Filtering by Tag: BOOKS

Data Baby Featured on NPR's The Sum of Our Data

November 24, 2024  /  Susannah Breslin

I was interviewed about my memoir, Data Baby: My Life in a Psychological Experiment, for NPR’s To the Best of Our Knowledge. The episode is “The Sum of Our Data,” and it includes interviews with The Right to Oblivion: Privacy and the Good Life author Lowry Pressly and The Afterlife of Data: What Happens to Your Information When You Die and Why You Should Care author Carl Öhman. You can listen to it here.

From the description:

“Every click on your computer, every swipe on your smartphone, leaves a data trail. Information about who you are, what you do, who you love, the state of your mind and body... so much data about you, expanding day by day in the digital clouds. The question is—do you care? Would owning your data, or having more digital privacy, make life better? And what happens to all that data when you die?”

About | My Book I Newsletter I X I Instagram I LinkedIn I Consulting I Email

tags / DATA BABY, MEMOIRS, BOOKS, INTERVIEWS, PRESS, PRIVACY

Data Baby the Movie, an AI-Generated Pitch

November 22, 2024  /  Susannah Breslin

Recently, I asked Meta AI to generate a pitch for a potential movie inspired by my memoir, Data Baby: My Life in a Psychological Experiment. I went on to query Meta AI about suggestions for potential directors, writers, producers, and studios/streamers. I thought AI did a pretty good job. Here’s how our conversation went:

First, I asked Meta AI to generate a pitch for Data Baby as a movie.

Here's a pitch for a movie based on Susannah Breslin's memoir Data Baby: My Life in a Psychological Experiment:

Title: Data Baby

Genre: Biographical Drama/Thriller

Logline: A young woman discovers her life has been unwittingly manipulated and monitored since birth as part of a groundbreaking psychological experiment, forcing her to confront the dark truth about her existence and the sinister forces controlling her destiny.

Synopsis:

Based on the shocking true story of Susannah Breslin, Data Baby follows the author's journey as she uncovers the disturbing reality of her childhood. Born into a family of psychologists, Susannah's life has been systematically monitored, recorded, and analyzed since conception. Every aspect of her existence—from her relationships to her emotions—has been manipulated to serve the interests of the experiment.

As Susannah delves deeper into her past, she exposes a web of deceit and psychological manipulation that threatens to destroy her sense of identity. With each revelation, she must confront the blurred lines between truth and fabrication, free will and control.

Themes:

— The ethics of psychological experimentation

— Identity and self-discovery

— Trauma, family secrets, and the consequences of manipulation

— The intersection of technology and human experience

Visuals:

— A mix of cinematic reenactments and archival footage

— Unsettling surveillance imagery and eerie atmospheric sound design

— Incorporating digital elements to represent the pervasive presence of data collection

Tone:

— Ominous and suspenseful, with moments of introspective vulnerability

— Thought-provoking and emotionally charged

Target Audience:

— Fans of psychological thrillers (e.g., The Truman Show, Shutter Island)

— Viewers interested in true stories and biographical dramas (e.g., The Social Network, Erin Brockovich)

— Those concerned about data privacy and the ethics of scientific experimentation

Key Cast:

— Susannah Breslin: A talented actress with a strong emotional range (e.g., Emma Stone, Saoirse Ronan)

— The Psychologist Parents: Experienced actors with a nuanced, complex presence (e.g., Javier Bardem, Tilda Swinton)

Marketing Strategy:

— Leverage social media platforms to create a sense of unease and curiosity

— Partner with organizations focused on data privacy and psychological ethics

— Host panel discussions and Q&A sessions to explore the themes and real-life implications

Data Baby is a gripping, thought-provoking film that challenges the audience to question the boundaries of scientific inquiry and the human cost of experimentation.

Second, I asked Meta AI to suggest potential directors.

Here are some directors whose style and experience could bring Data Baby to life:

Psychological Thriller Directors:

1. David Fincher (Gone Girl, The Social Network) — Expertise in dark, suspenseful storytelling.

2. Denis Villeneuve (Prisoners, Enemy) — Master of atmospheric tension and complex characters.

3. Ari Aster (Hereditary, Midsommar) — Skilled in crafting unsettling, thought-provoking narratives.

Indie/Art House Directors:

1. Darren Aronofsky (Black Swan, Requiem for a Dream) — Experience in exploring complex, psychological themes.

2. Charlie Kaufman (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Being John Malkovich) — Unique perspective on human relationships.

