this personal story alludes to negative experiences as a child.
it's hard to think about what the personal web has "done" for me in terms of a reciprocal relationship.
it feels entirely one-sided.
i started building websites when i was around seven.
my life at home was fraught with fear, but when things were good, no matter how fleeting, i was momentarily given a reprieve from the escapism i found in my books. when he brought home our first family computer, i quickly found that my dad, whom i was spending a lot of time avoiding, had actually brought home an amazing gift.
at first, i didn't really understand what the computer was. i still in elementary school, after all; though, we had used begun using computers as a way to learn in computer class with probably more oregon trail than what the school district preferred.
we had america online for a short period of time, which was essentially a walled garden of AOL keywords. certain websites, though not all, could be accessed. our family switched to another provider, and i found way more than just the children-centered content that AOL provided.
finding websites made by people, not just businesses, changed the trajectory of my life.
there were so many subjects, so many passionate people, talking about their interests, hobbies, and topics they were educated in. i found entire websites that wove a story together, clicking links to get to the next section or make choices. chatrooms led me down other paths of communities online, full of writers, roleplayers, and people of all kinds, sharing their stories. i couldn't get enough.
the gift i had been given was self-expression, self-determination, and the knowledge that there was a whole world out there, full of all walks of life. that the internet in particular was a place full of information and sharing that with others; it felt integral to the fabric that held the web together.
i understood somewhat early on that the internet was giving me an opportunity to learn from others, to learn how the world works through others' experiences. gURL.com helped guide me as a young girl, learning things that i had to far too early. it was information i wasn't getting anywhere else. the internet became a second home to me; a helpful guide, a static mentor. it felt like wisdom by osmosis: i was eager to learn from people who were intelligent enough to articulate their thoughts, feelings, and experiences.
i began fixating on learning how to code and how to make my own place online where i could do the same. i didn't know what i could do, or what i would talk about, but i knew it was possible. i saw what others were capable of, and everything was right in front of me between my fingers and currents. i just had to learn how to channel it, those numbers and symbols inside the computer that was seemingly accessible to everyone.
by my teens, without realizing it, i was slowly building skills in something that i didn't know would come in handy later. all i knew was this hobby that allowed me to say the things i actually felt in real life, to be the person i actually wanted to be: a strong young woman who wasn't weak or scared or helpless.
though people around me were falling into cycles our circumstances and socioeconomic status seemingly all but guaranteed statistically, being exposed to what was possible online (and using the skills i was learning about) helped steer me away from choices that i had been faced with in my turmultuous years.
in my own way, i was learning a variety of digital skills—not just with website-building but research, too. i continued getting better with code, learning how to make websites look better and researching how people wanted to navigate websites as user experience became more popular for web designers to discuss online.
in my quest for self-expression, i learned i could channel these skills to make something out of myself. my independence grew, and my confidence that i could use this incredibly fun hobby to get out of my situation only increased. the skills i learned from building personal sites not only helped me emotionally and mentally—it also helped me find a way out. i was able to develop a career centered around the web.
though as a child i was set on being a writer professionally, i didn't know until later that my clips from online publications, ones that required me to code, could help me get published later, too. that my skills in HTML and CSS would actually complement me professionally, allowing me to continue adapting in a field that was increasingly becoming online. learning how to code helped me have an edge with what i was doing, and ultimately, i was lucky enough that my hard work paid off.
discovering personal websites allowed me to find my voice in a time when i couldn't speak. reading others' stories and perspectives allowed me to get a glimpse into what lives are living all around me, unknowingly, typed away in the comfort of their homes.
i had to learn how to express myself, especially as a young, undiagnosed neurodivergent child. my earliest blogs were angry—so, so angry. it was all i knew, but i quickly realized that being a source of negativity online was not the right path for me. i knew i had to break generational cycles of my forebearers, and i was determined to channel this entire hobby into something positive.
i learned from others through their ways of expression; i gained perspective into why some people make the choices they do. i learned empathy—choosing love and support over anger and bitterness was a choice i had to make in my discovery of personal websites, and i'm so glad i did.
kindness and empathy aren't words you'd describe the modern internet these days, and i'm not sure i'd use those to describe the web back then, either. but being ingratiated in the world of personal websites helped me learn more about my fellow humans than most real-life experiences i'd had at that point.
my relationship with the personal web feels so one-sided because i feel like i've gotten so much more out of it than i've given it, despite building websites for over two decades now. i'm still learning, still growing. all the time.
i feel so compelled to help others learn how to build their own websites and interact with one another on this side of the web because i want others to feel just as safe, just as encouraged, just as free as i did back when i was getting started; to ignore the spaces filled with likely-miserable people that cut you down or make you feel less than; to feel like you can finally share who you really are with the world without needing to make others smaller in the process. in the personal web, voices are weighed on their merit, the crux of what they're trying to say. words can stand alone without ads, without selling your data, without needing clout or braggery. follower counts matter much less, yet emails make you giddy when you receive them.
the personal web is just that: personal. it's built by people, like you, who just want to have their presence known in some shape or form. a personal website can help you find your voice, sure, but it can also allow your knowledge to stand on its own. let loose about your favorite hobbies, the things nobody asks you about. keep track of your notes, your thoughts, the phases of your life you go through so that someone else can feel safe, encouraged, and find a path different than the one they're on.
personal websites, made by people, are the ones that make me feel the most connected to other humans on this earth, no matter the distance. when browsing the personal web, i've found myself calm, empathetic for my local neighbors, and the urge to contribute to the space around me physically as well as online. social media never made me feel like that—that's why i want to help build up this side of the web.
