What is going on in Facebook Dollarama groups?
And why do people find community there?
Hey all! I want to kick off this newsletter with a little explanation. I took a small break from writing this newsletter, mostly because I was tired of typing words like “covid” and “Biden” and “cancel culture”. Having a take on current events is so overdone honestly. I took some time to really think about what I wanted to write about, what really interests me, and then I realized it was right in front of me: the Extremely Online newsletter should be about online. All the weird phenomenons, the niche Facebook groups, the Youtube microcelebrities, the bad tweet formats. And that’s just what I have queued up! I’m looking forward to writing about the internet, interviewing cool people, and diving in to all the strange things that make the internet the place it is.
So I’m switching to a bi-weekly schedule, and focusing my writing on the oddities of the online world. See a weird trend, or have a strange new obsession? Let me know! 94caitlinhart@gmail.com is the best way to reach me.
Anyway, welcome to the new format!
Facebook groups have long been a place where people find unexpected community: pop culture fans, animal lovers, folks with fringe political beliefs of all stripes. I’ve been kicked out of leftbook groups, seen Cat Facebook thrown into a frenzy by a single post; I never expected to see the same level of intensity, community building and meaning making in this dollar store group I’m in.
The group Dollarama Hauls and Finds has 203.6k members. It started in 2016, but has swelled in popularity since the beginning of the pandemic, which also began its descent into madness.
It happened slowly: first the DIY suggestions and interesting, unexpected finds. Then, people started noticing each other in the stores, buying the particular peel-and-stick backsplash or cute jars everyone was talking about on Facebook. Recently, the group decided they needed a call, to identify fellow group members in stores (it’s a simple caw caw if you’re ever in a Dollarama store and a middle aged woman starts squawking like a crow). Members started sharing how much the group and even Dollarama itself (sometimes known as DR or ‘Rama in the group) means to them. People coping with grief and divorce and the pandemic are finding comfort wandering the fluorescent aisles of Dollarama.
Online, everyone is a weird obsessive. I guess we should be glad that these suburban women found their home in a group for dollar store hacks and not in Q Anon or whatever. It could be worse. But regardless, whether they’re baking Q drops or asking their Facebook group “What should I buy at Dollarama today?”, these spaces are outlets for the deep alienation we all experience.
In some ways I understand it. During the pandemic, people are desperate for hobbies. All kinds of businesses are closed, you aren’t seeing your friends, the dollar store is open and you can browse without guilt. It makes sense.
On the other hand, hearing how much time and money people spend in Dollarama, the way they’ve endowed it with meaning, is deeply alarming. I’m lucky that I’ve been able to stay connected to my community during coronavirus. But lots of folks don’t have that. The unmooring of individuals from community has been going on for decades, but it’s accelerated during the pandemic. We live in the dystopia that late capitalism created. You can’t have a wedding or go bowling or see live theatre or go to temple, but you can certainly go spend money.
Skepticism about online communities is nothing new. Neither is observing how anything good on the internet is ruined the minute it gets popular. When I first joined the group, it was creative, lighthearted, and fun. I’d see someone use a shower caddy as a fruit basket and be like, “wow, they used a shower caddy as a fruit basket, that’s so clever” and then keep scrolling. Now the group has a mythology, a way of signalling that you’re “in” (the caw caw) that would be heartwarming if it weren’t cringeworthy and also literally about a Facebook group for people who shop at the dollar store.
When someone posts their receipt showing they spent $300 in one trip, I’m like, “what did you buy?” But it’s a badge of pride for these women. Spending $300 at Superstore or Wal-Mart is way too easy. Consuming is community. Pushing the boundaries of what a community might find acceptable or reasonable is how communities strengthen. You test out how cruel your jokes can be, and when your friends laugh, you bond over your boundary-pushing. But these same actions are also alienating. I’m watching in real time as people create the community they want to be part of, sure. But I had to unfollow the group — I’m still in it, so I can check on what people are doing and saying, find the most unhinged posts, but I could not keep seeing it on my timeline. It was overwhelming. In the process of becoming a community, there will always be some people who don’t stick around.
Wait, am I the problem for being cynical? Is it me who is alienated, who sees people connecting and rolls her eyes at the sincerity with which these women shop at the dollar store? Can’t they do it with a modicum of irony like I do?
Maybe it’s all a net good in the world — capitalism is here for now anyway — we might as well bond over being its loyal subjects, right?
Still, there’s something dark about it all, and what it reveals about the state of community in 2020. I guess we’ll see what horrors await us in 2021.