MARCH 22 — Because I just don’t feel like it.
Because most people don’t.
Because turning on the video feels like an obligation or a requirement; and that’s just no fun.
Because I’m shy.
Because I’m intimidated by the fact that people will be judging me based on how I look.
Because during the class (or the meeting or the webinar) I’m simultaneously on Discord and I don’t want to be seen looking away and giggling because my friends just joked about the teacher’s hair-style.
Because there’s no penalty if I don’t; I don’t pay a fine or lose any credit points if I remain a name in the darkness. Sure, sometimes the teacher “threatens” to deduct marks but a) it’s rare and b) most people don’t believe him.
Because I just want to close my eyes in most Zoom sessions. Unless I’m teaching the class or chairing the meeting or “doing” the webinar, I find that often listening with my eyes closed helps.
Because this crazy four-hour meeting is sucking the life-force out of me and I’m concerned the other managers will read this fact on my face.
Because since I hardly speak, doesn’t a black screen go better with silence?
Because my face, my cam, my choice.
Because sometimes the speaker doesn’t even seem interested, being as in love with the sound of his voice as he is. Won’t showing my face only cramp his style?
Because with two hundred people in the session, there will be too many faces anyway. Why would anyone want to see mine?
Because, other than “surveillance”, what value add is there? I would gladly look into your eyes if we were sitting across the table or the seminar room or the hall, but there’s something about online mediation which nudges people towards anonymity.
Because unless this is a Toastmasters session or a meeting with the president of the company — in other words, unless my membership or job is at stake — I simply can’t, you know, see the point.
Because I don’t need to be aware of my body when the camera’s off. And sometimes I do weird stuff with or to my face.
Because when I turn on the video I feel I have to smile, and smiling in such sessions feels forced and superficial.
Because my office or room or hall is nothing to look at. It’s often quite messy, to tell the truth. And I’m terrible with those “virtual backgrounds” that my friends seem to excel at.
Because I want to browse other webpages during the session; it’s too bad I don’t know how to mute only Zoom on my computer or else I’d be watching a movie during the financial reporting.
Because even virtual backgrounds get dull as heck over time. Plus they create weird “edges” around your body and face.
Because I’m on my phone and I don’t want people to see me looking down all the time.
Because the appearance of human faces, all frozen in some digital time-lock, feels uncanny and unreal.
Because if people can’t speak simultaneously when they meet, why bother showing their faces.
Because I’m, you know, just really tired of meeting online. Turning off my cam is my subconscious protesting.
Because let’s try our best to re-establish and restore physical presence.
But if you insist, okay. Forgive me if I don’t smile and look enthusiastic, but if you give me a really strong reason to... I may.
