Why I'm Not On Facebook

Meredith Broussard is the only member of her family who has not yet joined Facebook.

At every holiday gathering this year, our traditional family conversations ("How was the traffic? Which way did you go? 95? Did you get slowed down in the construction?") were replaced by a new interaction that went like this:

Relative: [shyly] Are you on Facebook? I joined a little while ago, and... gosh, it's addictive. I'm getting in touch with all of these people I went to high school with, and...

Me: No.

Relative: [turning evangelical] You'd really like it. You should join. I'd be your friend. I'll send you an invitation RIGHT NOW. [Turns in the direction of my younger brother, the one with the surgically implanted laptop, who is busily chatting online with his girlfriend while simultaneously playing Wii Tennis and trying to convince a younger relative to go fetch him another plate of teriyaki chicken wings.]

Me: No, thanks.

Brother: You can use my iPhone. Here. [pulls out iPhone]

Me: My husband is on Facebook. Why don't you be his friend?

Relative: Okay! [turns to husband] I didn't know you were on Facebook! How many friends do you have? [other relatives overhear conversation, join in. Comparison of friends and status updates and confessions of looking up former lovers/classmates/loathsome co-workers occupy the conversational hours before the host relative calls everyone to dinner.]

Me: [stands ignored in corner]

By the evening of December 26th, all of my extended family's Christmas celebrations had been recorded on Facebook. My husband was tagged in dozens of pictures. I was not. I wondered if I should feel left out.

Meredith Broussard considered joining Facebook until she realized her brother-in-law was quite likely to tag her in the photo he took of her with her brothers and a large turkey made entirely of fruit.

Every time I think about joining Facebook, I find myself unwilling to give up the small bit of anonymity I have left. My college students would find me on Facebook in about five seconds flat. Can I really get up in front of a classroom and command authority if my students know I helped make a fruit turkey? Or if one of the moms from playgroup posts photos of me belting out "I've Been Working On The Railroad" during our homemade-playdough and holiday-cookie-baking extravaganza?

Scratch that. What I'm really worried about is getting busted for ducking out of social obligations.

I was alerted to this potential problem on New Year's Eve at a dinner party hosted by my friends Scott and Ashley. Their friends Scott and Catherine were supposed to come too, bringing a beet salad, matzoh balls with dipping sauce, wine paired to the beet salad, and a four-month-old baby.

We showed up late. We blamed our two-year-old, Scott, as usual. Was it really his fault? He was playing at daycare; I was the one who didn't start putting on makeup until five minutes before we were due at the party. But I digress.

Scott and Ashley's son is slightly older than my Scott, and the two boys were playing trains in the basement when the phone rang. Scott answered. Ashley and I listened as Scott expressed sympathies over something. "It might be Scott and Catherine sicking out of dinner," Ashley said. "I got the impression earlier that she was sitting in her pajamas at 3 in the afternoon, feeling miserable."

"That's too bad," I said, thinking: Rats -- now I won't get to hold their baby. I love holding babies.

Scott got off the phone and reported that Scott and Catherine wouldn't be coming. "I totally don't believe she's sick," he fumed. "I think it's cold, and dark, and they just don't feel like leaving the house with the baby. They were supposed to bring the beet salad! We are never inviting them over again."

The problem, Scott said, was Facebook. Catherine had updated her Facebook status with a list of chores she was looking forward to finishing that day.

"Maybe it's a leftover status update from earlier?" I suggested. "From before she got sick?"

"No way," said Scott. "She changed it this afternoon. She was totally on Facebook with me today. See?" He whipped out his iPhone and tried to show me.

"I don't need to see it; I believe you," I said. Thinking: matzoh balls with dipping sauce sounded a little weird, anyway. But the real problem, I realized, was that I sympathized with Catherine. Cooking, then taking an infant and a husband to a party across town? If I managed to shower once a week when my kid was little, I called myself a success.

For me, Facebook wouldn't just be a time suck--it would leave me exposed as a social fraud. If I updated my status as obsessively as I probably would (Meredith Broussard resents that the garbage men never put the lids back on the trash cans. Meredith Broussard got a new pair of striped socks. Meredith Broussard wonders if Michelle Obama is going to choose an African-American designer for her inaugural ball gown.), it would seriously interfere with the quality time I like to spend with my couch. If all of my friends could tell that I'm around, and that I have time to Facebook, they'd want to talk. And hang out. And do things that involve leaving my house. Meredith Broussard would no longer have her "busy social life" or her "rigorous work schedule" or the even more vague "deadlines" to excuse her from social obligations. Meredith Broussard might have to stop watching TV and get up off her duff. Who needs that?

