On not being so chronically online

the unexpected evolution

black muslim woman chronically online as per the gen AI. I mean…

My instagram bio says ‘currently offline’, although I log on via the browser on my phone every week or two to check I haven’t missed anything urgent. As soon as my feed loads, I’m greeted with a post that elicits an emotion I do not feel ready to feel - envy, frustration, anger, desperation - and I quickly swipe away, annoyed at myself for thinking this time would be different.

I do love the internet. I’m someone whose career as a writer would not exist without the democratising force of the open web, the blogging era of the 2000s and 2010s, the power of social media and virality and the potent idea of connection. In the past, when folks have talked about stepping away from socials because of its toxicity or because of the overwhelm it causes, I might have nodded and smiled, but deep down I felt I was different. I was native to the digital world, one of those chronically online people who knew the origin story of all the memes and was up to date with the latest trend well before it hopped platforms and your grandmother asked you about ‘that cucumber recipe’. I could handle the poison, I could take on (or effectively ignore) the trolls. I was made of tougher psychological stuff. I was proud of my online-ness.

Online was also the only way news about Sudan was found, shared and distributed. We helped people evacuate from their homes via twitter, shared the latest updates on instagram, circulated educational videos on Tiktok and WhatsApp. I built eyesonsudan.net, which started as sudancoup.com, an online information hub while the internet was cut off in the country, now a resource on the current counter-revolutionary war. My advocacy on Sudan started on social media platforms, and it is not hyperbole to say that the digital space has been a haven for Sudanese diaspora, if not those with access on the ground.

Thus, my pride at being online has always sat alongside a slight defensiveness. When people speak to the challenges - many of which I agree with, fwiw, I am after all constantly railing against Big Tech and the rest - I feel the urge to counter. To push back. To remind them that these platforms, these spaces, were a lifeline. Remain so, for so many. They are precious, I would say, despite who owns them and their long, drawn out process of enshittification.

And yet, my instagram bio says I am currently offline, and has done for months.

This summer has been my most writing-oriented season to date. It started before summer, if I’m honest. Despite the incessant distraction of other work and life, not to mention the state of the world, I have written more so far this year than perhaps any other year that has past. But still - that doesn’t quite describe the shift.

This year has been the first year that my writing practice has taken precedence over all my other work. Alhamdulilah.

The year isn’t out yet, so I’m not sure if I will be able to say the majority of my income this year has come from writing (a ‘main income’ writer). What I can definitely say is the majority of my time - over 50% - was spent on writing, making me a ‘primary occupation’ writer. That’s a massive change.

The rhythm of my life has shifted, because it has had to. I’m not only writing short form, like this Substack and monthly columns and reported pieces on rappers and cyclists. I’m writing long form manuscripts, pitches, scripts - writing that requires, at least for me, mental clarity. Space. Internal quiet. All things that are made more difficult when one’s life is busy, and one’s mind is connected to the fire hose of unfiltered information that is the internet.

I know this doesn’t apply to everyone. Famously, Toni Morrison was able to write entire novels in the morning hours before she went to work. Many mothers I know find ways to complete manuscripts in the snatches of time around raising their children, a level of time efficiency I can only admire with awe. People who want to write find a way to, the urgency of telling the story rising above all else. But I haven’t yet ascended to such productive heights. I have found instead, I need to somehow make the rest of my world quieter, so that I can fully focus my attention on the creative task at hand. I found that I need to be more and more… offline.

I feel a quiet sadness about this. I imagine things might change, as the rhythm of my writing practice changes. But honestly, before this year, it had never once occurred to me how my life would evolve as writing became my primary occupation. Perhaps because I’ve always written, and managed to balance everything else - the social life, the advocacy and activism, the community commitments, the being chronically online. But this is different now. While I enjoy it, I find myself mourning the mental availability I had for the vast tapestry of the online world.

I feel no urge to decry it; to say I am better than being online, or I don’t need it anymore. I am simply acknowledging what is true for me in this moment. In order for me to write, I need to step back from the tidal wave of information that I so delightfully bathed in for the past fifteen years. I need to find a new balance.

Seasons, eh? Always greeting something new, as we say goodbye to how things used to be.

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Watch: The Hour

I recently discovered and binge watched this 2011 show and if you’re looking for a tight, politically engaged period drama, then this is for you. Two seasons written by the incredibly capable Abi Morgan, The Hour is a ‘behind-the-scenes drama and espionage thriller in Cold War-era England that centers on a journalist, a producer, and an anchorman for an investigative news programme.’

Take the politics and journalism obsession with a pinch of salt, ofc. Available on Netflix, Apple TV, etc.

Listen: The Economist on Modi

In June, The Economist published a deep dive into Modi - his history, his present, and the future. I don’t know how Indian pundits responded to this, as The Economist often has a particular neo-liberal / hawkish political take, but I definitely learnt a bunch. The first ep or two are free to listen to, then you have to sign up (but you can do a trial then cancel).

Read: The Return of Ta-Nehisi Coates

I’m in New York this week and almost everyone is talking about this piece in the New York Magazine. I don’t quite know what to make of it just yet, but I do know that it is a shot across the bow for the media establishment here, regarding their reporting on, and attitude towards, Israel. Have you read it? What do you think? You can access an archived version of the piece here.

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That’s all for this week. Thank you SO MUCH to the two new paid subscribers who have upgraded their membership this week - Tasnim and Alexandra! I’m honestly so grateful. As always, all support is welcome - paid subscription, sharing the article, dropping a comment below. I read them all, and I’m always filled with gratitude.

Until next time (and no, I don’t really consider Substack as part of ‘being online’, though perhaps I should? What do you think?)

Yassmin