Betty, I know you’re reading this…

Betty’s my aunt. She’s there for me, almost like a second mother. But when she got on Facebook recently, and sent me a friend request, I politely rejected, and felt a little guilty afterward.

My dilemma is one shared by countless of other young folks these days. As more of our parents and relatives discover Web 2.0, we face some hard choices. Do we let them see what our friends see: the tacky photos, the Facebook rants, the overt sarcasm, the general lack of respect for some institutions and ideas they still hold dear? Or do we make our selves virtual bipolars, balkanizing our two (or more) personas and the online communities they inhabit?

I didn’t have the luxury of making that choice. My family, through the general, good-natured gossipy-ness of my dear mother, has discovered my blog -- you know, the one where I call myself an Angry Black Man…

click here for the rest...

I tried to keep it at least a bit semi-anonymous. But word got out. A family friend showed my Mom an on-air segment I did a month or two ago, where the name of my blog was mentioned in my introduction. And then it began. One of my aunts back home read a few touching entries to her, and of course she called all the fam to let them know. At church, she started telling the congregation to read my stuff online. “Go online and look for angry Black man! Look for angry Black man!” she’d proudly declare near the altar in the sanctuary as members exchanged post-service pleasantries. Not quite what I was going for…

Anywho, Aunt Betty, the one family member most likely to say exactly what she’s feeling about whatever it is I’m doing, was informed of the blog by Mommy dearest. And it gave me a little sinking feeling in my stomach. Sam, Version 2.0, had been discovered. I braced myself for the phone calls and e-mails:

“You listen to rap music?”

“You’re not going to church every Sunday?”

“You drink – ALCOHOL?!”

It’s not like I lie to loved ones back home about this. I just don’t make it a topic of discussion. I leave those kind of things to Facebook, and my blog. And I wanted to keep that world far away from what you could call a “San Antonio” Sam.

I constantly read online about people discovering just how crazy folks they know are, through their Facebook or MySpace, random inappropriate wall posts and NSFW photos. These situations make for a good story, but I don’t really think that’s the case for most.

The reaction, or lack thereof, to my online musings has been eye-opening, in that it’s been entirely unlike the ones I read about. There’ve been no fireworks – at all. No one’s called. No one’s written. And no one’s told me they’re upset (even if they are). My Aunt Betty and my mother actually had a thoughtful discussion recently about a pretty personal post I wrote over a year ago about my father’s death. And I think my Mom appreciates being able to find out about where I stand politically without the two of us having to shout about the merits of Barack Obama on the way to church. It seems like my family and loved ones, in seeing more of me online, haven’t reprimanded -- they’ve instead quietly let me be myself.

Of course, I don’t know if I’ll ever talk about any of this with some of my family. I’m sure Betty might read this soon enough, but she might not ever bring it up. And that’s ok. Sometimes the best conversations, especially online, are typed soliloquies.


***Correction: My Aunt Donna let Betty know about the blog, even before my mother did. I'm so late...***