i have a "dumbphone"

entering my 31st year with a phone that i might be smarter than

look at the ruggedness and the industry, the capability!

I was born in 1992. I was nine or ten or eleven when my parents got dial-up internet (listen to that tone, tho).

My parents gave me a Nokia brick phone, which I used mainly for emergencies, and on which I did run up a huge texting bill. (I really miss that phone.) Nokia still makes them, but not with their renowned durability. Now, they’re like $40, and you’re lucky if they last a few years.

Man do I miss this baby.

I was twelve when I discovered internet forums, which was both a gift and a treacherous, treacherous place for a smart, precocious preteen. (Knowing I was on a trip to New York City with my 8th grade theatre class, a “boy”–probably, a grown man–from the forum asked me, unironically, if I’d like to “meet him” at Ground Zero. I thank God that I knew this was insane, and I said no, I was busy, but I did not tell anyone that this happened until a few months later, when I finally admitted the embarrassing and harrowing experience to my parents.)

I was fifteen or sixteen when I joined Facebook. I only joined because four of my friends were graduating, and I wanted to stay in touch. (Spoiler alert: other than one of them bonding with me over bisexuality and mental illness, and then losing touch, we did not stay in touch. If I’m being honest, I didn’t even like one of them.) I joined Instagram in, perhaps, 2013 or 2014. I didn’t really ever like it. It seemed to inspire my self-hatred the way little else can on the internet. But everyone else was on it, and FOMO predates the acronym.

navigating the 2010s

I have a specific memory from my first semester of college when I was wandering the city I lived in (and live in, now). I knew I was close to a bookstore but not sure how to get there. I didn’t have a smartphone. I didn’t see a stranger I could ask. I called a good friend, Michael, said hello, and asked if he was near a computer. He was, so I asked him to tell me which street to turn on to get there. It was silly, and we both laughed, and I got to the bookstore.

At some point in my second or third year of college, I got an iPhone. I had wanted one badly. I used it, but not that much. I already had an unhealthy relationship with being online, but it was mostly being glued to my laptop.

Sometime between 2013 and 2023, things definitely got worse. I work a day job at a computer. I would often get offline from work, then be on my personal computer, and sometimes be on my phone after, or during, whatever I was doing on my computer. I bet this sounds familiar, unfortunately.

deathbed thoughts

I have a recurring grounding thought - it’s not a dream, nor a memory, but it’s like a visualization I invoke. I imagine myself on my literal deathbed and someone says, “You spent 100 days and 10 hours on Instagram. You spent 28 days of time on Reddit.” I don’t use this to flagellate myself, most of the time. I use it as a way of thinking, “Am I fine with that?” I don’t think all my time has to be used productively - that’s something I am actively fighting against - but I do want to feel like I lived my life.

In 2020, I ended up in Texas, with my parents, for three months. I had flown down during a lull in COVID-19 cases (masking, testing constantly, social distancing, and masking around my parents for a few days). While I was there, cases began to spike again, and I was afraid of flying back to New York City, where I lived. So I stayed, long-distanced from my partner during a global crisis, on the tail of an upcoming US Presidential election.

I ended up still being in Texas during the November 2020 election cycle, and, thank god for my thinking, I disabled my social media accounts. At the time, I was taking CBD gummies in order to fall asleep, and I was afraid of having a complete mental collapse (which, weren’t we all? It was the pandemic in the United States.). On top of election anxiety and pandemic insomnia, my anxiety raged on with personal events like my mom’s then-ongoing cancer treatment and an urgent surgery my dad needed while hospitals were shutting down across Texas. I stayed off social media until probably March of 2021. This break helped, but it didn’t last. When I got back on, my old habits of use returned.

In 2021, I deleted Twitter permanently. The social media that I have the hardest time leaving, and the one I hate the most, is Instagram. I’m a part of a few groups that meet locally and only publicize via Instagram. I actually contacted them this week to see if there’s another way to stay in the loop, because I’d like to get rid of my account. I never got TikTok and never will because I don’t want to let that shit in my head. I don’t trust myself and my already-stressed out neural pathways.

