If you’d like to stay connected outside the algorithm, please sign up for the project’s monthly newsletter. That’s where I’ll share updates from the All the Genders Photo Project, new blog posts, and reflections on building community beyond social media.

I’ve always been hypersensitive to environments where “group think” is valued above all else. Growing up in the Catholic Church, it took me years to realize how much my thoughts, behavior, and values were shaped by other humans who often used our “all knowing God” as the puppet master. Later, in the military, I felt the same friction. Soldiers around me had fully bought into the dream, regardless of the toll it took on them, and I constantly resisted the indoctrination.

Now, whenever I sense a hint of cult mentality, even in groups whose values align with mine, I instinctively keep them at arm’s length.

So why can’t I keep social media at an arm’s length?

Why can’t I set healthy boundaries?

I know the ways software engineers play puppet master behind the scenes, designing apps to pull us further into our screens, turning our phones into addictive pacifiers for anxiety and trauma.   And yet, lately my time on social media feels less like utilizing a tool and more like an addiction. My relationship with the “Meta world” has begun to resemble an emotionally abusive partnership – one I can’t quite explain how I got into.

At the same time, social media has given me immense value. It has connected me with so many people who shaped the All the Genders Photo Project. It’s led to deep in-person connections that I’ll never forget.  But more and more, I feel censored. Drained by constant exposure to political chaos. Uninspired. Unproductive. And unable to set real boundaries with my phone.

Growing Up Without Screens: How My Media Habits Started

I grew up without a television in the late 80s and 90s. People are still surprised when I tell them this.  We did have a small TV when I was very young, but when it broke, my parents chose not to replace it. They were proud of this “no TV” household, convinced it gave us an advantage over the average person glued to their “tellies.”   Honestly, I think it did, and may have been one of the few truly positive values they instilled in me. Childhood-me was immersed in long novels, encyclopedias (yeah, I was that kid), learning musical instruments, building projects, and poking around swampy forests.

My parents continued to maintain their anti-TV sentiments as I started college, while simultaneously finding their bottoms increasingly glued to recliners at the foot of the emerging NetFlix empire.  

I got my first cellphone sometime in high school or college, long before smartphones. Nothing addictive about it.  At 22, I road-tripped across the U.S. with my partner, armed only with a paper atlas and “dummy phones.”   Fast forward to 2025, and it now feels absurd to say I can’t leave home without Google Maps, even in cities I know well.

My 20s and early 30s were mostly social media–free, and life was definitely full. I briefly had a Facebook account to share my new military life with family back home, but it brought more drama than value.  I deleted it easily.  At 30, I even began bringing my queerness into the open in a conservative Texas city, developing queer community still mostly without social media connections.

How Social Media Connects Us (and Why I Still Value It)

Fast forward to three years ago, and I started a small Instagram account for documenting an epic road trip to Alaska to be a park ranger.  I used it like a photo journal, pairing images with researched captions about the land so I could learn about what I photographed.  Few people probably read those long captions, but it didn’t matter – it was for me.

My next step into the social media world was launching new Instagram and Facebook accounts for All the Genders Photo Project in 2023. I thought Instagram’s focus on photography would be perfect, paired with a caption for thoughtful storytelling.  I didn’t realize that reels and short-form videos were already taking over.

Despite the project’s small following, these platforms helped build the foundation of the project.  The algorithms often served stories to people who desperately needed them, sometimes isolated queer folks searching for connection. I’ve met people across the U.S. and Canada I never would have encountered otherwise.

That’s why I’ve stubbornly stuck with still photography and writing. I love the way a single photo can affirm someone’s existence.  I love the deep thought exercises that longer form writing can inspire both for storytellers and readers.  And I love how a thoughtful photo can help someone simply feel seen.

The Pressure of Reels, TikTok, and Short-Form Content

But visibility in our social media driven world has a catch.

When I share frustration that my stories aren’t reaching more people, the well intentioned advice is often: “You should be on TikTok.”  “People like reels now!”  “You just have to capture their attention in 3 seconds with a good hook!” 

At World Pride, I even attended a workshop on using social media for art and advocacy without losing yourself.  The artists presenting were undeniably successful in selling their gorgeous paintings. I started thinking about how to use their suggestions: trending sounds, quick hooks, shorter & faster content. When I looked up the accounts of these talented painters, their grids were dominated by goofy dance videos and clips talking about a smelly butthole next to them on the plane.  

Despite the dissonance, I’ve been using some of the strategies and learned to make reels. Some were fun to create, and they undeniably boosted reach to new people. Hundreds more people saw them compared to my static posts. But very few stopped long enough to actually read the full stories – stories participants spent hours or even months thoughtfully writing. 

I also worry that the art of the vertical reel waters down vulnerable, powerful narratives.  The extra hours creating short form content in addition to photography and writing feels like selling the most valuable thing I have – time – to corporations profiting from our addiction.

And yet, I feel like I need to adapt to the times and find ways to promote visibility of these important stories by being where most people are now – on their phones.  

Queer Censorship on Instagram and Facebook

This summer, I noticed that reels from fellow queer creators started disappearing from my Instagram feed.   Sometimes it was only queer creators.  Other times, it was everyone—every account I follow, completely smothered by ads and “suggested” posts.

