This site, social media, and me

My time with Substack has taught me something valuable. Something that I think I’ve actually known in the back of my mind, but apparently needed clarity on. Once I had enough people reading me on Substack, I got that clarity.

I read to learn. I read to experience something new, to consider something I hadn’t before. I read to try to honestly understand how other people are thinking, and why. I read to explore. It’s why I follow people whose ideologies and opinions are all over the map.

My writing, such as it is, is informed by how I read. I usually write to say “hey, have you ever considered this?” or “I’ve never thought of it this way before, and maybe you haven’t either,” or “here’s a thing I’m batting around, what do you think?” I try not to write in absolutes, because I’ve learned too well that things you are certain of right now can turn out to be completely wrong down the road. Mostly I write to say “here’s something I’m imperfectly pondering right now. Maybe other thoughtful people can help me understand. Maybe we can help each other understand.” I sometimes, maybe even often, fail at this, but that’s typically my goal, especially on longer posts.

But this isn’t why or how other people read, mostly.

Mostly, other people read to confirm their biases. It doesn’t matter how much effort you put into crafting your message, how hard you work on its clarity. Mostly, people are are going to read it with the intent of determining how it fits within their existing belief framework. Mostly, people don’t read to discover or understand other perspectives - they read with the purpose of reinforcing their own.

Once you release what you’ve written into the world, it ceases to be yours. It doesn’t matter what you were trying to say anymore. Other people read it, map onto it what they already believe, what they fear, what angers them, what they want confirmed, and it becomes theirs. And you become theirs as well. You become their ally or their enemy. Their sage or their fool. It’s not really you, but a caricature of you they’ve constructed based not on what you wrote, but what they’re determined to interpret from what you’ve written. It is, at very best, a funhouse mirror you, and you have no control over it.

It’s a dangerous game to play in a world where saying the wrong thing can crater your life - even if you never really said it. It’s even more dangerous now, when so many of us have been trained to be uncharitable toward others, been taught to ignore the intent in favor of focusing on the flaw or misstep or clumsy wording. Your intent no longer matters, at all.

That’s a lot of power to hand to strangers. Too much power for me.

In the beginning, when I had hardly anyone reading me, I was getting what I wanted out of Substack, which was considerate discussion and respectful, honest debate. I think this is what made my content begin to extend its reach. Ironically, that extended reach is what ultimately ended most considerate discussion and respectful, honest debate.

So, for now, I’m back to writing in a journal. And that’s OK.

I’m not sharing all of this as some kind of “I’m taking my ball and going home” post. I’m firmly on board with the “there’s no need to announce your departure” mindset. This isn’t sour grapes or whining. I hope it’s just me sharing my experience with this platform, to let other people who might join Substack for the same reason I did know how it may go for them as well. But I’m fully aware that, just like everything else, once I push the Go button this post ceases to be mine, and people are mostly going to take from it what they want rather than what I said. And that’s fine. It has to be, because that’s how it works, for better or for worse.