A life for sale

These girls probably didn’t sign model releases, but they probably can’t be identified anyway. And they’re definitely not children anymore. (Powerhouse Museum)

I love listening to people tell stories. The Moth is one of my favorite podcasts. It makes me cry while I’m mowing my lawn. (Should I offer that as a testimonial?)

When people tell stories on The Moth stage, they present intimate details about themselves. They give you a window into their minds: what they think, how they feel, and the pain they’ve experienced.

But though these stories are deeply personal, they never make me feel uncomfortable or trigger concern that the person might have been better off keeping the story private. I imagine that some stories are cathartic to share while others are too raw, and that gets sorted out prior to the storyteller’s appearance onstage.

On the other hand, I cringed away from Instagram years ago because the level of sharing created an experience with elements of voyeurism, schadenfreude, and rubbernecking. I hated the way it made me feel.

I will never forget a post I saw in which three little girls with various shades of blonde hair were perfectly posed on the rail of a wooden farm fence wearing expensive-looking, old-fashioned little girl clothing. When you moved your finger over the picture, links to purchase the clothing appeared.

A parent made this. A parent, selling her children’s likenesses in, as it turned out, one sponsorship deal after another, supported by additional content in which she was vigorously selling the family’s lifestyle and day-to-day activities (or at least, the stylized, heavily curated version of their lifestyle and activities).

Something about this approach doesn’t sit right with me. Despite the apparent open-book sharing, I feel no sense of human connection — no kinship of shared experiences or thoughtful new ideas. No emotional resonance. Plus, it seems exploitative.

As an alternative, we can look to good old Seth Godin. He is very private, but he shares his story in little bits and pieces in interviews, books, talks, and on his own podcast. Though I’ve been following him for years, I don’t know anything about his children or his lifestyle. However, I know about his early jobs, what his parents were like, where he went to summer camp, and his hobbies.

More importantly, I know what he thinks about stuff, and that is more meaningful to me than knowing what a person’s living room looks like or what their children’s names are.

The culture around Instagram promoted the idea that people had to sell their bodies, their lifestyles, and their children to get attention and make a buck. But to truly connect, you can share your thoughts, feelings, and ideas. You don’t have to show any more skin than you want to, and you are not obligated to reveal anything about your personal life.

I like to show up online to share my ideas and learn from others. I’m not hiding if I decide not to let it all hang out. In fact, I’m simply protecting myself and my close associates.

I don’t have to overthink what I choose to share. Mostly, I try to make sure to tell my own stories instead of other people’s, and if others are involved, I anonymize the details unless I have checked in with them.

And children, too young to consent to being featured, are not identified. Their stories will be theirs to tell in the future, should they wish to do so.

What does that leave me with? Well, I can tell you what I think, what I believe, and how I feel. And while it’s still scary to share those things, it’s the kind of self-revelation that, I hope, is generous rather than off-putting. The kind that fosters connection rather than alienation.

I aspire to be the kind of storyteller who can help you connect to yourself through my words. That’s what the folks who bravely share their stories at The Moth are able to do. I’m working toward that, day by day. It’s not something I’m selling — it’s simply a gift to whomever would like to receive it.

Thank you for being here, seeing me, and hearing me. And, in your responses, letting me see and hear you.