When Richard first explained this week’s assignment, my initial thought was, “I’m going to have to give up my phone, aren’t I…” I understand there are health benefits to stepping away from technology, but I can’t help but feel resistant to the idea. Digital detoxes are often framed as a way to become more productive, present, and disciplined, reflecting a broader cultural belief that one’s value is determined by one's productivity. Following this line of thinking, stepping away from technology becomes a moral improvement project. I often use my phone and laptop to decompress or stay connected with the people I love. Sometimes this looks like endlessly scrolling on Instagram or sending too many memes to my friends, which are activities often dismissed as a waste of time. But are these activities inherently negative, or are they simply neutral ground? Why must we justify our use of time and technology?
For my experiment, I did indeed “give up my phone,” but in a way that felt intentional and genuine to me. First, I constructed a box using leftover duct tape from 11-year-old me’s 2010’s crafting obsession and cardboard. I worried I would miss out on social connections while off my phone, so I included a social activity in my experiment to mimic my use of messaging platforms. This led to a library get-together with my friends on Saturday at 11 a.m., where they took photos and videos of my “exit” from technology. After I enclosed my phone in its silly penguin pattereed duct tape box, my friends and I spent 2 hours making duct tape flower pens, something we used to do in elementary and middle school, when our lives were less digitally involved. For one of my flower pens, I chose to use the same patterned duct tape that wrapped my phone. It felt like the penguins on the tape were playfully redirecting my attention to an alternative activity. Engaging in something tactile and creative not only made me feel focused, but also watching my two friends, who were meeting for the first time, recognize and validate each other’s experiences gave me a sense of warmth and vicarious joy. The moment felt special and fulfilling, and I was so glad I asked to get together with them for this experiment.
After leaving the library, I continued the experiment alone at home. This felt very different from the togetherness of our library get-together. At first, I didn’t notice my phone was missing, but after a while, I felt lonely and kept reaching for it, only to find an army of penguins blocking its use. I also discovered some logistical issues that go along with not using a smartphone in 2026. I couldn’t easily check in with others or confirm plans. I worried I would get logged out of Canvas and need my phone for two-step verification, and at night, I realized I wouldn’t be able to use my phone as an alarm, so I had to ask a family member to wake me up.
11 am Sunday morning, I experienced my final logistical issue: I emailed my friend a Zoom link, which she passed along to my other friend, since I didn’t have her email and couldn’t text her, and sat on zoom hoping they would show up. They did, and we reconnected on Zoom to release my phone from its penguin prison! Ending the experiment with my friends was a full-circle moment, reinforcing that breaks from technology don’t need to be productive and can instead serve as an alternative format for connection and creativity.
Goodbye phone :(
Marking the start of the experiment!
Enclosing my phone with duct tape
Meta moment: photographing my phone in its penguin prison, using my friend's phone
My finished pens, sealed phone, and the materials that shaped them
Bouquet!
And, finally, my digital return!
