It's your blog. Your social media. You get to choose the rules.

Early in my days of content creation, I totally didn't understand that I was in charge. My blog platform contained a comments feature that was turned on by default and I didn't even question it.

Nor did I need to, at first. I was posting every couple weeks and you wanna know how many comments I got?

Zero.

I was praying for comments. Someone, please, let me know you're out there.

It took a few months, but they came. Here's the first, from someone who is still a good friend, Stuart Henderson, regarding an early checklist for reports that I published.

Feels good, right? In fact, most of those early people have become dear to me. Most comments were sweet and supportive.

Until they weren't.

The first negative comment made my knees shake. Sweat immediately poured from my armpits. My face got hot, my brain felt dizzy, and I thought I was gonna puke.

That negative comment rolled around in my brain, obsessively, for at least three days.

I'd post it for you here but I think I deleted it. 😶 In fact, I'm pretty sure I deleted my entire post. Let's just act like that never happened.

But after another few months, it happened again. While I hyperventilated into a paper bag, even more replies posted, in which people started arguing with each other AND me. Big names in the data viz world tapped in to the fight:

I blurred out most of it because the actual content isn't relevant but LOOK AT THE LENGTH OF THE REPLY.

This forced to the surface a very valid question: Does posting also make you responsible for hosting a public debate about your ideas?

Is there an obligation to provide a platform for negativity? Even if they have a point? Even if they're trolls?

The default mode on blogs and social media posts has always been Comments On. You enter the arena, you better be open to the good, the bad, and the ugly. The entire Internet is a forum for open commentary. Put on your boxing gloves and get out there.

But... says who? I mean, who established those rules? Tech is disproportionately white and male.

Who populates those forums and engages in those debates? At least in my comments, it's mostly white men. And exclusively so when the comments go negative.

The model that brings them some sort of fulfillment doesn't work for me. I have better, bigger things to do with my time than moderate Stephen vs Andy vs Jon vs Jeff vs me.

So I turned off the comments. To be clear, first I wrestled with what this means for democratic thought and transparency and oh what will these people think of me. For a few days. Then I just went into Wordpress and clicked the button to turn off comments. It's remarkably easy.

Same deal on LinkedIn. You can just turn off the comments if you want.

It's your call. That's the important part here: It's your call. You get to decide how you'll put your thoughts out there in the world.