A Kinder, Gentler Twitter? Dispatches From My First Day On Threads

I heard someone say that if you haven’t posted on Threads yet, you’re already behind. 

They were sobering words, but I’m glad they were said. Signing up to Threads on launch day was an experience that I’ll remember for as long as I live. Or at least the next few weeks.

Threads is the new social platform launched by Mark Zuckerberg’s Meta, and like most new things, reactions to this ranged from extreme scepticism to outright elation. Personally, I was ready. I don’t know what I was ready for, but I was ready. So I took my lunch break and dived in. 

My first feeling? Anxiety. The thought of a fresh new app immediately gave me the urge to have a meltdown. Signing up to things, signing in to things, waiting for things to load, choosing a “strong” password — any kind of internet admin fills me with hot burning fury. To my delight, once the app was downloaded, the login was autofilled from my Instagram app. Ding! An excellent start. 

Now, it was a little bit dystopian to see people joining the app as I was in it. You know how movies and TV shows portray being in the afterlife, and you start seeing people that were dead on earth, and that’s how you realise that you are actually dead too? I feel like I’m veering off topic. I don’t mean to say that we’re all dead. Unless? 

It wasn’t long until word vomit was shooting directly out of our fingers, like we had been shackled for too long to overly curated Instagram captions and Facetuned fun. The place was complete chaos, but the vibes were also incredibly wholesome. Millennials were sharing thread-related pun material (some actually golden, some hot garbage) but the general approach seemed to be: think a thought, then post it. 

Oh, to start afresh on an app that hasn’t yet been overrun by bots, porn, and mansplaining podcast bros. This is the good place. The only thing I want to see on Threads is word play and funny pictures. I don’t want to see anything about the state of the world, I don’t want to listen to your new song, and I definitely don’t want to buy anything from you. Let’s keep it beautiful, people. 

The whole experience just felt special. It was like being in a secret club where I was hiding from the real world — a (subtle) rebellion against the platforms that had failed us. It was time to move into the light, and to finally be ourselves.  

Suffice to say, my first day on Threads was one filled with hope. As ground zero came to a close, however, I learnt of a sting in the tail: if you want to delete Threads, your Instagram account would go with it too. Cheeky behaviour, but I guess we’re in it for the long haul.

Or you know, until Threads inevitably is taken from us when we decide we’re bored. RIP BeReal, I loved you for a time.