The Big Move.
014: news + letter: on being vulnerable online (and it’s consequences)
Hi guys! Here are the daily affirmations for next week:
Too niche for them, always.
Still the coolest and freshest voice no matter what
Also still the baddest of Substack
Now, let me tell you the latest on literature:
The Literary 'It' Girl Who Still Captivates Readers1
Françoise Sagan’s debut novel Bonjour Tristesse, first published in 1954, is returning to the spotlight with a new film adaptation, proof that both the book and its enigmatic author continue to resonate today. Take a look!
Who won the Pulitzer this year?2
Click on the link to see full list of winners! You’re so welcome.
Brontë Sisters' Birthplace in Bradford Now Open to the Public3
Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Brontë were born in a small, Yorkshire town in the early 1800s. They would go on to write some of the most extraordinary novels in the history of English literature. The newly restored house in Bradford where the Brontë sisters were born is now open to visitors, following its official opening by the Queen on Thursday. No, not the Queen you’re thinking about. No, it’s not Nicki Minaj.
1.
I recently saw this note on my notes feed and thought I should bring it to the newsie immediately.
It brought me back to every single time I was vulnerable on this app.
Honestly, the response was amazing. I’ve never connected with that many people before and it truly mesmerized me, people do want your fucking aliveness.
Vulnerability invites others to feel with you, not just look at you, and it is what we’ve been missing from creators lately. You become "human" instead of just a content creator or a random stranger writing stuff for the internet, which is why “I see myself in you” is the most valuable compliment a writer can get on this very robotic, nonchalant epidemic we’re living in, but that’s content for another newsletter.
Over the centuries I’ve been writing for Substack, I’ve been realizing that Vulnerability is, in fact, something paradoxical: When you admit your flaws on the internet, people often see you as stronger, not weaker, never weaker, because it creates an environment where people can also open up about their own flaws.
I do agree with all the takes and I do understand why vulnerability attracts people and why it creates a long lasting bond between creator and writer.
I do not agree with the pressure it creates, though.
2.
THE BIG MOVE
When you make the BIG move (which is deleting instagram and moving to Substack), it does feel impactful, we’re not going to pretend it doesn’t just because there’s many notes on your feed being like “deleted instagram and never felt more free!”.
It does feel impactful on a personal level, but when you see many people sharing that same vulnerable experience, it simply does not matter anymore, it’s not worth it to share.
Everyone’s always saying the same things because some people are starting to understand the vulnerability = likes formula.
But, Amanda, what happens with the pressure put on people who actually do share their very real experiences online?
Platforms like the one you’re reading your favorite vulnerable newsletter on obviously reward engagement, and they have cultivated a culture where personal openness is often equated with value. The more you bleed, the more you’re seen.
This has led to a big phenomenon online, where vulnerability is not only encouraged but also subtly commodified. Please listen when this tired writer tells you that some people here have actually learned to use this formula (vulnerability = likes) strategically, which is something that puts you, person who shares their experiences with sincerity and emotional risk, in danger.
When emotional honesty becomes something performative, the act of sharing one's pain can shift from open-heartedness to curation. Posting about a nice day you had with your friends may not be appealing to the Substack readers who might actually name their daughters Cigarette Rose (and post it online, of course).
Substack writers posting about their personal trauma, hardship, MOMMY ISSUES (!!!!!) may feel pressure to present their story in a way that is emotionally gripping, mesmerizing, black and white, traumatizing but digestible, and above all, appealing to others. Sure, post about your trauma, but it has to be edited, stylized, and packaged for virality.
As a result of this, you will begin to question the validity of your own emotions, and you will wonder whether your suffering is only valuable if it resonates with others. Very Black Mirror coded. People are sick, welcome to 2025.
This dynamic creates another formula (I suck at math, so I’m very obviously having a hard time saying the word ‘formula’ many times): Vulnerability = likes and attention; likes and attention = you HAVE a federal unspoken obligation to remain vulnerable 24/7.
