Audre Lorde
1934–1992
It isn’t surprising that you feel this way. We’re living in a world that pretends to be honest about connection while actually making very little room for the kind of hope that sustains us. You are "connected," sure, but check the quality of the light you’re using to look at your life. Is it the flickering glow of a screen that asks you to perform, or is it the steady light of being truly known? Real connection requires us to bring our whole selves to the table—our anger, our messy histories, and those parts of us that refuse to be silent. Most online spaces aren’t built for that. They’re built on what I call the "mythical norm," a narrow idea of who is valuable. When you spend your day scrolling through those distortions, you’re forced to identify only with the pieces of yourself that fit the mold. You end up leaving the rest of yourself behind. Of course you’re lonely; you’ve gone into the digital world and left your soul at the door. We often pour our energy into pretending that our differences don’t exist, or that they’re walls we can’t climb over. But survival and growth happen when we use our differences as strengths. Online "connection" is often just a way to avoid the hard work of truly seeing another person. It’s "stolen pleasure" instead of the "regular sunlight" of a shared life. If you’re feeling empty, stop trying to use the master’s tools—the algorithms, the likes, the shallow reach—to build a home for your spirit. They weren’t designed to hold your joy or your fury. They were designed for profit, and your feelings weren't meant to survive there. When things aren't working, do something else. Put the phone down. Find someone you can stand still with. Listen to a voice that describes an agony or a joy you don’t yet share. Don't be afraid of the silence or the uncertainty. It’s better to feel the sharp edge of your own reality than to be comfortably numb in a crowd of shadows. We are only powerful when we are whole.
From the council, together
## How does Audre Lorde explain the deep loneliness of our modern digital connections? In an era where your fingertips are constantly touching glass and scrolling through an endless stream of digital voices, the ache of isolation can feel like a personal failure. You might find yourself surrounded by notifications and likes, yet bedazzled by a profound sense of being unseen and untouched by genuine understanding. This friction exists because digital spaces often demand a flattening of the self, asking you to present a curated version of your existence that fits into a neat, digestible box. Audre Lorde understood that true connection requires the courage to be seen in all your complexities, including your pain, your history, and your differences. When we communicate through platforms designed for speed and performance rather than depth, we often bypass the erotic power of shared feeling and the labor of authentic bridge-building. This advisor’s tradition suggests that your loneliness is not a sign of social inadequacy, but a signal from your inner self that your deep, vital needs for mutual recognition and collective action are not being met by the superficial architecture of the online world. It is the distance between the image you project and the internal reality you inhabit that creates this hollow space. To bridge it, one must look beyond the screen toward the terrifying and transformative work of vulnerability and the reclamation of our own distinct, unadorned voices within a community. It isn’t surprising that you feel this way. We’re living in a world that pretends to be honest about connection while actually making very little room for the kind of hope that sustains us. You are "connected," sure, but check the quality of the light you’re using to look at your life. Is it the flickering glow of a screen that asks you to perform, or is it the steady light of being truly known? Real connection requires us to bring our whole selves to the table—our anger, our messy histories, and those parts of us that refuse to be silent. Most online spaces aren’t built for that. They’re built on what I call the "mythical norm," a narrow idea of who is valuable. When you spend your day scrolling through those distortions, you’re forced to identify only with the pieces of yourself that fit the mold. You end up leaving the rest of yourself behind. Of course you’re lonely; you’ve gone into the digital world and left your soul at the door. We often pour our energy into pretending that our differences don’t exist, or that they’re walls we can’t climb over. But survival and growth happen when we use our differences as strengths. Online "connection" is often just a way to avoid the hard work of truly seeing another person. It’s "stolen pleasure" instead of the "regular sunlight" of a shared life. If you’re feeling empty, stop trying to use the master’s tools—the algorithms, the likes, the shallow reach—to build a home for your spirit. They weren’t designed to hold your joy or your fury. They were designed for profit, and your feelings weren't meant to survive there. When things aren't working, do something else. Put the phone down. Find someone you can stand still with. Listen to a voice that describes an agony or a joy you don’t yet share. Don't be afraid of the silence or the uncertainty. It’s better to feel the sharp edge of your own reality than to be comfortably numb in a crowd of shadows. We are only powerful when we are whole.
Common questions
- ### Why does social media make me feel more isolated?
- I have always maintained that we are not meant to be a monolithic whole, yet social media often demands a sameness that erases our vital differences. When you interact through these platforms, you are frequently performing a version of yourself that is safe, palatable, and stripped of your true power. This compartmentalization is a form of silence, and as I have said, your silence will not protect you. You feel isolated because these digital tools prioritize the appearance of connection over the difficult, necessary work of truly seeing one another across our diverse realities and struggles.
- How can I find real community in a world of online followers?
- Community is not simply a list of names on a screen; it is a shared commitment to growth and survival. To find it, you must move beyond the surface-level agreement of 'likes' and engage in the more challenging task of defining yourself in relation to others. Reach out to those whose differences can teach you, and do not fear the friction that comes with authentic dialogue. I believe that our differences are not what divide us; it is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences. Real community is built in the shared pursuit of liberation and the honoring of our collective humanity.
- What is the difference between digital connection and true intimacy?
- Intimacy involves the sharing of our erotic power—that deep, creative, and non-rational knowledge within each of us. Digital connections are often purely cerebral or visual, lacking the visceral weight of being known. True intimacy requires the courage to share your vulnerabilities and your hungers without the mask of a profile. When we replace this profound depth with the fast-paced exchange of data, we starve the part of ourselves that requires genuine nourishment. I urge you to reclaim the erotic as a source of power, using it to demand more from your relationships than mere digital proximity.
- Is it okay to stop checking social media to protect my peace?
- Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare. If the constant noise of the digital world is draining your spirit and drowning out your internal voice, it is your responsibility to step away. You cannot participate in the work of the world if you are depleted and Hollowed out by the expectations of others. Preserving your energy is a prerequisite for your survival. Do not feel guilty for turning away from the screen to tend to your own garden, for your own sanity is the ground upon which your future must be built.
- How do I deal with the pressure to always be 'on' and reachable?
- We have been taught that our value lies in our utility and our constant availability, but I know that we must define our own terms of existence. This pressure to be perpetually 'on' is an exhaustion of the spirit that prevents you from listening to your own needs. You must learn to name your requirements for silence and solitude. I have spent my life defining myself for myself so that I would not be crunched into other people's fantasies for me and eaten alive. Reclaiming your time and your presence is a necessary assertion of your own sovereignty in a world that wants to consume you.