Meredith Broussard has put off joining Facebook. Indefinitely.

Comments

[jonkwilliams]

I finally broke down and opened a Facebook account. I was amazed at how quickly people found me and how confused I immediately became over walls, posts, pokes, and stati. I did, however, become something of an addict and for a day and a half spent way too much time checking my page, enabling my phone, extending and accepting friendship requests, etc.

Then I woke up on inauguration day, tried to log on through my cell phone and couldn't. I went to the site on my laptop, tried to log in, and was notified that my account had been disabled by an administrator for breaking their terms of service.

I'd signed off the night before with a status report that: Jon is pondering Tzipi Livni's statement that 'We had to carry out this operation. I am at peace with the fact that we did it.' Would somebody check her meds?" and am still waiting to find out if that was the offending action.

It was fun while it lasted...

[farmgirl]

Personally, I think it's the responsibility of all young mothers to be on Facebook and post lots of pictures of their kids. Your parents aren't as good at sharing pictures of the grandkids as you think.

I finally tired of nagging my (techno-challenged) sister for pictures of her grandchildren and started nagging her daughter and daughter-in-law to join Facebook instead. Now we're all happy.

I do not give a rip if you built a turkey out of brussell sprouts or beer bottlecaps. But I'd love to see pictures of your kids.
(And yes, I do have grandchildren of my own. I'm just greedy.)

[katmeyster]

Just tell them the first day of class you won't accept them as friends on Facebook. They can find you, but you can keep your site private. Since I teach government I then use this as a lesson for how the government can access your data -- even without a warrant. But your students don't have that access. It's fun! Get with it!

[smags72]

You guys don't know what you're missing. I was the exact same way. I don't want my ex knowing who I hang out with, what I'm up to, where I live, etc. However, as someone above explained, Facebook is so great BECAUSE you can put filters on. Facebook won't let you see anything but their home page if you are not a member. You choose your settings. You choose who can see what, if anything. If you want (and this is what I do), nobody can see anything except your name and photo (if you even want to put one), and they have to be a member of Facebook. That is why I love it. It took months and months of people convincing me, and until I joined I didn't 'get it.' It's not like MySpace where anyone can look you up any time, even if they're not a member.

If you don't want your students to see your info, don't accept their friend requests. When you hit 'ignore' on a request, it just ignores it. It doesn't send the person a message that you ignored them. I'm sure your students would understand from a teacher's standpoint why you don't want them to see your personal stuff. Some things need to be kept separate. You can have the fun on Facebook without your students seeing ANYTHING!

[RobinSeattle]

Has South Park done an episode about this nonsense yet?

It sure is ripe for it.

I need social networking sites like a need a second sphincter.

[kstuff]

I'm a child and family therapist. Can't do facebook either. And I'm sort of relieved. I don't need another thing to have to maintain...I've got a marriage, house, two cars, career, etc. No more responsiblities!!

[EileenMF]

Meredith Broussard makes funny points, but Facebook is not all ridiculous. See this story for another perspective: http://imperfectserenity.blogspot.com/2009/01/social-networking.html

[sophieozz]

It seems like you gave up more of your small bit of anonymity by writing this column. Now your students will know a little more about you. Unless he has an alias or you write under your maiden name, they can probably find your husband on Facebook. It seems like it's impossible to keep your privacy unless you're the ultimate hermit and/or have managed to sever ties with society.

[ddcomeau]

Facebook has many fully customizable privacy options. Only your friends can see photos in which you are tagged, and you can remove yourself from any photo tag at any time.

At the highest level of privacy, it's impossible for anybody to see your profile at all unless you give them explicit permission.

[SatinPanties]

Exactly!! I kept getting constant invitations to join Facebook. I put them off until this past weekend, visiting some friends out of state. It is the most ridiculous thing ever!

The three of us having coffee in the kitchen table. I haven't seen this one friend in over 3 years. What do we do? Sitting at the coffee table, each one on our laptops. Them in Facebook, me laughing at funny videos on youtube.

I finally signed in, and haven't been back on it since.

Ridiculous indeed.