I haven't been especially fond of Facebook since I stopped playing Farmville, but this was the closest I've come to deleting my account.
At the beginning of the month, my beloved cat stopped eating. She had started to become slightly pickier about her food in the previous weeks, but I figured she was simply campaigning for more wet food in her diet. Nevertheless, I had scheduled a vet appointment, and moved that appointment up when she really slowed down. We did blood tests, an abdominal ultrasound, and hospitalized her. In between tests and results, I searched furiously for answers online. Did she eat something that's blocking her intestines? Does she have hyperthyroidism? The vet ultimately found that her kidneys were failing, most likely caused by malignant cancer. Even while hospitalized, her condition continued to deteriorate, and on September 11, 2020, I made the excruciating decision to put her down.
I cried. A lot. I adopted Cat (her actual name) during my junior year of college when she was a grumpy, distrusting 9-year-old whose family gave her up because she didn't get along with their new puppy. She begrudgingly tolerated my two roommates and me for 1.5 years in our 500-square-foot apartment until I got my own place after college. Over time, her disposition softened and an attention-loving, goofy flip-flopping personality emerged around people she learned to trust. She was my constant companion for 6 months of quarantining and working from home. Everywhere I look, I see one of her vacant hiding places, sunbathing spots, or some other reminder that she's gone.
For all of its many flaws, Facebook has always functioned well as a distraction for me. I actively read and write posts on Twitter, but I still go to Facebook to waste time. But during my internet research, Facebook had learned that I had a cat, and that I cared enough about her to scour the internet for hours for her. They loaded my news feed with advertisements for veterinarians, automatic feeders, scratching posts, and other cat-related content like videos and memes. It was the exact opposite of the product experience I wanted from Facebook. I'm not in a rush to leave Cat in the past, but every ad came with a pang of guilt for the toy I didn't buy her or the premium food I could have given her. My feelings aside, these incredibly personalized advertisements were also completely pointless because I didn't have a cat anymore. So those businesses certainly did not win a new customer, but they still had to pay Facebook for exacerbating my pain.
I know enough about the internet and Big Tech to understand that Facebook knows what sites I visit, even when I'm not logged into any of their platforms. The Markup found Facebook's pixel tracker on 30% of popular sites. I knew I had little to no privacy on the internet thanks to Facebook and Google, but until now I never really cared.
My experience actually reminded me of a New York Times Opinion piece by a woman battling breast cancer who writes about the advertisements of "alternative therapies" that barrage her and members of cancer support groups on Facebook. By invading our privacy and offering finely targeted advertisements, Facebook profits from preying on people who are most vulnerable. They are incentivised to discover your diagnosis, sexual orientation, or other closely-held personal information. Even without data breaches or blatantly selling non-anonymized data, Facebook is still an untrustworthy confidant. I could have spoiled a friend's surprise engagement last year because I noticed their Facebook feed was peppered with ring advertisements. An old classmate once showed me a DIY crafting video on Facebook that was interrupted by an interstitial ad for Grindr. Facebook shouldn't know things about you that you wouldn't be willing to announce to all of your Facebook friends.
In general, that's my policy for what data Facebook should be able to collect and market to advertisers. They should be allowed to scrape your About section details, pages you like, and posts you write and share. They should not be able to track you across the web to augment your advertising profile. I've always felt that practice was slimy, but now I have a personal anecdote for some of the repercussions of having your privacy violated by companies like Facebook.
In sum, it's none of Facebook's business, but I really loved and still miss my Cat. RIP.