Goodbye to Facebook and Mark Zuckerberg. Goodbye to the site’s scroll-and-sign Statement of Rights and Responsibilities, which is as worthless as the nonexistent paper it is printed on; which dissolves into the ether of this so-called community of friends, but does not altogether disappear; which is less an expression of individual rights than it is the surrender of our collective right to privacy; which allows Facebook to exercise its right to collect and monetize our data; which is the means to the end of truth in advertising and truthfulness in general; which is an end unto itself, provided it enriches Mark Zuckerberg, regardless of its cost to liberty and justice for all.

Goodbye to all that, because I refuse to be an accessory after the fact. I refuse to knowingly abet a CEO who is neither accountable to his board of directors nor compelled, under oath, to offer a full—and true—account of Facebook’s acts of commission and omission against its users. I refuse to accept a lesser standard of responsibility for billionaires, compared to the standards that govern billions of everyday citizens worldwide. I refuse to have the U.S. Congress plead with Mark Zuckerberg to testify on Capitol Hill, when it subpoenas other Americans to swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but truth—so help them God.

It is this exception to the rule, which exempts Mark Zuckerberg from the rules. How many Americans, after all, get to set the terms of their testimony before Congress? How many people get to entertain the possibility of testifying under oath, when the alternative is a citation for contempt and court-imposed sanctions? How many people do you know have the audacity to showcase their contempt for Congress by not-so-subtly putting on a show? By show, I mean the drone-like demeanor of Mr. Zuckerberg, in which he has a surplus of answers but a deficit of emotions.

How else to explain his words of contrition, but his visible lack of remorse? The question is rhetorical, because Mark Zuckerberg strikes me as more ruthless than regretful. If he has any regrets, they may have more to do with what the public now knows than what he wants users to not even suspect—which is nothing.

I am the one who is sorry. I am sorry that Mark Zuckerberg respects my rights less than I do his. I am sorry that I find it impossible to believe what he said, because there is no possibility someone at Facebook did not try to warn the company about its poor protection of personal data.

I am sorry that Mark Zuckerberg believes the best way to solve something he hates is to ban it. I am sorry that he wants to restrict what he cannot define; that he finds what is constitutional in the real world to be impermissible in his; that he thinks computers will soon be smart enough to spot—and fast enough to erase—whatever it is that he calls “hate speech”; that he trusts the artificial intelligence of machines over the wisdom of men and women.

And yet, I know that actions matter more than words. These are my parting words to Facebook, as I have no need to part with more of my personal data. I have no need for Facebook’s propensity for distraction and distortion. I have no need for this platform, period.

I will focus my attention, instead, on doing what I can to support my community, my family, and my country.

Goodbye Facebook, I wish I could say it’s been real.

Elizabeth Rice Grossman

San Francisco, CA