I was grumpy. I couldn’t shake it, and that made me grumpier. It was just one of those days-the kind where the simplest tasks feel impossible, where every interaction taps your energy reserves and you can’t stop thinking about crawling back into bed. I’d told a friend I’d fix her boyfriend’s shattered iPhone after work, and I was already starting to dread it-but friends don’t let friends live with spiderwebbed screens and bloody fingers, so I made good on my word.

Her boyfriend had an iPhone 6s, which was the phone I carried for three and a half years before getting my iPhone XS. It was the first phone I ever repaired-and over the course of its life, I gave it two batteries , , two home buttons, and all . I knew this model better than the left side of Kelsea Weber’s head (which I stare at for hours every day at work).

I examined his phone on my coffee table-the screen was so shattered that I could barely make out the “slide to power off” prompt when I shut it down. I applied a piece of packing tape across the display to prevent the glass from splintering off during the repair, and then got to work.

After that, I swear something came over me-it was like my body switched gears into real-life autopilot: apply heat with an iOpener. Unscrew the pentalobes on the bottom of the case. Pry open delicately with a spudger. Boom-I’m in! I disconnected a couple of ribbon cables and set the display aside. As I stared down at that familiar form factor, I was overwhelmed with a weird sense of nostalgia. I didn’t even realize it, but I was smiling.

My sudden change in attitude made my friends suspicious. They asked if I had just botched the repair. I chuckled and told them I hadn’t. I explained that I was genuinely enjoying myself-and that after a rough day, I would have never thought that repairing someone’s iPhone would spark so much joy.

With my newfound joy (and beer), I was able to swap the battery, port over the old home button, and install a new screen in about 30 minutes-a new personal best for me. I even removed one of the battery adhesive strips without breaking it (another first!). As I carefully removed and returned every bracket and connector, I grew calmer. With every turn of my screwdriver, I felt more and more like myself.

I write a lot about the benefits of repair. Yeah, it’s good for the environment / / your wallet , but it’s also good for the soul-chicken soup-style. Repair helps you focus on the present, giving your mind space from daily stressors. Not to mention it gives you a sense of victory and accomplishment-and that feeling of self-reliance does wonders for your confidence and mood. For me, repair has become restorative (or, at least, iPhone 6s repair has become restorative).

Everyone has bad days-and if I’m being totally honest, I’ve been having a lot of them lately 😬 . I know I’m not alone. Thanks to Mental Health Awareness Month going mainstream on social media, I’ve read hundreds of stories about people’s bad days. Those stories finally gave me the courage to share one of mine. So the next time you’re having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, maybe pick up a screwdriver and try fixing something. If it cured my bad day, it just might cure yours, too. And if it does, I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

Director of Communications & Advocacy at iFixit. Right to Repair Rebel. I tweet here: @kaykayclapp

Originally published at https://ifixit.org on May 29, 2019.

We’ve been bred to believe that only Geniuses and Geeks can fix our stuff, but it wasn’t always this way. During the Great Depression, when resources were scarce, repair was ingrained in our culture. During the second World War, ‘Make do and Mend’ was a rallying cry and point of pride. Every new device shipped with a repair manual. And when something broke, a replacement part could likely be purchased at your local store. Repair wasn’t seen as an inconvenience — it was an expectation.

Now, we’re in the midst of a different era of consumer culture. We’re pumping out cheaper, single-use gadgets that we’re inclined to discard quicker than ever before. We “upgrade” (read: throw away) perfectly good devices just because the battery has worn down. And manufacturers have locked down the spare parts and repair information that we need to fix our stuff ourselves.

Repair used to be a bedrock of our culture — a fundamental pillar. But somewhere between the endless product releases and constant upgrade cycles, we stopped fixing. Worse, we started to fear it.

What’s in a name? That which we call a Genius.

Apple’s decision to brand their tech support “Genius Bar” was … well, genius. They’ve positioned themselves as the highest breed of technical expert, intellectually superior to the rest of us in every way — and culturally cool, to boot. You’d probably consult an expert — but you would never contest the opinions of a genius. Their marketing was so successful that Best Buy followed suit by launching their own internal tech support team, Geek Squad.

The result? Consumers believe that they have to be a Genius or Geek to fix their eStuff. I know because I was one of them. I know because I hear it every day in the iFixit forums, at repair cafes, and from friends and family. Thanks to crafty marketing and corporate greed, we now believe that electronics repair is beyond our ability.

