Beep Beep, I Lack Boundaries

Words by Phoebe Robertson (she/her) 

When we discuss 'social media boundaries', the conversation usually centres on taking a break from our phones on Sundays, switching off notifications, and setting up apps to limit screen time. For me, there is something more concerning about the openness of self that comes with social media.

I can effortlessly connect with family and friends worldwide, just like teleportation. Conversations span continents, allowing me to chat with my English grandma or American uncle. Sharing photos and face-to-face moments is a breeze—an incredible privilege not available to past generations. The convenience of our hyper-online lives sometimes masks a lack of empathy. Having a constant online presence sets an expectation of instantaneous responses and constant activeness, leaving little room for understanding how our interactions are more complex than a heart-shaped reaction. 

Recently, an Instagram account I follow, @softcore_trauma (run by Margeaux Feldman), posted their ‘social media boundaries’. In eight Instagram slides, they expressed their boundaries around interacting with their 300,000 followers. It’s a pinned post on their profile, and it started me thinking about my own boundaries with media. 

They started the post by reaffirming that their page was a place for them to discuss their own “personal lived experiences” and that it was not supposed to offer generalised nuance. While this feels like it should go unsaid, Margeaux had to restate this boundary after getting numerous criticisms on their posts and it did not relate to other people's experiences. Online, it is easy to forget that you are talking to an individual, especially if they run a business page. 

Margeaux also mentioned that while they “will engage in criticism in good faith” they will delete comments that make blanket negative statements about their character or content. They make a really interesting point that in real life, “[they] can walk away when someone speaks to [them] unkindly. Online, the only resource [they] have is to block you. That is [their] boundary.” 

Online figures are often criticised for blocking individuals from leaving negative comments or harmful speech. But I’d like to ask, why is this the case? There is the belief that we should have access to anyone's social media, especially celebrities and public figures. There is an innate desire to see their lives and be able to interact with them. But really, anyone should have autonomy in how they present themselves. Being able to block whom you want, for whatever reason, is an innate part of that. 

In the tangible world, disengagement is a matter of walking away, but online, repercussions loom. The power to block or set profiles to private exists. Even so, the persistent reach of friends, bosses, and colleagues remains an ever-present force, demanding our digital presence.

At a previous job, I was required to check WhatsApp daily and promptly respond to any messages sent to me. Even when I had days off, I would still be messaged about work or expected to come in early. If I didn't reply immediately, it would result in a reprimand. This reflected the lack of consent our supervisors had towards us employees, as it didn't matter if we weren't at work or on the clock. The line between work and personal life was blurred by online access. 

Similarly, when friends reach out over social media, there is often an unspoken expectation that you reply immediately. The issue with messaging apps is that conversations can easily become prolonged and time-consuming, which can interfere with other tasks or unwind time in daily life. I personally can’t shake that sense of discomfort from knowing that others have constant access to me through social media platforms. 

This discomfort is echoed through social media influencers. *Bunny, a TikTok influencer with over 100,000 followers, spoke to me about having to navigate their own online world. At the start of their career, they would engage with anyone who viewed their content and created a community with them. As their platform grew they expressed an “unsettlement” about the volume of people that suddenly had access to them. 

Bunny’s DMs were often full of individuals messaging them about personal problems or relationship issues without asking for prior consent or warning. Due to this, Bunny had to release a public statement asking followers to not expect unpaid labour from them, or expect replies to every single message. At the time, Bunny tells me it was a “scary thing to do” as they were afraid they would “lose followers or create backlash” from simply setting boundaries with their followers. 

Someone recognising Bunny from their content and approaching them on the street was a “surreal” moment for them. Looking back on the moment has felt like “an almost melancholy experience—someone who I didn’t know had approached me, acted like they were friends and knew about me, and then walked off”, all without Bunny ever having met them before. Since the interaction, they have been wondering about setting more boundaries or asking followers not to approach them in person. 

While we are all guilty of getting sucked into the world of online connectivity, I’m here to remind you that it’s okay to take a step back from your phone; to not open that text from your friend for days or leave your boss on read. We all need to work to create active boundaries and healthy relationships with our own online worlds. And we all need to learn to respect and give space to others—one diving line, or Instagram post, at a time.