I remember the day when PostSecret lost its lustre.
It wasn’t heralded with golden trumpets or fanfare. It wasn’t marked by catastrophe or trauma or excitement. It was, fitting for a day of lost lustre, almost entirely unremarkable. I went to the site and realized… that I didn’t want to visit it anymore.
The magic, if magic it was, had gone.
Living in the changed world of after, it’s hard to describe how things were before.
PostSecret was raw. It was real; it was honest. It was a refusal to deny those things taboo. PostSecret was a statement of human identity: “This is who we are.”. PostSecret was a chance to acknowledge the truth (good and bad), setting aside the fear of judgement. It was simple, eloquent and sincere.
And on the day it changed, it was still all those things, but it wasn’t the same for me.
I didn’t want another statement of identity; I didn’t want another eloquent problem description. “This is Scott; this is my secret; this is my shame.” I knew who I was. I knew what my shame was. PostSecret could bring some solace – “I understand how you feel; I feel the same way” – but it couldn’t take anything away.
It could tell me, “Here you are, this is you.” but it couldn’t answer the question, “Yes, and what do I do about it? This is the truth, how do I change it?”
There’s value in a good problem description. Often we carry answers with us, and the only thing we lack is the understanding of the problem we face. But a clear description is not all that a question needs. It needs an answer.
Here is PostSecret. It may have something to say to you, but I don’t think I’ll be going back.