The (Sometimes Unintentional) Subtext of Digital

Conversations
DEBORAH TANNEN
Born in 1945, Deborah Tannen is a prolific author, linguist,
lecturer, and professor. She has found success not only in her
specialized academic field, but also as the writer of popular
books on language and interpersonal communication. Tannen
was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York. She earned her
undergraduate degree at Harpur College (now part of
Binghamton University), her first MA at Wayne State University,
and her second MA and her PhD at the University of California,
Berkeley. Since 1979, Tannen has taught linguistics at
Georgetown University.

The focus of her research and writing has been — and

remains — the informal ways in which people communicate,
whether across a kitchen table or in the workplace. As she has
said, “The underlying point that runs through everything I’ve
done is the notion of conversational style.” Her books include
Conversational Style: Analyzing Talk among Friends (1984), You
Just Don’t Understand: Women and Men in Conversation
(1990), Talking from 9 to 5: Women and Men at Work (1994),
and You’re the Only One I Can Tell: Inside the Language of
Women’s Friendships (2017). Her essays and articles have
regularly appeared in publications such as The New York Times,
 The Washington Post, Politico, Time, and Newsweek. In the
following essay, which appeared in The Atlantic in 2017, Tannen
turns her attention to communication styles on newer media
platforms, such as text messaging and online social media sites.
In her view, a key principle applies whether we are
communicating online or offline: how we say things is just as
important as what we say.

WRITING TO DISCOVER: How do you communicate tone in

writing — both online and offline? For example, how do you
communicate irony and sarcasm, or sincerity and seriousness?

The meanings we glean in conversation are often, maybe mostly, not

found in the words spoken, but in how they’re said, and in the
spaces between them. Tone of voice, and cadences created by shifts
in speed, volume, and pitch, let listeners know whether “Nice job,” is
complimentary or sarcastic, or whether “Wow” shows that you’re
impressed or underwhelmed. The literal meaning of words is their
message, and everything about how words are said is the
metamessage. Metamessages communicate how you mean what
you say.

More and more conversations are taking place on screens — via

texting, Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, Twitter, email, and myriad
other platforms. Some of these written conversations make up for
the lack of voicing with conventions that mimic speech, like
exclamation points, CAPS, and repetition of words or letters. I can be
“so happy!!!!!!!” or “sooooo happy” or “SO happy” or “sosososo
happy” or even “SOSOSOSOOOOOO happy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Emoticons,
emojis, and gifs help, too. But these visual signals are only the tip of
the metamessage iceberg.

Human beings are always in the business of making meaning and

interpreting meaning. Because there are options to choose from
when sending a message, like which platform to use and how to use
it, we see meaning in the choice that was made. But because the
technologies, and the conventions for using them, are so new and
are changing so fast, even close friends and relatives have differing
ideas about how they should be used. And because metamessages
are implied rather than stated, they can be misinterpreted or missed
entirely.

Different generations are particularly apt to perceive different

metamessages in the same words or actions. For example, a Sri
Lankan woman living in London told me of hosting her sister and her
sister’s teenage daughter. When the girl refused to go out after 3:00
p.m., because that’s when her friends back home got active on
WhatsApp, the sisters perceived the metamessage, “I’m not really
here. My head and my heart are elsewhere.” But I suspect the girl’s
perspective was more like: “I’m here with you — that’s a given — but
I also want to stay connected to my friends, and I can’t bear the
thought of being left out.”
I heard a great range of viewpoints on social media while
interviewing over 80 women (ranging in age from 9 to 97) for a study
of friendship. And my students at Georgetown University have
helped me understand how they manage, and sometimes are tripped
up by, the metamessages communicated over social media — and
how habits and assumptions can differ.

For instance, when Kate Lucey’s sister had not given birth by her
due date, she kept family and friends apprised of what was
happening with her pregnancy by posting frequently on Facebook. In
response, even distant relatives and casual friends posted well
wishes and encouraging thoughts. Kate felt that these postings sent
her sister a precious metamessage: Many people love her and care
about her pregnancy. The posts strengthened her network of
support. Kate was stunned to learn that her roommate perceived a
negative metamessage in her sister’s use of Facebook. She said she
would have been offended to be kept up to date about a pregnancy
that way; she would think, “Geez, why didn’t you call?” Kate’s
roommate reasoned that posting on Facebook is so easy that it
means nothing. A phone conversation reflects and creates a
meaningful relationship, whereas Facebook creates a false sense of
intimacy, not a real relationship.

