The Old Me: The Social Media Skeptic
I used to abhor the idea of a social media profile as a digital business card. To me, it was a black hole for time and emotion, a ceaseless quest for external validation that I refused to entertain.
This wasn't just a belief; it was a strict practice. I rarely posted, and any updates vanished within days. I withheld ‘likes’ and muted feeds, convinced that the only authentic connection was conversation. The bonds forged by status updates felt illusory; if a friendship was real, you would know their life through actual dialogue, not a curated post.
I disdained the performative nature of it all—the meticulous self-packaging and posturing I saw everywhere. Convinced my time was better spent on my own growth, I regularly culled my contact list. This eventually left me with just 80 people, a minimalist social circle barely a fifth the size of my peers'.
The Turning Point: The "Aha!" Moment
But the fortress of solitude I had built began to melt with my sister’s wedding.
In our culture, family is the emotional cornerstone, and a wedding marks the birth of a new one—a beautiful expansion of the original family core. As I helped with the preparations, I had to navigate the warm waves of relatives coming to offer congratulations, relearning the art of maintaining our shared emotional web.
The weight of that connection struck me anew. I forced myself to act on it, messaging my family daily from my distant home in Germany, even if it was just trivial chatter. I started ‘liking’ the posts of relatives and friends, an act I once scorned.
When I finally posted photos of the wedding, the desire to share that joy felt entirely pure. It was then I realized: sharing isn't a burden when life itself feels abundant and beautiful. The secret isn't to fear the world’s gaze upon you, but to choose to actively gaze back at the world with a full heart.
The New Approach: Intentional Sharing for the Inner Circle
This doesn't mean, however, that I've swung from one extreme to a completely open-door policy. My new approach is a nuanced strategy, carefully designed for my life now.
For dormant connections—friends I was once close to but drifted from—I use the 'like' as a low-cost social probe. It's a gentle test to see if a silent connection still has a pulse. If two or three attempts yield no response, I can gracefully accept that our paths have simply diverged and will mute their feed once more. But this method has also successfully rebooted precious bonds, like with my first mentor after university. She once cared for me like a child, and a simple 'like' helped me rediscover that warmth.
At the heart of my strategy is a two-WeChat ecosystem. As this app is essential for life in China, I’ve divided its function:
My Primary WeChat: An Emotional Sanctuary. This is an intimate space for my 80 core contacts—family and dear friends. I only post positive updates here to reassure my family back home, and I engage with them actively.
My Secondary WeChat: A Professional Incubator. This is for all the Chinese contacts I've made in Germany. I only log in on set days (Wednesdays or Saturdays) or for urgent matters. Here, I post only about personal achievements, curating a professional brand in the hopes of attracting new career or academic opportunities. It also serves as a social filter. I test connections here, and if a genuine friendship blossoms, I'll "migrate" them to my primary WeChat, inviting them into my inner circle.
As for Instagram and WhatsApp, those are my windows for connecting with my non-Chinese peers. Despite some cultural friction, I’ve been happy to make two close friends.
Last
My perspective on social media has fundamentally changed. It doesn't have to be an exhausting burden; it can be a simple tool that serves your real life. All my experiments led me to one principle:
Stop worrying about the world’s gaze on you. Start building your own lens to see the world.
When you decide what it's for, you make the rules. Authenticity is the ultimate strategy.