By Josslyn Grover, TIWP Student

The Hunters of Artemis navigated by stars. Their sacred stories are folded into the network of lights we have gazed upon for centuries, these burning bodies of gas full of mystery. Before anything, these were the maps of the heavens, these were the gods. Now I look at the rectangular shiny light held in the palm of my hand and wonder if this is my guide. Brilliance has been poured into this box, but what we so often find before our eyes is the infinite For You Page. Social media: something so vapid but profound, shallow but cavernous, cruel but kind. So confusing.

There are endless statistics of how social media is destructive to teens. Young adults are three times more likely to suffer from depression if they use social media. I saw that one posted on someone’s Instagram story.

“Gen Z will save us.”

“Gen Z will be the end of us.”

As a victim and honey worker bee of social media, all I can really say is that it confuses me. At one moment, I watch a video of a screaming toddler, clinging to her father as she is separated from him while fleeing Ukraine with her mother. The father sobs silently and pats her head as they are pulled away from each other. I scroll down and the next video is a blurred edit of a nightclub with girls in skimpy outfits and sparkly cowboy hats dancing under disco lights, all while Habits by Tove Lo plays.

The juxtaposition leaves me stunned. I don’t know how to feel or what to do, but I am momentarily pulled away from my perpetual scrolling. Swipe. Swipe. Pause. Swipe. Ignore time limit. Social media is an endless, rabbit hole of content. It is meant to intrigue, feed, comfort, and smother us until we can not escape its grip. We sit in boxes, watching thousands, millions, of other small lights flicker in their boxes, but we feel alone. Everyone can admit this, yet we all log into our Instagram accounts each day.

My generation has grown up with social media. Most of my youth has been documented by an iPhone camera. I can’t really imagine a time without phones and social media, a fact that sometimes makes me sad and disappointed.

Most adults aren’t helpful. They love to talk about their generations and how glad they are that they weren’t born in ours.

When I was young we used to go outside… We only had flip phones!… AOL messaging was the closest thing we had to social media… There wasn’t so much obsession about appearances when I was in high school…You’ll destroy your neck sitting like that… Everywhere I go I see kids on their phones…Does anyone even read anymore?

Yes, I read! There’s a whole community of people on Instagram and TikTok that dedicate their time to sharing their love of books. I feel a personal connection with these people I’ve never met! They are funny, charismatic, and smart. We love the same fandoms – do you even know what a fandom is? Even if my neck is in a sloped position, I am laughing and smiling when I see this content. I want to say all of this, but I do not.

Social media is not a box I opened, yet I am labeled Pandora. Every young generation is ridiculed and criticized in some way by an older generation who was ridiculed by an older generation who was ridiculed by an even older generation. This goes back and back until we are nothing but monkeys picking ticks off each other, and, yes, I’ve seen that on TikTok. But Gen Z did not invent social media. It was forced upon our backs since we could crawl, and although we have carried this weight until we now stand, we are still blamed for its rise and ubiquity.

The solution of cutting away all social media with one sweep of a knife is improbable. Whether we approve of it or not, it is woven into the fabric of young people’s lives. It’s in our brains, our skin. There is no cutting away of it.

I don’t think adults understand that we have our own opinions of social media. We have an understanding of how it has affected us, and we know the burden we shoulder. We feel disappointment, anger, and shame. We are sad that people don’t write letters anymore, twist a finger around a phone line, or have the old fashioned type of meet-cute relationships. We admire our grandparents’ stories, but we still stare at other people’s lives through a thin, black screen and we search for authenticity. At night, our faces are illuminated by the light of that tiny screen and we wish we could see the stars instead. Hours are spent contemplating how others perceive us and how we create our own curated brand. Who am I? It’s not a new question for adolescents, but it feels warped through the pixels.

Sometimes we don’t feel this way. We send funny memes back and forth. We appreciate those who have come before us, those who have made a difference, and we contemplate how we will do the same. Everyone says teenagers don’t talk to each other anymore, and maybe we are a bit more socially awkward and hesitant because we were locked inside for two years, but the idea that we don’t talk is simply wrong. We shout, bigger ideas sprinkled within the smaller ones. We debate which surprise song Taylor Swift will play on tour tonight and we advocate for women’s healthcare rights. We send around memes of the movie Zoolander and fight for gun control. We crane our necks down and wonder what are we going to do to save this planet. It is painful and crushing and it is beautiful and freeing and it is ours. Within this confusion and duality, I believe there is unity. It is a humming connection, built of all those swipes and pauses and smiles and time-limits set and ignored. And still, I long to see the stars. This is who I am. This is who we are.