Fear is the path to the dark side

Marketers can’t take all the credit for creating our fear of fixing. Manufacturers have been unlawfully using void-if-removed stickers to scare you out of repair, too. Under the Magnuson-Moss Warranty Act, these warranty stickers are not only unenforceable — they’re also illegal. The law has been in place since 1975, but only now are the feds starting to do something about these violations.

And when stickers fail, manufacturers can always rely on good ol’ fashioned EULAs to thwart independent repair — you know, the pop-up window with dense legalese that you mindlessly scroll through to click “I Agree” when you get a new device. EULAs give manufacturers carte blanche to force you into whatever terms they want. They’ve used these agreements to kill competition, stop security research, and prevent “unauthorized” repairs.

We are all geniuses

If all this feels a bit dystopian, take heart! Thanks to repair advocates and brave netizens around the world, the tide is starting to change. This year, Right to Repair legislation has been successfully introduced in 18 states. The movement continues to spread — and for the first time, European repair allies have introduced their own version of repair legislation.

But we’ve still got a long, hard fight ahead. That’s where you come in. We need to show the world that we’re capable of fixing the things we own, so I’m asking everyone to share their repair stories throughout February using the hashtag #ImAGenius. Tell me what you’ve fixed. Tell me what you’re going to fix. Take pictures of your repair. Record a quick video and share the story of your first fix. I’m not picky! I just want to flood the internet with repair stories that we can share with our state legislators to prove that we’re all, in fact, geniuses.

To sweeten the deal, we’re giving away $1000 to the iFixit store. That’s ten $100 iFixit gift cards up for grabs for the most impressive repair stories. I’ll announce the winners on our blog on March 1st.

When we don’t fix our things, we lose more than control over our devices. We risk losing the ability to think critically and solve problems. And it’s our spirit of inquiry and willingness to take on the world that makes us all capable of genius.

Originally published at ifixit.org.

Here at iFixit, we’re just a ragtag crew of Repair Rebels, fighting against the evil Empire as it tightens its grip on the galaxy of repair.

Admiral Holdo: Sam (Lead Teardown Engineer), DJ: Andrew (Tool Designer), Rose Tico: Kay-Kay (Director of Things)

We’re also HUGE Star Wars nerds. See that photo? That’s me and my best mates cosplaying our favorite Last Jedi characters at the Emerald City Comic Con a few months back. I live for fandoms — and there’s no story more timeless (or easy to obsess over) than the Star Wars saga.

With their starship repair stations and maintenance droids, we’re pretty certain that the Rebel Alliance knew how to fix. So in celebration of May the Fourth, we’re exploring our favorite gadgets from a galaxy far, far away.

Look inside Luke’s landspeeder

The X-34 landspeeder was a civilian model available during the Galactic Civil War. Luke kept his landspeeder in good working order with some tinkering and careful maintenance. Kelsea and I thought it would be fun to take it apart to see what old Luke was up against. And then we got too excited and put on some costumes and somehow convinced our team to make this epic video.

Obi Wan’s lightsaber

The lightsaber is the tool of a true Jedi. Historians have long debated which was the most effective saber design — so Obi-Wan lent his to us to tear down and find out. Seeing as this is his third lightsaber, we suspect Master Kenobi had long-term repairability in mind during its construction. It was easy peasy to access the crystal chamber with its single Adegan crystal. Now view the teardown, you must.

Lightsaber Teardown

Don’t worry, we’d never dismember the most audacious android in the Resistance. These young Padawans are learning the ways of the fixer-Force by taking apart a BB-8 lamp.

We might not have torn down BB-8, but he did stop by to say hello. Take a look at this video of BB-8 exploring iFixit headquarters.

We’ve found them inside Xboxes, the PSP Go, Asus laptops, and even on NVidia graphics cards. Turns out, those stickers are not only unenforceable — they’re illegal under the Magnuson-Moss Warranty Act. This federal law was put in place to protect the rights of consumers. It imposes strict guidelines on manufacturers that offer product warranties. While the law has been in place since 1975, it’s been largely ignored by manufacturers without penalty — until now.

The Feds are finally taking action against offending manufacturers. Last month, Motherboard discovered that the FTC sent warning letters to Sony, Microsoft, Nintendo, Hyundai, HTC, and ASUS. The letters warn manufacturers about their violation of policy, and set a May 9th deadline to comply with requirements. Failure to do so could result in some serious legal action.

