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This post differs slightly from what you’re used to and what I’m used to writing. Instead of touching on a particular issue, I decided to articulate my experience while experiencing the world and how social media impacts that. This is my first time doing this, so I would love your feedback. Let me know what you think!
March 28th, 2024, from the chaotic Notes app of Stanley Fritz…
Today is Wednesday. I have only had one cup of coffee, and in the time it took me to finish it, I was reminded that six people died on a bridge Monday night, or maybe it was Tuesday. The days tend to blur together when I’m not properly caffeinated. Did I mention they died on a collapsing bridge? Okay, wait. Let me take a step back.
Late Monday evening or Tuesday morning, depending on how you prefer to define 1:30 am, parts of Baltimore’s Scott Key bridge collapsed when a container ship crashed into it. According to an article in the Guardian, “the ship issued a mayday as it went off course and seemed to lose power, which Baltimore officials said allowed them to prevent more vehicles from coming on to the bridge.” Up to 20 people fell into the water, and two people were saved. One was checked into the hospital and listed as in “Critical Condition,” and the other refused medical attention and dipped off into the night. I’m assuming he told his girl he was going to bed and didn’t want to have to explain anything.
I learned about the bridge news while running on a treadmill and attempting to avoid my phone, but I failed. While processing the implications of something I thought only happened in a Michael Bay movie, I overheard a reporter asking the Mayor of Baltimore how long it would take to rebuild the bridge. I think he and I made the same face. The logistics and timeline of bridge building had to have been the furthest thing from his mind because you know… people.
I felt the weight of this tragedy intensifying my anxiety, so I put the TV on mute, ran faster on the treadmill, and started doom scrolling. It only took 30 seconds to find a right-wing nut blaming the accident on Baltimore’s “DEI Mayor” I didn’t know that’s how white people were spelling “Nigger” these days.
Two more swipes on my phone and Baltimore were replaced by the raid on Diddy’s houses. Word on the street is that he might be hip hop’s Harvey Epstein. If that’s true, everyone is going down because if there’s one thing our country is good at, it’s putting DEI’s in jail. Money may seem to permit all types of horrible behavior, but there are limits to that when you have melanin. Fly too close to the sun, and you will soon be reminded that net worth doesn’t erase hundreds of years of white supremacy.
And here I am, conflicted. I do not believe that we can police, incarcerate or punish our way out of these endless cycles of harm, having said that, if these rumors are true DIDDY and everyone involved need an express trip to prison with no detours. Doom scrolling doesn’t seem to be helping, so I step off the treadmill and switch to TikTok. A 20-something influencer reminds me that Drake has yet to respond to Kendrick’s “Like That” diss. He says rappers have always “responded within 24 hours of a diss.” I consider pointing out that Nas took three months to respond to Jay-Z’s “Takeover” diss, but the idea of sparring with a bunch of 20-year-olds about a moment they weren’t alive to experience feels exhausting.
I can’t escape the bridge collapse; the news is everywhere, and it’s grim. After most of the day searching, Baltimore authorities decided it was unlikely anyone else had survived and that they were no longer looking. Twitter and Tik Tok cause me nothing but stress, and I need some way to get centered, I consider going for a walk and getting some fresh air, but quickly reject that idea and instead decide to cos-play as a conspiracy theorist on Facebook. T
The first thing on that timeline is a “Free Palestine” post. I go to “like” the comment, but then freeze, what if I offend one of my Jewish friends, what if someone I work with see’s this and it costs me my job? The Facebook detour has now left me feeling angry and ashamed. 20,000 people are dead, and I’m afraid to speak up. I guess I, too, have qualifications around humanity.
I decided to get a few laughs and post, “Diddy is a distraction; open your third eye” on my Facebook page. Within minutes, the post is populating with comments agreeing with me and declaring that the “illegals are trying to vote.” Someone suggests we shouldn’t care about the bridge collapse since “only illegals were killed.” I struggle to remember when we decided to have selective empathy. This digital exposure stresses me out; I exit from Facebook and doom scroll on TikTok. That should keep me safe.
This brilliantly details how I nearly quit the inter webs a few months ago. It was the feeling of being boxed in. You’ve illustrated the irresistible feeling of being fed, through our brain holes, even when it takes us away from our best interests, like getting out in nature.
Thank you for sharing you thoughts, Stanley!
“I struggle to remember when we decided to have selective empathy. This digital exposure stresses me out; I exit from Facebook and doom scroll on TikTok. That should keep me safe.” — I feel this heavy.
I used to think I just needed social media breaks to cope with the constant anxiety, but I’m realizing now I need to rewire how I use social media entirely now. That the constant time with it and I’m scrolling only makes me numb to so many tragedies rather than mobilizes my feet toward action. It is such a difficult thing to practice, but it is a practice. We will find a way to stay present and bear witness. To move towards actions. But also take care of our nervous systems and souls.