I love the internet, but it's complicated. Unless I'm somewhere without cell service or dancing around to '90s Robyn like nothing else exists, I feel like I'm constantly trying to keep up. Technology drills this idea into our heads that we need to take in the entire world at once, i.e. the infinite scroll on Instagram, the 10 new newsletters in our inbox every morning, each containing 10 more articles that we'll definitely bookmark and probably never read, the obligatory "sorry" that we have to preface every late returned call or text with because we're expected to be available 24/7, the number of people telling us what we should read, like, watch, and eat, ETC. I know "catching up" is a shiny illusion, but I still fall for it. It's like I keep forgetting I'm not a robot.

Maybe living in a task-obsessed culture has even made content something we feel like we need to check off/like/repost (now I'm realizing that every productivity and “save for later” app is probably contributing to the rewiring of our brains ahhhhewiffhdsfnjke). Also, when did everything become content? How do you create something that lives outside of the infinite scroll? Serious question. (First thing that comes to mind is a zine. )

I've been thinking about this a lot in the context of Black Lives Matter and the wealth of information about anti-racism and abolition, and lists of Black-owned businesses/Black artists/Black activists, and the like sweeping social media recently. It's amazing!! But it's also wiiild how quickly things can start to feel commodified. I stood in a long line outside of a local Black-owned coffeeshop on Blackout Tuesday, waiting to order a lemonade (they were sold out of their signature drinks and pastries), and I had this gross creeping feeling. Like I was participating in some trend, neatly crossing off a task for work that should in no way resemble a to-do list.

I read a great blog post written by the Black artist Jen Hewitt about her discomfort from suddenly receiving so much new attention in recent weeks. Food for thought:

"...Why does this social media “activism” make me and other Black artists very uneasy? It really comes down to that idea of “discovery.” For many of us, the language of discovery smacks of colonialism – the colonialism that has enriched much of the Western world over the last few centuries, and always to the detriment of the colonized. Black artists have always been here. We may not always have the opportunities or capital that our white counterparts do, but there are a lot of us, many of us have strong communities, and a good number of us are thriving. We didn’t need to be “discovered” — especially not in this form. Many of us are seeing our work being co-opted and appropriated for other people’s benefit – maybe not always for profit, but so that non-Black people and brands who hadn’t done anything to highlight or work with Black makers until this week can now feel good about themselves for “helping” Black folks, and signal their own wokeness to themselves, their followers, and their customers. It is crushing to work so hard to build something, only to watch what you’ve built become a tool for someone else’s gain without your permission."

Discovering and engaging with Black people like content (and further, to get a gold star) feels unsettling on multiple levels, even if they may benefit from it on the surface. Because I think, as a white person, why and how you're being an antiracist is just as important as what you're actually doing, especially if you want to make an impact outside the magnificently all-consuming black hole of Instagram.

Plus, if the culture surrounding content has become this tornado where everything needs to be bigger and better and and more more more, and we feel like we need to consume all of it, then when a serious issue like dismantling racism becomes "popular," it takes that much more focus and discipline to digest information, talk about it, and take thoughtful action. Because you always feel like you're falling behind!! (Just me?) I think to truly catch up, consciously, you have to slow down and think. THE IRONY.

But in a lot of ways we shouldn’t slow down. We can't afford to. Sign petitions. Donate to bail funds. Support organizations that are fighting racial inequity. Protest. Turn anger into action!! It’s just… if we’re not internalizing words or acting intentionally, what happens when the adrenaline runs out? How can we create sustainable change within ourselves and then talk about it with the people in our circles/communities? Change is not sexy or instantaneous. It’s not a dopamine hit. And it's definitely not checking off a box.

The rush is real. The rush to do something and immediately, the rush you get from doing that thing, and the rush to prove you’re the best (or the most broken) without acknowledging how you got there. It reminds me of this glorious scene from Work in Progress where King tells Abby that life isn't a competition. Ughh so good.

If this post sounds like one giant paradox, that’s probably because it is one. I don't have a solution. But also, solutions are tidy, and retraining your brain in a sea of listicles and likes is not. I do think one of the most radical things anyone do right now is to resist the temptation for instant gratification.

P.s. I was talking about all of this with a friend recently, and she said something that made me nod vigorously. "I made a list of anti-racist content to consume and I feel better about myself once I've checked something off. The real problem is -- why aren't the things on this list already on my more general lists? I've had a list of books to read and a list of things I want to watch for years. But this new list is separate from those. Isn't that the whole problem?"

THINGS TO THINK ABOUT.