social media: a tool, not a toy
Woven: Reflections on the Wonderfully Weird Web, Part 4
Hello gentle-people,
I am writing you as I only have two weeks left of my official recovery time post-surgery. I am feeling pretty good; my doctor says I am recovering well. I am feeling loved and cared for. I am resting. There are still so many times I wish to be productive during this time—I am trying not to let that desire overcome me.
I know we are facing a world of harsh realities, which often makes us reach for our phones to ease a sense of hopelessness—or plunge ourselves into it some more. I write this post in consideration of the care we need as we engage—or intentionally disengage—with the world mediated to us through social media.
I think it’s time for new rules of engagement. Here’s a potential place to begin.
[Woven: Reflections on the Wonderfully Weird Web is a series that weaves together stories of how I have been shaped by the internet. This series comes with reflective questions to help us think critically about our engagement with digital media and develop better practices of care for ourselves and others we are in community with online. You can explore more in this series here.]
“We become what we behold. We shape our tools, and thereafter our tools shape us.”
―Marshall McLuhan
I recently returned to social media after finishing the book Digital Black Feminism by Catherine Knight Steele.1 This was a good book to follow my readings of Neil Postman’s Amusing Ourselves to Death, Stolen Focus by Johann Hari, and even How to Do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy by Jenny Odell. Steele’s book did a lot to strengthen my sense of agency as someone who uses these technologies while maintaining an awareness that these technologies use us. Digital Black Feminism is explored through the subversive ways Black feminists have used these technologies in liberative ways.
While I have many takeaways from this book, I am encouraged by the through-line that despite continually being underestimated in the world of technology, Black people continue to create through tech in ways that showcase our collective power. Still, as I navigate an on-and-off relationship with social media, I can’t help but wonder if our retooling is enough. I keep thinking about Audre Lorde, who said, “You can’t dismantle the master’s house with the master’s tools.” I wonder what she would say about the false sense of democratization cultivated by our content storefronts located on content farms.
These concerns have been shared by a friend of mine, Benjamin Young, who, after reevaluating his relationship with social media, decided to walk away from it entirely. He has been a great conversation partner as I have worked on this series, as he has been reading and sharing his reflections with me on Max Fisher’s The Chaos Machine: The Inside Story of How Social Media Rewired Our Minds and Our World. I got his permission to share some of his thoughts from a recent conversation we had as I shared the woes of returning to social media and my questions about agency.
treat it like a tool, not a toy
From Benjamin Young:
I don’t have answers. Mostly questions, not unlike the one you asked. And I honestly think asking questions and processing communally is the answer. There is no one set way to navigate the world and era we’re born into. But— finding what works for us to live in harmony with all living presences and in alignment with our values, I think, requires asking hard questions that welcome vulnerability, authenticity, and truthfulness. That foundation supports the likelihood that where we land is a place of awareness, nuance, and sustainability. Ultimately, I think a lot of this, for me, comes down to something I actually grew up hearing from my dad: treat it like a tool, not a toy.2
Meaning: respect the power the tool has and learn to use it, rather than defaulting to being endlessly amused by it. He always encouraged us to figure out what we needed and let the acquisition and use of the tool follow the need, rather than acquiring a piece of tech and justifying its use after the fact.
If you think about tech as a tool, analogously even, then shift to the other side of the analogy and think about tools: we use them when we need them, whether for short or long-term projects; we put them away when we’re done with them; we don’t get rid of them, but we keep them in a place that’s usually out of sight and out of our regular living spaces; we appreciate what they can do, but we recognize that they can be damaging, even deadly, if used incorrectly; and we don’t sensibly get them when we don’t actually have use for them, only to search for justifying use after the fact.
I think the real challenge with social media, distinct from the internet or computer or smartphone, is that misuse has been proven to be coded into its core functions:3 social media tech companies design their products to hook people into unhealthy use to make obscene amounts of money. With that, the previous analogy I think needs modification: social media is a tool that is used despite explicit knowledge of it being designed to do damage.
Like dynamite.
Or liquid nitrogen.
Or bleach.
All three, and derivatives thereof, are used regularly, but because their use comes with the warning that using them incorrectly could kill you, they are often introduced with built-in education about why, when, and how to use them.
This is what social media is missing because including it would drastically reduce use and, subsequently, profits.
So I think they need to be introduced communally, whatever community looks like per person. I don’t think there’s a safe option to use social media without practices of intentional and conscientious resistance.4 So whether that resistance is abstaining, limiting, or curtailing and safeguarding, self-, socially-, and situationally-aware resistance is key if use is to lead to anything but our destruction.
by candelight
(back to Rose)
I remember classmates slowly getting smartphones around the time I was a sophomore in high school. I wouldn’t get my first phone until my first semester of college several years later (it was a simple Nokia with its glorious T9 keyboard by the way). My 10th grade English teacher singled me out in class as someone who would be able to survive in a world without technology. As he bemoaned the changes that he was witnessing in my classmates with their phones, he said something like “While the rest of you will struggle, Rose will be just fine reading a book by candlelight.” I remember frustrated classmates looking my way while I blushed under the attention.
