Letâs talk about Instagram âinfluencerâ culture.Â
My younger brother and his girlfriend are Instagram influencers. They arenât household names with a million fans apiece, but they each have a decent following. Theyâve been featured in various lists and roundups of people whose lives and relationships are #goals, and they both earn a steady income from Instagram. Not enough to make a full-time living, but enough to make pouring hundreds of hours into their Instagram careers worth their while.Â
Despite being so close to an Instagram influencer - several of the most popular photos on my brotherâs account were taken by me - I have some serious qualms about Instragram âinfluencerâ culture as a whole. I studied the impact of platforms like Instagram in graduate school - I have a masterâs degree in clinical psychology, and I spent part of my time in grad school working with a professor who studies the impact of social media on mental health. A recent study found that out of all social media platforms, Instagram is the worst for your mental health. Iâve also had the chance to see firsthand what a life lived on Instagram has meant for my brother, and the toll it continues to take on him.Â
So what makes Instagram influencer culture so toxic for both the people who create it and the people influenced by it? For starters:
Itâs faker than you think. Instagram stars intentionally market themselves as âauthenticâ and ârealâ - you are led to believe that you are getting an unfiltered glimpse into someoneâs daily life as you follow along with their pictures and their daily stories. In reality, however, a huge amount of time, effort and money goes into the images you see. My brother and his girlfriend take hundreds of photos in order to get one or two shots worthy of posting. Outings are often little more than photoshoots; a âhikeâ is often just a short walk to a scenic location, followed by hours of photos. Ditto for ice skating, beach days and photos from music festivals. They donât get to enjoy many of the activities they are depicted doing with big smiles on Instagram, because the focus is on capturing the perfect photo. Photos are often planned weeks in advance, vacations are booked based on which locations will make the best backdrops, and the fancy food in their pictures often goes cold while they get the perfect shot. The fact that they want to create beautiful images is not an issue - after all, the pictures in many mainstream ads are stunning. The issue is that theyâre specifically pretending not to be models or advertisers; they are intentionally leading you to believe that what youâre seeing is candid daily life. Which leads me toâŠ
It presents unattainable ideals as everyday life. Instagram influencers roll out of bed in perfect and tastefully-decorated apartments, eat nutritious and visually stunning meals, and lead full, active lives of glamour and adventure. Their skin is never flawed, their hair never out of place, and their outfits never tacky. Again, this isnât a problem if you are creating an advertisement or a TV show - something that your viewers know is manufactured to look perfect - but Instagram stars hinge their success on pretending that that level of non-stop perfect is their average, daily life. In reality, my brotherâs girlfriend piles dirty laundry and books in her bathtub so that her bedroom looks âminimalistâ in her photos, and the two of them post weeks-old starry-eyed couple photos with gushy captions even when they are on the verge of breaking up. Influencers themselves tend to be young, attractive, white, thin, able-bodied, middle-class cis people - an ideal that is already unattainable for most people - and yet they present themselves as totally average people. When flaws and problems are revealed, itâs often in a very controlled way, and generally tied in with some kind of pithy advice or mantra. Which brings us toâŠ
It encourages people with no credentials to hand out âexpertâ advice. This is probably one of the most damaging aspects of influencer culture. 22-year-olds with absolutely no formal training in nutrition, mental health, medicine, dermatology or fitness are handing out âexpertâ wellness advice - or even designing diets, skincare routines, and workout regimens for others - and feeling increasingly comfortable doing it. Vulnerable people who may have very serious issues lap this advice up, regardless of how unsound or untested it may be; after all, these influencers appear to have perfect lives, and itâs easy to assume that they must know the secrets of health, happiness and clear skin. There are a couple of huge problems with this. For one, many people arenât actually aware of why they are successful - if a conventionally attractive cis white woman whose parents financially support her tells you that the secret to avoiding stress is meditation and mud masks, you should be skeptical of that advice. People in positions of relative privilege are often blind to the many advantages they have, and will attribute their success to their âwellness routinesâ or âpositive thinkingâ, rather than the social advantages that are not available to many of their followers. Also, influencers are often peddling advice that they themselves do not follow. My brotherâs girlfriend makes money by selling advice on how to make a full-time living while travelling the world, despite the fact that she isnât actually able to do that. Many influencers who promote extremely restrictive diets and health regimes have admitted that they themselves do not follow these diets. People who are feeling deeply insecure about their bodies, relationships, careers, lifestyles and productivity are turning to advice from people who arenât qualified to help. And why does every Instagram star suddenly seem to be offering themselves up as a âwellnessâ expert? Itâs becauseâŠ
It exists to sell you things, while pretending otherwise. As much as the influencer community presents itself as being all about âauthenticityâ, âexpressionâ, âempowermentâ, or âwellnessâ, at the end of the day, it is all about trying to sell you things, even if that means exploiting your deepest insecurities. A company that employs plus-sized models to represent their $90 leggings is still a company that, at the end of the day, is trying to sell you $90 leggings, and if they have to pay someone to convince you that these leggings are the only thing standing between you and finally loving your body and having the courage to chase your dreams, then thatâs exactly what they are going to do. It is an advertisement, dressed up as self-help and inspiration from an ordinary person who just wants you to succeed. If you find that you feel bad about yourself after a couple of minutes of scrolling through your instagram feed, thatâs the impact that the app is meant to have on you. People who are completely satisfied with themselves and their lives donât buy things they donât need - making you feel like your life should be better is the key to selling you a wide variety of products.Â
Does all this mean that Instagram is evil, or that influencers are bad people? Of course not. They are people trying to make money through self-expression, and many produce interesting and engaging content. Many of them are very young, and may not think about the impact that they might be having on their followers. I certainly donât think that any of them set out to deceive people. But it is important to think critically about the media we consume, the purpose of that media, and the message it carries. I have known many people, both personally and professionally, who find that they feel worse about themselves after spending an afternoon scrolling through social media, and I think itâs important for all of us to examine why that may be, and take steps to protect our own mental health.
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