Silence or Presence? Wrestling with the Ethics of Social Media Engagement

Over the past several months, I’ve been quietly sitting with a tension that many values-centered leaders feel today. It is the tension of presence versus protest… of being a voice for light in darkened spaces, or stepping away in the name of integrity.

In early 2025, Meta, the parent company of Facebook, Instagram, and Threads, dismantled its third-party fact-checking infrastructure and loosened content moderation policies, citing a commitment to “free expression.” In the wake of these changes, studies have shown a measurable rise in hate speech, sexual exploitation of children, misinformation, and harassment, particularly aimed at vulnerable groups.

For those of us who believe in the dignity of all people and the transformational power of truth, these developments didn’t just feel disappointing. They felt dangerous.

As a result, I made the decision to step away from Meta’s platforms. It was not an impulsive choice. It was born out of a deep desire not to lend my time, voice, or presence to digital spaces that seemed increasingly misaligned with the values I strive to uphold: empathy, justice, interdependence, and conscious leadership.

But as time passed, the question evolved. Is it more faithful to stand apart from harmful systems, or to reenter them with clarity, courage, and a higher intention?

I’ve weighed both sides. And I want to lay them out here, not just for transparency, but because I believe many of you are asking the same question in your own way.

There are valid, principled reasons to disengage from these platforms. Remaining off can be a refusal to legitimize environments that promote and profit from hate, violence, and disinformation. Meta's algorithms reward confrontation, not reflection. Staying away can protect your ability to think deeply and lead authentically. Your attention is a form of currency. Choosing not to spend it there can be an act of resistance against the commodification of conflict. And there is immense power in saying, “Not here. Not like this.”

I hold these reasons with respect. I still affirm them. But they are no longer the whole picture for me.

I believe that clarity is a form of love. In a digital climate where lies outpace truth and outrage overshadows nuance, a voice of steady, compassionate wisdom is not just helpful… it’s urgent. I’m not returning to argue. I’m returning to teach. To offer critical thinking, context, and frameworks that ground people rather than inflame them.

Many marginalized and underrepresented communities still rely on Meta platforms for visibility, connection, and advocacy. In these spaces, silence can feel like abandonment. Presence, when rooted in purpose, can become protection. If I can help amplify truth and offer dignity to those who are dehumanized, I must try.

Darkness is not merely the absence of light. It is often the absence of presence. I return not to “fix” the platform, but to refuse to surrender it entirely. I return because, even in fractured digital spaces, transformation can still happen. I return with boundaries, with discernment, and with hope.

After deep reflection, prayer, and meditation, I have decided to return to Meta’s platforms… but not as I left them. I return under a new ethic: less performance, more presence. I will not be everywhere. I will not post everything. But I will show up when and where it matters, with the clarity of an educator, the posture of a servant, and the soul of someone who still believes in the power of light.

My presence is not an endorsement of Meta’s decisions. It is a commitment to those who are still watching, still hoping, still scrolling in search of something real.

And maybe… just maybe… I can help them find it.

If this tension resonates with you, I invite your thoughts. If you're wrestling with your own digital choices, know that you're not alone. Let’s navigate these times with integrity and intention, supporting one another with both courage and compassion.