Author’s Note: WOW I could go on forever about Instagram... so forgive my rant. I had a lot of fun writing this.
I don’t remember when I got an Instagram, nor do I remember my first post. It was probably middle school or early high school, and I know for a fact that my posts were “cringey” and got deleted long ago. There were definitely some early memes, #WomanCrushWednesday posts of celebrities, and plenty of peace sign and duck lipped pictures with my friends.
I Googled “2013 Instagram” and this is the most accurate thing to describe what I mean:
Now, my page is EXTREMELY curated. If high school and early college life taught me anything socially, it was how to “take pictures” and curate my online image. Deleting old pictures, changing captions, and highlighting the perfect stories is all part of the game now. These unspoken rules are ever changing and differ from person to person and group to group.
Break up with your boyfriend? Take couple pictures down. But not too soon after... but don’t wait too long.
Didn’t get enough likes in the first hour? Take it down and try again at a peak time.
Homecoming dance? Picture parties and photo shoots for 3 hours beforehand because it’s all about the content!
Lose two followers? Pay for the app that tracks who adds and unadds you and unfollow people who don’t follow you back.
Too many followers and you’re definitely a try hard. Not enough and people assume you are weird or not popular.
Want to post too casual of a photo? No way. Too formal? Ew, stop trying so hard.
Unedited picture? Are you sure you don’t want to touch it up? Too edited? Gosh you’re trying so hard.
Too much skin? Too slutty, stop posting “thirst traps.” Not enough sex appeal and you’re a prude.
Especially as a communicator, I feel immense pressure to have a certain type of social media presence: a healthy mixture of the fun, real me being myself with my friends and family, but still professional. Everything I post, I have to think “my grandparents, professor, boss, young family, parents, siblings, schoolmates, friends, university, sorority, employers, future can see this.” Talk about context collapse (before I had any idea what it was)! How does one post for all of those audiences?
In came Finstas. Ahhh, the memories...
I remember the first time I heard the word Finsta. I thought my friend was just slurring their words or messed up. Once I was introduced to the idea, I was sold. I had always longed for somewhere I could do whatever I wanted for my closest friends.
My Finsta became my diary: Funny story or video? On the Finsta. Bad day and need advice? Finsta friends to the rescue. All of my friends and I had a close-knit network of secret accounts that interacted only with each other (and your real accounts to like pictures...it’s all about those stats! So, if you get a like and follow from all of your friends AND their Finstas, those add up quick.). Follower counts were kept low and posts were uncensored and honest.
Well into college, Finstas reigned supreme... until sororities caught wind. Greek organizations are very critical and have strict rules regarding how members are allowed to post and present themselves online. My organization did not allow any underage drinking or obvious bar pictures if you were under 21. At one point, their rules got so controlling that they got mad at people for holding cups or water bottles at all. If they deemed your photo too provocative, they would make you take it down or you could get in trouble or fined. If the picture was bad quality or the caption suggestive or lewd, they would make you take it down. So, many people turned to Finstas to publish their NSFS (Not Safe for Soritrity) content.
As one can imagine, Greek life was NOT having any part of the Finsta craze. Immediately, my organization was calling people out for having Finstas and forcing them to delete accounts. At one point, the president literally made people delete it in front of her so that she saw they actually did it instead of just changing the name and hiding it. Finsta snitches became a thing. It was Greek Life cyber-warfare.
I was one of the first to give up my Finsta for good. I had already began to use it less and less, so by then I was okay with deleting it. But, for many of my friends who used them for more wholesome, diary-like purposes (rather than somewhere to be trashy like others), losing years of photos, memories, posts and comments was hard. It was really like deleting that “truer version” of themselves (p. 16).
Flash forward to today, and I use my Instagram as a personal promotion tool more than anything. I just have my one public account. I have deleted any and all embarrassing pictures (well, some are embarrassing still but in an okay way) and all posts are purposely posted to be seen by the world. I have also long left behind some of the more ridiculous and rigid unspoken Instagram “rules” I used to abide by and no longer focus as much on the numbers in a negative way. I use it to be myself in a way I want anyone to see, and I wish I had always had an outlook like this.
Follow me @sarah_grobety for a decent time and intermittent posts about my relatively boring existence. Or don’t. I don’t care any more ;)