I’ve been using social media a little bit more (i.e: I’ve been on social media, as opposed to avoiding it altogether). I felt like the urgency of terrible events rendered slower ways of writing useless. I don’t actually believe that, of course. I think that terrible events are made worse by quick dissemination and that stories and slow-burn ideas make us happier and help us think with more clarity. That’s the hill I’d die on. But for a little while there, I forgot. It’s why I’ve been
But I also wonder if this newsletter is really the space for slow-burn ideas anyway. When I think of the kind of “social media” that makes my heart sing, it’s not really personal newsletters filled with links, and it’s definitely not the Big Three socials (+ Tiktok now- intriguing. Read this on the growth of a new dynasty). It’s essays. I dislike the hot take industry, but I love a non-fiction piece that allows you to meander through a story and invites a response. It’s not that this can’t happen on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram, but it’s as though these interfaces can sometimes work against this happening. I’m also not convinced I can do both well. I reserve the right to change my mind, and I’m happy to be proven wrong (Email me— notes [at] belindalopez.net). I also have IDEAS about how these interfaces can be used differently, but that’s for another time.
In an earlier newsletter, I wrote that one reason I wanted to write newsletters as opposed to social media was:
“Maybe it’s just major hubris but I want to have permanent ‘ownership’ of my own archives* — Note June ’18
But now I’m wondering if these archives even matter? If a newsletter is ephemeral, like the rest of the socials, is there any point to having ownership of it? In principle, yes of course. But does it matter enough to keep this up? I know I’m navel-gazing about how I use social media- but I think these are questions that affect all of us. And anyway- isn’t everything ephemeral anyway? Not just social media but essays, books, documentaries, life… feel like I should throw in a Nietzsche quote here. Anyway. I did have a point to make, but I’ve forgotten it. Tried a new brand of chai this morning and maybe there was something in it.
TL;DR: I dunno what I’m doing with this newsletter. Maybe I’ll just tell you when I’ve published something new elsewhere.
Papua
For once, events in West Papua have been in the news, but only because they’ve been horrific, the worst in decades. There’s so much more to write, including about why I have said little before this. For now, I’d urge you to:
-Support Indigenous Papuan media. While other media and UN observers are restricted, these brave reporters are on the frontline. Suara Papua is a Papuan newspaper which frequently finds itself subject to threats and censorship. Support it here: https://www.patreon.com/suarapapua/overview
-Receive translated news reports on Papua here. You’ll have an insight into West Papua as it transpires in Indonesia, which is different and often more detailed than appears in English-language media.
-Embrace stories and music and hope. I don’t think you can be too earnest about this. One example: The community authored book and album “We have come to testify” is now out. It uses songs and stories to heal from traumatic events. Also produced with the narrative-therapy led Dulwich Centre– which believes that storytelling is a form of therapy that can heal. And when I am an old lady who is done with this journalism/anthropology racket, I am going to study this. You can decide how much you want to contribute to buy the album.
Oh Mother!
A Leunig Cartoon about negligent mothers obsessed with Instagram made women angry this week. If there was a Venn diagram of Leunig fans, social media sceptics and mothers, I’d fall in the centre. I wrote about Leunig making a good point, badly, for the Sydney Morning Herald. A lot of people also didn’t understand why so many women were angry— which I also think says something about how deeply this particular form of labour is undervalued.
Sign up to this newsletter if you haven’t already, or tell a friend. I’m not going to flood your inbox, clearly. As always, love to hear from you: notes [at] belindalopez.net.