3. Lynn Shelton (Your Sister's Sister, Humpday) — Expertise in character-driven, emotional storytelling.

Female Directors:

1. Kathryn Bigelow (The Hurt Locker, Zero Dark Thirty) — Proven ability to handle complex, thought-provoking subjects.

2. Ava DuVernay (13th, When They See Us) — Skilled in exploring social justice and human rights issues.

3. Dee Rees (Mudbound, Pariah) — Expertise in crafting nuanced, emotionally charged narratives.

Emerging Directors:

1. Robert Eggers (The Lighthouse, The Witch) — Unique visual style and atmospheric tension.

2. Ana Lily Amirpour (A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night) — Bold, thought-provoking storytelling.

3. Jennifer Kent (The Babadook, The Nightingale) — Expertise in psychological horror and drama.

Ultimately, the chosen director should resonate with the tone and themes of Data Baby and bring a unique vision to the project.

Third, I asked Meta AI to suggest the three best potential directors.

Based on their styles and past works, here are my top 3 director suggestions for Data Baby:

1. Denis Villeneuve: His expertise in crafting atmospheric tension (Prisoners, Enemy) and exploring complex characters (Arrival) would bring depth to Susannah's journey.

2. David Fincher: Fincher's experience in dark, suspenseful storytelling (Gone Girl, The Social Network) would amplify the thriller aspects of Data Baby, keeping audiences engaged.

3. Darren Aronofsky: Aronofsky's exploration of complex psychological themes (Black Swan, Requiem for a Dream) would bring nuance to Susannah's struggle with her manipulated life.

These directors have:

— Proven track records in psychological thrillers and drama

— Experience in crafting complex characters and storylines

— Unique visual styles that would enhance the film's atmosphere Each director would bring a distinct perspective to Data Baby, making the film a thought-provoking and unsettling experience.

Fourth, I asked Meta AI to suggest potential screenwriters.

Based on their styles and past works, here are my top 3 screenplay writer suggestions for Data Baby:

1. Charlie Kaufman: Known for his unique, psychological storytelling (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Being John Malkovich), Kaufman would bring depth and complexity to Susannah's journey.

2. Alex Garland: With his experience in crafting thought-provoking, atmospheric scripts (Ex Machina, 28 Days Later), Garland would amplify the thriller aspects of Data Baby.

3. Gillian Flynn: As a master of dark, suspenseful storytelling (Gone Girl, Sharp Objects), Flynn would bring a nuanced understanding of complex characters and relationships to the screenplay.

These writers have:

— Proven track records in psychological thrillers and drama

— Experience in crafting complex characters and storylines

— Unique styles that would enhance the film's atmosphere

Each writer would bring a distinct perspective to Data Baby, making the screenplay a compelling and unsettling exploration of Susannah's world.

Fifth, I asked Meta AI to suggest potential cinematographers.

Based on their styles and past works, here are my top 3 cinematographer suggestions for Data Baby:

1. Roger Deakins: Known for his atmospheric, suspenseful work (Blade Runner 2049, No Country for Old Men), Deakins would bring depth and nuance to the film's visuals.

2. Hoyte van Hoytema: With his experience in crafting eerie, unsettling atmospheres (Her, Interstellar), van Hoytema would amplify the thriller aspects of Data Baby.

3. Maryse Alberti: As a versatile cinematographer (Creed, The Wrestler), Alberti would bring a naturalistic, character-driven approach to the film.

These cinematographers have:

— Proven track records in capturing atmospheric, suspenseful scenes

— Experience working with complex lighting and composition

— Unique visual styles that would enhance the film's tone

For Data Baby, a cinematographer with expertise in:

— Low-key lighting to create unease

— Composition to emphasize surveillance

— Color palette to reflect Susannah's emotional state

Would be ideal.

Sixth, I asked Meta AI to suggest potential executive producers.

