Ask the Bitches: "Social Media Fatigue is Stressing Me the Fuck Out—What Can I Do Besides Quit?"

Ask the Bitches: “Social Media Fatigue Is Stressing Me the Fuck Out—What Can I Do Besides Quit?”

I’ve spent a lot of time gazing into the abyss of social media fatigue over the past year. And I guess the abyss is finally gazing back, because we’ve gotten a few questions on this subject recently!

Patreon donor (and effulgent selkie maiden) Georgie puts it this way:

Hello eminent and awe-inspiring Bitches! I have a question that I hope you might have some insight on.

How can I kick ass in today’s activism, corporate, and social world without using social media? 

I am autistic, and have found through painful experience that usage of any media that is endlessly scrollable (think Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, etc) negatively impacts my mental health to the point of being actively dangerous. Most importantly, I have been active in social justice activism for a few years now and find it nigh on impossible to work well within the current BLM movement in my city without Facebook.

Along with this, I know that potential employers, dates, and roommates are searching for me online and finding someone who effectively disappeared last year. Any advice would be appreciated.

May your crackers be cheesy & your wallets be fat,

– Georgie

First, we must pause to admire Georgie’s sign off, which is a 10/10. Now, let’s see what we can do about her problem, which sounds like social media fatigue. Maybe with a splash of activism fatigue. And boy am I familiar with that!

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I wanted to feel like my very first vote mattered.

Don’t Boo, Vote: If You Don’t Vote, No One Can Hear You Scream

The first time I ever voted was in 2004. I had just turned 18 a few weeks before election day, and I was at least as excited to get a hall pass to go to the gym during my free period as I was to cast my ballot. (Welcome to Small Town America! All public elections and blood drives take place in the high school gymnasium.)

I skimmed through most of the ballot. Dafuq did I care who was town treasurer? Old Mr. Farwell had held that post for centuries. SKIP. And town selectmen? Why couldn’t we just have a fucking mayor like everyone else? SKIP. State Senator? SKIP. Representative? SKIP. SKIPPITY. SKIP.

I hopped right down to the main event: George W. Bush vs. John Kerry for President of the United States. I filled in the little bubble next to Kerry’s name.

We all know what happened next. And it’s why you’ll never take the tour of the Kerry Presidential Library in Aurora, Colorado.

I was pretty disgusted. It’s not that I was excited about voting another gray-faced old Lego man wearing a mop wig into office. But I wanted to win! I wanted to feel like my vote mattered. Instead I felt like I’d wasted my free period when I could’ve been bullying my future husband out of his lunch money to buy orange creamsicles from the vending machine.*

Needless to say, Old Mr. Farwell stayed town treasurer. And I completely missed the lesson to be learned from my first election.

Read on, and you won’t make the same mistake.

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