A few weeks ago, I wrote about the slew of parties and bad decisions that came about in response to Hurricane Hermine. Sure, some people stocked up on bottled water and bread in anticipation of the Category-1 storm, but the majority of us celebrated our day off with some choice beverages and friends. After all, it had been a while since the last hurricane made landfall in Florida and eons since one had caused any long-lasting damage. With Hurricane Matthew, all of that changed.
I’ve lived in Florida all 21 years of my life and lived through my fair share of hurricanes. They’ve always been more synonymous with “an excuse to sit at home reading by candlelight” than “natural disaster” in my mind, but this storm marked the first time I was genuinely terrified of the consequences. Despite my rational knowledge that Gainesville would remain largely unscathed by Hurricane Matthew, The Weather Channel, mainstream media and seemingly all of my Facebook friends were determined to convince me otherwise.
I have never seen that level of hurricane-induced panic in my life. At first I thought that perhaps this was what my parents had always felt in the days leading up to a storm, while I, in my naïveté, worried only about what book I would read when the power inevitably went out. Were they bombarded by channel after channel of newscasters calmly informing them that the storm could kill them and their children? I have yet to determine whether the media coverage on this storm was part of a larger pattern, but I remain confident that something about Hurricane Matthew was different.
Whether it was news anchor Shep Smith enthusiastically explaining, “This moves 20 miles to the west, and you and everyone you know are dead — all of you — because you can’t survive it… And your kids die, too” or Gov. Rick Scott pleading for coastal Floridians to evacuate because “This storm will kill you” last week was a cavalcade of voices insisting on Hurricane Matthew’s lethality. While I understand these were necessary precautions to prevent a Katrina-level disaster, social media quickly took these warnings to a new level of fearmongering.
A picture circulated on Facebook claiming to compare the size of Hurricane Matthew to Hurricane Katrina side by side, and it was quickly revealed to be simply two pictures of the same storm. The comparison continued to appear as people took to the internet to vent their anxiety and frustration. For those few days, I couldn’t seem to escape the hysteria as field reporters, media personalities and well-meaning friends insisted that I should be panicking. So naturally, I did.
In retrospect, I suppose it is better to be drastically over-prepared for a natural disaster than the opposite. I could breathe a sigh of relief when I woke up with my apartment still standing and received the call that my parents were safe, too. But I still can’t shake the feeling that a portion of the hype surrounding Hurricane Matthew was fueled by its status as a newsworthy topic and guaranteed click. I hope I’m wrong. I really do.
However, nothing was worse than the insensitive post-storm whines of, “Ugh how lame, I wish the storm had been stronger.” Sure, it’s annoying to “unnecessarily” go through the motions of hurricane preparation, but to actively wish for a more devastating storm is to shrug off the lives lost in Hurricane Matthew’s wake. This is Florida, and hurricane prep is just something you do and hope you never need.
All in all, our response to this storm was a discomfiting example of how easily panic can spread online. The line separating genuine concern from fearmongering can be difficult to see, yet it is increasingly important for us to consider before we use social media for emotional catharsis.
Marisa Papenfuss is a UF English senior. Her column appears on Tuesdays.