Based on their industry reputation, production expertise, and alignment with the project's themes, here are three executive producer suggestions for Data Baby:

1. Jason Blum (Blumhouse Productions):

— Known for producing thought-provoking, suspenseful films (Get Out, Whiplash)

— Expertise in low-budget, high-return productions

— Aligns with Data Baby's thriller and social commentary elements

2. Cate Blanchett (Dirty Films):

— Acclaimed actress and producer (Carol, Blue Jasmine)

— Passionate advocate for women's rights and social justice

— Would bring a strong, female-driven perspective to the project

3. Jordan Horowitz (Warner Bros., Escape Artists):

— Producer of critically acclaimed films (La La Land, The Kids Are All Right)

— Experience with complex, character-driven stories

— Would help secure financing and distribution deals

These executive producers have:

— Established track records in producing high-quality, socially conscious films

— Industry connections to secure top talent and financing

— Passion for storytelling that aligns with Data Baby's themes

As executive producer, they would:

— Oversee budget and production logistics

— Collaborate with the director and writers

— Ensure the film's message and tone are preserved

Seventh, I asked Meta AI to suggest potential studios/streamers.

Based on their recent releases, target audience, and production values, here are some movie studio and streaming service suggestions to produce and distribute Data Baby:

Movie Studios:

1. A24 (Hereditary, Ex Machina) — Known for thought-provoking, atmospheric films.

2. Warner Bros. (Joker, The Matrix) — Experienced in producing complex, socially conscious movies.

3. Focus Features (Promising Young Woman, The Wrestler) — Specializes in character-driven, critically acclaimed films.

Streaming Services:

1. Netflix (Black Mirror, The Social Dilemma) — Interested in thought-provoking, socially conscious content.

2. Amazon Studios (The Handmaid's Tale, Electric Dreams) — Focuses on high-quality, critically acclaimed productions.

3. Hulu (The Act, Castle Rock) — Explores complex, suspenseful storytelling.

Independent Production Companies:

1. Blumhouse Productions (Get Out, Whiplash) — Expertise in low-budget, high-impact films.

2. Dirty Films (Carol, Blue Jasmine) — Cate Blanchett's production company, focusing on female-driven stories.

3. Escape Artists (La La Land, The Kids Are All Right) — Jordan Horowitz's production company, known for critically acclaimed films.

Considerations:

— Budget: $10-30 million (moderate budget for a thought-provoking thriller)

— Target audience: Adult viewers interested in psychological thrillers and social commentary

— Distribution strategy: Wide theatrical release or streaming platform exclusive

These studios and streaming services have:

— A track record of producing high-quality, thought-provoking films

— Experience with complex, suspenseful storytelling

— Interest in exploring social commentary and psychological themes

~

All in all, I was impressed by what Meta AI came up with for this project.

About | My Book I Newsletter I X I Instagram I LinkedIn I Consulting I Email

tags / MOVIES, DATA BABY, BOOKS, NONFICTION, MEMOIRS, JOURNALISM, PITCHES, AI, TECH

Cheever

October 16, 2024  /  Susannah Breslin

At a certain point in the last year or so I bought a copy of The Stories of John Cheever. I believe I purchased it at one of my favorite used bookstores: The Iliad. I’m a Cheever fan; “The Swimmer” is one of my favorite short stories. Since I’m wrapping up writing a short story, and because recently a post on Threads asking about the last longest books followers had read got me thinking about the longest books I’ve ever read, I decided to read the Cheever book between now and the end of the year. It’s nearly 700 pages long, and it contains in the neighborhood of 60 short stories. In any case, I’ll share my thoughts about the book with my Books I Read series when I’m finished with it. (Some of the longest books I’ve ever read are The Tunnel by William Gass at 652 pages and The Stand by Stephen King at 1,472 pages.) The story I’m finishing writing is currently titled “Supernova” and is looking to be around 5,000 words or so when it’s done.

About | My Book I Newsletter I X I Instagram I LinkedIn I Consulting I Email

tags / BOOKS, FICTION, SHORT STORIES, GOALS

Fuck You, Pay Me #16: An Excerpt From My Memoir

October 12, 2024  /  Susannah Breslin

This is part 16 of “Fuck You, Pay Me,” an ongoing series of posts on writing, editing, and publishing.

For this installment of “Fuck You, Pay Me,” I’m sharing an excerpt from my memoir, Data Baby: My Life in a Psychological Experiment. This is the beginning of the book, where I become a human lab rat. If you like what you read here, you can buy it on Amazon or wherever fine books are sold.

