Identity & the Web: Electronic Footprints in the Sand

So the other day my boss Eric shared this story with me about a time when he was living in Oregon in the early 1970s and a dead whale washed ashore. Not knowing how to dispose of the whale, the Oregon highway department decided to disintegrate the poor thing with a half a ton of dynamite. Unfortunately, the brainiacs behind this plan failed to consider that the offshore winds in Oregon blow inward and the result was that a whole lot of spectators who simply wanted to spend a day at the beach watching a 45-foot whale get blown to bits (I mean, really, is that asking for too much?) instead found themselves covered in a fine mist of dead whale blubber and spray. 

I share this story not to gross everyone out (because let's face it - it is pretty gross, but gross in a funny way), but to make a point about our identities and the web. I wasn't alive in November of 1970 when this all went down, but fortunately and thanks to the powers of YouTube, I, too, can share in this moment, and I have to say I feel richer for having done so. The newscast of this event is on YouTube here, and I really do highly recommend that all of you watch it because it is funny - pay close attention to the newscaster, the highway department employee and the car at the end - they'll all return in my little commentary here. 

After watching the video a couple of times and sharing it with my closest co-workers (another productive Friday in the office), I returned to thank Eric for enlivening my day, and he provided some additional context that brings me to the point of this post. Apparently, the car at the end of the video that gets crunched by a large, unexploded piece of dead whale belonged to the newscaster in this story. From there on out, this guy wasn't known for all the great work he had done up until that point, or the really critical journalism he had engaged in throughout his career – no, he was known only as the guy whose car was killed by a dead whale. And while I don't have any details on the highway department guy who erroneously decided a half ton of dynamite was enough to destroy a dead whale (and the reputation of a career newscaster), I have to assume that he lived on in infamy, as well. And keep in mind this was in 1970 and so while it's on YouTube now, this clip was only available locally at the time that it happened. Imagine how viral such a video would become if this happened tomorrow.

Search YouTube for "Star Wars Kid" and you find another story of a guy who's entire identity has been reduced down to one silly thing. Because middle school isn't hard enough... and he's just a young, awkward kid, man. He's doing what kids should do - using his imagination and playing - he just made the mistake of allowing himself to be videotaped while pretending to be a Jedi warrior. And be honest, how many of us would deny doing something equally silly at some point in our childhood? Here's my confession - I was in middle school around the time when Def Leppard hit it big with "Pour Some Sugar on Me" and me and my girlfriends used to lip synch like mad to that song. I certainly don't want to be known as the pudgy, awkward middle schooler who thought she was Joe Elliott. "Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on; Livin' like a lover with a radar phone..." What is a radar phone, anyways? Anyhoo...

And then there's this poor kid - a freshman at Ball State University who really flubs his sports cast. For those of us out there who teach, I suspect you'll find this one as hard to watch as I did in part because I think to myself, "Here's a kid who's just trying to find out what appeals to him for his future career and because of this video he may not get to pursue that career - if it's in any way related to sportscasting." Instead he's known as the "Boom, goes the dynamite kid." And again what we're missing is context. We don't really know if he's actually this nervous and unprepared or if he was distracted by a faulty teleprompter, incorrect notes, technical difficulties, a bad case of nerves or all those people walking behind him while he was on the air (he should have pulled a Christian Bale on all of them) - oh, wait no, this lives on in video infamy, too. Don't listen to this one if explicit language offends you. 

My point in all of this, and yes, there is a point besides making everyone feel guilty for having a laugh at others' expense which I fully admit to have done myself (and this is not a point that others before me have not also made), is that we should remember that the web changes things. It changes our identity for those who only know us through our electronic footprint. And unlike the footprints you leave on the beach, these electronic footprints aren't slowly eroded by the tide coming in and out. They last and they continue to define us. And as more and more employers look to the web for the (web) identity of their potential hires, these employers sometimes define us erroneously – a good thing to keep in mind as we all work on our personal and professional websites. I probably "Google" myself more than others, but it's in part because I'm fascinated with this idea. If someone who doesn't know me well "Googles" me, will they confuse me with the Monica Wesley who's a runner, the one who's a physicist, or the one who's locked in a custody battle. And should I worry about this?

And for those of us who teach, what about our students? I know we're starting to warn them about being mindful as to what they put on their Facebook and MySpace pages and to be careful of the privacy settings they choose, but what about their online portfolios? Many of us work in professions that result in some manner of portfolio work - mostly written pieces but also visual pieces. When our students put their early work online (like the sportscaster above) do these become definitively indicative of the type of work they are able to do. And while online portfolios are now critical for landing that first job, would any of us really want the work we produced as 22 year olds still out there as working examples of our skill level. 

I always tell my design students to be very careful about what design ideas they pitch to clients. Like it or not, the client will inevitably pick the weakest design - typically because it's the safest or least exciting design solution and most people are comfortable with what's familiar (cliche). Don't ever share something you're not completely satisfied with, I tell them, and that you'd cringe to see displayed on the side of a building 100 feet tall. I teach this because I know it. One of my worst logos ever (!) is plastered all over a very large delivery vehicle, and every time I see it tooling around town I turn my head and weep (ok, well maybe I don't weep, but I still don't like the logo). That logo was the product of some very unhealthy office politics, a youngish designer who wasn't yet comfortable enough to fight the good fight, and an older woman (not me) who had not yet learned the gentle art of compromise, but nobody else knows that. They just see an uninspiring, half-ass, cliche logo that screams "I gave up - I'm sick of fighting with you" - and unfortunately, if they inquired, they'd find out my name is attached to it. 

I don't want that logo to define the caliber of my work because I'm more and better than that instance. I don't want to be known as the "Hysteria" girl even if I can still sing along with most of the words ("I got to know tonight if you're alone tonight; can't stop this feeling, can't stop this fire... this song rocks!). There are many things that I've done that I don't want to define me and it's not because I'm in the least bit ashamed of my past. I believe everything that happened back then got me to where I am now and I'm proud of and secure in who I am now. But what if I had grown up in a time when YouTube was ubiquitous. Would there be a video of me at 15 or 16 years old after a few cocktails on my first cruise in an evening gown and snorkeling flippers – because there is photo evidence of that evening. But casual visitors to the snippets of our online lives, don't consider these events as singular (not typically defining) points in the long history of our lives. And so now (whether we're comfortable with it or not) we manage our online identities like a strong brand should be managed, and I think we'd be remiss not to instill the same care in our students. And don't get me wrong... I love Web 2.0 technologies. Because of YouTube I sit here wondering why did I ever get rid of my Def Leppard CD... and then realize it doesn't really matter because if I need a Joe Elliott fix, there's no shortage of ways I can get that fix online in mere moments.