Why I'm Breaking Up with Twitter and Other Things (In a Panoramic Newsletter #1)
All the updates you've ever wanted
I’m famously bad at keeping promises.
Promises include and are not limited to:
Appointments (including medical ones)
Reading a book or listening to an album, but often reading a book recommended by one of my friends
Praying more often
Oiling my nails after I get a new gel set
Taking my medication on time
And finally, writing reviews, ideas, blogs, comments, feedback, and other such things that I said I would time and time again.
I’m not bad at promises because I lack the moral, or perhaps ironically, a somewhat Catholic seeming guilt complex, despite my being raised Muslim in a country where everyone else was indeed also Muslim. It’s because, my dear reader, I have ADHD, an overly subscribed speciality that I can only describe as my brain’s slow deliquesce into an eventual bloodied mush once I hit 50 (inshallah). I’m impulsive—as seen by my purchasing of a typewriter at 22 that I never use and now sits in my living room as hispterish decor—and very forgetful. Perhaps the worst combination of traits, considering I make rash decisions and promises, and immediately forget them 10 minutes later because I’m thinking of the subsequent rash decision alongside a looping thought pattern that’ll consume me for the next three days. But why am I telling you something you may have already guessed by my infrequent posting on this blog despite my pleas that I will 100% definitely have something about something written by some day at some point in time posted by an eventual release date? Because I’ve taken the brave (wayyy too late) and smart (debatable by my career metrics) choice to delete my Twitter account on the eve of my 27th birthday (which is next Saturday).
My deleting of Twitter—much like an essay I’ve been working on about good political choices versus making the same choice for selfish reasons—comes not from the pleading of everyone to abandon an app filled to the brim with terrible people. It’s because Twitter has been making me mentally ill for years, which might seem unfair. After all, nothing makes you mentally ill; I have to thank my genetic makeup for that one. But what Twitter has done since the day I downloaded it in late 2012, during a mind-boggling bout of boredom on a school holiday, is exacerbate any underlying issues already contained within me. The app merely served as a pretence to allow me access to my full potential, which was validating my bottomless need to make people like me, something I’m admitting with shame and a slight tenderness towards my teenage self.
On Twitter, I found that my “astute” observations about cultural moments or politics weren't ignored because of my wallflower-like tendencies. I was cool, and the one thing I have always wanted to be since childhood was cool. Mind you, my side of Twitter was frankly uncool—I was a stan of various pop acts, Kpop groups, superhero comics, movies, and shows, and I even had several matching Star Wars-themed PFPs (profile pictures) and headers sourced from Tumblr. But in the veneer of uncoolness, I found myself. Even if I was overlooked in real life, here was this place that didn’t judge me in the way I felt so many of my peers did.
You may be wondering: if it helped with your sense of self, what’s with all the ‘Twitter made me sad’ rhetoric? For the sake of time and my new found boundaries with personal essays to avoid what my friend Laura refers to as ‘vulnerability hangovers’, I’ll skip over the gorier details of adolensence and cement us into my late teens and early 20s where I stopped using Twitter for fun, and started using it for work (writing infrequently, my infamous Where Hands Touch Thread, hot takes on film and TV). In many ways, the app was the same, veering between argumentative and collective like a broken happy family, but I had changed. Sometime around my 20th birthday, I awoke with a boulder-sized weight on my chest. Coinciding with my start of university, my anxiety became an unbearable force to reckon with, both in person and online. And what was once an escape from the reality of my life began crushing me with the knowledge that xx, xxx amount of people were watching me at any given time. Again, a reality laden with irony, considering I kept at it, remaking my account if I were ever suspended, pleading with its customer help desk to get it back when I couldn’t access my log-in, and promoting it as the reason my voice should be listened to. “She’s got xx, xxx followers on Twitter” quickly became my justification for keeping ties with something that made me feel queasy, to say the least, and downright insane at worst. It seems silly to be so annoyed and frustrated about something that benefits my work. Kicking a gift horse in the mouth or ruining your brand, pick your poison.
In an age where the line between influencing and writing has become blurred—influencers who become writers through their platforms and writers who are almost always forced to become influencers to keep writing—there seems to be no exit sign in sight. You either stay on the hamster wheel or you get off and risk being forgotten about—something I have always feared and dared not tempt. But like I mentioned earlier, I’m turning 27 next Saturday, not a remarkable age by any stretch of the imagination. It’s not 25 and it’s not 30. It’s a middling passage way between the two, adult adolescence on the precipice of full-on adulthood. With said adulthood looming over me like a night terror, but not the enjoyable kind that gives you ideas for a successful Blumhouse script, I thought long and hard about why I had held on to having a Twitter account for almost thirteen years. It really wasn’t for my career, as I’ve successfully shifted to other, equally detestable but much more tolerable, apps alongside working with cultural institutions such as the BFI and my monthly film column for A Rabbit’s Foot. It wasn’t for my friends; I’ve made plenty from the app, and I know them IRL or have remained good internet friends with them. And it certainly wasn’t for gossip, considering that I’ve got Reddit and a full personal life for that. I kept my Twitter because, as it turns out, I was afraid to let go of my past. To say goodbye to that scared fourteen-year-old, and to let her know that she doesn’t have to bury her head in the digital sand because she’s too weird for other people. I can’t keep living for her. I have to live for me—almost 27-year-old Haaniyah—because I think she deserves a fair shot as well.
