I've got nothing to hide. I promise. If you were to release my hard drives, my passwords, and my texts to the world, the worst thing that could happen would be a bit of embarrassment over failed romantic pursuits and perhaps some regret that I wasn't more articulate in late night texts that I thought were confidential. Yeah, I'd have to call the bank to secure my accounts. But I wouldn't be arrested.
But that's not true. If you were to release my hard drives, my passwords, and my texts to the world, I would suffer a complete loss of privacy. I would have no control over what is known about me. I would be taken advantage of in countless ways—my finances marauded, my personal life scrutinized, and my security threatened. I would be naked. And perhaps feel skinned. Everything true to my identity would be shared with the world, and where does that leave me? How can one remain personal if they are publicized? Who does my identity belong to if I have no control over it? Certainly not me.
Why do we want stalls on our bathrooms, after all?
But to end the discussion there would be selfish. Everyone who ever told me something in confidence would be betrayed. I only write half of my text messages, after all. For all of them to be released to the world would be to betray the trust of the people who came out to me, who asked for my advice after they were raped, who came to me for advice about that bad relationship. They all had something to hide. So I guess I do too.