{"id":140057,"date":"2022-11-26T16:11:50","date_gmt":"2022-11-26T16:11:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/harchi90.com\/i-gave-up-instagram-for-a-year-and-i-was-shocked-by-how-quitting-transformed-my-life\/"},"modified":"2022-11-26T16:11:50","modified_gmt":"2022-11-26T16:11:50","slug":"i-gave-up-instagram-for-a-year-and-i-was-shocked-by-how-quitting-transformed-my-life","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/harchi90.com\/i-gave-up-instagram-for-a-year-and-i-was-shocked-by-how-quitting-transformed-my-life\/","title":{"rendered":"I Gave Up Instagram For A Year And I Was Shocked By How Quitting Transformed My Life"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Last year, Michaela Coel dared me to write a story that scares me. OK, she wasn’t talking directly to me. Her clarion call to all writers, issued as she accepted an Emmy for limited series writing \u2015 the first Black woman to do so \u2015 invited us all to disappear from a world where \u201cvisibility, these days, somehow equates success.\u201d Coel encouraged writers like me to disappear and \u201csee what comes to you in the silence.\u201d I quit Instagram the next day. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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I’d been thinking about my constant use of Instagram for several weeks before I heard her speech. During the pandemic’s peak, I spent at least four hours a day glued to my screen. In the morning, I’d consider whether any of my family’s meals or adventures were post-worthy. At bedtime, I’d watch Instastories of friends’ beach vacations, drool over street food posts, or silently judge \u201cfriend’s\u201d motivational quotes. I was addicted.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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I envy the people who can casually view posts and move on with their day. It seems they benefit from the best of social media. They can connect with family and friends, bridging distance and time, all while strengthening their networks. Good for them. They close the app and avoid rabbit holes. I am not that person. I can’t ignore the bells and whistles and find myself wasting time tracking down something silly like the vegan protein bars posted by Ryan Reynolds’ trainer. I’d often fall asleep to the reassuring scroll, exhausted from teleworking full-time and guiding my daughter through virtual first grade. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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I am 45 years old. I joined Facebook in 2007. I quit that platform in 2016, hoping to escape the political vitriol that crept onto my feed that year. Instead, I joined Instagram, reasoning that it’s just pictures and images, right? <\/em>In total, I have spent over half my adult life carefully curating images and browsing through the lives of family, friends, and acquaintances. Was there a better use of my time?<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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Quit may be too strong a term for what I did the day after the 2021 Emmys. I didn’t deactivate my account. Instead, I tricked myself into thinking I’d just take a 21-day hiatus \u2015 the amount of time an expert claimed it takes to build a habit (this has been refuted in recent years). I removed the app from all my devices and downloaded Coel’s speech onto my phone. When tempted to reinstall Instagram on my phone, I’d watch Coel, resplendent in her two-piece neon gown, urging me to write, \u201cwhat makes you feel uncertain that she is n’t comfortable.\u201d <\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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I have wanted to write for the better part of two decades. I wrote in college, but my then-boyfriend was the writer in our dyad, and it didn’t seem fair to compete. Instead, I kept reading the books that I would have liked to have written, \u201dDogeaters,\u201d \u201cThe Namesake,\u201d \u201cAmericanah,\u201d and \u201cAfterparties.\u201d I told myself that, one day, I’ll write my family’s story too. That never happened as life \u2015 a civil rights career, motherhood, a pandemic \u2015 derailed my plans for a room of my own. Instead, I posted snippets of family vacations, baking projects, or family costumes. I liked it. My friends \u201clike\u201d it. I thought I had a voice.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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But, increasingly, I felt muzzled by my own social media audience. Not for the many good reasons others have listed. My profiles were private, and no one trolled me. Instead, I felt encumbered by the safe story I fed to an online world. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n