Every house has a Mensah in it (even online)

I’m currently thirty-something feet in the air, looking out of this tiny window, and my mind won’t stop circling around this idea: social media might just be the ultimate leveler.

This reflection comes from a recent interaction that stuck with me, and I can’t shake it off. Two decades ago, if you wanted to connect with someone new — whether you were hoping for friendship, advice, or just indulging in a little fangirl moment — you had to muster the courage to walk up to them. That courage wasn’t easy. You felt the heat in your face, your heart racing, your voice catching. Every move was calculated: Do I look silly? Will they dismiss me? What if I stumble over my words? Back then, connection required vulnerability in real time.

Fast forward to today, and things feel so different. Now you can slide into someone’s DMs, type what you want to say, and hit send without ever having to face their expression. No shaky voice. No sweaty palms. Just a message, floating into their inbox. There’s a strange safety in that distance, and honestly, it does make engagement easier. It’s like training wheels for confidence — you start to believe that you can talk to anyone.

But here’s the flip side that I can’t stop turning over in my head: that same access sometimes comes with a kind of audacity that doesn’t belong to real-life interactions. People will write things in a DM that they would never have the courage (or maybe the lack of tact) to say to your face. The anonymity of distance erases hesitation. That’s where the lines blur. Access empowers, but it also erodes boundaries. And I find that both fascinating and unsettling. I catch myself thinking about all the people I might never have crossed paths with if not for socials. People on different continents. People who grew up in worlds completely unlike mine. People who, by all logic, should have been out of reach. Yet now, a simple “Hi” in a message can spark a conversation, an opportunity, even a friendship. It’s thrilling, and sometimes it still feels a little unreal. But I also wrestle with the other side. There are moments when I open my messages and think, There is no way on God’s green earth this person would walk up to me in real life and say this to my face. That can be jarring. And it makes me question: does this kind of access cheapen human interaction, or does it just redefine it?

For me, this is personal. Before my thirties, I lived behind walls. Everything social was private — my little bubble where I felt safe and in control. (Well, except for Twitter, because let’s be honest, Twitter always finds a way in.) I wasn’t open to strangers, and even reconnecting with old acquaintances felt like work. But therapy shifted that for me. I realized I was holding myself back more than I was protecting myself. So, little by little, I opened the doors. I made my socials accessible, told myself to breathe, and said, let’s see what happens.

Do I regret it sometimes? Yes. There are days when the oversharing culture or the noise of opinions feels suffocating (like this article). But there are also days when a message from an old friend (because of an article like this), or even a stranger with something kind to say, reminds me why this shift was necessary. I’ve learned to embrace the idea that “in every house, there’s a Mensah.” People are everywhere and we are all very different. Connection is also everywhere. And you don’t lose anything by acknowledging that.

So where does that leave me? Somewhere in the middle. I can hold space for both truths — that access is beautiful and expansive, and that access can also be messy and invasive. I’ve chosen to lean into the positives, while accepting that the negatives are part of the package. Because, really, this is the world we live in now. The doors are wide open. And how we walk through them — with grace, with audacity, or with curiosity — is entirely up to us.