Right. Let’s just get this over with.

Guess who crawled back to Zuckerberg this morning…..

Against my better judgment, and with a level of profound irritation I usually reserve for politicians explaining tax cuts for the obscenely wealthy, I am reactivating my Facebook account.

For those of you who followed my rather pointed departure back in January, you might be raising an eyebrow. Believe me, I’m raising one at myself too.

Let me be unequivocally clear: my ethical stance has not budged an inch.

I still firmly believe that Mark Zuckerberg and the entire Meta empire are actively, knowingly contributing to the dumpster fire of modern society. Their refusal to seriously tackle misinformation, their platforming of racism, Nazism (yes, actual Nazis), transphobia, homophobia, and generally vile rhetoric is, in my opinion, reprehensible. It’s a digital fiefdom built on engagement metrics that reward outrage and division, and I still find it ethically nauseating.

So, why am I crawling back to the blue-and-white hellscape I swore off?

Because last weekend, reality delivered a swift, brutal kick to my overly-principled ass.

For the first time in over thirty years of organizing and hosting events – community gatherings, workshops, fundraisers, you name it – I had an event completely and utterly tank. We’re not talking “lower than expected turnout.” We’re talking a spectacular, tumbleweeds-blowing-through-the-empty-room flop.

Five people showed up. Five.

And what was the crucial difference this time?

For the first time EVER, I wasn’t the one handling the social media promotion. I wasn’t leveraging the online presence, the network, the social capital I’ve apparently spent the last two decades unintentionally accumulating like some kind of digital lint ball.

It was a slap in the face.

A stark, unavoidable realization that whether I liked it or not (spoiler: I don’t), my ability to gather people, to create community, to actually do things in the real world, was inextricably tied to my presence in Zuckerberg’s ethically-compromised playground. When I deactivated, I didn’t just silence my own feed; I apparently unplugged a significant portion of my ability to reach the very communities I care about.

My influence, such as it was, evaporated.

And let’s be clear, this isn’t some narcissistic lament about losing followers or likes. Frankly, I couldn’t care less about those metrics. This is about the crushing realization that years of showing up, connecting, sharing resources, and building relationships – much of it happening through that platform – created a network effect I didn’t fully appreciate until it was gone.

It wasn’t just my voice I lost access to; it was the web of connections that allowed me to know about protests, share crucial information, amplify social justice actions, and, yes, get people to show up for things I poured my heart into.

Which brings me to the uncomfortable truth about boycotts.

Boycotts are a privilege.

Standing on principle feels good. It feels right. But let’s be honest: boycotting is a privilege. It assumes you have alternatives, that your absence won’t disproportionately harm your own ability to function or achieve your goals. Refusing to shop at Walmart when you have money for a ‘regular’ grocery store and don’t live in a food desert is one thing; refusing to use the dominant communication and organizing platform of our time, when your work depends on communication and organizing? That’s another level.

Is my personal boycott of Facebook hurting Mark Zuckerberg?

Not even slightly.

Is it hurting my ability to promote causes I care about, gather people for meaningful events, or even let folks know I’ve started blogging again after a long hiatus (which, surprise, no one knows because how would they)?

Apparently, yes.

Spectacularly so.

It feels like cutting off my nose to spite my face. My principles remain, but I’m starting to see that upholding them in absolute isolation might actually be counterproductive to the reasons I hold those principles in the first place – reasons like community building, social justice, and making a tangible difference.

Nuance isn’t always my strong suit, and I got a big old dose of learning my lesson in it this weekend.

So, I’m back.

Reluctantly.

Annoyed.

Holding my nose.

I’ll likely be using the platform strategically and minimally – primarily for event promotion, sharing blog posts [follow me at voyagersheart.wordpress.com], and connecting with the network I apparently need to function. And maybe a few ‘adhd project of the week’ photos, becauese why not. Our joy is our defiance, after all.

Consider this my grumpy, ethically-compromised return.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go wash my hands. I have blue and white ick all over me and I feel dirty.