For many of us, blogging has become an integral part of our lives. Apart from the arts, the insights, and the creativity, the obsession has likely sprang from the fact that in a faceless community, we can write about anything, be it as substantial as the American Foreign Policy or as trivial as a snorting spouse – there is no fear of being identified. Mask off. We can be what we really are. There is no need to put on a pubic face.
The blogging community’s exponential growth in the last couple of years was, I thought, due to the opportunities it gave to us to interact with others with real feelings. No inhibition of our individuality. No pretense.
But human nature gradually prevails, even in this supposedly faceless community, many of us still prefer to putting on a mask. We try to be unique in expressing our views and our feelings on the Internet for all to see and yet despite the absence of identity, every entry we make is unconsciously censored. We tend to write about what we think may interest others to read and in the process creating yet another self that is not exactly what we are. We tend to link to others so that we would be perceived as if we were within the same group. We spend hours in front of the computer to come up with a web layout to complement the lousy content in the hope that it will be unique although it involves nothing more than changing the colors of a standard template. Even the anonymity of Internet cannot defeat self-deception.
Blogging let us experience the mind, the creativity, the ideas and genuine feelings of others while doing away with our bias about the cultural background and ethical origin of the writer. But once we start imposing artificial border on an otherwise borderless community and begin to operate in the shadow of reality, blogging will become less fulfilling an experience.
As in real life before we interact with a stranger, the tendency is to first read his face and listen to his accent, then form a view about the person’s character based on a certain pre-determined group in our head. And more often than not, the first impression is wrong.
We would have easily eliminated this bias in the blogging community but in our pursuit of make-believe uniqueness and self-deception, we not only impose artificial classification on others but self-imposed a classification that we wish other to perceive us to be.
When we read a good poem, we should derive our appreciation from the content - the identity of the author is almost irrelevant, be it Benjamin Zephaniah or Li Bai.
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