Full Disclosure: I have not fully disconnected from Google. And it's unlikely I ever will.
Some would say the writing has been on the wall for a while. I mostly ignored them, chalking up the naysayers as haters. But when Timnit was fired for her collaborative research paper on AI's bias, I finally woke up.
I then started paying attention to how Google services I used/depended upon got worse:
In 2004 I was in my senior year at college working an IT help desk job. A coworker's purchase from eBay sparked a revolution in my digital world—a coveted invitation to the exclusive realm of Gmail. It was an exhilarating moment, emblematic of Google's meteoric rise as the unrivaled champion of the search engine domain. And once that coworker setup his account, he bestowed an invite upon me.
The advent of Gmail marked a new frontier for tech enthusiasts like myself, heralding an era where email transcended mere communication to become an integral aspect of one's digital identity. For two decades, my Gmail address served as a steadfast anchor in the ever-shifting currents of cyberspace, a beacon of familiarity amid the tumult of online existence.
The subsequent debut of Chrome brought with it a wave of optimism, promising a streamlined browsing experience free from the sluggishness that plagued its predecessors. Initially hailed as a paragon of efficiency, Chrome's ascent mirrored Google's relentless pursuit of innovation—a beacon of hope in an increasingly cluttered digital landscape.
But it too eventually became just as bloated and a resource hog.
Enter Android OS, a watershed moment in the mobile sphere that offered a tantalizing alternative to the walled garden of Apple's iOS. With its open-source architecture, Android promised boundless freedom and customization, a stark departure from the rigid constraints imposed by its Cupertino counterpart.
It was a mess.
A bewildering array of device manufacturers and software iterations made it confusing to know how to perform the same task on two different Android phones. It definitely took some getting used to. But the freedom it offered, compared to iPhone, made it worth it for me.
Fast forward to the present, and the once-clear divide between Android and iOS has blurred, with both platforms embracing a more nuanced approach to user freedoms. The anarchic diversity of Android's early days has given way to a more homogenized ecosystem, where devices of different brands coalesce around a common user experience.
As I bid farewell to the Google ecosystem that has been my digital home for two decades, I'm filled with a bittersweet nostalgia for the halcyon days of its inception—a time when every new innovation felt like a revelation, and the possibilities seemed limitless.
I've been a Mac person for many years, but I didn't care much for Safari. Then, in 2021, I started paying attention and realized that Apple had been showing it some love, adding features like blocking trackers and enhancing privacy, as far back as 2017.
In 2021 I was very much still embedded in most things Google. But I thought I'd give Safari a try as my primary browser, with Chrome as the backup. But pretty soon, I found that I didn't ever need to launch Chrome.
But, when I read about the Incorrect CSAM issues, I stopped automatically uploading to Google Photos. Instead, I would be very deliberate about what photos got uploaded.
In 2023, the discovery of Immich—a promising self-hosted alternative—seemed to offer a path forward. However, the allure of convenience ultimately led me to embrace iCloud Photos.
During my trial of Immich, I decided to export all of my content (not just photos, but Google Drive docs), using takeout.google.com and drop it into iCloud. Similarly, transitioning my personal calendar and contacts to iCloud proved surprisingly straightforward.
But, then came the more difficult stuff: Google Domains, Google Home/Nest, YouTube, and YouTube TV.
And now we come back to where I began: GMail and Google Search.
During the antitrust suit against Google in 2023, Apple mentioned that people can change the default search provider on their iPhone starting with iOS 17. I immediately did so.
Many folks have said their Google search results have gotten worse the last few years. I haven't necessarily experienced that. And, thankfully, that is still the case for me after switching.
Gmail. I've got so many accounts linked to my GMail address that I have created a spreadsheet to keep track of my progress of migrating each one to a different account. But in this process I realized just how many messages I get fall under the "Promotions" category in GMail. I plan on leaving those there and only transferring ones that actually matter.
For over a decade, web browsers have offered effortless password management—store, sync, and even generate passwords at the click of a button. Yet, beneath the veneer of convenience lurked a shadow of uncertainty, as questions surrounding security implications loomed large.
The rise of third-party password managers like LastPass offered a respite from browser-based insecurities, yet their vulnerability to cyber attacks underscored the need for more robust solutions. That's when I started using Bitwarden.
Yet, even as password management evolved, a paradigm shift was underway—a transition from traditional passwords to the era of passkeys. This innovative approach sought to transcend the limitations of conventional passwords, offering a more secure and user-friendly alternative to safeguard our digital identities.
Amidst this transformative landscape, Apple's password sharing feature emerged as a game-changer—a seamless integration of convenience and security within the familiar confines of Safari and iCloud. Embracing this convergence, I embarked on a journey full circle, returning to Safari and iCloud for all things pass* related—a testament to the enduring quest for simplicity and security in an ever-evolving digital landscape.
One morning in early 2024 I woke to find my month in review from IDX that my GMail address was found in a recent account leak. That's not Google's fault. But it brought to light a disconcerting truth: my longstanding reliance on a single email address for all my digital interactions had rendered me vulnerable to such breaches.
Thankfully, years of prudent password management afforded me a measure of protection, with each account fortified by a unique password. Yet, the nagging question lingered: wouldn't it be wiser still to adopt a similar approach to my email addresses, ensuring that each account enjoyed its own unique identifier?
And then I remembered that I've been paying for iCloud+ -- and that includes an email address generator.
With newfound clarity, I embarked on a journey of emancipation—a conscious effort to extricate myself from the clutches of Google that had lingered since the tumultuous events surrounding Timnit's departure. Though not a complete departure, this marked the beginning of a deliberate shift away from reliance on Google's services.
I am very much aware that this could easily be seen as a love letter to Apple. I don't mean for it to be.
In embracing Apple's ecosystem, I find myself grappling with the uneasy realization of placing all my digital eggs in one proverbial basket. The allure of seamless integration and streamlined user experience is undeniable, yet I can't shake the discomfort that comes with such singular dependence.
And I harbor no illusions about the ethical complexities inherent in their practices, nor do I endorse the notion of entrusting all facets of my digital life to a single entity.
The truth is, I've traded convenience for conscience, recognizing that the path to true autonomy lies not in blind allegiance to any one corporation, but in a relentless pursuit of alternatives and a commitment to holding tech giants accountable for their actions.
So while I may have taken a step in the right direction on a personal level, I remain dedicated to the ongoing quest for a better way—a digital landscape characterized by choice, transparency, and ethical integrity.