I was “late” when it came to finally getting a smartphone, purchasing a friend’s MyTouch 3G Slide as they upgraded to the latest model. Once I got it into my hands, I started making up for lost time, familiarizing myself with the ever expanding world of apps. The girl who would be “just fine reading a book by candlelight” soon found herself attached to social media apps. Sometime before Twitter shifted to using algorithms, I had a couple thousand followers. I started a Bible study on Skype for nerds like myself who didn’t think four days of the week dedicated to some kind of church activity was enough. I began blogging, sharing my insights on faith and life.
By the time I was into my second semester of college, the girl who would be “just fine reading a book by candlelight” was assimilated into a dependence on screens. She still did some reading, but would likely be more apt to grab her phone to use as a flashlight if the world went dark.
As a budding Christian (at this point still very conservative), I clung to the 1 Corinthians 6:12 which says “‘All things are lawful for me,’ but not all things are beneficial. ‘All things are lawful for me,’ but I will not be dominated by anything.”5 So when I accidentally dropped my phone down three flights of stairs, shattering the screen and rendering it useless,6 I took it as a sign. That was the beginning of my first ever social media fast. I went months without logging into my social media accounts, devoting myself to studying scripture and writing poetry. The girl who would be “just fine reading a book by candlelight” made an appearance in those days, helping me make flashcards so I could memorize verses.
I remember being described as intense during this time. I had a lot of passion and was just beginning to explore my agency as an adult. I directed so much of that passion into actions I hoped glorified my God. I scared a lot of people with the depth of my seriousness. Sometimes I even scared myself. But looking back, I see a young woman who found her voice online; a young woman who knew the power she felt needed to be managed; a young woman who could not find much guidance for how to navigate what she sees now as a calling.
It is because I can name my ability to use digital media to communicate in the ways that I do that I see no conflict between the woman behind the keyboard and the girl who could read by candlelight in a world without technology. I would say one could not exist without the other—If I wasn’t so engrossed in my books and my writing during my youth, would I have developed into the kind of person who spoke boldly and truthfully online in ways that moved people?
As I consider the weight of my friend Benjamin’s words and the ongoing search for equilibrium in my use of digital media and my time away from it, I continue to be in conversation with my multi-passionate self. Over a decade ago, I entered adulthood with the burning desire to be used by God. Risking burnout, I stretched myself thin in person and online for the sake of the Church. As I hear the message to temper my use of digital media, I can’t help but see parallels in the ways I have managed my intensity over the years.
“All things are lawful for me,” but not all things are beneficial. “All things are lawful for me,” but I will not be dominated by anything.”
Throughout this Woven journey, I want us to reckon with what it truly means to be free. I want us to think about what we freely consume; how we feed ourselves. But I also want us to locate that freedom within the recognition that we are also being consumed and fed upon. There will be times when we so strongly desire to temper our engagement as an act of agency only to be reminded that we’ve given so much of ourselves away in ways we cannot take back.
“I will not be dominated by anything.”
I hear these words as both an affirmation and a prayer. They remind me of the strength of my withholding and my refusal. I am free. But the freedom I seek on this path is also one I wish I could pray into existence. I wish I was freer. I may have to live here, in this tension, for the rest of my life. You may have to live here with me. We can be woven together, in this way, by a freedom we choose and a freedom we seek. A chosen freedom to put down our tools alongside one that declares that we are not the tools.
We are not the tools.
We are not the tools.
We. Are. Not. The. Tools.
Landing Tracks
Where do you see freedom in operation as you decide how you use social media? Do you find yourself longing to be more free? How so?
“I may have to live here, in this tension, for the rest of my life. You may have to live here with me.” How can we hold the tension between declared freedom and freedom hoped for together as we set boundaries around our digital media consumption/social media usage?
Using Benjamin’s metaphor of social media as a tool that can be harmful if misused, what is one warning you would write into a manual for social media? If social media came with a guide on how to use it to avoid misuse, what would it say?
Are you enjoying this series? Have suggestions on what I should write about? It would be great to hear from you! Help me by filling out this survey.
For this book and others mentioned in this post, check out my Bookshop for a book list. I’ve included books on my reading list that I haven’t gotten to yet or books I’ve read that I haven’t mentioned here yet in case you are interested.
Emphasis mine.
Emphasis mine.
Emphasis mine.
This is in the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV).
Do you remember how fragile smartphones used to be?
This is such a thoughtful reflection on digital agency, and as a Gen Z reader, I feel the tension between using social media as a tool vs. being used by it. The line “We are not the tools” hits hard—especially when so much of our online presence is commodified.
Social media isn’t just an extension of ourselves anymore; it’s an economy, an expectation, and for many, an identity. The comparison to dynamite or bleach? Spot on. We’re constantly told to “just use it responsibly,” but the systems behind it are designed to make that nearly impossible. The lack of built-in warnings or “proper use” guidelines is intentional.
If I were to add a warning label to the manual, it’d say: "Prolonged exposure may lead to loss of self. Proceed with caution."
So much wisdom here! Like many people, I've been wrestling with my future social media involvement during a 2nd Trump presidency. I especially like Benjamin's point about wrestling with these questions as a community. So often I have the urge to make everything a bulleted list of rules, but these are never as rich or nuanced as the conversations we have together.