Rhi Axtell – Writer

Today while eating lunch in a cafe with my parents, I noticed a movement above us, near the ceiling. I glanced up and saw a small red robin sitting on one of the lampshades. The robin continued to flutter around us, exploring the tables nearby, wandering across the floor, and generally being curious about the whole place.

It ignored the people nearby. It ignored the crying children. It ignored the dogs. It just wandered around, occasionally flying up somewhere to get a better view of the room.

“He’s a brave little fellow, isn’t he?” someone commented from a nearby table.

In the days since my announcement that I am leaving social media, a lot of people have responded by calling me brave.

It’s a strange feeling. My initial reaction was to reject the idea right away. “I’m not brave, I’m just deleting a few accounts.”

People usually respond to that with a nice list of all the things I am going to miss out on when I leave social media: the connections, the opportunities, the ability to talk to friends and see what they are up to, the funny comics…*

*They never mention the adverts or the fact that social media companies are hoarding and selling your data. Weird.

The robin in the cafe today made me think about this idea of bravery a bit more. Was the robin brave for flying around the cafe? I’m not sure. Curious? Definitely. Perhaps it was seen as brave because it was in a place with many potential threats, but it kept going. Perhaps it was brave because it didn’t flinch in the face of uncertainty.

Maybe that’s how we view life without social media now – a place of uncertainty, a place full of threats to your existence. Are you really doing anything if it isn’t posted on social media? How will anybody know? What about all the things I am going to miss because I don’t have an account?

If that’s the case, then yes, I too am a ‘brave little fellow’, just like the robin, for leaving social media.

But I don’t really think leaving social media was an act of bravery. At least not for me.

For me it was an act of necessity.

See you tomorrow.