I give you this technological history because, up until recently, I’d sometimes notice the way my brain felt flitting between screens and devices. It was a tiredness in an over-stimulated way, the feeling of a tight jaw from too many shots of espresso. A feeling that my brain was slowly annihilated by LCD screens, dripping out of my ears like melted ice cream.

i’m not addicted, right?

A few times a year for at least the last five years, I would think back to myself as a child. I was an only child in a healthy, middle class family, which I mention because I had a good amount of free time. I read 20 books every summer for most of my childhood. (Now, if I’m lucky, I read about 40 books a year.) “I remember feeling not this way,” I’d think. “I remember feeling differently. My attention and my internet use wasn’t always like this.”

I’d think about my excuses for having social media or keeping my smartphone–Banking apps! Video chat! Facebook Marketplace! Buy Nothing groups! Things I use so rarely but do use. Family that I hardly correspond with but who use Messenger! –“Is this like how addicts make excuses?” I’d think. “Probably.” I always had some idea of why I couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t get rid of my smartphone.

About four months ago, my then-smartphone broke. (It was a Google Pixel 6.) It just shut off, suddenly, and it would not turn back on. Of course, the warranty had just expired. I had it for, maybe, a year and a half.

I had a back-up phone—an iPhone that belonged to my mom, Helena, an incredible visual artist who died in December 2022 from pancreatic cancer. I had factory reset it a few months prior to this. I started using that, along with an Apple Watch we’d gotten her for emergencies that she never wore. It felt comforting to use her phone, in some ways. But it would also make me viscerally aware of things that going through the death of a parent does. I would think about my own death. I would think about the deathbed visualization.

I was thinking about this as I got closer to turning 31, late this summer. It had been a secret, silent wish of mine that my mom live to see me turn 30, and she did. We’d spent that birthday together, and my dad’s birthday after that.

So the thought would come again.

“What am I doing with my time?”

we’re all dying, if you think about it, which, if you’re me, you do

In mid-August, I went on one of my favorite websites, BackMarket, (not sponsored at all, but I did almost work for them! the people there were lovely in the interviews) which sells refurbished electronics. I saw that I could get about $400 USD for my iPhone. I thought about how that is a plane ticket. How I want to visit all the United States national parks. How if I spend two hours a day on my phone, that adds up to basically one month a year on my phone. I sold the iPhone and the Apple Watch and my AirPods, too.

I did some research online for a “dumbphone”. (There’s a subreddit, if you’re wondering.) There’s a whole bunch of nuance, like which cell carriers support which bands of cellular service, and which bands work on which phones–especially these phones, because they’re pretty niche. They’re targeted toward the elders of our society, people with pornography addictions or who want to protect their kids from the internet, or middle-to-upperclass “digital minimalists”. (There’s also a whole YouTube niche of content about these devices, curated and performed almost exclusively by white cis men who care about Deep Work and productivity. I’m making fun, but I care a little, too.)

An article on the company Techless’s website, who manufacture the Wisephone.

Phones that can do some “smart” things (a lot of people really won’t give up Spotify) are technically not “dumb” but “feature phones.” (This is also what the phone industry calls them.) For our purposes, they get lumped into the same category as dumbphones.

I boiled my wants in a phone down to three things: a camera, ideally; audio via my library app, audiobook files, and podcasts; and a navigation system that could work on public transit. (This last one proves wildly difficult.)

There are a variety of premium, luxury “dumbphones” that try to boil down some of these experiences. You can spend between $300-600 on these. Initially, I settled on a phone made by Caterpillar (the construction machinery company), a CAT S22, that I found for $60 on eBay. (I learned in September that CAT will stop producing this phone, but you can still use it in spite of this, and it’s totally functional.)

I say I “initially” used this phone because the touch screen broke about three days into a roadtrip. I’ll come back to that.