There are many studies on the vicious relationship between human beings and the adrenaline shot we feel when we post something online, and for those who experience a wave of support or visibility after sharing personal struggles, the relationship is no different. Because you feel so great and so seen and so supported, there can be an implicit demand to stay in that emotional space. You feel stuck in that narrative, in that same traumatic space, pressured to continue disclosing all the painful details of something that deeply hurts you in order to maintain your relevance. #4 rising in trauma dumping.
What began as a moment of honesty and compassion can quickly turn into a never-ending expectation to perform your own pain for the public. You don’t need therapy, you have the comment section validation. IT’S ADDICTING, PEOPLE! WAKE UP, SHEEPLE.
3.
THE SH*T SHOW
As you successfully told your thousands of subscribers your fake trauma you just made up (because you’re obviously addicted), the line between authenticity and performance blurs, not just for you, but for them, too. Your readers will start to not only worry about you (like, are you ok?? What do you mean that ‘Stranger Things’ actress ran you over with her car? Are you serious?), but they’ll grow skeptical, wondering if any emotional posts are genuine or simply content strategies.
This skepticism they’ll have (they’re very right to do that, btw) can invalidate those who are truly sharing from a place of, well, real vulnerability. When your trauma becomes a trend, real stories of vulnerable moments risk being drowned out by curated ones… your readers might not trust you (or anybody) anymore. Which leads us to another formula: white shirt + no makeup = apology video. Very much ‘Bye Sister’ core. Iykyk.
What about the toll on our mental health, as writers and as readers? For someone actively navigating trauma, illness, or grief, posting about it online turns a deeply personal process into a public sh*t show.
Your own healing journey becomes susceptible to likes, comments, and criticisms, which means that your experience will be evaluated. Is it worth my like and my comment? Is my pain good enough?
I wanted to leave you with great content on the debate we’re having: This monologue of AMOTY (Amanda’s movie of the year): ‘A Real Pain’ (2024), in which Jesse Eisenberg (aka pookie)’s character talks about his own vulnerability and his understanding that it might not be as impactful to other people because it’s not an exceptional trauma, not an exceptional pain. I could CRY. You should watch it.
I also wanted to leave you with an essay by AWOTY (Amanda’s Writer of The Year),
, in which she talks about this very same subject but in a much better way.
Change happens without remorse for existing circumstances, and in a way, it’s a natural reset, the universe setting us up for a period of growth. I don’t know what my writing should look like, why should I? The nature of what I write about comes from the experiences that shape me, my deepest thoughts, and snippets of my life, so of course it’s meant to evolve as I do, even if it feels challenging or wrong at first, but that’s life. My writing can be good without being sad; it has to be, because my life is good.
- SARAH CUCCHIARA <3
Vulnerability is a powerful act, but it is not a performance. When people treat it as such, it loses power. The challenge we’re having right now is differentiating when the BIG move is actually BIG for someone.
Please let humans be humans. Not everything has to be a marketing tool, that’s my final take.
See you next Sunday!
Much love,
AMANDA <333333
THE NEW YORK TIMES
EURONEWS.COM
THE GUARDIAN
I think this is SUCH an important topic to discuss. There's something cathartic about being vulnerable on Substack, but I think at least for me, I can only be truly vulnerable online about experiences once I have some distance from them bc whether they go viral or are completely ignored, I'm better able to deal with it when I've already largely dealt with the trauma I'm writing about. It maybe makes my writing a little more neat, a little less raw, but I've found that it works for me :) Great newsletter this week, Amanda!!
Thank you for writing this and ariculating it so perfectly. The skepticism is sooooo real and I must admit that I have noticed feeling more skeptical myself about pretty much everything and everyone. I really like the part of myself that gives everyone the benefit of the doubt, but yeah, like you said, as more and more people take advantage of people's kindness or willingness to either like, comment, share, boost, or even donate!, to fake stories of trauma, etc..it's like..okay, how do I sift through all of this now? People get exposed, the shock sets in, wears off and we keep scrolling. It feels weird. Cancel culture, telling the wrong joke, not being aware ENOUGH, or doing too much of the same, or no longer feeling safe to share because it seems like it's not a 'BIG ENOUGH' problem to speak out on...omg I could go on. Anyway, thanks girl.