I abandoned my iPhone for a Razor, and my life is better

I didn’t cry when I ended dating the last guy I dated. I threw him the Apple Watch which exposed his infidelity, I walked away and never looked back. But when I turned off my iPhone for the last time, my hands were practically shaking. It wasn’t just a phone – it was a portal. The gateway to every app I’d deleted months ago, every algorithm I thought saved me. I quit social media in January, but I still have the device. Ending it felt like ending the most manipulative relationship I’ve ever been in.

Even without apps, the phone lingered – buzzing, flashing, whispering promises of connection. I began to realize: addiction wasn’t just about platforms. It was on the phone only.

Since 7th grade, my iPhone was my constant companion – one that promised connections with fast access but created anxiety. When I deleted social media, I thought I’d just cut it off. But the phone kept whispering. It impressed me a lot with its sleek design. It got me excited with every update: This will make your life easier, Apple whined as it tightened its grip on my daily life. Notifications became manipulation. The absence of apps doesn’t mean the absence of controls. None of the boys I dated came close to the psychological grip of my iPhone.

And I am not alone. iPhones – and smartphones in general – stopped being devices a long time ago. They become environments in which we are immersed. The average American spends more than five hours a day on his or her phone and checks it almost every day. Hundred times a day. Globally, people spend About seven hours of screen time every day, And for my generation, Gen Z, it’s closer to nine. That’s not the feature; That is dependence.

Apple began as a company obsessed with liberation. Steve Jobs famously promised devices that would “Put a dent in the universe” And free us from the tyranny of desks. The initial vision was mobility, creativity and empowerment – ​​a computer in your pocket so you can live untethered. Instead, he distributed features Designed to keep us engaged, like push notifications entire ecosystemLike the App Store, it was created to keep us connected. Services become priority, And the goal became to retain users on the device.

I knew this for years before I started acting. But knowing and letting go are different things.

Until last month I didn’t know the time had come. Over a two-week period, I did two things that fundamentally changed me. First of all, I tied myself to a 70 foot banner Apple’s iPhone launch in Cupertino pointed to the fact that Tim Cook does not do enough to prevent videos of child rape from being stored and shared in iCloud. Second, I marched along more than 150 people Visit Apple’s flagship store in New York City to demand accountability: Choose people over profits.

Standing there, yelling for change, I realized the hypocrisy – I was tied to the very product I was protesting. That was the breaking point. It was not just about morality. It was about identity. I’ve spent years controlling my life through a device that held me back — shaping my habits, my attention span, even my sense of self-worth. And suddenly, in front of that glass cube on Fifth Avenue, I saw it clearly: I wasn’t just holding a phone. I was in the most toxic relationship of my life.

So I broke up with my iPhone and switched to the Motorola Razr.

I wasn’t brave enough to give up smartphones completely. Instead, I hoped that this shock to the system would help me build a healthy relationship with the device. Technology as a tool. The first few weeks felt like withdrawal – and they still do. I reach for features that aren’t there, get nervous by missing iMessage blue bubbles, and even feel disoriented. The dependency is so deep. Research supports this: 58 percent of teens feel anxious without their phonesAnd 73 percent of adults experience phantom tremors – false alerts that mimic withdrawal.

I hate to admit it, but I came to terms with it 90 percent of US college students say green bubbles make Android users less attractive – and even associate them with “fewer friends” and a “lower social class”. I was worried that people would assume I was suddenly unreachable – the switch to green means I’m no longer reliable. My friends strengthened it. The first group chat I joined with my new Razer, someone immediately left: “Oh, who made this group chat green?”

The razor is also not perfect. It’s still a smartphone, and I’m sure I’ll find some of the same problems that existed on my iPhone. But this change is not just about technology for me – it is also about values. It’s about refusing to support a brand whose CEO would share a meal with a president who is actively trying to erase people like me. It’s about the heartbreak of watching a Fortune 500 company, led by an openly gay man, in whom I saw myself, turn its back on vulnerable young people who were very much like him.

This is the failure of capitalism – even when you rise to the top, even when you have unimaginable power, the profit principle prevails. Tim Cook could have been a guide for inclusion. Instead, he became just another executive who forgot the importance of his influence.

So yes, I gave up my iPhone. But more than that, I gave up the illusion that Apple was on my side. Breaking up with my phone was a personal revolution — and a rejection of a system that asks us to trade our dignity for convenience.

I didn’t just drop one device. I walked away from the most toxic relationship of my life. And honestly? I never felt light.

This article reflects the opinion of the author.

Lennon Torres is a Public Voices Fellow on Child Sexual Exploitation Prevention with the OPED Project. She is an LGBTQ+ advocate who grew up in the public eye, gaining national recognition as a young dancer on television shows. With a deep passion for storytelling, advocacy and politics, Lennon now works to center her own and others’ lived experiences as she pursues a professional career in online child protection. summer initiativeThe opinions reflected in this piece are those of Lennon Torres as an individual, and not of the organizations he is a part of, Lennon’s Substack: https://substack.com/@lennontorres