_____

As I understood it, my life in a psychological experiment began on the day I was born. At 1:38 a.m., on April 10, 1968, I was delivered in the maternity ward of an Oakland, California, hospital. According to my mother, I was a hideous baby. Instead of having two distinct eyebrows, my eyebrows met in the middle to form one long horizontal brow, otherwise known as a mono-brow, which, while flattering on the Mexican painter Frida Kahlo or the basketball player Anthony Davis, was unsettling on a newborn. Due to a severe case of jaundice, my skin and the whites of my eyes were a curious shade of yellow, giving me a radioactive glow. And my skull was grossly misshapen, the result of the compression my cranium had undergone as I journeyed down my mother’s vaginal canal. Unsure what to do (as if there was anything to be done) or say (as if there was anything to say) about my unfortunate countenance, the obstetrician cut the umbilical cord and thrust me in the direction of my mother.

At the time, my father—handsome, athletic, thirty-three, six-foot-four, from Brooklyn, New York—was a poetry professor at the University of California, Berkeley, and my mother—attractive (in a nerdy sort of way), svelte (when not pregnant), thirty (coincidentally, I had arrived on her birthday), five-foot-eleven, from Allentown, Pennsylvania—was an English instructor at UC Extension. They had met while pursuing their respective doctorates at the University of Minnesota and had relocated to the San Francisco Bay Area after my father had secured a tenure-track faculty position in the English department at UC Berkeley. While they intended to start a family eventually, my sister, who was born three and a half years earlier, had been an accident. I had been planned.

In those days, doctors believed that if a husband (say, my father) were to witness his wife (say, my mother) laboring to eject a small human being (say, me) from her vagina as she sprawled on a delivery table awash in a mess of her sweat, urine, and fecal matter, it could ruin a couple’s sex life. As a result, my father had been banished to a waiting room down the hall (such rooms were known as Stork Clubs), where he had spent the last several hours pacing, smoking, and eyeing the wall clock, alongside the other stressed-out, impatient, flustered fathers-to-be. Finally, the waiting room door opened, the nurse called my father’s name, and he was informed that both mother and child were resting comfortably and could be seen shortly. One of the other men offered him a cigar. Another man clapped him on the back. Thank god, my father, who was an atheist, thought.

“She’ll be tall,” he observed some time later, standing sentinel next to a hospital bed occupied by my mother. A nurse had propped her up with pillows and tucked me into the nook of her arm. He was relieved that I was healthy, that I had all of my fingers and toes, and that I was mostly shaped like a normal baby, but he had been hoping for a boy. He had wanted a son to teach how to play basketball. Given my height, which he projected would be exceptional, I could be taught to play basketball, he hypothesized. He started planning how to teach me layups.

My mother, whose long wavy red hair was tied loosely back and who was wearing a white hospital gown with a cornflower pattern, didn’t respond. As a post-delivery flood of oxytocin and endorphins coursed through her system, she scrutinized my visage, seeking to divine my future. Trying to ignore my unpleasant eyebrows (eyebrow? she corrected herself), yellowish hue, and oddly shaped head, she surveyed my large forehead, long eyelashes, and round face that reminded her of Richard M. Nixon, who was then campaigning to be the next president of the United States. It was hard to tell at this stage. Perhaps I would be a teacher, or a writer, or some other thing having to do with language, or words, or books (like my parents), she speculated hopefully.

“Have you got it?”

My father nodded and patted the pocket of his green army coat, which he had bought at a secondhand store. It had previously belonged to a soldier who had fought in a war that my father had no interest in fighting and into which he was exempted from being drafted.

“I should get going. I don’t want to be late.” He patted my mother’s left leg, which was sticking out from underneath the sheet, presuming that would suffice. “Will you be all right while I’m gone? I shouldn’t be longer than an hour.”

“We’ll be here.”

He brushed my mother’s cheek with a perfunctory kiss.

In the parking lot, he slid behind the steering wheel of a beige four-door 1967 Dodge Dart. He started the engine and drove out of the lot, heading north. He crossed the city border and entered Berkeley. Two blocks south of the university, he parked on the west side of a predominantly residential street. In the distance, he could see, the Berkeley Hills were shrouded in fog, the white tendrils curling around the tops of the redwood, pine, and eucalyptus trees.

