A big theme in my writing is living with trust because I don’t think it is good for our souls to go through the world with our guard up all the time. I’m not against smoke detectors and seat belts, simple ways we can make ourselves and our loved ones safer. I’m not against security settings on Facebook, either, or other precautions to protect our privacy in the age of the Internet. But I often wonder where to draw the line between precaution and paranoia, especially as a parent. Figuring out whom to friend on Facebook is the latest issue to challenge me to think about what living with trust really means in the cauldron of daily life.

When I first joined Facebook, I friended anyone who asked or whom I recognized on someone else’s friend list. It was fun to reconnect with people I had barely spoken to in high school and those I knew in the Peace Corps. In addition to being a social person enamored with new technology, I had a secret, selfish agenda. Having published a book that went out of print after a few years, I was determined to get better at publicity and networking. Some of my high school friends never heard of that first book when it came out, and I was determined not to make that mistake again. The more friends I had on Facebook, the easier it would be to tell people about my second book when it came out. It was also a little ego boost every time my list of Facebook friends passed another milestone, which I’m sure is quite unQuakerly.

It was not long after the Wisdom book came out when a male friend sent me a message pointing out that there was graphic pornography posted in my “Boxes,” a part of my Facebook account I had never even noticed. Embarrassed, I erased it immediately and then wondered if I had just erased the evidence of who had posted it. There had been one previous inappropriate post that I had erased quickly. My “friends” list suddenly looked like a long line-up of suspects. As I started getting more friend requests from people I didn’t know, I wondered if accepting everyone who asked was really a good idea. A few people had suggested I set up a fan page, anyway. That suddenly seemed smart, especially as my daughter approached her thirteenth birthday, the day when I had promised she could join the Facebook tribe, as long as I was her first friend and she followed certain guidelines. Presumably, that would put her one degree of separation from the porn-poster. 

My daughter has been a responsible, though slightly obsessed Facebook user. She only friends people she actually knows and frequently ignores friend requests from boys in her class on the grounds that they are not really her friends. (No comment from me.) Still, after a terrific class trip to Costa Rica, many of her classmates have started posting pictures of each other, and I don’t think there is any way to put that genie back in the bottle. I remember the book The Science of Fear arguing that parental fears of Internet stalkers are fueled out of all proportion by a sex and fear obsessed media, so I’m trying to take the smoke-detector approach to this, installing basic precautions, but not losing any sleep over worst case scenarios.

On my own account, I decided on a new strategy that I’m still testing. When people I don’t recognize send a friend request, I send a polite message saying that I’m sorry if we’ve met and I’ve forgotten, but I’m only friending people whom I actually know. If they like my work, they can join my fan page, which several have done. Some have explained that they are Quakers, which leaves me wondering if it’s discrimination to “friend” any “Friend,” but not anyone else. Does it matter if they are friends with 32 friends of mine? Or 3? I’m not clear on whether I need a consistent policy or a case-by-case strategy. Most people have been friendly and understanding, but a few have been a little weird about it. One guy a few months ago kind of begged to be my friend, which is a little bit like having someone beg to kiss you—a real turn off, in my experience. You already have over 1,000 friends, I thought. Why are you so desperate to be friends with me?

Today, after sending my standard note to someone whose name I didn’t recognize, I got a nice note back from a Quaker from another yearly meeting (which means regional body, in plain English), pointing out that in his area the Internet has been a great way to build community, especially with young adult Quakers, who often feel separate from the older crowd. I agree with this point, and it leaves me wondering what I might be missing by limiting my connections, not in terms of book sales, but in terms of real community.

The thing is that living with trust could mean different things in this situation. It could mean friending anyone who asks, which arguably might be what Jesus would do if he was on Facebook. On the other hand, living with trust might mean doing what feels right to me and trusting that other people can deal with it, or not, as they choose. The most serene people I know are the ones who don’t really care what other people think (which is quite different from not caring about other people). As a woman trained as a people pleaser, I’m trying to cultivate this quality, and it may be that not friending people is giving me good practice, though I don’t feel entirely clear about it. Is my discomfort at rejecting friend requests a sign that this policy is not “rightly ordered,” to use the Quaker jargon, or a sign that I need to let go of the desire to have everyone in the world be my friend?

I’m curious how others are defining their boundaries on the Internet and whether or not being a parent affects where those lines get drawn.