The impression that posting on Facebook is insincere because it’s

too easy sounds a lot like the explanation a friend gave me (over
email) for disliking “THAT DRAT ‘xoxo,’ which means nothing, just
keys to hit.” This perspective — if something is too easy it’s
meaningless or insincere — makes sense. Taking time sends a
metamessage of caring. Yet I like “xoxo” (or my personal variant,
“xxoo”), and use it, though only with friends who use it first. I think
xoxo fills a need: It’s a more affectionate way to close an email than
“Best” but not as fervent as “Love,” which, in any case, some people
don’t feel comfortable using with friends, though some do. Maybe it
strikes some as fake because it’s a substitution, standing for “love
and kisses” but not denoting it. Or maybe it seems too cutesy.
Whatever the source of these impressions, deciding how to sign off a
message becomes a challenge, since any choice you make will send
metamessages that you may not intend or suspect.

I was shocked to realize that my students might be perceiving

metamessages opposite from what I intend when I reply to their
email requests and queries. One of them pointed out that when he
emails professors, he begins with a salutation (“Dear Professor
Smith”) and a greeting like “I hope you’re enjoying the weekend.”
Only then does he explain his request — in detail — followed by a
friendly closing, again about the weekend or the weather, before
wrapping up with “Sincerely” or “Yours truly” above his name. (I
recognized his description: That’s the way most of my students’
emails look.) The student then complained that many of his
professors’ responses omit the salutation, greeting, full explanation,
friendly closing, signature, and name. All he receives is a naked
reply to his question, and usually a cryptic one at that. I realized that
I do this, too — or did, before he, and others in class discussion,
opened my eyes. I had assumed that dispensing with those
formalities sends a metamessage of casual friendliness, more or
less the way I use email with close friends and family. But students
regard email as formal, so the omission of those niceties often
strikes them as disrespectful, even rude. (Now I go back and add the
trimmings before pressing SEND.)

It’s not surprising that professors’ and students’ practices would vary,
given the difference in power and age. But even best friends can
have very different ideas about appropriate ways to use social
media. Noelle Miesfeld and Rachel Jacobson had been close friends
since college, and they stayed in close touch after graduation, often
having long telephone conversations, catching up. After a number of
years, however, they began communicating more through texting.
This meant more frequent conversations — often daily or even
multiple times a day. So Noelle was surprised when Rachel
registered a complaint: She’d been telling Noelle about a problem,
and she felt that Noelle’s responses seemed too casual and brief to
show real concern. Rachel missed her caring, emotionally supportive
friend. They traced the trouble to their contrasting assumptions about
texting. To Noelle, comforting closeness resided in the frequency of
their exchanges. To Rachel, frequency didn’t substitute for the
expression of feeling and detailed discussion of her situation that
they’d shared in the past — the kinds of conversations that Noelle
didn’t feel could or should take place through texting.

When deciding which platform to use and how to use it, as well as
how to interpret communications you receive — or don’t receive —
you have to know which platforms your friends tend to use and how
they use them. Some will answer texts but not emails. Others don’t
check their phones regularly, so you can’t rely on texting to reach
them. The proliferation of platforms means more options to exploit
but also more opportunities for your messages to be misinterpreted.
How quickly does a particular friend usually reply to a text or email?
What does the lack of an immediate response mean? So firm is
some people’s expectation of a quick reply to a text that any lapse
carries meaning. A student, telling me about a friend who, in her
words, “stopped talking” to her, said, by way of explanation, “She’d
text me back two days later.” To her, a two-day delay was
tantamount to not talking at all.

Silence can be a deliberate communication. One woman said of a

text she received from a friend, “I was so annoyed, I’m just not
responding. I just didn’t answer.” Yet in other cases, silence doesn’t
mean anything; it results from circumstances. A young woman
thought her boyfriend’s delay in responding meant he was angry at
her. It turned out his phone battery had run out.

Perceived metamessages of annoyance can snowball, whether or

not they were intended. A student recounted in an interview a
Facebook message exchange with a friend that, she felt, should
have been straightforward but became complicated. She sent a
message suggesting they go running later than planned. The friend
messaged back, “I guess that’s okay. Fine, see you then.” That little
opener, “I guess,” and the unenthusiastic “okay” seemed to imply
that she wasn’t thrilled with the change of plans. So the student
responded, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be difficult. I’m more flexible
than I made it sound. I can actually just do one o’clock like we
planned.” That set off a back-and-forth that went four rounds — “No
no no let’s do the time you wanna do,” “No no no let’s do the time we
said.” Hair-tearing exchanges like these are particularly common
among girls and women because, as the student pointed out, they
often worry about coming across as too demanding and hurting
others’ feelings.

