Dear Facebook Friend
Today you posted about your exhaustion with Facebook politics
You expressed relief that, now that you’ve now unfollowed everyone who posts politics, your feed is “completely back to normal”.
I was getting tired of all the politics in my Facebook feed, and was about to quit Facebook entirely. Instead, I tried just unfollowing anyone who posts predominantly politics. After unfollowing about 5% of my FB friends, my feed is completely back to normal. It’s really nice seeing what the other 95% are up to again!
I went through a multitude of reactions to your post, including surprise — for example, how is it that 95% of the people in your social circle don’t post about politics (at least, not very often)? I was taken aback by this because, well, there’s a lot about what’s going on right now that’s very personally impacting both me and the people I know. Needless to say, it was jarring that this wouldn’t be the case for a nontrivial number of others, even if our political alignments are different. So, after talking it through with friends, I decided to write out my thoughts, since writing is my best medium (and we’re now here on Medium. Get it?)
I’ve always read about politics voraciously. However, the Trump administration marks the first time I’ve become truly politically active — going to marches and other protests, calling my politicians, sending postcards, and more.
For many of my friends, it’s the same — they reached their breaking point and realized they couldn’t be silent or complicit any longer. My only regret is that I didn’t stand up or speak up sooner. Where was I during some of the initial Black Lives Matters protests? I was reading about them, nodding along, and supporting them in spirit, but I wasn’t there. I have no good excuses.
This administration has revealed that I can no longer afford to be quiet. And, for many of us who are so newly and fervently engaged in politics, this isn’t just about politics: it’s a matter of life and death.
In a previous piece, I wrote about many of the Trump administration policies and stances, saying:
[These] are life- and personhood threatening issues. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: If the thought hasn’t crossed your mind that you might need to leave the country, go into hiding, or conceal some part of your identity out of self-preservation in this new presidency — if you aren’t concerned about losing fundamental freedoms, or even your life — it’s because your stakes aren’t the same.
Though the context for writing that piece was different, the sentiment remains. The stakes are high for us. We can’t afford to not pay attention or to remain silent.
You might not realize this, but many of the current events I post about directly impact me. For example, in the last few weeks there have been multiple instances of Nazi propaganda at the university I attended — right here in the city where we both live. People I know have torn these posters down from buildings where I personally took Computer Science classes. As the granddaughter of Austrian Jewish refugees, this is incredibly disturbing. Sometimes I want to hide from it — and sometimes I do take breaks because I have to — but ultimately I also have to come back; how can I not?
And then there are issues which may not directly impact me, but absolutely impact my friends and people I dearly love, including legislation that attempts to strip rights from LGBTQIA+ people, Muslims, immigrants, refugees, indigenous peoples, and others. How can I remain silent?
As the famous poem from Protestant pastor and Nazi political prisoner Martin Niemöller goes:
First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out —
Because I was not a Socialist.Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out —
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out —
Because I was not a Jew.Then they came for me — and there was no one left to speak for me.
I speak out for others, and they speak out for me. We stand in solidarity for each other, because what’s going on right now is not only not normal, but unprecedented.
I won’t go on at length about the issues since you’ve already filtered your Facebook, but I’ll say this: when even breastfeeding, 11-month old babies and one year-old burn victims are being separated from their parents due to the actions of our government, something is very wrong.
I understand the need to unfollow people who post clickbait, misleading articles, or simply reshare without fact-checking. In these times especially, it’s critical to be vigilant about what information is propagated; I tailor my own feed to remove people who don’t follow basic media hygiene. So, hopefully you’re aware based upon the content I share that I do a fair amount of my own fact-checking, political analysis, research, and writing. In fact, some of my work has created rich conversations across a variety of social media platforms, like this piece.
I also respect the need to take breaks. I have diagnosed anxiety, so I understand what it’s like to need a political detox. In fact, my mental and physical health depends on it.
However, I’m now finding that I can’t take much time away. It’s become clear to me that this isn’t business or politics as usual, and the people’s response affirms this: the Women’s March was the biggest protest in US History with an estimated 3.6+ million participants; more than 13,000 women are now planning to run for office around the country because of the current political climate; and many politicians’ phone lines have been constantly busy, their voicemails full. People are paying attention for a reason.
With this being said, believe me: I wish I could be paying less attention to politics right now, and I’m sure many of my friends and peers agree. If only I had the luxury of missing the news or not having my elected officials’ numbers in my phone. I would love to not care about these things.
I also wish there was such a thing as “returning to normal” for my life — it would be especially wonderful to wake up in the morning and not be afraid for myself, my husband, and my friends. I miss going to bed at night without a sick feeling in my stomach, wondering how much longer we’ll be safe in the United States after the latest wave of hate crimes. I miss not feeling distracted, depressed, and anxious at every turn because something newly awful has happened. And I especially miss the feeling of safety I once had, although I now realize how privileged that was. Some people live their whole lives with such fear.
Becoming numb to what’s going on is a tempting response, but it’s also a dangerous one. What I realize now is that politics and life aren’t so easily decoupled. Politics isn’t something that only happens every four years, or two years, or whenever I get a ballot in the mail. Whether they admit it or not, whether they’re aware of it or not, politics is life for anyone impacted by legislation — in other words, all of us.
And, in fact, politics often determines who lives and who dies: the Syrian refugee turned away at the border; the cancer patient denied insurance because of their pre-existing condition; the woman who gets a back-alley abortion when she’s out of options; the low-income family that doesn’t make enough to get by, but makes too much to get the assistance they need; the immigrant who’s separated from their family and deported; and others, too. Even for my friends now running for office, politics is inseparable from their lives in an entirely different way — they’re not only shaped by policy, but policy-shapers.
Ultimately, Facebook is yours to tailor however you wish. I respect that, whatever it entails. I don’t mind if you unfollow me or unfriend me, but I would hope that you would value me enough as a friend and former colleague to be interested in seeing how current events are impacting me and others.
I hope that I’m wrong, and that “normalcy”, to you, doesn’t mean ignoring politics entirely — that you don’t somehow believe that you, your family, your coworkers, or your employees are somehow not deeply and directly impacted by the current administration’s actions, both now and in the future. Whether you’re aware or not, it’s already happened in the last month, and it’s bound to happen again. For too many of us, there won’t be a “back to normal” for a very long time; nothing we do to our Facebook settings can change or avoid that.
I hope you continue to remain engaged rather than retreating into a no-politics zone until the next major election. That doesn’t mean you have to read political posts on Facebook. It could mean subscribing to a daily digest, watching a favorite news show (I like John Oliver’s mixture of research and humor), or listening to political podcasts. Whatever floats your boat, really.
I hope you’ll consider active participation in addition to passive consumption— attending town hall meetings, writing or calling your elected officials about the issues, donating to important charities, and otherwise participating in the active democratic process beyond casting a vote.
I hope you’ll engage in issues that not only impact you and your family, but others as well — the people most in need of advocacy, whether they’re people of color, immigrants and refugees, LGBTQIA+ folks, people with disabilities, or others.
Lastly, I hope that even when you see different perspectives — perhaps ones with which you aren’t immediately comfortable — that you express interest and curiosity in learning more and getting varied outlooks rather than simply unfollowing.
For me, the path to political activism has been a slow one; I’ve been far from perfect in the past, and I know I still have plenty of room for improvement in the future. It’s a learning process for all of us. So, if you need ideas, I even wrote a guide.
Yours in resistance,
Kimberly
Kimberly is a freelance writer and photographer. When she isn’t overthinking things in open letters, you’ll probably find her traveling or eating.
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