The parasocial brigade

And it's pomp and circumstance

I don’t share my daughter online for reasons that aren’t so obvious to many.

Before she arrived, I decided early to keep my kid off the internet. But that decision took on a deeper meaning after birth. It’s difficult to come home after an intense delivery, with an internal injury no one sees, exhausted, while your husband returns to work after one week of paternity leave. You’re expected to keep this baby you’re just now meeting alive while your hormones wage war within through the swelling, pain, and dissociation. On top of the exhaustion from sleepless nights, starting from the moment your water broke. Postpartum did a number on me in the area of anxiety. I even lost my hair, but the brain fog, oddly, helped me see clearly my desire to protect what’s mine, even my husband. I rarely post him these days due to the nature of his job.

My daughter’s privacy is more important than a few minutes of dopamine through comments and likes. In part, it’s protecting her from a world that demands every detail of our lives, held tightly under a microscope of sarcasm and opinions. The internet is ruthless. Comparison is real. And words spoken can create worlds and narratives that are so easily avoidable when you walk in a level of discretion.

Access to the digital world has created a narrative that we have the right to every detail of a person’s life, even when they don’t know we exist. All of this emotional investment for what? It raises the question I ask myself often: Is social media worth all its pomp and circumstance, especially in a post-pandemic era where people are more on edge than ever, and mental health is more prominent?

This is where the parasocial dynamic comes in.

According to Google, “parasocial” refers to a one-sided relationship in which a person invests emotional energy, interest, and time in a public figure, celebrity, or fictional character who is unaware of their existence. These relationships create a feeling of intimacy and friendship that exists only in their mind.

This happens not just to celebrities and public figures but also to small-scale creators and influencers. I’ve recently had two parasocial experiences that helped me see this differently. Both accused me of creating content about them when I hadn’t spoken directly to either and never knew anything about what they were going through. Both made wrong assumptions that ended in blocks and unfollows on my end to protect my peace.

When someone accuses you of making content about them, it takes you back for a second. Because you know you would never do such a thing, yet in their own vulnerability, they are filtering your words through a wound. At first, I felt anger. Hurtful things were said towards me in the DMs before confirming that was what I did. Then I felt compassion, because it’s bigger than me. Although I wasn’t making content about them, maybe God used it to reveal an area within them he wants to heal. I will, however, hold firm to boundaries and remove myself from the dynamic, especially when the relationship is parasocial to begin with.

I will never create content about people, especially from intimate moments, nor do I want to.

Motherhood has opened my eyes to a lot. I have to sit with certain questions:

• What does showing up for me look like in this season?

• How can I share moments, led by God, around motherhood and life in between without posterizing my kid?

• Do I want to show up online at all?

I choose to keep intimate moments tightly knit within the community I live in. I’ll put photos in an actual album or digital catalog for my children later in life. I’m not subscribing to the parasocial dynamic. My kid deserves autonomy and the ability to decide after her dad and I lay a solid foundation. Plus, it doesn’t sit right with me knowing strangers can identify her on the street, call her name, or show up in public spaces she attends.

Absolutely not.

With intention,
Janae Carlee