Anywho, with that brief explanation as to why you will see less of my thoughts thrown at you in an untoward manner, I’ll explain how I plan to turn those thoughts into a monthly newsletter. It’ll be a round-up of things I’ve been watching (TV and Film), listening to (Music and Podcasts), reading (books, articles, academia) and what I’ve been writing (as I realise I rarely update you guys with my work).
This newsletter isn’t paywalled because I don’t believe I’m writing anything special enough to force your readership under duress. If you donate to my Substack, I want it to be of your own volition. We’re in a recession here, people! What good is it to commodify myself when it’s meant to be fun?
With the housekeeping out of the way, we can get started on my picks from October; anything from earlier in the year will be in my end-of-year round-up.
What I’ve Been Watching (TV):
Gilmore Girls (2000-2006)
This might be the wrong show to start this list off on because I don’t want any of you to think of me differently. I’m not sure I was meant to dislike this show as much as I did. It feels like blasphemy when we’re in the middle of Autumn, but I have to be honest and to ease the pain, I’ll start with my pros!
Pros:
The snappy, screwball-comedy-like dialogue, when people speak as fast as I do, makes me feel less ashamed about listening to my podcasts at 1.5x.
The gorgeous set design. I love when TV shows feel lived in. The attention to detail in Stars Hollow is probably why I’ve seen hundreds of Tumblr gifs dedicated to the show’s aesthetics in my time as a teenager on Tumblr. Not to mention, the yearly ‘I’m an Autumn’ soundbite that goes viral on TikTok every year.
The costuming is divine, especially with Sookie. It’s rare to find fat women in early 00s TV as well costumed as she was. Melissa McCarthy, if you ever do an estate sale, please let me know. I have a couple of pieces in mind.
The soundtrack, I’ve been listening to Gilmore Girls playlists for weeks, which has put me in a very alternative rock ‘90s mood this October.
Now the cons….
I found everyone a bit unbearable. Lorelai is emotionally stunted, for understandable reasons, but never really grows out of it, so by the time we get to season seven, the show has left her where she started in season one. Part of that stuntedness leads to my second issue.
Lorelai both coddles and parentifies Rory, which creates an interesting dynamic if the writers ever thought to explore it. The season in which Rory leaves Yale was an incredible chance to do just that, where Rory is allowed to finally take a step back and think about what she wants without being pigeonholed as her mother’s perfect daughter (despite her claims not to be anything like Emily). Still, it stops short of blaming Emily and Richard, and refuses to delve into how Lorelai relies on her daughter’s smarts to coast through easy parenting. My issue isn’t that the characters are flawed, but that the writers who create those flaws want nothing to do with playing around with them or seeing how they can lead to fulfilling arcs.
I hate nearly all of the men on the show, I’m sorry. Dean is possessive and weird, Jess is possessive and weird, Logan is possessive and weird and rich. Jackson starts incredibly sweet and veers into an odd mansopheric shell of himself that would do quite well on today’s internet landscape if he decided to become one of those homesteading channels. Luke skirts by on a minor technicality because of his care towards April and Rory, but he’s on thin ice.
But hey! It sure is pretty to look at.
Gen V (2023-Present)
Not better than the last season, but also not bad? I’m a bit ‘The Boys’d out, the gross-out humour has hit a wall, the satire is indistinguishable from the reality of today, making me wonder why I’m forcing myself to watch two versions of these same migraine-inducing fascist regimes (I guess one doesn’t have lasers yet), and it’s just become a bit boring which might be its biggest crime in all honesty.
Slow Horses (2022-Present)
Also, not better than the last season, but in this case, I thoroughly enjoyed myself with weekly filler episodes whilst getting ready for the day. Slow Horses is my version of watching a middling ITV crime drama, except with an Apple TV budget that lets them shoot 2 seasons in one go. I’m not lying to myself and pretending it’s the best TV in the world, but for that hour and a bit when it’s on my screen, I am locked all the way in. I missed Luicia this season, but River trying to kiss her mid-emotional breakthrough, leading to a low-contact situation, is so understandable and a great way to explain away the departure of Rosalind Eleazar, who is set to come back at some point in a future season. If you enjoy bumbling fools attempting to prove their worth in a system set to turn every single one of its recruits into machine cogs, then this might be the show for you.
What I’ve Been Watching (Film):
Mastermind (2025)
I saw a few films at LFF, for which you can read my individual reviews below. Hamnet was the only one I didn’t write about, and that’s because I cried so much I got a migraine right after, so I’m due for a rewatch since I remember almost none of it. Instead, here’s a film I wanted to see at LFF but missed: Kelly Reichardt’s Mastermind (2025).
