pseudonymity and the decision points for waiving it

I started writing a post that got very long - and hasn't been finished. But it occurred to me today that I should instead (perhaps) split that into some shorter posts. This portion was about intimacy and pseudonymity, the impact of meeting people through my blog and my twitter account that now know me in real life, and the decision process of deciding whether or not to meet (and "meet") them as myself. 

The beauty of having a pseudonymous blog is that you have a place to have a voice. About anything, if you are truly pseudonymous. This can be particularly powerful and important for the writer. In turn, being a reader of pseudonymous and very honest blogs can be helpful as well. I learned most of what I know about being a professor from reading the blogs of other academics.

 
Anonymity and intimacy online are negatively correlated, in my mind. The more anonymity to a blog, the more intimacy it can have. But as anonymity lessens than intimacy naturally lessens as well. This is, in some ways, one of the most amazing benefits the Internet has given us: The ability to connect with others based on intimate experiences, without as many concerns about impression management as we may have in an offline or online-but-not-anonymous interaction.

There are downsides to pseudonymity - I can't tell you the details of my research or my manuscripts, or even where I've lived.  The benefits outweigh these limitations - at least they have (to me) for the past decade. Because I have been pseudonymous for so long, I've been able to talk about the intimate details of all kinds of experiences, primarily those related to graduate school and the tenure track. I get to be open and honest. I try to be open, honest, and authentic in my offline interactions as well but like most human beings I care about what people think about me and I know that personal information, when given, cannot be retracted.

When I hear from people who read a post and it resonates with them, they often cite openness and honesty as what they found helpful about it. 

However, lately this pseudonymity has been on my mind a lot. Almost every time I sit down to write a post, some aspect of it is on my mind. When I think about the people I know reading this, am I comfortable with that? Would I be comfortable with my colleague reading this? My graduate student?

It is ironic that this honesty and helpfulness has led to the connections (i.e., people I have met via the blog and twitter) that have led me to start reconsidering my level of honesty and openness.

 
I don't know about other bloggers, but I still contemplate these issues before I introduce myself to someone. In fact, I think about these things carefully - often for weeks at a time. It's not a decision I make lightly and there are a few conditions that need to be met. In the past year, I've had tweet ups with 3 other psychologists, and I've "met" several other twitter users online, and even added a fair number to my FB friends. And every time I've had to weigh the pros and cons of doing that.

First, I will consider introducing myself if my continued relationship with that person needs my identity in order to move forward in a way I want it to. If I can be just as great of a friend to a tweep as Psyc Girl as I can as [Redacted], then why bother providing my name? In contrast, if I want to talk about my research, or an experience I have in common with some tweeps I'm going to be outed anyway - so I might as well do it. In a few scenarios I've introduced myself in order to help other twitter users in order to pass along local job ads they might be interested, or to connect them with other researchers.* However, knowing or not knowing who I am is not a sign of increased or decreased interest in a friendship.

Second, in some cases not providing my name might fundamentally alter where my relationship with them can go. In some cases, I've wanted a person to know who I am before they had an inaccurate (i.e., potentially overblown expectation that I can't live up to) impression of who I am - I worried they would be disappointed if they eventually met me. Or sometimes I'm presented with a scenario where I might need to start spinning lies to someone in order to protect my pseudonymity and it doesn't feel "right" to do that sometimes (I almost always just avoid responding, or I might decline to answer a question and explain why). 

Third, I will introduce myself if I have the impression that my relationship with that person is going to be fundamentally important to me in a context that is also offline. The beauty of the Internet is also that we can meet like-minded people. People who might exist in other locations, but who will still be important to us and who we will still care about. And I no longer let my pseudonym limit me from making those connections. 

It occurred to me that bloggers often blog about pseudonymity and intimacy etc etc - and that nothing I have to say about it is new. However, I'm not sure I've ever read someone's explanation of why and who they introduce themselves to.

 
I know sometimes other twitter users seem a bit baffled by my insistence of clinging to Psyc Girl as only Psyc Girl. And to write as if I don't carefully consider the increments of blogging freedom that will be lost when I introduce myself to someone would be inaccurate. With three of the twitter users I've met and "met" this year, I waited quite some time to introduce myself to them. Even after I decided I would, I spent several more weeks not doing so with the first and third tweeps I'm thinking of. Ultimately with the most recent person the tiniest thing changed my decision to wait: He asked what time it was where I lived. And I could have lied, but I found I didn't want to.

*In my early days of blogging, I think the concern with "outing" oneself was that these people would prove to be untrustworthy with one's pseudonymous identity. I have never had an experience of someone not protecting my pseud, often in very thoughtful and considerate ways.