He was early, so he settled in to wait. His light-brown hair was thinning at the top. He had circles under his green eyes, due to genetics and his propensity for worrying. Under his jacket, he wore a long-sleeved denim shirt; my mother had sewn a name patch over the left breast pocket that read JIM in red cursive and made him look more like a gas station attendant than a college professor, which was how he preferred it. My mother had sewn purple-and-gold ribbon to the bottom hem of his bell-bottom jeans, elongating them to accommodate his long legs. On his size 14, extra-wide feet he wore a pair of brown leather lace-up ankle boots with white rubber soles.

From the driver’s seat my father eyed the low-lying complex across the street, which consumed most of the block. It comprised two single-story, flat-roofed, warm-orange stucco structures with dark redwood piping that had been rendered in the Bay Area modernist style. The rectangular building to the north held the administrative offices; the T-shaped building to the south contained the classrooms.

On the right-hand side, a tall, dark redwood fence extended to the corner and obscured the outdoor play yards from view by any curious passersby. In front, a natural wood sign with white painted letters planted in a bed of ivy and framed by purple plum trees read:

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA

HAROLD E. JONES

CHILD STUDY CENTER

2425 ATHERTON STREET

Four decades earlier, a pioneering initiative led by the Laura Spelman Rockefeller Memorial had funded the establishment of child studies institutes at half dozen universities across North America: Yale University, Columbia University, the University of Iowa, the University of Minnesota, the University of Toronto, and UC Berkeley, the only Rockefeller-funded research institute in the West. At UC Berkeley, the Institute of Child Welfare planned to “study the factors that affect human development from the earliest stages of life.” But its researchers had needed children to study. An exclusive laboratory preschool had offered a win-win solution: The university’s faculty and staff got convenient, affordable, quality childcare and its researchers and students got young human subjects.

Originally, the preschool had been housed in a large, rambling wood house on the south side of campus, where a screened pavilion allowed researchers to observe the children while they played in the yard. From the beginning, it had been of the utmost importance that the children not know that they were being studied; if the children had realized someone was watching them, they might have changed their behavior, due to “the observer effect,” the phenomenon by which the act of observing something changes that which is being observed.

By the late 1950s, the Institute of Child Welfare had been renamed the Institute of Human Development, and the preschool’s ad hoc home had fallen into disrepair and been condemned. The university had enlisted Joseph Esherick, a tall, laconic UC Berkeley architecture professor, to design a new building. Esherick—who went on to design The Cannery, a shopping center in San Francisco, the demonstration houses at Sea Ranch up the coast in Sonoma County, and the Monterey Bay Aquarium down the coast in Monterey; who, in 1989, was awarded a gold medal by the American Institute of Architects, putting him in the company of Frank Lloyd Wright, Le Corbusier, and I. M. Pei; and who liked to say, “The ideal kind of building is one you don’t see”—had never designed a preschool before, much less one made for spying on children. In 1960, the Harold E. Jones Child Study Center, which had been named for the Institute of Human Development’s late director, had opened its doors to great fanfare.

My father checked his watch. It was almost eight o’clock. Moving determinedly, he pushed open the driver’s- side door, stepped out of the vehicle, and strode purposefully across the street. From the sidewalk, he made his way up the zigzagging entrance ramp. At the top of the ramp, he turned right, tracking east between the buildings along a concrete walkway under a dark redwood trellis canopied with translucent plastic panels in bright colors—ruby, tangerine, lemon, and turquoise—which on sunny days cast Technicolor shadows across the walls, windows, and walkways below. Three-quarters of the way down the path, he turned left. Moments later, he walked into the main office.

“Hello,” a woman said from behind the front desk.

“Good morning.” My father reached into his jacket pocket, from which he produced an envelope that contained an application for my enrollment. He handed it to her. “This is an application for my daughter.”

She took the envelope.

“She’s six and a half hours old,” he said.

“Congratulations,” she said, seemingly unsurprised.

“This is what we were told to do. Because of the waiting list.”

“We appreciate your interest,” she said and smiled enigmatically.

As my father retraced his steps, he picked up his pace. He had taken the day off from work, and now he had completed his mission. Tomorrow, he would drive to campus, where he had an office on the fourth floor of Wheeler Hall, a gray stone Classical Revival building. From the balcony, he would admire the view of Berkeley, the Bay, and the Golden Gate Bridge. Then he would go inside, sit down at his typewriter, and get back to writing his book.

