Validation or meaningful conversation – clarifying your intention on social media

Over the years, social media taught me a lot about the dynamics of human relationships. It’s amazing how technology, and new forms of communication it enables, brings to the surface facts about relationships – and relational dysfunction – that are not so readily visible “in real life”.

I put the term “real life” in scare quotes because, well, relationships that start and develop in online spaces are in fact no less real than those we have with people in our physical proximity. Cynics, abuse apologists, and other bullshitters will tell you “to not take anything online seriously” – but that is shallow, meaningless rhetoric. Sometimes, people on social media are dead serious. Sometimes, unconstrained by offline social pressures, they exhibit behaviors that reveal their true colors in ways that would be difficult to reproduce offline.

Over the last few years, given my geography, I had to do most of artistic networking on Instagram (and most recently, Twitter). I firsthand learned a lot, though quite painfully, about normalized abuse, unacknowledged privilege, and Hall-of-Fame-level hypocrisy, all so typical among American social justice activists. I saw hundreds of people successfully making money, fame, and careers from eloquently portraying the values they carefully avoided to practice as soon as conversations got real and off-camera. But within that stinking heap of corruption and lies, hidden under Pride flags, #BLM hasthags, and poetic encouragements “to believe in yourself”, there was one relational pattern that particularly caught my attention.

I was on the receiving end of it often enough, but until very recently, I couldn’t wrap my head around it. It just didn’t make sense. It was abusive and toxic, but, most of all, it just seemed illogical to me. With my perspective on the world, on life, and on relationships, it looked like complete BS. Only this year, after focusing in high detail on narcisstic personality disorder studies, my a-ha moment finally happened.

Holy shit. Has this ever happened to you?

The scenario was very, very similar in all those cases. I discovered someone on Instagram who, on the surface, looked like a like-hearted and like-minded person to me. A person who wrote and posted and talked in a deep and profound way about social justice, empathy, and equality (and often also about vulnerability, authenticity, creativity, motivation – you name it). Those things were a central theme in that person’s content feed. Instinctively, I wanted to connect.

As I did so many times in my life, I assumed from the communication being given that those person’s values and intentions were aligned with mine. The only thing was, they were just more privileged than me, a poverty-stricken guy from Russia. But, in my perception, that couldn’t be an impediment to meaningful connection. Especially given the fact that I didn’t force or hotwire connection, but intended to build it gradually, normally, organically, just as I do with people offline – through meaningful conversations, being curious, finding common ground and opportunities to learn from one another and collaborate.

Isn't this the trope that social justice movements eloquently promote?

Well, what slipped my understanding was a very common and hardwired cognitive bias – the notion that other people see life, relationships in general, and Instagram in particular exactly as I do.

That if I mean the things that I say, don’t make commitments beyond what I can deliver, try my best to practice the values that I preach, then other people must be doing the same.

That if I take social justice, my work around it, my words around it seriously, so must do other people.

That if I truly want to make the world a better place and put my vision beyond my individual comfort, I can rightfully expect the same from my “fellow activists”.

Oh. My. God. 🙄 Jorgito was dwelling in the world of rainbows and unicorns.

It somehow didn’t occur to me that people – yes, especially American people – may passionately talk about social justice not because they are passionate about it, but because they, just like global brands, jump on the bandwagon of these movements to get tangible, and recently quite substantial, benefits – in the form of profits, media attention, sales of their products, without in fact giving a shit about people whose rights they claim to advocate for. This became clear as my conversations with those “cultural leaders” and “influencers” got private.

But well, as it turned out, that wasn’t the worst case scenario. The bleached-smiley, glossy, niceness-flavored American Instagram culture had more surprises in store for me.

There were cases where my interaction with those fellow activists, poets, empathy gurus, and equality advocates didn’t even reach the point of private conversation – the one where their lack of integrity could come out overtly, leaving no room for doubt.

Instead, there was a more subtle and more interesting dynamic.

After discovering that person, I started leaving comments on their feed – not just on all posts, but those that resonated with me and my work. That’s a normal, healthy way to build connection – you start a conversation around things that are important for you that another person claims are just as important for them.

Then, I would get very positive (in fact – nice) feedback – they would eloquently reply and seem to support the dialogue. They would follow back. Then, in a few weeks’ time, me and they would be chatting back and forth in DM. They would ask about my work and say how great it was. They would compliment my intelligence and sometimes even say how grateful they were that we met online.

And then, all of a sudden, they would stop replying to my comments. Stop reading my DM messages. Ignore my emails.

In offline context, this relational behavior is called ghosting. It’s frequently discussed in the context of narcissistic abuse, and it doesn’t only happen in romantic relationships, but also in friendships and business relationships. Technically, just like all narcissitic behaviors, ghosting is much easier to perpetrate online than offline – because the abuser can feel licensed to do anything without being held accountable.

