I moved on from being a
teenager this Monday. It was a really heart warming birthday. I celebrated with
my friends by having a pasta potluck party. There were about 17 of us all
congregated in the little kitchen of my dorm hall. We talked, made music, cooked
together, and shared in celebration. When it neared dessert time, my friend
Caroline chimed us to silence with a fork to her mug of pasta, cleared her
throat, and announced that everyone should go around and say their favorite
memory of a time with me. It nearly brought me to tears to hear stories I had
forgotten about, descriptions of college friends’ first time meeting me, and
recollections of some serious shared experiences. I felt so much love, and so
much gratitude for such thoughtful people in my life.
On my
birthday, I also received many text messages, Facebook messages & wall
posts, and Instagram posts & comments. And by many, I mean well over a
hundred. It was nice to have electronic communication to be able to receive
birthday wishes from friends and family back home in California, and all around
the world.
This is normal these days!
Usually when a friend of mine on social media has a birthday, their wall is
filled with a huge influx of birthday posts, because Facebook notifies us of
our friends’ birthdays. These posts made me very happy, and were much
appreciated, but (probably because of my critical eye toward interpersonal
communication right now) I can’t help but question if the majority were posted
out of some sort of implicit social media code, implying obligatory birthday-wall-commentary.
Good portions of birthday wishes on Facebook are simply a “happy birthday” on
the person's wall, with nothing else. For me, these were from high school
acquaintances or people I know on campus at L&C, but not too well.
Contrastingly, some close friends would post more detailed wishes for me, post
pictures of us, or write about things they value in me. The posts that were
special and tailored to me made me feel so loved, similarly to the feeling I
got face to face with my friends at the pasta party.
By
analyzing how people communicated with me on my birthday, I began to question a
concept that we discussed in class a couple of weeks ago, inspired by Nancy Baym: today there is a fine line between interpersonal communication (between
two or a few known persons) and mass communication. Social media sites, like
Facebook, can be used for both, and often blend both by intermingling private
and public conversation. For example, all of my birthday posts were directed to
me, but because there is a custom of doing wall
posts-- all of my friends could see all of these expressed sentiments.
Birthdays aren’t the only time this happens though.
Last year, my community at home
experienced two shocking and devastating deaths. Two boys I went to high school
with died in separate accidents a few months a part. I found out about them
through Facebook. There is a unique, modern cultural mourning process that I
have witnessed in these two instances, and more: their loved ones use the
Internet to continue talking to the deceased. In the case of the two boys from
my high school, not only did I find out about their passing via the Internet,
but I also learned how it all happened as the stories and relationships of
their life unfolded publicly. Friends and family would post daily, saying such
kind, real, emotional, raw things to the deceased via their Facebook, as if
they could read it. Some very intimate memories were shared; open expressions
of grief and despair paralleled with silly memories on their Facebook
walls. Friends and family commented on each other’s posts thanking them for
sharing and wishing each other strength and support. At one point, Facebook was
used to raise money for the family of the deceased and organize a memorial
service.
Witnessing this congregation of
community online after horrible tragedy was both inspiring, and perplexing. The
support and emotional release I saw was beautiful, but I couldn’t help but feel
almost intrusively voyeuristic reading into their relationships. I then started
to feel disheartened about their digital world forever lingering on at our
disposal; their profile picture never changing again, their last status being
their final post. Looking at their profiles can still bring me to tears.
The
lines of public and private have really blurred in the modern age. Considering
the celebration of birth, the coping with death, and even just making plans
with friends-- so much of this is done on the Facebook “wall,” which does
belong to an individual, but is public to all. Are we posting for the person or
for the people watching? Is it exposing or liberating to bring up really
intimate details in this way? Why do we feel compelled to address friends, both
alive and deceased, about personal matters in a public way?
All of this said, I’m big on wall posts; I almost always post to
friends’ walls on their birthday, or make an Instagram post with a silly old
picture of them and a list of things I love about them. It’s fun. It makes us
feel special and loved to be in the virtual spotlight. I think that reflecting
on my birthday and my experience of losing acquaintances has reminded me that
it is powerful and important to spread positivity and kindness via technology,
in a way that brings people together and reminds us of our worth and our
humanity. I also feel prompted to make sure my messages are crafted in a way
that is mindful of all who will potentially see them. We have powerful social
tools at our fingertips; I am inspired to make online interaction more
meaningful.
Have you had similar experiences of witnessing very personal online interactions that you weren't a part of? Have you dealt with loss through mourning online? Do you love or disdain Facebook birthday posts?
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