The phone with tools. And with ropes. Photos from the CAT S22 promotional webpage.

It looks like a rugged flip phone but, hilariously, it has a touch screen. It has a full keyboard like a phone from 1998 but I still struggle to use T9 typing on it and settle for voice-to-text most of the time or writing with my small thumbs on the touchscreen.

On August 29, a day before my birthday, I took my SIM card out of my iPhone and I popped it into the CAT S22.

giving up conveniences

One of the things that I think holds people back, and held me back, from a switch like this is the idea of inconvenience. “What about…” almost anything our modern society has accustomed us to?

We’re so used to conveniences. Need to check your email, call an Uber, and then order delivery? You can all do it from your phone. Want to buy, like, literally anything at all? One-click shipping or buy now, pay later.

Hell, listen to a podcast while reserving a table at a restaurant while also Facetiming your mom. But I bet you’re not really listening to your mom, even when you reassure her that you are. ;-)

There are valid reasons to need a smartphone. There are people who may not have a laptop rely on them, people who are mandated to have one for work, or most of the people who take gig-based jobs in the service industry—I am in no way trying to make light of the ways our society is increasingly acting like everyone must have this technology.

But if you’re anything like me, who does not have a societal or professional need for a phone like that, then I was out of valid excuses. (If I did, I’d get a second work phone line.) I was willing to give up the conveniences of having everything at my fingertips all the time to instead have fewer things and more mental presence.

actually dealing with what my phone can’t do

Did I have interactions where people freaked out when they saw my phone? A few, though they were all positive reactions. I somehow missed some texts and a friend joked that “timing in Shakespeare plays doesn’t make sense in modern life, unless you have Amy’s phone”. (Good one, David.)

Here were the changes I had to adapt to to really make having a “dumbphone” doable for me:

• I got a dedicated mp3 player that can remember where you are in a track in order to listen to audiobooks

• I dug through my “technology box” and found my old Kodak EasyShare C143 digital camera, and I took it with me on days I wanted to take better pictures

• I found out Uber had a phone number you could call (at least between 4 a.m. and 10 p.m. in the US) to call a car and I saved it

• I started doing mobile banking on my computer

• I already carried a planner, but I now use it to write down addresses and put in post-it notes with directional tips if I’m going somewhere new/unfamiliar

• I started using “voice-to-text” a lot more

I also tried to encourage friends who I text with heavily to call me, when I could.

not my first rodeo but staying on the horse

So, switching “permanently” to a non-smartphone took me some time. Last year, I bought a used Light Phone II off of eBay and used it for a few months in conjunction with my now-deceased Google Pixel, switching between them.

Light Phone II, from their website.

That didn’t fix my problem, even though I’d categorize my addiction as fairly mild. I found it so easy to either use my smartphone without the SIM card on WiFi, or tell myself, “I’ll pop in the SIM card for a minute and then switch back,” only to find myself on Instagram thirty minutes later.

While I feel like I used my social media less than the norm, I still found myself struggling with impulse control. And I think that’s in part because… smart phones are designed to be addictive. The colors on the screen, the fun notification sounds, the haptic vibrations. . . it’s all been built, using thousands of hours of millions of users’ data (that we freely give away) to help us help companies (primarily Google and Meta, now) drug us into using our phones even when many people desire lessened screen time. (58% of people, according to Gallup.)

Recently, scientists in Canada did the widest-ever study on smartphone use. One of their findings?

According to New Atlas, “Zooming in on the 41 countries with the most collected data (over 100 participants), the study consistently found younger women were the demographic with the highest risk of problematic smartphone use.”

Now, this wasn’t true everywhere. This study also isn’t perfect. But a huge irony, to me, is a quote from one of the lead researchers, Jay Olsen. (Emphasis below is mine.)

He said, “It may not make sense to say the average female student in Canada is clinically addicted to her phone […] this excessive smartphone use is more normal now.”

Like, is this just a nicer way to say, “We’re all addicted, I give up”?

