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pj's avatar

I'm a millennial who was very involved in identity / social justice issues from around 2012 to 2019 — both online and off, but I believe I got into it early due to being very online. My mental health during this period sank like a rock, but it's rebounded tremendously since leaving that world (especially the online parts of it) in 2020.

So when you ask: "Wouldn’t focusing on identity create a feeling of belonging with others who feel the same, and thus lead to *less* loneliness, or at least stability in loneliness? [...] But why would a focus on social justice lead to more depression? Wouldn’t coming together with like-minded people for a cause lead to *less* depression?"

My answer is a STRONG no. Not under present circumstances. Especially not online.

A focus on identity, especially internal identities such as sexual orientation and gender identity, is in large part a focus on the *self.* There is a place for focus on the self — but too much becomes a problem, and fast.

People who join online networks centered around such identities are not coming together to form communities in a meaningful sense. They are rarely making friends or even significant acquaintances who will be there for them in the real world. Instead they are converging online to engage in *co-rumination*. That is, they are fixating on the self, together.

The worst of these networks actively strengthen the feeling of disconnection from others even within the group as members are encouraged to divide themselves among ever more specific micro-identities, which are often conceived as hostile toward one another, even if unintentionally ("microaggressions" abound). Or you might think of yourself as the specific combination of *all* your various identities — racial, sexual, etc. — believing people who differ in any way just can't understand you. This can actually *decrease* interest in finding offline community related to the identities. For example, in circles I ran in, it was common for people to be afraid to go to pride events, having convinced themselves that other members of the alphabet soup hated their micro-subgroup in particular and would somehow turn them away.

By the same token, immersion in such networks can hurt members' existing, offline relationships. The focus on being oppressed increases negativity and decreases trust. There's a common message that members of "oppressor" identity groups (straight people, cis people) are all biased against you, even if they seem accepting. That actually, even if you felt perfectly safe before, you're in danger all the time. I've watched people strain their relationships with their family and friends, not because those people actually did anything wrong, but because of this categorical identity-based mistrust.

And that's not even going into the climate of fear that you'll step slightly out of line and the people you consider your friends will denounce you in the harshest terms, or the pressure to get out ahead of this and prove your loyalty to the group/cause by proactively denouncing others.

The offline identity/SJ-based communities I was part of were better — at first. But slowly, more members got involved in such online networks, and more new people joined who were steeped in them, and the groups became dominated by the maladaptive dynamics described above. One by one the older members — Gen X and up — who didn't like this left or (less commonly) kowtowed, making it worse.

Profound loneliness was the result, and so was a maladaptive way of thinking about that loneliness. The idea that said loneliness was inevitable by dint of your highly individualized identity, the intractable oppression of that identity, and the failure of "communities" based on that identity to provide the real relationships needed to reduce the loneliness.

"Coming together for a cause" *should* confer an anti-depressant sense of meaning and belonging, but it can't if what you're doing is more like wallowing in hopelessness and self-preoccupation than actually working together to help others.

Obviously this is just one person's perspective. I'm sure there are many people whose experience is much milder. I'm also sure there are many other factors going into the complex phenomenon that is this mental health crisis. But I think the broad strokes of this are pretty widespread, and I've watched over the years as the attitudes I've described surfaced among the whole gamut of people I know, from close friends to extended family members to diverse long-term acquaintances, with the commonality being that they identified as some kind of LGBTQ+++ and had gotten involved in online identity/SJ networks.

tl;dr: Identity/SJ-focused online activity can *increase* loneliness and depression through pretty straightforward mechanisms, especially excessive self-focus and mistrust.

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And I for truth's avatar

One possible explanation for the rise in rates of depression among millennials around 2015 is dating apps. For example, Tinder had 90,000 subscribers at the beginning of 2015, 900,000 at the beginning of 2016, 1.8 million at the beginning of 2017, and 3.4 million at the beginning of 2018 (scroll down to the "Tinder quarterly subscribers" chart here: https://www.businessofapps.com/data/tinder-statistics/). Fortunately, I met my spouse without a dating app, but I've heard from my single friends that they can cause a lot of negative emotions. And even after someone meets a partner on the app, I worry that knowing that there are hundreds of other potential matches out there can weaken a relationship. It's harder to commit if you think there's a chance you could slightly optimize over your current partner, and I suspect that this relational instability can also make people more prone to depression.

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