_____

About | My Book I Newsletter I X I Instagram I LinkedIn I Consulting I Email

tags / FUCK YOU PAY ME, WRITING, EDITING, PUBLISHING, MEMOIRS, BOOKS, EXCERPTS, NONFICTION

When Children Grow Up Online, They Lose Their Private Lives

October 08, 2024  /  Susannah Breslin

The author at four

This past spring, I wrote an opinion essay about children and privacy. The essay was inspired by and informed by my memoir, Data Baby: My Life in a Psychological Experiment, in which I detailed how being a research subject from childhood to adulthood shaped me and changed the trajectory of my life. I submitted the essay to various outlets, but no one was interested in publishing it, so I’m publishing it here for the first time.

Today’s kids grow up online. From the first sonogram image posted to a parent’s Facebook profile to providing toddler content fodder for a mommy influencer’s TikTok account, Gen Z has never known what it is to have a private life. Without their knowledge or consent the most intimate moments of these children’s lives, embarrassing meltdowns and potty training scenes alike, have been shared, scrutinized, and commented upon by people they will never meet.

I know something of what it’s like to grow up without a sense of privacy. Not long after I was born, in the spring of 1968, my parents submitted an application for my enrollment in an exclusive “laboratory preschool” run by the University of California, Berkeley, where my father was a poetry professor. When I arrived at the Harold E. Jones Child Study Center for my first day of nursery school, I became one of over 100 Berkeley children in a groundbreaking, 30-year longitudinal study of personality that sought to answer a question: If you study a child, can you predict who that child will grow up to be?

Over three decades, my cohort and I were studied extensively. At the preschool, which had been designed for spying on children, researchers observed us from a hidden observation gallery overlooking the classroom and assessed us in testing rooms equipped with one-way mirrors and eavesdropping devices. After preschool, the cohort scattered to the winds, but our principal investigators continued following us. At Tolman Hall, a Brutalist building on the north side of campus that housed the Department of Psychology, we were evaluated at key development stages. Our school report cards were analyzed. Our parents were interviewed. We were studied at home and in an RV that had been turned into a mobile laboratory with a hidden compartment in the rear from which one researcher looked on as another researcher evaluated us.

In the early years, I didn’t know I was being studied. Eventually, I learned I was part of an important study. In the beginning, my parents consented for me. When I got older, I consented for myself. I liked being studied. At home, my English professor parents were preoccupied with work, and I spent a lot of time alone in my room entertaining myself. In an experiment room, I was the center of attention. My intellectual parents were emotionally distant. The close attention paid to me by a researcher sitting across the table from me felt a lot like love.

From its first chapter, my life was an open book. As I understood it, my private life was not my own but something to be offered up willingly to science in service of enlightening humanity. In my mind, being a human lab rat was my destiny. Over time, our lives would inform over 100 books and scientific papers. The study would shed new light on how people become who they are, report that adult political orientation can be predicted from toddlerhood, and prove that, to some degree, you can foresee who a child will grow up to be.

According to the observer effect, the act of observation changes that which is being observed. Without a doubt, being studied changed my life. It made me feel like I mattered when my parents didn’t; its researchers’ keen interest in my life story played a role in shaping me into the writer I would become. When I was in my early thirties, the study ended, and in hindsight I can see I felt a bit lost without it. Who was I without my overseers watching over me?

I think about my experiences as a research subject when I think about Gen Z, the pioneering generation that is coming of age publicly. They are unwitting research subjects in a global-scale psychological experiment, one in which they are human guinea pigs and the unanswered question is: How will growing up in the public eye shape their identities? After all, this generation’s overseers are not kindly researchers who want to understand human nature but Big Tech billionaires who have fine-tuned their algorithms to not simply study their youngest users but to guide their choices, mold their senses of self, steer their minds.

According to a 2023 Gallup survey, the average American teenager spends 4.8 hours a day on social media. In January, Meta CEO Mark Zuckerberg engaged in senatorial theater, suggesting the company was undertaking steps to reduce the potential for harms caused by social media on teens. In his State of the Union Address in March, President Joe Biden made a brief reference to his goal to “Pass bipartisan privacy legislation to protect our children online.”

For kids, it may be too late to save what they’ve lost already: a private life.

About | My Book I Newsletter I X I Instagram I LinkedIn I Consulting I Email

tags / DATA BABY, RESEARCH, PRIVACY, NONFICTION, BOOKS, JOURNALISM, OPINION, PERSONAL, TECH, POLITICS