I'm not on social media much these days, for reasons partly outlined in this September listener Q&A and other recent podcast interviews, and I haven't rushed back to post about the Capitol attack. Although for some people posting on social media can feel like an important form of activism, for me at this point it just feels performative. 

But more than that, I've come to believe that social media is a huge part of what got us into this mess in the first place. 

Granted, last week a number of social media platforms finally banned the instigator-in-chief, which I think is absolutely the right thing to do—but it’s also way too little, way too late. In many ways the wheels of this attack were set in motion years ago, and the platforms did almost nothing to stop it.

Social media has created wildly diverging versions of reality for people on different sides of the political spectrum, to the point where a group of right-wing extremists—including a number of overt white supremacists and anti-Semites—seemed to truly believe that they were “saving the country” by terrorizing the Capitol. 

And within hours of the attack, posts falsely blaming Black Lives Matter and Antifa went viral. The mis- and disinformation hardly missed a beat.

None of this is okay, and right now I just can’t bring myself to support the technologies that have fomented so much of this discord. I don’t have any desire to give them my attention, my time, my clicks. I’ve fallen down those rabbit holes too many times, and as a result had too many experiences of nervous-system overactivation that I know only hinders my healing from PTSD. 

So for now, I’m taking a break from social media.

I know not everyone will agree with me, or be in the position to step away even if you do. Social media might feel like a lifeline for you, a much-needed connection to communities and support systems—especially during times like this. I’m not trying to take that away.

Yet it’s undeniable that social media fanned the flames of this president's hateful rhetoric for years. “Without the tweets, I wouldn’t be here,” he said in 2017. And social media platforms were primarily where the conspiracy-theorists-turned-domestic-terrorists recruited followers and organized this attack. They’re reportedly trying to organize more.

For the past decade, social media has divided and incited people in the U.S. and around the world (not to mention triggered rampant disordered eating and body-image issues, but that's a story for another time). 

Last week’s insurrection is one painful example of how online mobs whipped up by social platforms not only can cause serious psychological damage to their targets, but also can spill out into the physical world, bringing death and destruction in their wake. 

Social media has spread disinformation and lies that are literally killing people. 

Obviously social media isn't solely to blame. White supremacy and political extremism were problems long before Facebook and Twitter. A certain right-wing news channel has been helping radicalize people for as long as I can remember, and it’s been joined by a whole host of competitors in recent years. Individual politicians who helped incite the violence need to face consequences. 

But the unique structures and algorithms of social media have amplified and accelerated long-standing issues in alarming ways, as outlined here (especially in the sections "Systemic Oppression" and "Politics and Elections”) and here.

For example, 70 percent of Facebook’s most-shared posts about Black Lives Matter in June 2020 were critical of the movement, even though most Americans actually support BLM, according to a New York Times report (CW for a fatphobic analogy in paragraph 5). The platform undermines the movement, despite its founders' stated commitment to Black lives. 

Moreover, “an internal Facebook study in 2016 found that 64 percent of the people who joined extremist groups on the platform did so because Facebook’s recommendations algorithms steered them there,” the Times reports. “Facebook could have responded to those findings by shutting off groups recommendations entirely, or pausing them until it could be certain the problem had been fixed. Instead, it buried the study and kept going.” 

There have been so many incidents like this in the past several years that to me, the evidence has become overwhelming. It’s gotten to the point where I can't look away from the damage these platforms are doing. 

As CNN’s Elle Reeve put it, "I don't think, as a culture, we've grappled with the way social media is a brainwashing machine."

So now, instead of jumping on my social channels to post and repost about the insurrection, as I have in past moments of political upheaval, I'm trying to do things differently. 

I’ve been going straight to to trusted journalistic sources (rather than clicking on articles from my Twitter feed) and reflecting on the news in a way that's as unmediated by social platforms as possible. 

I'm talking about the insurrection with friends and family, and with you here. I may discuss it on my podcast in the coming weeks. 

I'm donating to causes that feel aligned with my values, on my own time and in a far less frenzied way than when I'm inundated with calls to action on social media. 

And I'm calling my elected officials to urge them to act. (If you want to do the same, you can find phone numbers for your Senators here and your Representative here.)

Again, I'm not saying you have to agree with me, or that the way I'm approaching this is The Way. We're all autonomous human beings who get to make our own decisions. And maybe right now social media still feels worth it to you, which is totally understandable. 

I'm mostly sharing these observations in the hopes that they plant a seed for folks who’ve never considered them, and that they inspire you to think critically about social media for yourself. 

I'm also sharing these thoughts now because I know many people are feeling extremely activated by social media at the moment, and I wanted to offer an approach that I've found helpful for reducing nervous-system overwhelm while still staying engaged in the world. As someone with anxiety and PTSD and an advocate for the mental health of others, I think it’s vitally important to take care of our nervous systems in times like these. 

This is also not to say I'll never post on social media again, although I wish I could take that stand. As a journalist and private-practice dietitian trying to survive under capitalism, I unfortunately do need to use social media to some extent to share my ideas and promote my work. My team will be back to share quotes from the podcast at some point, but I won’t be engaging with any of the content myself, so as to avoid doom-scrolling.

And who knows, maybe one day I'll start enjoying social media again. 

But I'm hoping that by using it less, particularly in times of crisis, I can loosen the grip it holds on my life—and maybe also, in some small way, help reduce its harmful impact on our political system. 

If you're in the mood for something other than coverage of this chaos, here's what's up with Food Psych this week:

In honor of the New Year and renewed interest in intuitive eating and Health At Every Size, we’re re-airing a fan-favorite episode that answers many of the most frequently asked questions about these paradigms.

Social worker and friend of the pod Ashley Seruya joins me for our second FAQ episode, where we discuss what to do if you feel uncomfortable in your body at a higher weight, how to handle chronic illness, and why food-intolerance diagnoses are often problematic.

We also talk about the effect of health behaviors versus the social determinants of health, what to make of weight-loss “success” stories, the importance of rest, and so much more.

Check it out right here, and be sure to subscribe to the pod so that you never miss an episode. We’ll be back next week with a brand new one that dives even deeper into intuitive eating.

Here’s to surviving another week,

Christy