It seems anonymous bloggers should be worried. It seems that anonymity can't be guaranteed (though, really, whoever thought it could??). I have been  wondering whether there's anything to be gained, these days, in keeping this place anonymous.

Initially, I didn't want to be associated with it - well, you know, identifiably so - because I wanted to hide from my ex husband who was still at the stage of tracking my every traceable cyber move.  I wanted some space of my own; it seems odd to claim privacy when you're publishing on the internet, so perhaps that's the wrong word, but something like privacy.  I wanted to exorcise some demons and log my feelings.  I can't, still, explain why I wanted to do this publicly, why the world wide web seemed like an appropriate domain for that experiment, but somehow it did, and I gained strength from some of the readers who stumbled upon me.

These days this is a far more sporadic, much more moderate place.  I have written about my relationships, but less often and in less detail.  I try very hard (and always did, to be fair) to write only about how things affect me - the relationship from my perspective - and to preserve my beloved's privacy.  I don't write about work, except in a very generic sense, and don't explore the relationships with my colleagues here; which is kind of a shame, because there would be rich pickings! 

So why maintain the anonymity?  It would be easy enough to discover my identity - I'm sure any of you could do it, without recourse to anything more sinister than a search engine and a few hours to spare.  I could simply delete the more (most) personal of the archives, and out myself.  Except that (a) I don't think there's anything in here sufficiently insightful or sensitive to warrant anyone else trying to 'out' me.  I'm no Girl With A One Track Mind, or Belle de Jour.  I don't have access to confidential, sensitive or exciting material like Nightjack or Random Acts of Reality.  I'm not political - except perhaps in the domestic sphere and I don't think even that is conveyed here.  I don't write about colleagues and workplace confidences like Petite Anglaise or Dooce (implying no judgement on the rights or wrongs of their cases!).

And (b) what there is here is stuff about the kids.  Who are too young to have a vote about whether they want their embarrassing moments held up for public scrutiny or enjoyment. 

That, in a nutshell, is why I continue to hide behind a pseudonym.  I don't care if you know who I am - the terms of engagement are clear.  If I know you, I may write about you.  You may not like my perspective on the interractions between us.  You can ask me not to do it, and I will respect that.  And if you know who I am, you probably know who my children are - I may well tell you the stories I write about here on the phone, or in general conversation.  And that's a different thing.  But those people who stumble upon this place and spend an hour or two poking through the archives - and there are a small handful - they're very welcome, but they don't need to know exactly who I'm talking about. 

When the children are a bit older, they can choose to tell their friends or not tell their friends that their mother hideously exposed all their childhood misbehaviours and misbeliefs for the world to see (or ignore).  They can share or not, as they see fit.

In the meantime, me and George Elliot.  We have our reasons.  I'll stick with the name.

Comments

[Trepid Explorer]

I actually don't believe I could live without Trep. And since TSK entered my life as TSK, our pseudonyms are here to stay.