I’ve noticed a trend of late among several of my friends which I find quite puzzling. Many of them use their husband’s Facebook account instead of creating one of their own. And I am not talking about people who don’t like using social networks or log in once in a blue moon. These are people who use Facebook regularly, everyday. So I wonder why? Afterall it’s not as if one needs to pay for a FB profile nor is it a terribly complicated task to create one.
So these ladies interact with others using their husband’s profile. In some cases I might know the husband personally but in most, I don’t. This means that when I see them online, there is always a moment’s hesitation before I ping them – not knowing who it is that is online really.
This might seem like a relatively minor issue. After all, when one has committed to sharing one’s entire life, home, sorrows and joys, why not a Facebook account, right? But in my mind it signifies an infringement on my space, virtual as it may well be. I would not want to use my husband as a front for my interactions with other people, nor would I like it if he does so. It’s not that I am hiding a state secret or carrying on a secret affair on Facebook. In fact, at times, I might even ask my husband to log into my account and check out something for me and vice versa. It is just that, to an extent my FB profile reflects me – my ideas, my opinions, things that I ‘Like’. I am not totally defined by my FB profile, but it is indeed a tiny part of my identity and individuality. Using someone else’s profile, even if it is my spouse’s, somehow destroys that little virtual presence of mine and I exist simply as a shadow in his background. It is his friends, his interests and his ideas that would be predominantly present. Mine would get relegated to ALSO present.
Maybe if the husband and wife have a joint profile, say with both their names, I would perhaps think it romantic. But this is not the case. And the strange thing is, none of my male friends use their wives profile as their’s. Does this seemingly innocuous fact, reflect on how we women are content to play second fiddle, neither taking our own dreams, preferences and wishes seriously nor considering our identity and individuality important enough? I am afraid that one day, these women would suddenly wake up and start searching desperately for the ‘Me’ that today they have so gladly renounced. And I am afraid that they will have no one to blame but themselves. Or do you think that I am simply reading too much into a perfectly harmless act?