Social media has played a crucial role in how I’ve built community with other queer folks, therapists, writers, and educators. The opportunities for mutual support, resource sharing, and mental health advocacy are undeniable. In times of crisis, these platforms can be powerful tools to mobilize quickly—alerting communities to protests, fundraisers, and calls to action.

Lately, though, I’ve become more aware of the limitations of online relationships, especially as more of our digital spaces are censored, branded, and increasingly “Trump-ified.” From the conversations I’m seeing in my networks, I know I’m not alone in feeling this way.

Noticing The Need for Balance

Social media will remain essential to the movements we care about, but the downsides of echo chambers and billionaire-controlled platforms are real. The current administration is fire-hosing us with alarming headlines, leaving us unable to fully process or effectively respond to everything. And the truth is, it’s impossible to engage with all the bad news that comes our way.

For me, the solution isn’t abandoning social media activism altogether—though I understand why someone might choose a more offline life. Instead, I’m learning to balance my time online with more in-person engagement. I feel far less helpless when supporting organizations or people in my immediate community than when trying to singlehandedly dismantle an oligarchy. Yet ultimately, aren’t these goals intertwined? 

The more we rely on each other, the less we rely on those who don’t have our best interests at heart.

Smooth is Fast

Urgent action—the kind most often demanded by social media—may not always be the most effective. While watching one of my favorite wilderness shows, Outlast, a cast member shared a mantra during a treacherous hike: “Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast.” Perhaps you’ve heard this before; for me, it resonates deeply. I often find myself taking action from a fight-or-flight response, which doesn’t lend itself to careful, strategic thinking.

Reading the works of Black, Indigenous, and POC teachers like adrienne maree brown, Báyò Akómoláfé, and Jezz Chung has helped me see how urgency—especially the frantic, influencer-style urgency we encounter online—can be a tool of white supremacy. It distracts us from the larger picture: each other.

Being in this work for the long haul means we must sleep, eat, and drink water every day. We need joy in our lives to sustain our will to keep going, and we need to nourish our spirits. 

A movement full of burnt-out participants inevitably becomes a burnt-out movement.

Where to Begin

The next step toward deeper community might be closer than you think. Look at your most recent text messages; these people are likely part of your core community. Look at your coworkers, or draw a circle around the few blocks nearest to your home.

We build community by shopping locally, noticing our neighbors’ needs, and practicing how to live without excess. Don’t buy into the myth that these skills are not necessary pieces of the revolution.  

The next time you move to comment on a stranger’s Instagram, ask yourself: is there someone in my existing community who would benefit from the energy I’m expending here?  We can create sustainable relationships by showing up for the people who rely on us, learning to be accountable, and being willing to navigate conflict with the people closest to home. 

Photo Credit: Hacks