A friend sent me a link to this article by feminist author Katie Roiphe a couple of weeks ago, entitled “Get your kid off your Facebook page” and as a feminist, Mom and Facebook user it caught my attention. When I first glanced at it I thought that it was going to be about the risks of posting photos of your kids on the internet in general, for fear of pedophiles viewing them. Was I ever wrong.
Roiphe’s premise is essentially that the phenomena of women posting images of their children as their personal profile photos, rather than being a simple, benign, loving act, is in fact indicative of a far larger problem of women choosing to “hide” behind their children, intentionally abnegating their pre-Motherhood accomplishments and independent identities. And to think that I have been interpreting this as “hey, look how cute my kid is”, or “I just had a baby”, when in fact these women are actually opting out of the effort of “the whole excruciating business of being yourself” – whoa!
I should admit in fairness that Facebook has long intrigued me from a sociological perspective – how is it redefining the meaning of friendship, and what does how we use it say about our identities and how we choose to express them to others? The friend issue has interested me in particular, as prior to Facebook I would not have thought of people that I have never met or even had much contact with as capital-F Friends, in the way one does about those with whom we have shared major life experiences, or even just a regular cup of coffee and pleasant chat. And yet here I am, and grateful for it, appreciating the insights into wider lives than just the typically professional connection that we had previously shared. I have a lot more friends out there than I realized, awesome!
Friends (at least those who become Moms) in Roiphe’s world, however, become almost unbearably tedious in their maternal transformation, with their endless discussions of infantile bodily fluids and obsession with keeping up an incessant flow of attention towards their irritating offspring. Heck, even women who once had interesting and meaningful things to talk about like their careers and current events are now reduced to pandering, unkempt bores whose company is shunned by men at dinner parties. The shame, the shame!
I have several friends, including men, on Facebook who have chosen a multitude of images of things and people other than themselves (including, but not limited to: Harvey Milk, a Sri Lankan beach, an assortment of superheroes, movie stars, household pets, random objects, and yes, their kids) to represent them on Facebook and elsewhere. These images can be humorous, or indicating a milestone, such as the cover of a recently published book – not them, and yet clearly part of their message or one of their accomplishments. How many readers out there “donated” their profile picture space or status updates to show their support for Barack Obama in the last US election? I myself am guilty, having posted images of myself with both my daughter and husband. Is this all I am? Not so much. Does it convey a crucial aspect of who I am in the world of which I am extremely proud? You bet.
I think that’s what saddened me the most about the article – an unwillingness to honor, or encourage being proud of something about ourselves other than what our resumes say. It always wounds me a bit when feminists take aim at other women in this way, particularly using such gross exaggerations (Roiphe apparently doesn’t know any men who do the kid Facebook thing, or attend dinner parties where parents may happen to discuss something other than their kids.) Why is it such a bad thing in Roiphe’s eyes to be proud to be a Mom in this way?
And last but not least, rather than remaining cognizant that hey, after all it’s just internet social networking (what your Mom would say, am I right?) she makes it sound like some rampant social pandemic. Drivers licenses and passports might be next, so don’t go playing around with your Facebook image too much, or you might wake up one of these days not even knowing who you are anymore.
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