What got me into blogging again was a sweet conversation with a sister-friend who I’ve known for what feels like eons. In the past, we have both found homes in the dustiest corners of the internet. The beauty of that is, not only have I got to know her in the physical world, but I’ve also been introduced to many facets of her existence conveyed through her online persona.
| For the bulk of the decade her handle across various platforms has always just been her first name. Her mononymous approach to her presence online has always felt akin to the Princes, Madonnas and Chers of this world; powerful and infinite. I mention this because in the almost faceless eras of Blogspot and Tumblr, a name was enough.|
A name was a gateway to undiscovered firsts, thoughts and imagery; essentially young people navigating their way through this vast pool of interests and identities, ultimately sharing their discoveries.
I miss that; the feeling of community, regardless of geographic position, background or creed. You could shout into the abyss and find a kindred spirit across the globe. This faceless and forum-esque approach to the internet was very different to the photo reel nature of other platforms today.
My favourite aspect has to be the era of online anthologies of poems flooding my Tumblr feed. There was a time whereby the poems of Warsan Shire, Nayirah Waheed, Lang Leav and Michael Faudet were everything followed by a full stop. They left what felt like lost typewriter pages on the net; which spread worldwide through the web like spores through the wind.
You didn’t need to know what they look like to appreciate what they had to say. There are poems that can be quoted verbatim because of how etched they became in the cloth of what we knew as “the culture” of that time.
It’s so different now. The weight of photographs and mounting expectations can feel unbearable at times. There is so much to look at, so much to be distracted by and so much to compare yourself to.
More than that, a photograph means accountability. Like everything else in the world, there are pros and cons with this.
I often wonder if we could ever realistically go back to that; tethered only by our common interests – loving each other without knowing one another. I’m not oblivious to the callous and destructive/toxic side of a faceless internet, but I must say that when it was good, it was absolutely great – to be incredibly unknown and still feel seen.
THE BEFITTING ROOM 