The Chain: A Chokehold

Musings of an Anxious Millennial Writer #10: Break these Chain Letters

I had the displeasure of being at the precipice of receiving old-fashioned chain letters in the mail and getting to see the dawn of chain letters in the email generation, a tough transition for a young, impressionable kid. Being raised Catholic, a baseline of superstition permeated my family and still haunts many of my decisions. I can’t resist throwing salt over my shoulder when it’s spilled. I feel like I can manifest bad things by thinking about them too much. I’m working on this with my therapist. That said, chain letters were something my family deeply feared. Also being half-Italian, we had to deflect curses like mosquitos on a warm summer night. My family would receive chain letters from the rogue family member or former friend, each meticulously handwritten and relaying the rules from whomever they received it, usually directing us to do the same and send it out to other folks. Not wanting to spread any “bad luck” to others, my grandmother’s solution was to burn them as soon as they arrived. We would not let bad vibes come our way.

I remember the urgency with which my grandma burned a chain letter she received from her sister-in-law; carefully lighting it over the bathroom toilet, the burning paper scent not so dissimilar to the cigarettes and ashes overflowing the cracked pink ashtray perched atop the porcelain corner of the bathroom sink. For an otherwise logical woman, my grandma feared curses. She would never fight fire with fire (well, metaphorically speaking), but she’d take every preventative measure to keep them at bay. She also believed in the power of karma and that anyone who casts curses is doomed to receive them back tenfold. But karma takes time, so it is better to be safe than sorry and burn that shit post-haste.

As much as no one in my family would wish harm to others, I was always keenly aware that this was very much in others’ repertoires. Chain letters were the physical manifestations of that, and the best way to thwart their efforts was to cut them off at the pass. Then came the world wide web. One of my least favorite parts of internet nostalgia was the email chain letters. My earliest AOL inbox was the first direct communication from chain letter senders. And I, a 12-year-old girl who only knew about five people who had email addresses were being sent letters that I had to forward to folks in the double digits. How could I even do that? I’d spend the next few days after receiving one, restless, worried that bad luck would befall me and my loved ones. After all, there was no way to burn an email.

There’s nothing more humbling than realizing how few friends you have when a chain letter demands you share it with upwards of ten people, lest bad luck befall you.

Sadly, I’ve come to this realization many times in my life. Chain letters suck, and the worst part is that they never go away; they mutate and take new forms, ingraining themselves in the culture of each new generation.

I am, regrettably, on TikTok. Not “on” in the sense that I’m doing fun dance transitions or ranting and raving about life while applying makeup. Instead, I am a professional lurker. I follow a handful of content creators, mostly regular folks who were just enigmatic enough to muster up a nice passive income from being themselves, cheering them on from the shadows and watching their daily updates from my nameless, faceless account as if they’re my “stories.” And despite feeling like an outsider looking in on these hip kids and their trends, I can’t help but notice something familiar that has found its way into this new-fangled social media: curses and archaic forms of “good” and “bad” luck.

The “For You” page on most social media apps is ass (looking directly at and not breaking eye contact with you, Elon). At its worst, it’s everything you despise and don’t want to see (hello again, Elon!). At its mid, it’s a number of accounts may share some similarities with the content you share and consume, but without warning you that it’s not actually someone you know or interact with, forcing some very awkward interactions (tired of me yet, Elon?). At its best, it’s a curated feed of accounts directly related to your past searches and similar accounts and ideas you resonate with and interact with. TikTok excels at this feature. I’ve found plenty of decent accounts without much searching. My only issue is that you’re automatically thrown into your FYP upon launching the app. And, at least for me, that section is constantly filled with videos utilizing sounds for “claims” or “manifestations.” One might argue that these are the anti-chain letters; you can claim by using the sound and posting so that only you can see, no one else. Which is what I do. As much as I’d like to come up with another way to dispel the possible negative effects of these “use this sound or else” videos, I’ve found that posting them privately is better safe than sorry. And let’s be real, maybe part of me hopes that the ones promising good luck have a kernel of truth in them.

These show up on my FYP precisely because I keep interacting with them.

But that’s also why these continue to be so ubiquitous, especially in online spaces. Going back to that whole rant about the “For You” page, which might have been the worst idea since… well, most of the internet. In theory, it makes sense to find accounts and ideas based on your own experience to further your online enjoyment (or shoehorn ideas in your face that you don’t like at all just to see if it will change your prerogative, Elo—oh, you get where I’m going with this). But the problem is just that, it’s not the obvious echo-chamber aspect; it’s the main character syndrome it creates. When the algorithm has worked in your favor enough to always show you what you like, you start to forget that other people are posting and sharing their individual experiences. When these make it into your field of vision, it can be hard to understand that they might not be for or about you. Some of the most divisiveness I’ve encountered on social media is folks who would otherwise be on the same side fighting over something they didn’t realize wasn’t a personal attack; in fact, it wasn’t even geared at them at all, but their harsh and defensive reaction was a symptom of falling prey to the assumption that anything they see must be about, or at least, as its described, for them.

What does this have to do with hokey online manifestations/claims/social media chain letters? Think of it like astrology: it’s easy to assume everything said about your sign is about you personally. Social media algorithms and feeds are a lot like astrology: they take some of the most baseline and superficial aspects of your character, continue to suggest to you things about yourself you might not have realized, and then continuously feed you that content or those ideas so you form this shallow vision of yourself. That’s your vibe, and anything that falls in line with that is about and for you.

So if you’re seeing something telling you love is coming your way, and you know you’re in your hot girl era, it must be true. If it’s wishing you good luck and you’re in your lucky girl era, it’s meant to be. If bad, you’re in your hot mess era, and you’ll want to deflect that and put it on someone else.

The reality is, that it’s just stuff people know will go viral because everyone thinks they’re the main character that the world is either against or bending to. So, making sounds and videos and trends with direct calls to action actually at and about the person reading it is the ultimate way to grow your numbers, it’s the ol’ “ask a stupid question, get a ton of stupid answers and therefore keep growing your online presence” formula that Twitter thrives on. But all it really comes down to is preying on people’s fears, insecurities, anxieties, and worries to get a modicum of fame, or at least an answer to passing boredom.

How do you explain the classic, paper chain letters of yore then? The same as just said: fear, worry, anxiety, main character syndrome if you’re the originator, and, most likely, boredom.

Chain letters and all their new forms and mutations are dumb. And curses can only come true if you believe in them. I’ll leave you with one of my favorite moments from the cinematic masterpiece Moonstruck to sum up my feelings:

The best way to deflect bad luck is not to give it any attention and to not wish it upon others (unless someone really, really deserves it. I’m pointing my finger at you, Elon...)

But if anyone dares to try to send me anything wishing me or my loved ones harm, I’ve got my lighter handy at the ready.