My student Holly DiClemente explained how her peers make

creative use of digital features to avoid hurting friends’ feelings. One
example is ghost reading — reading a message without opening it,
by just reading the preview in the text app, or on your lock screen. If
a phone automatically sends “read receipt” notices to let others know
their messages have been opened and, presumably, read, ghost
reading comes in handy to manage the implied metamessages. If
you see from the text notification that a friend is asking if you want to
hang out, and you don’t want to but you don’t want to hurt her
feelings, you can open the message later and tell her you’re sorry
you just got it. The “read receipts” feature can also be used to show
you’re mad; it lets someone know you’ve read their message and are
intentionally not responding — a visual virtual snub. But there, too,
they might think you’re mad when you’re not. Maybe you saw that
the message was long, so you put off replying until you’d have more
time to read it, or to write a thoughtful response.
 Every word we speak is chock-full of
metamessages telling others not only
how we mean what we say but also who
we are.

Metamessages — intended or not — can reside in just about any

aspect of digital communication, even something as minor and
automatic as listing recipients’ names when sending email. If you
enter the addresses on the “to” or “cc” line, everyone who receives it
can see not only who else is getting the message but also what
order you put the names in. Two women I interviewed together, Lucy
McBride and Annie Finnell, pointed out some of the resulting
metamessages: “You feel special when you’re the first one on there,”
Lucy said. Annie agreed: “You do. And you feel not special when
you’re the last one.” Lucy added, “Because if you’re dead last, it’s
like they were thinking, ‘Who am I forgetting?’” To avoid offending
those whose names come later or last, you can put recipients’ email
addresses on the “bcc” line. But that sends a metamessage, too. It’s
what people do when the list of recipients is very long, so “It looks
like you’re inviting all of Northwest Washington!”

Anytime there are multiple recipients, metamessages can get

complicated. I was part of a group that used email to confer about a
joint project. In one such exchange, a member of our group
expressed well wishes to another about a medical condition, after
which all the others chimed in, echoing the expressions of concern. I
was puzzled. I didn’t know whether this flurry of well wishes was
related to the ongoing medical challenge I knew this group member
had been experiencing, or whether there had been a new and
dangerous development I didn’t know about. I asked another group
member, who said she was not aware of any new developments
either, but wanted to express her general support for our ailing
friend. I went ahead and sent my own well wishes, cc’ing only the
one who first expressed concern. But then I worried that the others
would think me callous and uncaring. I rather regretted having
foregone the option of allowing — or forcing — everyone to overhear
my well wishes.

Every word we speak is chock-full of metamessages telling others

not only how we mean what we say but also who we are. It has
always been that way; it’s the only way language can work to
communicate ideas and negotiate relationships. With social media,
we have ever more ways to do this — and ever more things to worry
about, to make sure the self we’re displaying is the one we believe
we are — or the one we want to be.

1. What are metamessages and why are they so important?

How do metamessages function in our communication
 when we are not online, as when we are speaking to
another person?

2. What are human beings “always in the business of ” (3),

according to Tannen?

3. Tannen notes that many people find the act of posting a

message to another person on Facebook “insincere” (7)
compared to other ways of communicating (e.g., a phone
call or a handwritten letter). Why? Do you agree?

4. In paragraph 4, Tannen writes, “Different generations are

particularly apt to perceive different metamessages in the
same words or actions.” Do you think that this is true? For
example, do you think people of different ages are more
likely to misunderstand each other? Why or why not?

5. What is the main type of specific evidence that Tannen uses

in this essay to support her generalizations and assertions?
Do you find this approach effective? What are its
advantages? What are its possible disadvantages?

In paragraphs 7 and 8, Tannen discusses the metamessages

communicated by various greetings and closings to emails and
other written communications. While they seem like formalities,
these openings and closings can convey significant meanings:
about the purpose of the message, about the context for the
writing, about the relationship of the writer and audience, and
other factors. Consider the following greetings and sign-offs.
What do they connote? What metamessages do they send?
Which ones would you use, and in what circumstances? Which
ones would you avoid?

Greetings Closings

Hi, Thanks,
Hey! Ciao!
Dear Sir or Madam, Sincerely,
Dear , Xoxo
WHAT’S UP!?!?!? Love,
Dearest Best,
, Thx
To Whom It May
Concern,

1. Tannen writes about the ways in which we misinterpret

written communication, especially in the case of
“[p]erceived metamessages of annoyance,” which can
 “snowball, whether or not they were intended” (12). Can
you think of a time when you misinterpreted a piece of
writing (online or offline) from another person based on its
metamessages? Was the problem your misreading or the
writer’s lack of awareness or care in writing? Alternatively,
you can write about a time when another person
misunderstood your writing. What were the causes and
consequences?

2. In paragraph 10, Tannen discusses how we “decid[e] which

platform to use and how to use it.” How do you choose
which medium to use to communicate in writing? For what
purposes? In what context? To what audience? Consider
the following media or “platforms.” Then, write a brief essay
in which you explain under what circumstances and in what
context you would use each form of communication and
why.
a tweet
an email
a word-processed letter (hard copy)
a handwritten letter
a text message
a Facebook post