A Digital Wallflower in the Dromosphere

I stopped posting on social media websites this past summer. Thinking back on why I did so, I cannot really recall why I made that decision; Reddit was going through its latest phase of drama, having to do with APIs. Many subreddits at the time went dark, but in the end, I do not know if any of the company’s policies actually changed. Regardless, I was fed up and finished with the site. The issues present on other major platforms such as Facebook, X (Twitter), and TikTok have made it a fairly simple choice to swear off most social media altogether.
I don’t share this anecdote in order to performatively eschew social media like so many of us do when we briefly pause our social media accounts in a public fashion that gains some degree of attention. I am happy to admit I have never been good with social media; I’m quite bad at it. As a queer, polyamorous veteran who is anti-war, anti-military, and perpetually annoyed with straight people, I am not really popular anywhere online. I’ve never written or said anything that went viral, and I am the type of person who is always tempted to look back on old writing and cringe. Neuroticism, an English degree, and posting on the internet is not a good mix for me.
I’ve carried that attitude forward into my work in English 6344, unfortunately. I’ve allowed my perfectionism to bar me from the shift between scholê and dromos, as it is described in Brown (2012). Letting my fear of the dance party and the DJ shift from the dance floor to the internet is a shame. The conversations that I have had around my work this semester point to a struggle that I have separating myself from the digital avatars I have been invited to project in the world. This relationship is not lost on anyone, I’m sure, but the comfort of relative anonymity on the internet has rarely emboldened me socially in ways that I have wanted. I am not a Twitter essayist. I don’t want to engage in political debates online. I don’t even want my name attached to a blog (with the exception of these lovely carnivals, of course).
This past week I listened to a scholarly podcast called Material Girls. The topic for this week was Blackout Tuesday and digital (in)activism. An important point brought up during the theory portion of this episode is this idea of the digital self becoming non-existent during prolonged periods of absence; the idea goes that if you are not posting or engaging, in many ways you don’t exist. I wonder, how long have I been struggling not to exist online? I grew weary of social media as a public sphere back when Facebook was still kinda sorta (but not really) for young people. Posting your political opinions might get you some likes, sure, but eventually someone you “know” sees what you’re up to and disagrees. Quickly, the gratifying attention you were seeking becomes attention you would rather avoid. It becomes much easier to be a wallflower.
We all know a digital wallflower. My best example is one of my best friends’ husbands who goes by a screen name he picked up playing World of Warcraft. I will call him Worgenboy. Worgenboy is a digital wallflower in the biggest sense of the term. He friends or follows someone, and then proceeds to never provide any evidence of interaction or affiliation ever again. Worgenboy does not post, he does not update his profiles, he does not “like” anything. But thanks to Facebook, I remember Worgenboy’s birthday (though I guess I could still ask his wife). I aspire to this level of disengagement with digital spaces, because for me, I have a lot of trouble separating myself from the digital avatars I create. My hot takes and hasty words haunt me in nonmaterial ways that I don’t know how to let go of. I don’t want to keep an archive of my opinions that I can hunt through and criticize later.
In spite of all that reticence, one cannot completely unplug from digital spaces. Thus, I continue to minimize my time online to the engagement that I am willing to offer. I remind myself that there is a separation between my digital avatars and myself as a person. I reflect on the fact that I am responsible for what I choose to do with those avatars. That’s what gives me pause when it comes to posting. For me, I’m all to happy being a digital wallflower who gets by throwing out “subscribes” and “likes” to whoever I find interesting. Not all of us are looking to cut up the dromosphere.

Brown, J. J. (2012). Composition in the dromosphere. Computers and Composition, 29(1), 79–91. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.compcom.2012.01.004

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