I turn 18 today. I am now, supposedly, an adult. From now on, I am considered capable of handling myself and responsible for my own actions. I can create my own life; I am a blank slate.
Except I am not. I already have 18 years of digital history attached to my persona. Granted, I have largely contributed to it in the last 8 years or so. But before that, Mum, it was your doing, and I had no say in the matter.
I understand how your heart glowed and beat with overwhelming joy as you first held me in your arms, a tiny, helpless, crumpled little creature. I understand you earnestly thought I was the most beautiful thing ever to behold, and that the world ought to see me and wonder. I understand your pride as I took my first steps, said my first word, drew my first scribble and rode my first bike. It's only natural you wanted to take pictures of all those precious moments so we could, as a family, treasure the memories in the years to come.
I even understand you needed to vent your frustration when I couldn't sleep, and when I took ages to be out of nappies (especially at night), and when I started talking back to you, when I wouldn't work in school, and when you thought my teacher was a bully.
But Mum, did you really need to post all of that online?
The first 18 years of my life have been more recorded and documented than a scientific experiment, and been made as public as a reality show. Today, Mum, I feel my personal life and history are not my own: they're public property for everyone to see.
I know you did it because you love me and because you're so, so proud of me. But did you ever stop to think how I'd feel about it later?
Do you remember the embarrassement you felt when Grandma showed your baby pictures to a flock of cooing friends, or worst, to your first boyfriend? I feel that embarrassement multiplied by your 359 Facebook friends and your 874 Instagram followers. I have no privacy.
You were an adult when you registered on social media. You made a choice regarding your own privacy, and you chose to be present online. You chose what you would share. You had heard that anything you posted was no longer private, but public. You made that choice for yourself and there is nothing wrong with that because it was your own life, your own choice.
But Mum, you never asked my 3-hour-old self whether I wanted to be on Facebook.
How do I handle my digital footprint now, the one I never chose to have?"
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