Edition #59: Our Empty Internet Disclaimers

Plus, a life without pain, the Audre Lorde questionnaire, and a beautiful song

A Note From the Editor

You’re scrolling through Instagram and are met a photo of a person you vaguely knew from a few years back, smiling on a beach somewhere next to thier partner, two faces squished together in a frame with an optimally placed, diamond-clad hand. “Can’t wait to spend forever with this one!” Or, the image of a charming, one-story house in an acceptable shade of beige, two people in tennis shoes and toothy smiles sitting on the stoop with a long-haired dog wedged between them. “I guess this means we’re adults now?” It’s the kind of once-in-a-blue-moon announcement that social media dreams of made of, the kind that allows the person posting to rise to a level of temporary stardom amongst their small corner of the internet. And while the nature of the announcement may vary, there is often one common denominator. A footnote, an afterthought: #blessed.

The first definition of blessed is: held in reverence, venerated. Another, closer to the way we’ve used it, is: bringing pleasure, contentment, or good fortune (as in, “a blessed event”). Blessed, at least by definition, is not going on vacation to Italy or having breakfast with your mother, but a word meant to signify something sacred, something holy. Certain people on social media use the word to evoke a sense of surrender over life’s unexpected turns; a cancer recovery, a city rebuilding itself after a storm, a survived pandemic. These events are not in our control and so those who are of faith might use words like blessed to denote that they see and feel God in those moments.

But #blessed is not used exclusively in such a context. The word has been scooped hollow by our heedless references, carefully positioned to add an element of feigned humility to what is nothing more than a celebratory brag. If I were to share the news of a fancy new job to my followers on the internet with a photo of a shiny corner office, I might come across as arrogant or pompous. If however, I frame this same announcement with a level of empty secularity that #blessed allows, the word acts as a guardrail to my self-indulgence. It can’t be braggy if I’m #blessed!

There is no word police and thank goodness for that. You can say whatever you want and use whatever hashtag you want, but I think we would all be better off if we more carefully considered the function of the language we chose to use with regularity. There is so much power in words, both spoken and written, and they are often just a decorated version of what’s really going on in our minds. In the case of #blessed, I’m convinced we’ve adopted the habit of usage as a disclaimer for false humility. We want to be sure people understand that we are just people, that maybe we are lucky but we aware of it. Does #blessed denote something religious, really? No. It just shows the digital world that we aren’t assholes — at least, we hope it does. We can’t seem to think of a more eloquent way to say that we feel fortunate or to say that we would like others to acknowledge our accomplishments and celebrate them with us. Plus, we still want to virtue signal because it is what the current state of the internet requires, so #blessed it is.

This carelessness of internet language reminds me of another catch-all phrase I’ve been seeing more often, particularly since last May. This one is a different sort of disclaimer and more interesting to me as it is used by white-collar workers and media people, by serious writers and CEO’s and artists, in interviews and in newsletters and in company statements. It is more esteemed than #blessed but just as empty. I am aware that I have benefitted from this privilege, I have directly benefitted from this privilege, I know I’m coming from a point of privilege when I say XYZ. You can mix and mash the phrase however you want, but the underlying tenor is always the same: I am acknowledging that my life isn’t so hard compared to others in hopes that I am still allowed to make this point without losing credibility. We are compelled to speak about or write about things that may not directly affect us (see: any of the hundreds of crises plaguing our nation), but we are afraid to come across as tone-deaf. We don’t want anyone reading or hearing our words to think, “What does she know about food insecurity? She posts pictures of lattes and almond croissants every weekend!”

I am guilty of using this empty disclaimer myself, probably right here in this newsletter, and the more I read it the more numb I become to it. The more I’ve paid attention, the more I’ve grown frustrated with our inclination to slap these limp disclaimers on to our communications for the sake of not having to do any deep critical thinking or self-reflection. We use phrases like #blessed and aware-of-my-privilege because they are safety blankets; because we see them being thrown around by others so we parrot what we see because digital repetitiveness feels like acceptance (think: the black squares on Instagram). But what do our disclaimers even mean? Does acknowledging your privilege bring any true value to your narrative, does it serve any critical purpose? The end result falls somewhere between performative activism and garbage language. You’re aware of it, great! So what?