Facebook is only slightly better. Its new “Friends” tab feels like relief, but I still fear being banned for using words like queer or trans.  Not an unreasonable worry since friend’s accounts have been reported and disappeared for innocuous queer content.  When I share queer stories for the project, they often seem invisible, while posts about my dog’s passing, with no “trigger” words, reach far more people.

Censorship and algorithms make queer visibility precarious in these spaces.

Dopamine, Doomscrolling, and Overwhelm of Social Media Feeds

Even knowing all this, I still get sucked into the scroll.   I still sit there, scrolling through strangers’ videos served by a clever algorithm: bear videos, ICE abductions, and dog videos.  Real science tells us that this gives me a constant flow of dopamine hits – giggles over the bear videos, immediately followed by simmering anger watching neighbors being forced into unmarked cars by masked humans.  Then frantically verifying on a search engine if the video was real.   I don’t even know half the time – news networks can’t keep up with the onslaught of fascist actions coming from the Trump regime right now.   Complete overwhelm of all systems – the free press, our democracy, my body’s own personal operating system. 

Then I’m unable to remember most of what I consumed from strangers who are also spending exorbitant amounts of their precious time creating fleeting videos.  I find myself embarrassed over my shortening attention span and mindless content consumption.  Then find myself consumed in YouTube videos – wondering if longer form YouTube formats would be better to express thoughts about queer topics  – it gives people more time to pause and think more deeply … maybe.  I spend time blocking vile, transphobic comments on Instagram, then wonder if I should spend more time on the liberal leaning Bluesky.

When I finally pause from Meta’s doom scrolls, I leave feeling less connected to the world.  Less informed.   Less intelligent.  Less inspired to write.  Less inspired to photograph.  I think that’s the point behind how these platforms are engineered – right?   Isolate, overwhelm, and consume what’s left of our attention.  

Performing for Social Media vs. Living in the Moment

Social media also shapes how we interact with the world.  I’ve resisted turning every moment into content.  I prefer taking notes on the road after an interesting interaction or experience, then writing something more thoughtful later.  That keeps me present.  But I’ve considered video more often, since people are curious about the behind-the-scenes of the photo project, and think videography does have the potential to convey powerful messages. 

Still, incessantly recording too many of the mundane and special moments changes dynamics.  An interaction changes when you say “hold on, let me film this,” so I can share it with thousands of strangers online later.  I’ve seen influencer friends (yes, in real life;) bicker until the camera turns on, then instantly shift to joyful and loving when their camera starts rolling for content creation.  Every other time I dine out, I see fellow diners spending their meal in silence across from the table from each other, and actively performing for their phones instead. 

Something about these scenarios truly doesn’t sit well with me.  I don’t want to live like that.  But sometimes I am living like that. 

My Alternatives and Solutions to Social Media Burnout

Recently, I’ve been in a slump, losing my longtime canine companion, feeling dismayed by what’s happening to the United States, navigating health challenges, and battling some burnout that I think is tied into social media exhaustion.  In the midst of this sadness and exhaustion, it seems like turning to the device in my pocket is an easy answer.  In the last couple weeks, my iPhone informed me that I spent 4–5 hours/day cuddling with it and gazing at it – which is a “normal” average for Americans, but not how I want to live.   It’s probably just exhausting me more.   

And yes, I know the easiest solution is to just delete everything … but it might not be the best solution for the work I’m doing.  So I’m brainstorming healthier alternatives that align with the art I want to create and stories that are important to tell, including:

• Stop paying Meta for an Instagram business account.  It seemed like a good way to “protect” an account I’ve poured so much time into from being banned or impersonated, but am realizing I’m probably throwing away my dollars into the social media machine at this point.
• Keep Instagram and Facebook with firm boundaries for project tasks and staying in touch with road trip friends.
• Continue building my email newsletter as a censorship-free way to connect.
• Publish more here – on the project blog, where stories can live outside algorithms and censorship. 
• Experiment with smaller platforms like Tumblr, Pixelfed, Medium, and/or Patreon for longform writing and photography. Still mulling over where I want to put precious time here, as I work on reclaiming time from Meta.
• In the future, try YouTube for longer-form story sharing and discussions about gender. It’s better for monetizing, but still torn on this one as it’s also known to censor LGBTQ content AND still feels addictive as a viewer sometimes.
• Use Bluesky sparingly, knowing short-form content isn’t the best fit for me.
• Keep working on the project’s first book – a much longer game! 

The Meta world turned into a huge part of this project’s initial foundation, but it doesn’t own the entire world, and it won’t own my entire world.

Resetting My Relationship with Social Media

Maybe I’m writing all this to reset my own relationship with social media, or maybe to see if others are facing the same challenges.

Either way, I’m almost ready to dive back into creative work. But I know I need new boundaries. New platforms. New rhythms that honor my energy instead of draining it.

If you’ve ever felt addicted, censored, or simply drained by platforms you’ve poured so much energy into, you’re not alone. I’d love to hear from you.

And if you’d like to stay connected outside the algorithm, please sign up for the project’s monthly newsletter. That’s where I’ll share updates from the All the Genders Photo Project, new blog posts, and reflections on building community beyond social media.

Also, it’s only twice a month emails since I also feel frustrated with the overwhelm of stuff in my own inboxes!