In another study, behavioral economist Lena Song worked with 2,000 volunteers about their phone use and its link to addiction, and people were willing to pay money to have their phone’s functions limited.

I was like, “Yeah, me too!” All of these factors made me finally commit to not just using a dumbphone as a secondary device—some people call using a dumbphone to supplement a smartphone a “weekend phone.”

For myself, switching between them gave me too much leeway to just not use my dumbphone, and switching between the two constantly was also a pain in the butt.

Last year, using a Light Phone II didn’t stick. I eventually sold it. But when my CAT S22 broke, upon returning from the trip, I bought a used Light Phone II off of Reddit (there’s a subreddit for that, too). It’s now my full-time phone. (I do have a backup CAT S22, but given how quickly it stopped working, I’m keeping it as a for-emergency phone only.)

I do have to give some credit to the Light Phone company. While it’s expensive, it gets regular, consistent updates, listens to feedback from users, and continues to improve.

Since I’d used a Light Phone months ago, the phone now has emojis, can share contact cards like smartphones can, and has other beneficial navigation improvements. (It’s also the only “luxury” style dumbphone I’ve found that can give you public transit directions, which is wild.)

Literally, as I was writing this, I got an update that the company now offers screen repairs.

A screenshot from an email I received from The Light Company about their new screen repair program the same day I wrote this.

That long-term thinking and listening to users? That’s not true of most $40 dumbphones made by huge companies because, well, they’re not making enough money off of those phones to care about long-term functionality, by contrast.

On top of this, what is the financial and ecological cost of constantly upgrading (usually, fully functional devices) that almost everyone I know does? It’s not great. Five billion phones were thrown away in 2022, according to the BBC.

An insight report from Deloitte stated, “A brand-new smartphone generates an average of 85 kilograms in emissions in its first year of use. Ninety-five percent of this comes from manufacturing processes, including the extraction of raw materials and shipping.”

I just didn’t want to deal with this, especially after having a perfectly functional, new phone break in its very first year. Were I ever to use a smartphone again, I’d only ever buy a used, older model from now on. I’m over planned obsolescence, thanks.

am i a centered, uppity chill bitch now? no, no, and no.

Obviously, this kind of switch is a long-term one, and my lizard brain is catching up to me. I still find myself using my computer more than I want to—but I know that, so I’m working on it. Do I miss Duolingo and is my streak dead? Yes. (I have an old iPad I put Duolingo on but it’s just not the same.) Did I like my old Apple Watch and how I could control audio volume on it while also picking a podcast? You bet. I’m not any more immune to the sexy appeal of sleek, dopamine-boosting shiny shit. I just have a masochistic interest in denying myself and trying a different way of doing things.

Negotiating a change like this, in some ways, does feel at odds with how society functions. People tend to expect you to have a smartphone. (So far, all the concerts I’ve gone to expect you to have a virtual ticket, which I find obnoxious. One of these days, I’m going to call and see what accommodations are available.)

At the same time, no stranger on the street has batted an eye at my phone. I’m getting around fine. I’ve gone to places I’ve never been to before, and I get there, using my Light Phone II’s transit and walking directions.

I find myself more mentally grounded, without that “brain leaking out of my ears” feeling I detest. I can still listen to my favorite podcasts, use my bluetooth headphones, and group text my friends (except for you, David, for technology reasons I do not understand).

The fact that this feels so at odds is exactly why I wanted to do it. I don’t judge anyone for their smartphone usage, but I don’t want to normalize my own addictive behavior, especially when I remember a life before it was constantly enabled and literally designed by devices (that are also monitoring my usage and selling/mining my data in most of my apps).

I’m looking forward to focusing on my hobbies. I’ve been doing one screen-free day a week where I don’t use my computer, either, and that’s been really nice. I’m trying to reconnect to the world around me, to nature, to people like you. (Seriously, I’m not just being twee.) I’m curious to re-meet myself, in the place I was in 2013, and see who I am now, then.

Wish me luck.