THE MAGAZINE · THE ĖDITURE

The Other Side of the Screen

Cordelia, from the other side of a community, on what it feels like to receive comments and why she chooses to cheer people on instead of tearing them down.

By Cordelia Garza

I can get fifty lovely comments and one ugly one. Guess which one keeps circling in my head. The ugly one, obviously. The other fifty did everything right and still there's one that takes all the attention. I'd love to tell you that after so many years on social media it doesn't happen to me anymore. It does.

Most of the people in this community are incredibly kind to me. They write me things that move me, they tell me their stories, they make me feel accompanied. But every now and then a comment shows up that hurts. And even if I close my phone, I can't always leave it there.

I think the screen makes us forget a little that there's someone on the other side. A person who is going to read what we write and go on with their day after reading it. Sometimes we say things that, looking them in the eye, we might think twice about. I've had to take a breath before answering something too. My first reaction doesn't always deserve to be published.

What moves me most is seeing it happen to someone who is just starting out. A woman opens a business, posts something she made or shares an idea she's been thinking about for months. She finally dares. And suddenly someone shows up to tell her there are already a thousand like it, who's going to buy that, or that she shouldn't even try.

It hurts me because I know what it takes to show something of your own. Before anyone else sees it, you've already turned it over a thousand times. You doubted, you changed things, you wondered if you were doing it right. And then you post it with a mix of excitement and fear that doesn't show in the photo.

Of course it might be missing something. She might still be learning. Her first version may not be the best she'll ever make. I hope not. How sad would it be if the first thing were also the best, with nowhere left to go. Starting means doing things you'll later know how to do better.

I've started projects without having everything figured out. I've changed my mind. I've had to fix things I was absolutely sure were going to work. From the outside it's very easy to see what's missing. Doing it, explaining the idea, getting help and holding it up while it learns to walk takes a lot more.

I don't think supporting someone means telling them everything is perfect. An honest opinion can help enormously. It has helped me. But you can tell when someone wants to help you improve and when they just want to make you feel bad. What you say matters, and so does how you say it.

There's something that's hard for me to admit: sometimes, among women, we're also really harsh. We see another woman taking a leap and, instead of being happy for her, we start comparing ourselves. I try to watch for that in myself. Because it's very easy to say we support women and then find something wrong with everything one of them does.

I like to think I can celebrate what another woman is doing without having to put my life next to hers to see who's doing better. If she opened something, created something, dared to do it, how great. She has her thing. I have mine. I don't need things to go badly for her to feel good about myself.

And I don't know everything she's going through, either. That much I know from my own experience. I've worked, filmed and smiled on days when something very hard was happening inside. What shows up on a screen is a tiny part of a life. Sometimes very tiny. Judging everything else from there is pretty risky.

That's why I try to choose better what I do with what I think. If I can contribute something, I say it with care. If all I've got is a criticism meant to hurt, I can keep it to myself. Not every passing thought needs an outlet. The phone has room for so much. My filter should have something to do too.

I often remember the people who cheered me on when I was starting out. The ones who took a minute to tell me to keep going, that they liked what I was doing. They didn't solve everything I was afraid of, but they did help me keep going.

I want to be that person for someone else. The one who's happy for you, who asks, who recognizes the effort. It doesn't always come out perfectly. But I know how lovely it is to get a message that keeps you company instead of one that leaves you trying to recover. On the other side of the screen, there's me too. And many times I've needed exactly that: someone cheering me on.

— Corde