase a flip phone? Do I shrug and say “It is what it is” or do I actually do a digital detox every weekend? Is that even possible? Already my brain is convincing me it’s not… Am I even making sense anymore or am I just seething with self-righteousness?
Excuse me as I go post this essay on my IG Story…
If your internal struggle to reconcile your phone addiction is also plaguing you, these two articles helped me feel seen:
READ: “First-Gen Social Media Users Have Nowhere to Go” (Wired)
READ: “Everyone’s a sellout now” (Vox)
Progress Update: April/May Monthly Midnight Watch - Master of None (Season 2)!
Aziz Ansari is adorable. He looks like a cartoon baby. Watching his misadventures through millennial dating in a pre-pandemic NYC is so heartwarmingly nostalgic.
Nate and I breezed through season 1 and just finished season 2 last night. I felt validated every time Nate let out a laugh. Validated that Dev and Arnold’s goofy jingles are in fact so stupid they’re funny. Validated that I married the right man.
We’ll record our episode in the coming days. You can still watch Master of None (Season 2) on Netflix and the Discussion Thread, to share your thoughts, is coming soon.
Thanks for reading! Let me know what you’re thinking or just drop me a line and say hey!
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Enjoyed!
Build a smart-phone purdah into your week by using a brick phone at the weekend (or some other specific times). A 3310 costs pennies and it only takes a minute to switch your sim. You'll get withdrawal symptoms for sure, but deep down you know you aint missing anything important. Set out a schedule of things to do while your iPhone/Samsung is sleeping in the drawer. And when you've put the dreaded machine away, breathe, look up, and see the world that's sitting there, waiting for you.