The Space Between Us
Me, you, and the internet / roasted red pepper risotto
Dear friend,
I hope this finds you somewhere outside, maybe out on a walk in a beautiful place, warmed by a gentle winter sun. I myself have been quarantining inside my studio apartment for a few days because of the endless test that is our current existence. What a hilarious irony that just last week I had a chat with a dear friend about how we both missed the walking stories, and I told him (and myself) that I’d be on the lookout for something beautiful on my evening walks so I could write about it. Spoiler: on the days when I did go outside for a walk, I chose not to seek beauty. So I’m here instead to talk to you about The Internet. The entire thing. I hope you’re comfortable because there’s a lot here, as usual.
The email began “I don’t know if you remember me but I used to follow you on twitter.” And a chill shot through my spine. I haven’t been on twitter since about 2009 (I think?) and the thought of someone out there perceiving me as the same person I used to be back then is…hard to accept. The email was very well-meaning. They just wanted to check-in, say hello, ask me about my life these days. But I was paralyzed by the fact that while this person, inexplicably, still remembers me, I do not remember them. I don’t know how to describe the feeling of being known, in a very specific way, by someone who you no longer know.
There was a time in the early days of twitter when I spent all my time on that now nightmarish website; before it was an app, in the days of loading mobile pages on your Blackberry or using the text-to-tweet feature if there was something I just had to say before I could get to my computer. And I had a lot to say. I loved the 140 character limit. I loved that I had a place where I could just yell, almost constantly, about everything and anything but mostly about things I hated. I was disillusioned by life, having faced the kind of grief that shifts your entire world, struggling to see the point in even finishing college or striving for any big future. Twitter came along and ensconced me in community; people who also loved watching left-wing political commentary. I got to write snippy tweets about people like Cheney and Bush and feed my devotion to the very yelly Keith Olbermann and forever-perfect Rachel Maddow. I was obsessed with that world, but it also served me in many ways. I honed my skills of quick analysis of complex issues. I became a sharper, more confident critic and I learned to value my own voice, to have a take and to know that my opinions are worth sharing. Am I describing the perfect lab for growing uncontrollable narcissists? Yeah, just take a look at most of us these days. But back then, there weren’t a lot of places where a young woman might feel free to express herself. Especially a young Black woman who was in so much pain that on a lot of days she didn’t even know if she’ll make it through the semester.
But here’s the big difference between those twitter days and what social media is today. Back then, there was no part of my identity that internet people knew without me purposefully choosing for them to know. I didn’t even have my face in a profile photo. For all intents and purposes, I was anonymous to all but to a handful of the people who became close internet friends. It was easier back then to separate your life from the internet. It wasn’t an album of your entire life. You could write things in places like twitter and tumblr without the crushing weight of influencers or apps designed to find newer and deeper ways of burrowing into your life. It wasn’t an extension of your career, especially if you have any hope of working in a creative field.
I know that this is all obvious stuff. I know that one easy solution is to do what Michaela Coel urged us all to do in her 2021 Emmy acceptance speech. But it feels harder and harder to disengage from this make-believe world because we’ve filled it with our lives. I don’t know about you but more often than not Instagram is where I get the most information about people these days. That’s not to say that I don’t reach out to the people who are central to my life. But somewhere along the way I learned to expand my world to include way more people in it than is necessary. Sometimes these are people with whom I have little desire to continue a relationship. But in this endless loop of connection you’re always visited upon by people who you would probably not speak to if you ran into them (at the mall? where do you run into people these days?)
Still, knowing what we all know, I still do not think of the internet in the way that I probably should: an extremely public, deceptive hellscape largely populated by the worst kinds of people and ushering the decline of humanity with each passing day. Instead I think of it only as far as the people with whom I interact: my friends, sometimes my family (nothing but extremely specific memes about siblings), and people whose ideas I admire and appreciate. People I know, trust, respect. People who make me think and laugh and who I want to make think and laugh. Everything else, everyone else, is a blur. But here’s what I’ve been thinking about lately: who else is paying attention in that blur, and are they well-meaning? Don’t even get me started on the permanence of it all. More permanent than anything before.
When I share something online I’m not thinking “this is the same thing as putting it on a billboard” or whatever is that old adage about how to decide what you should or should not say publicly. I don’t like the idea of a private account because it feels pointless to me, like I am hiding in a place where I don’t even need to be in the first place. But you know what I did last week? I logged into Instagram and saw that exactly five strange men had began to follow me overnight and I panicked so much that I switched my account to private. Is this an overreaction? Of course! But the thought of these people suddenly being able to see the inside of my apartment, the inside of my thoughts, this newsletter, etc was suddenly overwhelming. Again, we’re talking about five people here and nobody is forcing me to share anything. I could log out of everything and go live my life in peace. But I have been at this thing now for most of my life and this habit of proving my existence is a hard one to break; now, more than ever.
Did I mention that I’ve been in isolation this week? What else does one do when they’re isolated in a studio apartment with only the phone and internet to connect them to the people in their lives but create an existential crisis about their place on said internet?
How do you feel about your place on the internet?
Something to Read
I’ve had a hard time focusing my attention this week, but last night I finished the audio version of Home is Not a Country by Safia Elhillo after reading the written book last week and I found it so compelling that I’m sharing it with you here. Elhillo is a Sudanese-American writer and poet whose work I have loved for years and this novel is her debut, written in beautiful verse. It is a story of belonging and acceptance, the kind only we can give to ourselves. Using verse and magical realism it tells the story of Nima, a child of immigrants from an unnamed Arabic-speaking country, living in Suburban America. Nima is haunted by the name her mother didn’t give her, the life she doesn’t lead, the identity she wants but doesn’t know how to create.
Please note that this novel deals with many difficult topics that could be triggering for some people. There are themes like race-based violence, loss and grief, harassment, and other cruelties.
Something to Cook: Roasted Red Pepper Risotto
I’ve made this risotto three times this week which means I’m close to overdoing it so much that I’ll soon hate even the thought of it. But right now, while the love is strong, I gotta say that this is the perfect dish for pretty much any meal.
Risotto is not something to make ahead and save for later so measure according to the amount you’ll eat shortly after cooking. I made enough for one, using 1/4 cup of the rice and saved the leftover sauce for future uses.
Ingredients:
Arborio rice
jar of roasted red peppers
dry white wine
shallots
garlic
paprika
olive oil
Italian parsley
lemon
salt + freshly ground pepper
Method:
For the sauce: blend together the entire jar of peppers (including the liquid), garlic, a dash of olive oil. The color and consistency should be like a creamy tomato soup.
Saute finely diced shallots in some olive oil with salt and freshly ground pepper, just until they are soft. Add the rice and stir constantly for a couple of minutes. Then add a dash of paprika, stirring to combine. Add a splash of the wine and stir, de-glazing the pan. Turn the heat to medium low and add a ladle of the red pepper sauce, stirring almost constantly. Once it absorbs, add another ladle and keep going this way until the rice is cooked through. Salt and pepper as needed. Serve with some fresh parsley, a drizzle of olive oil, and a squeeze of lemon. I haven’t tried it with any cheese but I can’t imagine a planet where a little burrata wouldn’t be a dream here.
