Social Media, Mass Tragedy + May Boatwright
// The Goatkeeper, Issue 3
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(Not political, not religious, just written from the heart.)
When mass tragedy strikes, May Boatwright is the first person on my mind. May and her inability to separate the world’s grief and sadness from her own.
These days, the news typically breaks on Twitter, quickly followed by Facebook. You get a breaking news alert from the outlet of your choice, click a link or begin following a hashtag — you’re engulfed in a national, global tragedy within minutes. The idea of peeling yourself away from the three screens fills you with guilt, yet consuming the following hours of “breaking” rumors and filler news doesn’t make you feel much better.
Do you remember reading The Secret Life of Bees? May, one of the sisters and pivotal characters of the story, lost a sister to suicide early in her life. She simultaneously lost her ability to filter out the pain and suffering of others — the emotional weight of the entire world bearing upon her soul.
The more hours of CNN Breaking News coverage I get roped into, the more I relate to May Boatwright.
May coped by creating a Wailing Wall of her own. She stuffed handwritten notes dedicated to the healing of others between the rocks, a physical tie to her psychological anguish. When we flock to our own Wailing Walls, our blogs and our profiles and even personal journals, aren’t we doing just the same? Aren’t our tweets some cry for understanding?
While there are predictably ugly, political, racist reactions to tragedy time and again, there’s also beauty to be found. Take #PorteOuverte or the best clickbait ever created for example. And, for everyone else hurt by yesterday’s news + subsequent hatred, hopefully you can be similarly refreshed by those who do it right:
If your sensitivity gets you stuck in the media spiral, and if you can relate, know that the “good ones” are still out there.
Take a walk outside, see that life can and will go on. Call your family. Turn off the TV and take a moment of silence in your own unique way.
Send me a text or a tweet or post or an email. I’m here for you, across the wires, and I’m likely feeling the same.