FTC Warning Letter from Motherboard, Vice

Fear-mongering stickers are out of control

The number of lying stickers inside our products is ridiculous — and the effects of their misuse have broad cultural and environmental implications. We’ve even seen new companies emerge that are solely dedicated to selling sophisticated tamper-proof stickers. These stickers scare people away from tinkering. They discourage repair — and that challenges the very idea of ownership. Once you’ve paid money for a product, the manufacturer shouldn’t be able to dictate how you use it.

Our mission is simple: we want teach the world to fix everything. But the most common objection we get when encouraging people to repair is, ‘What about my warranty?’. Thanks to the crafty work of manufacturers, we’ve been brainwashed into thinking that opening a device voids the warranty. That fear of voiding warranties translates into fear of repair — even for hardware that is entirely out of warranty.

That ends now. These stickers are illegal. Tell your kids, tell your wife. The scaremongering party is over.

Mea culpa: We’re guilty of this, too. We sell some RAM upgrade kits, and the sticker from our supplier has ‘warranty void if removed’ on the memory stick. We’ve asked them to knock it off and we’re definitely honoring the warranty, sticker or not. We’re sorry for that, and we’re working to ensure that this will never happen again.

License to tinker

Here’s the bottom line. Under US law, these are the actions that do not void your warranty:

• Modifications or improvements (like painting the case of a device or upgrading its software), as long as those improvements don’t damage the product
• Performing an upgrade that requires opening the device (like adding more RAM, or a bigger hard drive), as long as you don’t damage the product while opening it
• Repairs to fix accidental damage (like a broken screen), so long as the repair doesn’t damage other components
• Casual disassembly and tinkering for curiosity’s sake, as long as you don’t break anything in the device

See the pattern? It’s your device — do whatever you want with it. Of course, it’s worth noting that warranties won’t cover any new parts you install in a device. (Although, most of the time, that new part ships with its own warranty.) For example, if you crack the screen on your brand-new iPhone, and then replace it with a screen you purchased from iFixit, that replacement screen is covered by our lifetime warranty. Even if you don’t use an Apple Genius to replace the screen, Apple is still legally required to cover any manufacturing defects you run into with any other parts of the phone, during the warranty period.

By the way: your warranty generally only lasts twelve months. So if that Xbox sitting in your living room is more than a year old, the warranty is irrelevant.

If Honest Abe says it’s ok to open up your iPhone, then that’s good enough for me!

The only thing we have to fear is fear itself

So go ahead, stop living in fear of warranties! Every sticker you peel off is an opportunity to stick it to the man. Don’t let the futile attempts made by lawyers at megacorps control your life. You’ve got the law on your side, so start removing those warranty stickers!

Behold — an illegal warranty void if removed sticker in its natural habitat. Get him!

We want to make sure that everyone knows warranty stickers are bullshit, so we’re embarking on a good old-fashioned sticker hunt. Nothin’ works better than a public shaming to keep manufacturers honest — which was the inspiration for our new contest. In conjunction with Motherboard, the bastion of fine reporting that blew this scandal wide open two years ago, we’re going on a hunt for evil stickers. The contest rules are simple: Post a photo of a “warranty void if removed” sticker to Twitter or Instagram using the hashtag #voidifremoved. Let us know in your post what device you found the warranty sticker in (so we can catalog them appropriately by manufacturer). We’ll be giving out our new Manta Driver kits as prizes to our favorite entries through the end of June. The better your post, the more likely you are to win. Enter as many times as you want — we’ll contact each winner on the platform they used to enter and re-share our favorites right here on our blog.

This isn’t just another social media contest. We’ll turn over the results of your investigation to the FTC and see if we can get them to send out another round of letters.

One by one, we’re beating down the barriers to self repair. With the help of lawyers at the FTC and journalists at Motherboard — and citizen activists like you — we can neutralize a weapon that manufacturers have been using in their campaign of fear, control, and greed.

Originally published at ifixit.org.

My first DIY iPhone repair was replacing the battery in my 6s. If I’m being honest, it was kinda terrifying. My hands got so sweaty that the driver kept slipping out of my fingertips. But I had to do it — a simple battery replacement is like a rite of passage around here. Despite my fear, the repair went off without a hitch. The whole thing took about 45 minutes (although, half that time was spent compulsively studying the repair guide, trying to muster up the courage to get started). But I did it.

I’m still using that same 6s — its been a reliable companion for two years. But when I updated my iOS to 10.2.1, it seemed like Pokemon Go was loading at Slowpoke pace. A week later, Apple fessed up to Batterygate and confirmed my suspicions. Turns out mine is one of the millions of iPhones that could use a battery replacement. No big deal for me: I know how to replace a battery. And I live in the smallest city in the world that has an Apple Store. No joke — if I had any aim — I could throw a rock out my apartment window and hit an Apple Genius upside the head. There’s that many of them.

