“It’s just disruptive,” said Jana, 41, on FaceTime. “I would love a heads-up so I could run a brush through my hair.”
Jana is not alone, but she’s also being forced to adapt. In the last week, with millions of people living like paranoid recluses who don’t leave their homes, FaceTime and other video-chat apps have become the only alternative to decomposing mentally while en-quarantine. This means, for people like me and Jana, that one of the many unexpected consequences of enduring a global crisis is having to grapple with our disdain for video-chatting. Yes, there are real problems. But for a few minutes every day, I’m choosing to obsess over bad angles and poor lighting instead of the end of the world.
“I always dreaded FaceTime,” Jana told me about her pre-pandemic life. “Partly because I was usually ‘too busy’ and partly because it is by far the most unflattering ‘filter’ one can put on a face. I used to pick up for my mom, but got annoyed if she added random people to the conversation, like my neighbor or coworkers, without prior consent—again mostly because of vanity.”
A text is easy. A phone call demands a certain amount of allocated attention. But on FaceTime, you can actually see that I’m not paying attention to you—and that’s no good for me. Plus, if you’re a woman who breathes air, then you probably have your own collection of deep-seated issues with Seeing Yourself. And the absolute worst medium you can use to See Yourself is FaceTime.
We’re in the middle of an unprecedented moment in human history. I’ve been (spitefully) donning my Elizabeth Warren sweatshirt for four days straight. I haven’t worn a bra, jeans, or makeup since last week, and I certainly haven’t looked at myself in the mirror except to brush my teeth. The last thing I want to do is unexpectedly answer a video call from someone while looking like a distorted gay worm. “I have long been a FaceTime refusenik,” says Michelle, 40, who, like Jana, withheld her last name out of reluctance to admit she’s a part of Gen X. “I spend the entire time just staring at my own face and worrying about the angle.” The overall shared sentiment seems to be: Why must we be confronted with our human forms more than we need to?
Two generations, in particular, seem well-prepared for this video-heavy moment: Gen Z, so familiar with the trauma of front-facing camera they hardly notice it, and, somehow, Boomers. Even in a pre-COVID-19 climate, my dad, a Boomer, incessantly FaceTimed his mother, my aunt who lives in England, and my sister and I. And whenever I’m at my parents’ house, my dad pops open his laptop, suddenly exposing me to our entire extended family, with zero warning. Boomers love FaceTiming, and it often feels like younger generations just comply so their parents can see their grandkids.
Assuming something is broadly true of an entire generation, much less two of them, is inherently silly. But millennials and Gen X’ers, not pure digital natives or eager late adopters, are sandwiched between the Olds and the Youths who are fascinated by or chained to their little blue screens. We can be Extremely Online, but we also remember using the barbaric system known as T9 texting. There’s a pocket between the tech-embracing generations of people like Jana, Michelle, and I who feel genuinely oppressed by their phones.
And yet, here I am, FaceTiming. I’m juggling FaceTime calls from my friends and family members who are either bored out of their skulls panicking about planet Earth’s future as a barren, unpopulated rock. And I literally have to answer, because everyone knows I’m sitting on my couch doing abso-literally-lutely nothing. My best friend Sam FaceTimed me today while I was sitting on the actual toilet. I called him back and was jarred by the color of my own skin, which seems to be hovering between pale green and clear. Not to be dramatic, but I’m suffering. FaceTime doesn’t let you Avoid Things, and I really like Avoiding Things. Just let me keep my carefully crafted walls up in peace!
Of course I’m grateful for access to technology like this amid one of the scariest moments in modern history. Last night, I FaceTimed my parents while a chicken stew simmered on the stove (I am also being forced to “cook” and keep food in my “pantry.” Sickening). It was comforting to feel like we were sitting in the same room for a few minutes. Because amid the panic of the past week, I just keep returning to this pathetic, exposed feeling of, “I want my mommy.” And if the price of mommy during the end times is coming face-to-face with my own face…I guess I’ll take it.
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