In defense of public purging

I am hesitant to say I’ve fallen victim to the slimy pitfalls of subtweeting — that place where your secrets become not-so-secret in a not-so-subtle way. But that hesitancy is not out of embarrassment.

I don’t think nostalgia, guilt or confession in social media has to be purely self-serving. It can be an opportunity for creation.

There’s a stigma that being sucked into a whirlpool of thought is dangerous. It doesn’t seem productive for your fingers to be flying over the keys, pouring your heart into an artificial environment of people you may not have even met, but I see a double standard in what we deem productive.

Somewhere along the line, it was decided if you dress up heartbreak or devastation in pretty language as poetry, you’re an artist communicating universal truths. Anyone else’s flurry of passionate typos represents an attention-seeking emotion slut, and their willingness to share pain is selfish and annoying.

Statuses on Myspace and Facebook shame others who inundate people’s time with their woes, declaring it tacky, but the same people post lyrics or retweet generic accounts, as though using someone else’s words is less “obnoxious” and circumvents emotional scrutiny.

And then there is the horny, angst-ridden atmosphere of Tumblr where people are championed for owning their depression through reblogging others’ suicidal tendencies plastered over an ocean.

We prefer to think of people as infallible, but our damaged parts are worth loving too. Maybe someone expressing their own pain in their own voice isn’t welcoming an audience, but a support system.

Why is that person considered not to be fantastic and complete anymore if they shed light on a sensation that doesn’t make others laugh?

If a favorite celebrity tweets their innermost desires or emotional failure, they are celebrated as brave and relatable and thousands of people thank them for saying what they couldn’t.

If a “troll” declares the celebrity doesn’t have the right to complain because they forfeit their humanity the moment they step into the limelight, fans come rushing to their defense. Because feeling is universal, right?

Why is an everyday person’s words treated any other way? Why do we scroll past or ironically click like or favorite on the exact same sentiments expressed by a friend? Why do we tell them to suck it up and move on like everyone else because society decided controlling emotions is a sign of maturity?

Career fairs and employer panels perpetuate the humiliation of reflecting in a public sphere by encouraging students to clean up their accounts, maintain professionalism. Employers don’t want to Google a potential hire and see desperation and depravity and fear.

But it’s neither crazy nor pathetically promiscuous to admit being sad or overwhelmed or to seek recovery.

If everyone is going through the same thing, then reaching out isn’t shameful. It’s honest because you aren’t hiding your struggle or healing. It opens the door for conversation and bridging relationships.

There is power in that.

And in that aspect I’m grateful for social media. It can bring people together if we look past our own emotional insecurities. What else would we do with all this ranting?

­— ashhendr@indiana.edu