ScreenshotPack your bags, you’re headed on a guilt trip. Facebook has turned into advertising space for your “friends” who are in need of some extra cash. I’m looking at you, GoFundMe.
More and more of my Facebook friends are creating GoFundMe pages as a way to ask for monetary support for a costly, tragic event in their lives. So far, I’ve seen two sick pets and one divorce settlement, and so far people are contributing.
I understand that unforeseen circumstances can arise that eat away at your bank accounts. But I have so many problems with the premise of GoFundMe.
First, I don’t air my dirty laundry on social media. I used to until I realized negativity sucks and no one gives a shit.
Second, I hate asking people for favours because I dislike the feeling of owing someone. And asking for money is the most uncomfortable favour of all.
Third, and arguably the most controversial, I value independence. Sure, there are moments that require assistance, whether it’s in the form of money or not, but it’s all about asking the right people. Acceptable dependency comes in the form of best friends and family members. Not 480 people on your friends list that is made up of 390 people you went to school with in elementary, junior high, high school, or university; 25 people from all of your work experience ranging from Safeway to your current managerial position at Earls; 20 family members including your distant cousins who live in Taiwan; 15 people you met while drunk at a party; 12 people you met on S-Trip!; 10 of your closest friends and people you chat with regularly; five people who you don’t actually know and aren’t sure why they’re on your friends list; and three exes.
In some ways, I commend you for sharing your money struggles with these strangers on Facebook. It’s a rather personal issue that you’re making known to the interweb. It’s also strategic because the more people who see your page, regardless of how you know them or if you know them at all, the more donations you’ll probably receive. That’s the whole point, right?
But for people who aren’t your close friends and have stumbled across your page, it’s uncomfortable. I’m tempted to stop scrolling to read your story. Then I feel obligated to donate money after reading your story. And then I feel guilty for not donating money to help fund poor Fluffy’s surgery.
I can also foresee one major problem: false GoFundMe profiles.
I’m not accusing of poor Fluffy of being a Google image search result with a fake backstory, but I am saying that unfortunately in today’s society, this could be a possibility. Yes, I’m skeptical.
How do I know that this money will actually help African kids in need? How legitimate is the Brussels Terror Attack Victims Fund and who is collecting this money?
On the other hand, people could simply see how much they could get away with. There’s some unfortunate GoFundMe pages out there that have somehow actually received donations: “Help Jah get to Vegas” and “Help Ivory Get a Bottle of Henny.” There’s also some brutally honest and creative pages that have yet to receive money: “Tired of Being Broke,” “Why lie? I need money for tits,” “I need half for this abortion,” “Help me throw money at the strippers,” and “I need a car to bring you this dick.”
I guess you have nothing to lose except maybe some self respect. And you could gain a pretty penny: cha-ching.
I know I may hold an unpopular opinion on this topic, but I’d think twice before sharing your GoFundMe page with your Facebook “friends” because of the obligatory, uncomfortable feeling that overwhelms viewers. I’ve never met Fluffy, I might not even know you that well or remember you from elementary school. I’m not heartless, I do hope things work out with your cat, but I’m also not going to pull out my wallet and I don’t want to feel bad for not doing so.
