This past Friday, David Thorpe (@Arr) tweeted, referencing a hashtag he’d created back in 2011, “let’s bring back #followateen for 2013. Here’s how it works: find a teen, follow it, and report on its life.” By the middle of the day, the #followateen hashtag yielded hundreds of results. The tweeters were adults, for the most part in their twenties and thirties, each talking about “my” teen as though the teenage Twitter user were a virtual pet they’d adopted. “My teen hates school because you have to wear pants there. I love my teen.” “My teen doesn’t want a part-time job, but he does want a hoodie.” Many of the #followateen tweets are legitimately hilarious, and the mediating narration — not retweeting “your” teen but instead paraphrasing them — is part of the comedic effect. The Buzzfeed article explaining the phenomenon cautioned that if your teen interacts with you or follows you back, “the game is over, and you must start again with a new teen.” The teens function like exhibits under glass, or like the Tamagotchi pets of the late ’90s, to which many Twitter users compared the hashtag.
Besides the comments on proms and crushes and parents and school and #yolo, the most common theme on #followateen is people pointing out that #followateen is creepy. It’s a good point. Of course it’s creepy. It’s really creepy. If you haven’t yet noticed, Twitter is, itself, creepy. The language is creepy and the concept is creepy. The form is creepy and the content is creepy and the fact of all our relative habituation to it is very, very creepy. The word follow is creepy, evoking heavy-breathing stalkers. Cult leaders have followers, and hapless victims get followed down dark alleyways. Follow implies obsession, lack of autonomy, predators, and silent threats. (...)
Twitter is a self-curated world of choose-your-own-adventure voyeurism. It becomes interesting when you realize that you can just sit behind the scenes of someone’s life and listen to them talk to themselves, when you realize how many inner monologues — those of friends, celebrities, strangers — are waiting there naked-faced in a neat backward scroll. Voyeurism is not widely acknowledged as useful, and social media are constantly being asked to justify their efficacy. Although Twitter succeeds as a mechanism for self-promotion and offers a way to connect with strangers or friends of friends, its main utility is as entertainment. We have all wished at times that we could be there for someone else’s argument, gossip session, or first date: Twitter gets us pretty close. Twitter is where we go to be creepy, and #followateen demonstrates this: It is precisely what has made Twitter so popular, so successful, and so addictive.
Teens are always interesting. In a teen’s life, something is always going wrong. Very little actually happens, but all of it is of enormous consequence. Or at least that’s how we assume it feels, from our definitively creepy position of adult voyeur. Many tweets in the #followateen feed are extremely condescending, as is Thorpe’s original tweet. The description of a “little teen life” minimizes the teen. The appeal of #followateen as characterized is intrinsically connected to the smallness and inconsequence of the teen’s life. After all, we’re all sick of being grownups, sick of caring about large things like jobs and bills and marriage and aging. It’s probably no coincidence that #followateen caught on like wildfire right as all taxes were due in the U.S. If only our lives were smaller, and if only we still had so few big things to care about that the small things could feel big. In a teen’s experience, everything is a crisis — school, clothes, parents, cars, prom, shoes, backpacks, homework. Every tiny thing is crucial and worth crying about — or, in this case, worth tweeting about. Teens are the ideal tweeters because they are never happy and always interesting.
But none of this actually distinguishes the teens from their creepy audience, as much as those of us watching might like to believe it does. Teens don’t have “little” lives because they’re teens but because all our lives are small. We stumble though the pointless minutiae of the day to day. Tiny events that seem like crises are made large only in the telling. What #followateen admits is not that teenagers’ lives are smaller than our own, but that teenagers are the only ones who are doing the internet right.The social internet is determined by teenagers. Our use of the medium and all its memes and codes and approved and appropriated and habituated constructions and formal devices are all adapted from the language of teenagers using the internet. The Twitter account of a 16-year-old complaining about homework and boys can be seen simply as the true and correct use of Twitter.
Twitter is a self-curated world of choose-your-own-adventure voyeurism. It becomes interesting when you realize that you can just sit behind the scenes of someone’s life and listen to them talk to themselves, when you realize how many inner monologues — those of friends, celebrities, strangers — are waiting there naked-faced in a neat backward scroll. Voyeurism is not widely acknowledged as useful, and social media are constantly being asked to justify their efficacy. Although Twitter succeeds as a mechanism for self-promotion and offers a way to connect with strangers or friends of friends, its main utility is as entertainment. We have all wished at times that we could be there for someone else’s argument, gossip session, or first date: Twitter gets us pretty close. Twitter is where we go to be creepy, and #followateen demonstrates this: It is precisely what has made Twitter so popular, so successful, and so addictive.
Teens are always interesting. In a teen’s life, something is always going wrong. Very little actually happens, but all of it is of enormous consequence. Or at least that’s how we assume it feels, from our definitively creepy position of adult voyeur. Many tweets in the #followateen feed are extremely condescending, as is Thorpe’s original tweet. The description of a “little teen life” minimizes the teen. The appeal of #followateen as characterized is intrinsically connected to the smallness and inconsequence of the teen’s life. After all, we’re all sick of being grownups, sick of caring about large things like jobs and bills and marriage and aging. It’s probably no coincidence that #followateen caught on like wildfire right as all taxes were due in the U.S. If only our lives were smaller, and if only we still had so few big things to care about that the small things could feel big. In a teen’s experience, everything is a crisis — school, clothes, parents, cars, prom, shoes, backpacks, homework. Every tiny thing is crucial and worth crying about — or, in this case, worth tweeting about. Teens are the ideal tweeters because they are never happy and always interesting.
But none of this actually distinguishes the teens from their creepy audience, as much as those of us watching might like to believe it does. Teens don’t have “little” lives because they’re teens but because all our lives are small. We stumble though the pointless minutiae of the day to day. Tiny events that seem like crises are made large only in the telling. What #followateen admits is not that teenagers’ lives are smaller than our own, but that teenagers are the only ones who are doing the internet right.The social internet is determined by teenagers. Our use of the medium and all its memes and codes and approved and appropriated and habituated constructions and formal devices are all adapted from the language of teenagers using the internet. The Twitter account of a 16-year-old complaining about homework and boys can be seen simply as the true and correct use of Twitter.
by Helena Fitzgerald, TNI | Read more:
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