The internet today is often described as feeling “crummy” for various reasons, such as algorithmic feeds, companies monetizing users, ad-based business models, and search engines. However, the author argues that another reason for this feeling is the proliferation of “shame closets” in our digital lives. Just like a physical shame closet where items are crammed away without organization, our digital shame closets are filled with vast amounts of data that we have difficulty sifting through or extracting value from.
The era of digital shame closets began with the introduction of services like Gmail, which offered users unprecedented amounts of storage space. However, as time passed, the author found himself drowning in unread emails and digital clutter, unable to effectively use Google’s algorithms to find what he needed. The promise of vast storage mediated by powerful search tools became a double-edged sword, as users struggled to navigate and manage the sheer volume of data they were accumulating.
This trend extended beyond files to include our social connections, as social networks made it easy to connect with many people at once without fostering meaningful relationships. Despite being digitally connected to more people than ever, many individuals still feel lonely and disconnected. The digital giants profit from our passivity, as we pay for additional storage and rely on algorithms to curate our digital experiences for us.
In an effort to regain control over his digital life, the author subscribed to a new email service called Hey, which places emphasis on user control and choice. By actively managing who can email him and where those messages go, the author is forced to make decisions rather than defer to algorithms to do the work for him. While Hey is not perfect and has its limitations, the author appreciates the friction it introduces into his digital life, prompting him to actively engage with and tend to his digital garden rather than letting it become a shame closet.
Ultimately, the author takes responsibility for creating his own digital shame closets and recognizes that he must actively engage with his digital life to cultivate a more intentional and meaningful online experience. He aims to find software that encourages him to make choices rather than avoiding them, turning his digital life from a cluttered closet into a carefully tended garden. By prioritizing intentionality over ease and actively curating his digital presence, the author seeks to reclaim agency and meaning in his online interactions.
