Why We Scroll

Everyone I've ever met lives in this place on my phone. Now, they're gone.

I know now why we scroll. I know why we can't stand to be alone with our thoughts. I sit on the metro, stand when it's crowded, my face in someone's armpit, and get why we want to avoid reality.

We bury our faces in our phone screens, put in headphones, so we don’t have to face it head-on. The uncomfortable moments of being human are made more tangible—to feel the mundanity of sitting on the metro, the pain of losing a job, the rage at seeing the deportations, the White House Tesla advertisement, the foundations of society crumbling before us. Seeing Zuckerberg pledge his allegiance to the flag of Trump's America was the final straw.

I deleted my Instagram and Facebook accounts. I blocked the Internet app from my phone. I force myself to sit with it. The mundane is painful at times. The helplessness doesn't go away with a single swipe of my thumb.

I am only a few weeks removed from this norm of regularly consuming social media and having the Internet at my fingertips. I have read many think pieces on the subject. Books too. I've taken breaks and deleted accounts before. But I think it will stick this time. I hope.

I can't help but feel angry when I finally step away. I think of people in boardrooms discussing how they can keep us in the endless scroll, how to steal our attention and hold it for ransom. We give it to them freely. I know there are benefits. I have made many friends on these corners of the Internet. I sold a car on Marketplace. I’ve found many groups I enjoy in my analog life on them. This is why we stay.

But the algorithms are designed to make us sick and keep us addicted. No matter how connected I feel getting to see my hometown friends and their babies, I am sicker seeing the bombardment of advertisements and influencers.

I am sicker seeing the Friends of USAID page get taken down for hate speech. I am sicker still seeing abortion rights pages disappear while far-right content is amplified. I am especially sick seeing just how easy it is to fall down the rabbit hole, from homemaking and skincare content to anti-vaccine conspiracy theories and tradwives telling you how much happier you’d be if only you’d subjugate yourself.

Everyone I've ever met lives in this place on my phone. Now, they're gone. And I feel free. I write more. I started The Artist's Way. I am trying to call friends more. I am more present. Sometimes, the presence is painful. Sometimes, it's joyful.

I will not pretend the platform I am publishing this on isn’t social media. I will not pretend that I can use it without restriction. I block it from my computer 23 hours a day. I give myself "tablet time" as if I am a child. It's the only way I can use these technologies without becoming addicted. I know my limits. I am too familiar with the lure of the colorful squares on my phone. I know why we scroll.

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