I’d like to imagine a world in which words hold more weight, where we take a breath to consider the heft of language more carefully. I imagine a future generation peeling back the layers of the internet language we used in attempts to get to the heart of what we were trying to say, the same way we’ve examined the second amendment and tried to make sense of its oddly phrased implications and loosely placed commas. They might laugh at the way we “spoke” on the internet and in life, because they will have done away with the disclaimers and the fluff in order to facilitate more honest communication. They will say what they mean in a way that we never figured out how to.

Cheers, my dears. I’d love to hear what you think about #blessed, aware-of-my-privilege, or any similar phrases. Do you agree that they signal something hefty but are actually empty disclaimers? Do you disagree? As for me, I’m #blessed that you chose to spend another week with me in your inbox.

P.s., As I looked up the definition of blessed, I noticed that Merriam Webster has a section towards the bottom of the page (linked above) that asks “What made you want to look up blessed?” You can click to expand the section and read users’ answers, and it is quite interesting to read.

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Three Pieces of Content Worth Consuming

1. A World Without Pain. Rarely does a story bring me as much joy as this one did. I found myself jotting down so many notes and smiling endlessly as I discovered the story of Jo Cameron, an elderly woman in the Scottish Highlands who is the only known person alive with a rare genetic condition that makes it so she does not feel negative emotions like stress, worry, deep sadness, etc. She also doesn't feel physical pain. What struck me, aside from how lovely Cameron seems to be and what a charming life she lives, is the scientists’ input weaved throughout the piece, explaining how our adverse reactions to most "bad" things that happen in life is a humanistic response that no longer serves us from an evolutionary perspective. In short, we can react less harshly, more like Cameron, and we might be better off for it.

   “My mother’s death was the least saddest thing ever,” Cameron declared. “She used to say, ‘I’ve had the most wonderful life.’ And she died after she had an iced lolly and went to sleep.”

2. The Audre Lorde Questionnaire for Oneself. You know when you start to notice something and suddenly it begins to pop up everywhere (a phenomenon known as Baader-Meinhof)? That has been happening to me lately around the idea of the weight of our secrets (more on that in a later edition). In the meantime, read this beautiful excerpt from Aminatou Sow’s newsletter, which is actually an excerpt from Audre Lorde’s book, about of the weight of the words we hold in. It is powerful and concise and I love the idea of doing the questionnaire on yourself as an audit to see how truthful you’re allowing yourself to be.

   “And the speaking will get easier and easier. And you will find you have fallen in love with your own vision, which you may never have realized you had.”

3. How to Create Compelling Characters. This one is specific to my writers out there, but could also be interesting for anyone who enjoys watching TV, movies, or reading books. This former psychology grad-turned-writer’s approach to creating characters is markedly different from the traditional advice doled out in writing workshops — “give characters a desire, make them three dimensional”. The core approach here is understanding where your characters fall on the spectrum of the ‘Big Five’ personality traits (the basis for Meyers-Briggs) and using that information to determine how they might react to the world and particular situations. I will be testing out this character development method for a story I’m currently writing about a man in a small town with a case of rare swords — fun stuff!

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Perhaps You Should…
Watch The Capitol Riot Footage

Trigger warning: footage depicts violence and graphic content. I debated whether to include this, but it’s too important to ignore. In the wake of the second impeachment trial, this new footage depicts a linear, terrifying look at what happened on January 6th. It is painful to watch, but I also think it is crucial to understand exactly what happened and how. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. As I watched, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the violence that inflicted upon Black and brown protestors last summer. I couldn’t help but ask myself; if these were not white people, how many bodies would be lying on the ground after an attack this brutal? How different might the outcome have been? How many lives would’ve been taken?

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**Bonus Content** (It’s Just a Bob Dylan Song)

This song came on my Discover Weekly yesterday while I was in the shower and I stopped washing for a full four minutes and five seconds just so that I wouldn’t miss a word. The purity and earnestness of these lyrics melted the ice off my heart — it’s the perfect love song and it might not even be about romantic love. Swoon.

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A Quote From A Book You Should Read:

“I learned from him that often contradiction is the clearest way to truth.”

-Just Kids by Patti Smith

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This newsletter is best served with a side of conversation, so drop your opinions, reflections, and thoughts in the comments below and let’s get to talking.

Or, share the most thought-provoking piece from today’s edition with someone you love, then call them up to discuss, debate, and percolate. As a wise woman once said, “Great minds discuss ideas.”