The Bowdoin Orient

Maybe we can all agree about one thing: this past week—this past month—has been distressing. The two of us are hovering on opposite ends of the distraught spectrum. Tessa, with a menacing case of mono, has been relegated to her bed with a carton of strawberry ice cream, devoid of the energy to watch one episode of “The Office” without falling asleep. Carly, on the other hand, has been walking around campus accompanied by a newly escalated internal monologue—let’s just say, caps lock has been turned on. Tessa is debilitated by the state of her body. Carly is debilitated by the state of her environment. It’s a hard time. 

While our physical spaces haven’t overlapped recently, our digital ones have. Facebook is the location where everything converges. It’s our news source; it’s our soap box; it’s our place to seek support and find it. When shit hits the fan, it’s the thing we can control. And there’s something deeply comforting, but also deeply daunting about this: How will our peers judge us for what we post? What are the implications of a Facebook status? Is caring about this silly?

Disclaimer: Three very difficult and very different events happened this past week. We took to Facebook to process each of them. We are not trying to draw comparisons here, but rather walk through the way in which the space of Facebook informed our thoughts. 

When student protests against campus racism began at the University of Missouri last week, variations on one particular status went viral. The two of us posted the same one: 

“To the students of color at Mizzou, we, student allies at Bowdoin College, stand with you in solidarity. To those who would threaten their sense of safety, we are watching.#ConcernedStudent1950#InSolidarityWithMizzou”

Each of us felt a reservation before posting this status. We wondered: What good does a Facebook status do? Am I being selfish about posting this? In taking a stance on an issue that doesn’t directly affect me, am I implicitly mining that issue for social capital? We want to acknowledge that we exercise an enormous amount of privilege in carrying on with this mental dialogue. We both ended up posting the status, after coming to the realization that it’s an obvious decision. It’s the easiest way to show solidarity, support and, most simply, care. There is power to a Facebook status. If I can tap my thumb six times on my phone screen to make someone else feel safe, it’s worth it. 

And in true Facebook form, when the next thing hits, the older one gets pushed to the background. Immediately following the flurry around Mizzou came the news of terrorist attacks in Paris. Facebook served as a reassuring tool in telling us that our friends abroad were safe. It also gave us the opportunity to add a filter of the French flag to our profile pictures. This sparked debate. Is this focus on the tragedy in Paris negating other recent tragedies that happened in the largely non-white world, such as the violence in Beirut, Kenya and elsewhere? Yes, our media is Westernized—this is a structural problem. But it’s coarse to police the way that people grieve after a tragedy. If incorporating the French flag into your profile picture helps you to process this egregious act in any way, go for it. We both cried to our parents on the phone, and chose not to change our profile pictures.

In light of the recent sexual assault on our campus, Facebook has been utilized as a support space. This week, a student created the group Bowdoin Safe Walk, and after just one day, the group had more than 1,500 members. It’s inspiring to see students organizing and finding ways to help each other. These phone numbers don’t feel like they’re just there in case we need to walk somewhere—people in our community are explicitly voicing their desire to act as emotional resources for each other. As women, the two of us find this personally touching, but we also hate that we need this right now. Bowdoin has, for the past year and a half, provided us with a space where we feel valued and safe. These horrendous events force us to confront the stark reality of going through life as a woman. 

Posting the Mizzou status is a form of activism. It helps to bolster a movement by broadcasting it to different corners of the world; it is power in numbers. Solidarity for Paris is not about activism. It is a reaction to tragedy. By no means does this discount its gravity, and we all ought to give each other space to grieve however we need to. The Bowdoin Safe Walk Facebook group is reactionary, but it’s about preventative action. It’s our community saying: we’re not going to let this happen again.

We can’t let all of this stay locked behind our computer screens. Facebook is powerful, but it’s only an approximation of real life. Racism, terrorism and assault are things that pull us apart. The way to break that pattern is by supporting each other, in real life. Talk to your peers, your parents, your professors; go to rallies; walk a friend home. Whether or not you’re someone who engages with Facebook, we all ought to remember: in tough times like these, we must show up for each other.