You wouldn’t bring to court a person who’s ten time zones away because they stopped responding to your DMs, would you?

Oh well, that's why from ten time zones away, paradoxical as it sounds, it's so much easier to spot a narcissist than when you meet them for lunch every Wednesday.

When it happened to me earlier, I was experiencing lots of shame. I would sit there for days and weeks ruminating, “What wrong did I do for them to cut me off? Was I rude? Did I offend them? Did I talk too much (too little)? Was my work mediocre? Wasn’t my English good enough?”

Remarkably, that’s exactly what the abuser always intends to do: to make their target question their self-worth, their sanity, and their perspective. Ultimately, to make their target feel undeserving of connection.

But over the years, as I develeped critical thinking, awareness around shame, privilege, vulnerability and abuse, and also the understanding of relational dynamics through the prism of social work, I stopped questioning myself in the face of people’s abusive behaviors.

Instead, the last time this Instagram ghosting crap happened to me, I got curious. More curious than hurt, indeed. Curiosity killed the cat, as we say it Spanish.

Switching on my researcher mode, I went back to the posts of that person that I commented on and systemically reviewed my comments against the comments of other people, which, unlike mine, didn’t stop getting responses and likes from the author.

And there, lo and behold, the truth of narcissism came out in full grace (or in full ugliness, to be exact) – just like in a text book – and all of my previous experiences of ghosting finally made sense.

The only difference between my and other people’s comments were that mine brought added value to the conversation about a topic rather than a mere validation of the author’s words. Mind you, I didn’t do this intentionally! But it’s my natural instinct to only comment on posts where I have something meaningful to add to the conversation – and not everywhere to just put emojis or nice words to blow smoke up the author’s ass. Because, in my view, what’s the point of taking up space on someone else’s page if I’m not bringing anything valuable to the table?

Well, in a narcissist’s view, things are exactly the opposite. When I put out my Instagram posts and deep, detailed conversations about social justice problem on YouTube, I wanted people to come with questions, opinions, challenges – because these topics genuinely felt important to me, and my intention was to invite and stoke a meaningful conversation.

But with such intention on today’s social media, I honestly feel like a marginalized, scapegoated minority.

Way too many people come to social media and write posts – including those eloquent discourses about empathy, self-love, social justice and so on – just to get attention and validation. Nada más, nada menos. That’s their underlying motive, not the intention to bring about complex, uncomfortable, awkward yet meaningful conversations about social problems that are so needed because, one at a time, they end up transforming the world.

Now, how would those people react to someone else expressing their thoughts or perspective in the comments? It’s my space! I’m the center of attention and the receiver of admiration here! Anything else than validation isn’t welcome! There’s no red narcissism badge (although oftentimes, there is a blue Verified badge) in their profiles, but let’s be honest: behaviors speak louder than badges. When your comments get singled out for being ignored – given that they bring no insults, no dissent but just added value around the topic being discussed – what else than the author’s narcissism can explain this?

Thanks Instagram for exposing the prevalence and the magnitude of NPD in our culture – especially the covert forms, not so readily visible off-line.

We may go to great lenghts professing values, but whether we like it or not, our practiced values are measurable and observable in our behavior. The same is true about intentions. Using one’s privilege or poetic language to gaslight people and avoid accountability around one’s hypocrisy is also observable, and it’s utterly disgusting.

Clear is kind. Unclear is unkind. So let’s be clear.

There’s a big pressure and, I daresay, an enormous hype to talk about social justice these days, especially in America. But next time you feel the urge to put a black square on your Instagram, attach a Pride flag filter to your profile pic, or write a Facebook post on International Women’s Day, just ask yourself:

“Why the hell am I doing this?”

Unless you care – genuinely care – about this topic, unless you want – genuinely want – and to have a conversation with others around it, unless you’re ready to study literature, employ critical thinking, rumble with your own biases, ask and answer tough questions, and stay civil speaking truth to bullshit – unless that is the case, please consider other, healthier ways of getting attention.

You're worthy, unique, and lovable regardless of the external validation or lack thereof. You have ideas and gifts to share that nobody else has. So focus on looking inwards to find and bring them forth, instead of looking outwards to see what the culture expects from you and then just faking it.

The world needs real things that can only come from within you. And yes, you do have those even if you think, and have thought for years and decades, that you don’t. The world needs real, brave, awkward, genuine thoughts, ideas, and vision to be brought to the table. Black squares and Pride flags don’t change the world. People hustling for attention, fame, and money don’t.

Meaningful conversations frickin’ do.

On social media or in offline settings, may you and I meet in one of them – bringing with ourselves compassion, generosity, integrity, clarity of values, and solid self-worth.