In Mastermind, James Blaine “J.B.” (Josh O’Connor), an unemployed carpenter, finds himself on the run after stealing artwork from his local museum. Set against the backdrop of the Vietnam War and Nixon’s America, Reichardt is commenting on the extremes of the mundane of home versus the inhumane elsewhere, and the lengths one goes to ignore what is happening around them.
Despite his pleas that his hiest was for the good of his family, J.B.’s actions are more selfish than he admits. He attempts to recoup the loss of an artistic career gone by the wayside, and whilst he fights his own deluded revolution, people protest a very real war right outside. Towards the end of the film, J.B., left with no money, no family, and no friends, sits in a cafe thinking over his next move to get a bus ticket out of America and towards his Canadian freedom—robbing an old lady should be easy enough. Except that after robbing said old lady and conveniently ignoring the protest outside the cafe, J.B. uses it for a cover of his crime, only to end up in the same police van as the protesters. I’m not sure how on par these allegories are, or whether the political implications are as one-to-one as I’m reading them, or as Reichardt hopes they are. I was reminded that during her acceptance speech at the 2024 Indie Spirit Awards, she commented (albeit after being drowned out on stage) on the absurdity of the celebrity class celebrating indoors while protesters were outside for Gaza. I wonder if this has anything to do with the themes in Mastermind alongside the current political unrest in the United States. If anything, the film, much like its politics, is a slight tepid for my own tastes, and the clash of tone from start to finish makes it an uneven watch.
In my Letterboxd review, I said something to the extent that I had nothing to say because it wasn’t for me, which is still somewhat true. I can’t say the film is for me, I don’t think I’ll revisit Mastermind, and quite honestly, I did doze off for a millisecond due to my local Odeon’s blistering heating system. However, Josh O’Connor should continue giving Elliot Gould, even if it means more middling films in his filmography.
What I’ve Been Listening To (Music & Podcasts):
For weekly updates on my music listening habits, I post them every Friday on IG, but for now, and to save time, because this is getting really long, here’s my favourite album of the month:
Manning Fireworks by MJ Lenderman
I’ve also been—and have for years—enjoying this month’s Eating For Free pod, especially their episode on the Saudi Comedy Festival.
What I’ve Been Reading:
The Goon Squad
Loneliness, porn’s next frontier, and the dream of endless masturbation
Honestly, go without any knowledge of the topic or preamble from me, but I will say I found this quote quite eye-opening:
Is there a timeline, a regulatory environment, in which the internet does not turn into a highly efficient manufacturer of niche suicide cults?
On a slightly similar note to the recommendation above.
Men Who Hate Women
The Extremism Nobody is Talking About
I kid you not, this book took me two months to read. That may sound like an indictment of its writing quality, but I promise it’s anything but. I kept putting down Men Who Hate Women because of how bleak it was. As referenced in my above breakup letter with Twitter, you’d think someone as online as I am would be aware of the depths of online misogyny, which is true, but for the sake of my sanity, I try to avoid it where I can. And if, like me, you realised, given the general state of things, that perhaps it’s time to lift the blinders, Bates puts it all on wax (or page) for us to lap in despite its unsavoury aftertaste. Meticulously researched and remarkably blunt, Men Who Hate Women is a book I implore you all to read.
But I would also love to hear from anyone who has read it and didn’t enjoy it as much as I did!
What I’ve Been Writing:
This has been a great month if I do say so myself. I’ve had the opportunity to be at LFF (before I was taken out by chronic fatigue) and watch all the films I wrote about.
“We need more Black love stories on screen – and Love, Brooklyn is a perfect example of why” - Stylist Magazine
After the Hunt, The Social Network and the thorny politics of the campus drama - A Rabbit’s Foot
In her latest column for A Rabbit’s Foot, Haaniyah Awale Angus considers the legacy of Aaron Sorkin’s Facebook drama, and why, despite moments of redemption, After the Hunt fails to live up to its premise.
Susan Wokoma on Her Short Film ‘Dark Skin Bruises Differently’
If you’ve made it this far, wow, thank you for reading. I promise next month’s will be half this long. I’m still playing with formatting, so I may include some comics I’ve read, galleries I’ve been to or even an anecdote or two if it’s funny enough to repeat on here.
I didn’t comment on this when it happened earlier in the year, but I’m so thankful for 5,000 subs. That’s a crazy number of people here just for my writing, and not searing hot takes. I don’t really use the social aspect of Substack because it is too Twitter-y, but I’ll always have my chat open if anyone has any review requests or ideas for topics they’d like me to cover.
I hope you all have a wonderful Halloween Weekend!
Deleting my twitter account is something I struggle with so bad because even though it's something that rots my brain now, i have a lot of memories in there. Whether they're worth remembering, that's a different story. Who knows maybe seeing someone else free themselves from that app may inspire me
really could read you all night long <3 please just let your mind go to whatever you want and write as much you wish, we’ll be standing here for you!!!!