A couple of experiences in the past few weeks have got me thinking about anonymity and community. As a resident of a small town, I sometimes miss the anonymity of my previous lives – being able to live my life without the input or supervision of others, without people knowing where I live, what I do, what I’ve done or said or whatever… I think just about everyone who has ever lived in a small community finds themselves longing for anonymity at least once and a while. But at the same time I know that something very important could come at the cost of this fabled anonymity. To further explore it, I decided to write about anonymity and community through the vehicle of three topics: anonymous blogs (and bloggers), Post Secret, and collaborative journals.
A little while ago I visited an anonymous blog. The sole purpose of this blog (you know the type) was to defame certain people the author disagreed with. Now I understand there is a time and a place for anonymous blogging and whistle-blowing – like when your life or your livelihood are in danger. However, this was hardly the blog of a female teacher in Kabul, a political dissident in Iran, or a morally conflicted employee of a tobacco company. I was shocked at the amount of time and effort the author had given to the set up and maintenance of this blog, all to slander this group of individuals anonymously. I wouldn’t question that the authors of this blog believed that their points were legitimate, and that they had strong convictions on the issues in question. But I had a hard time taking them seriously for the sole fact that though they seemed to have some kind of personal or professional connection with those with whom they disagreed, they had not taken the step to approach these "apostates" in person. One commenter remarked that they showed "amazing courage" in confronting these outrages. Courage? Really? Does it really take courage to anonymously defame someone? As most bloggers I know, I hate the anonymous commenter (this particular commenter did not happen to be anonymous, I went to school with him!), that person who would go on a mother’s blog and tell her that the cake she made for her child’s birthday sucked. Anonymity used as a cover in order to hurt or slander or even to argue is cowardly. The motivation behind such bloggers could be hatred, or spite, but definitely not courage.
Airing other people’s dirty laundry is one thing, but what about airing your own? What about anonymous vulnerability? Post Secret, created by Frank Warren in 2005, is an ongoing community art project that collects original post cards sent in by anonymous donors revealing their deepest secrets. I have this site bookmarked, and I visit it every so often. The post cards range from humorous to profound to profoundly disturbing… Warren has published a few books of post cards, and has also had to deal with some censorship issues in the States. Though the content of the site is often unpredictable (and sometimes offensive – secrets often are) it’s worth a look for one reason: the human experience of suffering, and how often this suffering is carried in secret.
I read a comment somewhere – and for the life of me I can’t remember where – that praised the courage of those who confessed their secrets on the Post Secret site. I appreciate the Post Secret site, and the vision of Warren. But I will not call it what it is not. And it is not courageous. It may take a little bit of guts to write down, and it may even encourage the donor to think seriously about addressing their secret, but the act of sending in an anonymous post card takes about as much courage as anonymously declaring your true feelings for the chair of the high school drama club in black Sharpe on the girl’s bathroom wall (not that I would know). The point of Post Secret is not courage, or even confession. The point of Post Secret is understanding our shared experience – we all keep secrets. We all have something in our lives of which we are ashamed of, or wish we could tell someone, but for whatever reason, we can’t.
After the women’s retreat this year, we were challenged to live out community in practical ways (which was a little hard to hear, for at the time I was craving a little more anonymity!). One of the practices suggested was that we keep a collaborative journal. The journal is shared between two or more people. Everyone writes in it and everyone reads it. As someone who feels much more comfortable writing my thoughts than actually saying them, (you can’t tell can you?) this collaborative journal sounded fantastic. And it has been. I feel like I’m getting to know the various authors (our group has four) in a way that may have been impossible except for this very deliberate "living out" of true community. The collaborative journal is a perfect balance of privacy and intimacy. It has created a place of accountability and encouragement. And yes, it took a little bit of courage to write out that first entry!
What takes real courage is community.
That’s the thing about small towns. Secrets are hard to keep. Everyone knows your past, mistakes and all. When you’re ticked off at your boss or your friend or your neighbor from across the street, you’re not allowed to avoid them… you’ll see them at the grocery store or the post office that afternoon… or maybe your kids are in hockey together or whatever. You will have falling-outs with people. People will talk about you behind your back. You will have disagreements and you will embarrass yourself in front of others. But you won’t be able to avoid anyone or anything. If you’re mad at someone you don’t have the luxury of avoiding him or her. You have to work it out… or move to another town. But at the same time people know when you’re in need, and they know how and when to help. When a loved one dies or you’re diagnosed with cancer, people show up at your front door with banana bread to talk or to listen or to mow your lawn. In community, forgiveness and reconciliation are possible, if not necessary. In community, you know people – warts and all – and yet you choose to love them anyway (and they choose to love you).
Now I don’t want to paint all small towns as these magical places where true community is possible. There are many small communities that are unhealthy and completely counter productive to building community. I love my town, and yet I still want to escape it sometimes. My point is that it takes courage, dedication, and love to be able to live in community, whether that be in a small community or not. It might be hard. It might be really really hard. But it is infinitely better than the alternative.
Labels: anonymity, blogging, community