I have lots of options for repair. Other people, not so much. Due to demand, some iPhone owners have to wait until early April before Apple can swap out their battery.

Fancy you’re one of the 3 million people living in Kansas trying to get your phone serviced by the sole Apple Store in the state? Or, what if you live in a remote part of Canada (like this savage community member) and don’t want to mail away your iPhone for a few weeks? What’s an iPhone owner to do? Just keep waiting?

Barclays estimates that 519 million iPhone owners are eligible for Apple’s battery replacement program. Let’s (conservatively) say that 25% of eligible owners take advantage of Apple’s offer — that’s about 130 million iPhones. If it takes a Genius fifteen minutes to handle each customer, one Genius can do 160 iPhone battery replacements a week, which works out to 1,920 a year. Apple reportedly has 47,000 retail employees. So, if every employee was trained to do battery replacements and did nothing else — no lunch breaks, no potty time, no nothin’ — it would take 1.4 years to clear out the backlog. By that time, more iPhones would need new batteries!

Apple can’t keep up with the demand. We need an army of fixers that Apple can’t offer — techs at mall kiosks, repair shops on the corner, and even your eccentric nephew who’s always taking stuff apart.

We need them. We need the right to repair our stuff. And we need to actively defend that right. If we don’t, we might lose it altogether.

Owners have rights. Licensees have permissions.

Until I started working at iFixit, I’d never heard of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA) — the law governing the intersection of technology and copyright. The DMCA was put in place to stop folks from pirating music, movies, and software programs. The law was designed to regulate the brave new world of digital content, awarding special copyright rules to digital creations.

But the law is outdated — it was passed in 1998. That’s the same year Google filed for incorporation, Apple introduced the iMac, and at that time, only 42% of households in the US had a computer. Technology has changed dramatically since then, but the DMCA has not. That’s no good — because once companies slap software into a physical object, the rules of ownership change. You’re no longer an owner. You’re a licensee.

Today, electronics are embedded in just about everything we buy — umbrellas, pregnancy tests, hairbrushes. Everything is powered by tiny computers … and those computers are powered by software … and that software is copyrighted. So that smart hairbrush you bought your girlfriend (or yourself) for Christmas is protected by the same law that criminalizes music piracy. You don’t really own that hairbrush. The manufacturer does — because they own the software. So, if you think about it, software gets the same protections as A Farewell to Arms.

E-U-L-A, we don’t like you anyway!

The software in your device is governed by the terms of an End-User License Agreement (or EULA). We’ve all seen them — it’s that pop-up window packed with pages of dense legalese you encounter before using a new gadget, subscription service, or piece of software. They’re everywhere, and yet no one actually reads them. We mindlessly scroll right to the bottom and click, “I Agree” — unknowing of all the rights we just surrendered.

EULA’s bind consumers to a set of terms — and since those terms are set by the manufacturer, they’re never in the customer’s favor. When you check the box, lots of EULAs tell you not to take apart the device: the PS4, for example, bars its owners from using modified hardware with your PS4. EULA’s give manufacturers carte blanche to force you into whatever outrageous terms they want. Through these agreements, they’re stopping security research, killing competition, and preventing “unauthorized” repairs.

Beyonce says that girls run the world — and I agree with her. But when it comes to our stuff, really, it’s software that runs the world.

Death of a repairman

As more companies put digital locks over our gadgets, then — under the DMCA — they’ll be the only ones who can fix that stuff. They can sue anyone who tries to break up a repair monopoly, or anyone who’s shared their diagnostic codes.

With the powers of copyright law, the DMCA, and EULAs combined, manufacturers are doing a bang-up job of killing the non-OEM repair industry. Independent repair shops are going out of business. Technicians don’t have access to the diagnostic codes and manuals they need to do their jobs. Manufacturers are gouging consumers by charging a premium for repairs. And millions of people are waiting on Apple to get their iPhone battery replaced instead of fixing it themselves. (Apple, by the way, is actually lobbying against Right to Repair. If they had their druthers, only their authorized technicians could repair your phone — and you’d wait even longer for that battery replacement.)

When you buy something, you should own it. You should have the right to repair it yourself — or have the tech at the mall kiosk repair it, or your crazy nephew, or even the OEM. There’s enough broken stuff to go around so everyone can get their fix — including our broken copyright laws.

Originally published at ifixit.org.