The kid I was in 1980s would hate the adult I’ve become.

Back then, my friends and I thought we could change the world. And, within the limits of our age and dependence on parents, we kind of did. We leapt on environmental issues faster than you can say chlorofluorocarbons and made McDonalds ditch their styrofoam packaging in Australia. We fasted for 40 hours to raise money for famine relief, and took seriously the advice to ‘slip, slop, slap’. We made sure we got our Measles/Mumps/Rubella vaccination, wore our Benetton tee-shirts proudly in support of their progressive ad campaigns, and, with a bit of help from Princess Di, we were inspired by Eve van Grafhorst to fight against the stigma of AIDS. As teens we took on the fight started by our LGBTQI+ elders and made being queer not just acceptable, but fabulous.

Our causes were sometimes misguided (we could have done with less ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas?’ and more ‘We Know It’s Christmas’) and often ignorant of the social issues right under our noses, not least of which the terrible human rights abuses of Australia’s First Peoples, but our hearts were mostly in the right place. We were passionate and curious and keen to learn more about, and from, the world and its people.

We believed, because history told us, that you keep fighting for the rights of people. The Racial Discrimination Act already existed and by the mid-1980s so did the Sex Discrimination Act. The idea that rights, once won, could be lost was simply ridiculous. It wasn’t that it was regressive thinking, it just didn’t seem possible.

The Nazis had been dealt with, provided we never forgot what they did, and though the Cold War and ever present danger of Russian spies scared the shit out of us, Mikhail Gorbachev had arrived in Moscow, the Berlin Wall fell down, and Communism was definitely on the way out. We saw the Chernobyl disaster and the Tiananmen Square massacre play out in real time, and our government’s response was to open Australia’s doors to victims of both. They were complicated times, but the idea that you fought the bad guys for what was right seemed simple.

It would make that hope-filled, ambitious 80s kid’s head spin to see the state of the world today. But it would absolutely break her heart to know that, not only is the world now run by the sort of bad guys that make Baron Silas Greenback look like Dolly Parton, but her moral compass has been so relentlessly recalibrated that she’s now a willing participant in the world’s self-destruction.

I’d ask when we all became so passive, but, in my case, I know. It was 2007, the year I joined Facebook.

Initially, Facebook was the ideal blend of excitedly reconnecting with old friends, keeping in better touch with far-flung loved ones, and harmless distraction from real life. It was such a perfect combination of things, that I couldn’t stop checking it, updating it, being validated by my contributions to it. It was almost like it had been designed to be the most addictive thing since heroin. I enjoyed it so much that, even after discovering the platform’s gross beginnings, I continued to use it. My reasoning was that Zuck was definitely a dick at uni but might have grown up by now, and social media was too important an avenue for raising awareness of social issues and giving marginalised voices a platform to give it up. That I was no longer spending as much time writing or reading, and my attention span no longer allowed me to even contemplate a full length movie, but could spend four hours a night arguing with strangers, wasn’t lost on me. But I was fighting the good fight, getting those likes and feeling validated. Compromises to my morals and my ambitions had to be made.

Almost 20 years on, and with the addition of Instagram to upload videos of my dog to, I’m sitting on the couch in my overpriced rental in Brisbane bemoaning the state of the world, getting fucked five ways to Saturday by the cost of living, and I am STILL engaging with this nonsense. I don’t even enjoy it anymore, haven’t in years. Algorithms, trolls, fake news, and ads for shit I’ve never wanted to know about fill my feeds. I am so distracted I have to play mind games with myself to write or read, two things I love doing most, and my attention span lasts only as long as a 24min episode of some light comedy on a streaming service. I dread to think how productive creatively I might have been if I’d never joined Facebook. I was busy liking memes about Mary Oliver’s provocation, ‘what will you do with your one wild and precious life?’ while wasting my own.

And it makes me so mad, because we have all the knowledge now. We know definitively that social media was designed to not only addict us, but distract us to the point of apathy. We know it’s fucked social cohesion, relationships, trust in science, mental health, historical knowledge, the Arts and creative production, education and literacy levels, cultural understanding, diplomacy, measured political debate, respect for others, and a bunch of other things I’m too angry to remember right now.

We know it’s created division where there was none. We know that for all the good it’s done, the negatives far outweigh the positives. Even if we share posts under the delusion we’re somehow helping raise awareness of terrible things that are happening to people everywhere, they’re insidiously undermining us by filling our feeds with relentlessly depressing content that ultimately makes us feel overwhelmed and powerless. ‘Let them share videos of Gaza and believe they’re making a difference,’ I imagine them saying in Meta HQ. ‘While they’re patting themselves on the back, we’re on our way to destroying democracy globally.’

Most depressingly, we know the major platforms are owned by deeply problematic assholes. While we’ve been distracted by videos of cats falling off lampshades and archaic clips of Graham Norton, or engaged in ridiculous arguments with trolls planted to provoke us, bullied schoolboys with daddy issues-turned tech bro billionaire megalomaniacs have been busy redesigning the world to fit their version of truth and justice. And that version of the world doesn’t include rights or freedoms, or even basic respect, for any group in society they don’t see themselves belonging to, i.e. the rest of us.

And the most ridiculous thing, the thing that would make the kid I was in the 1980s want to bash herself over the head with the She-Ra Sword of Protection she won at the Ekka, is that even now when there is no denying how badly they have screwed us, we continue to use their platforms while wishing there was something we could do about it.

Well, fuck that. There is something we can do, and it’s the thing they’re most scared of.

We’ve been brainwashed into believing we need their platforms to survive and stay connected in this crazy world. The ONLY thing that’s keeping these arseholes in positions of power is our supposed reliance on them. If we all get off the apps, their reach and share price drops, and they become the impotent pricks they truly are.

Yes, Facebook and Instagram are full of the names of people I love or like and want to stay connected to, but so is my phone and people have my number (let’s not have the smartphone debate right now, okay? One cunty 2025 problem at a time). Yes, I currently ‘need’ a social media presence for work, but there are plenty of people not on the apps and they still manage to find their way to me. Frankly, if you’re an influencer who’s put all their eggs in one Meta-shaped basket, then perhaps it’s time to future-proof your business through diversification.

Maybe it’s naive, and maybe I’m too old for this generation of tech heads anyway, but unfortunately, given my relative good health and genetics, I am likely to be on the planet for at least another 30-40 years and I can’t spend that time contributing to the shit show.  

People, in the words of Patti Smith, have the power.

1980s me was excited for the future, which was definitely going to include hoverboards, robotic dogs and a career as a famous writer, and not include Nazis, abortion bans, the demonisation of trans people, and so many fucken cat videos. I want to make her proud.

So if you’re up for it, come join me. I’ll be the one in the bubble skirt and side ponytail. Okay that’s going too far. Not everything about the 1980s was great.

NB: If you’re younger than me and can’t imagine how life might work without social media, ask an old person. It was actually pretty awesome, in hindsight.