Everyone Plays Pretend on Social Media, and No One is Immune
Everyone Plays Pretend on Social Media, and No One is Immune
For those of us who consider ourselves scholars and self-proclaimed “intellectuals,” we would like to believe upon first glance that we are exceptions to the psychological folly of social media.
I hate to break it to you, but we are all guilty, at some point, of the full-blown denial of our humanness in different contexts of communication. In other words, you care about social media, whether you want to or not.
We believe the examples of “shameful” behavior exist beyond our capabilities. I imagine some of us would express grief in the moments we catch ourselves seeking instant-notification-gratification.
“I would never be so very much concerned or bothered by the number of likes I get on a post...but why hasn't anyone like it yet? Did I do it right? Why don’t people like my shit? I thought it was good...”
Social media is an evolving creature we all hold a stake in as it grows and spreads. That co-creation is not exclusive to the platforms and systems we refer to as “social media” platforms: Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, etc. In fact, creation happens before anything is posted on our feed.
For example, I’m drafting, editing, and crafting this article in a Google document before publishing it online. Once it is cast off into the digital ether, I’ll make a few posts on my Instagram and LinkedIn promoting the piece and direct traffic to this page.
Maybe you’re reading this because of one of those posts.
This article originated from an essay I wrote a few years back for a Literature and Visual Arts course I took for my English degree and inspired my early reflections on my relationship with social media.
I am personally fascinated by social media as we are collectively still adjusting and learning who we are in relation to these tools. Social media isn’t exactly new and existed long before the conception of the platforms we have a love-hate-why-bother-but-bother-anyway relationship with.
Content Creator Isn’t a Dirty Word
When we are not directly connecting and communicating with each other through social media, we are still communicating and broadcasting something.
Writers don’t just write all the live-long day; we communicate and transmute a point or a moment or a lesson we can’t stand to keep to ourselves, even when we have no idea or hope for affecting any difference in the sharing of it.
Writers are also content creators. I know, I can feel the repulsive reflex, the denial of “oh, god, don’t lump me into that category.”
I wouldn’t necessarily say “content creator” is a dirty word, but it does carry a collective connotation that is still being decided as we speak.
It’s easy, even obvious, to examine the photoshopped images of celebrities and public figures with an attitude of critique that exists outside of our own activity.
We think, “I can do that. It’s so easy but so fake. But I’m better than that...although, I can’t seem to make my pictures look that cool.”
Stepping beyond the glaring examples from the caricature influencers and celebrities--the ones we don’t want to be yet we envy their perceived effortless existence--the typical social media user posts to share a perception of a romanticized and summarized snapshot of our lives.
The dramaturgical theory of self argues that we are always putting on a mask, performing different roles or selves on a “stage” with “props” for an intended audience (Social Media: Enduring Principles, Ashlee Humphreys).
Dramaturgy from a sociological perspective examines the presentation of self — that we are always putting on a performance of some kind.
This theory is one I can appreciate as a truism, but I argue against the cynical perception and attitude many critics of online personas, influencers, and iterations of our virtual selves adopt in their reviews.
We are all putting on performances in varying areas of our lives, but showing up on social media is both a private and public activity. We may not always be aware of precisely who we are putting on a performance for.
Everyone has a “customer service voice.” What about your “influencer voice”?
Let me use myself as an example of the dance we have with attempting to “get” social media. Previous to my current business, I had another brand endeavor called Card & Coffee. It was my tarot reading services turned attempted online coach.
In a post from 2018 I have since archived on my Instagram, I had asked a friend to take a picture of me working on my laptop when she met me for coffee. I didn’t normally do this (posing for a photo op and roping a friend into my candid moment) because I still felt awkward and graceless taking pictures of my food or lattes.
In my caption, I wrote:
Living my best witchy life today! I know I’ve been saying all week how I wish I had an office and how restless working from home can be sometimes, but you know what? I GET to work wherever I want. I GET to hang out at a coffee shop and feel cute while I work on edits. Now if the weather would cool down that would be stellar!
I’m working on a monthly newsletter for you guys and to entice more of your lovely brains to get involved. If you haven’t already, you can subscribe via the link in the bio OR visit cardandcoffee.com/subscribe!
I can’t wait to do more exciting things to share!
Ah, 2018. A time when I was really trying on the work for yourself lifestyle and growing out a regretful pixie cut.
What makes me uncomfortable about this performance isn’t the positivity, the content of the photo, or sharing what I was working on — it was the mask I was wearing, the perception I presented, that didn’t feel in alignment with who I believed myself to be.
At this moment, energetically, I was trying to “get” something just to get it. It wasn’t grounded in an energy of helpfulness or encouragement or honesty. This snapshot represents a season of my life when I wanted to be on social media, but I didn’t understand why I wanted to be there and what the purpose was for me.
I spent the first year or so of “rocking that freelance lifestyle” neck-deep in an online community of coaches, consultants, and digital entrepreneurs. The discourse circulating within the community had an emphasis on presenting yourself in a way that has shown results for others.
I have done this thing, and I can help you do it, too!
While there is nothing inherently wrong with sharing your experience, knowledge, and lessons learned, there is a difference between “I must prove this performance to be true and pull people into my orbit” and “I know myself, I know what I love to do, and we can meet in the middle if that interests you, dear feed-scroller.”
Duplicating action can work, but in my experience, it is not sustainable and not enjoyable.
This post had gotten decent engagement and even encouragement that my content was “popping.” And prior to the pandemic, I do work from coffee shops from time to time, and at the time, I wanted to present myself in a certain way and use the image to frame my message.
The reality is I spend most of my time working from home in pajamas, and that day I only worked on my computer for about 30 minutes before my friend arrived and snapped the photo.
I was displaying a lifestyle as a freelancer and entrepreneur with the ability to work remotely. And while I do enjoy looking cute while working on my laptop at a scenic downtown coffee shop, this isn’t an accurate representation of what I did that day or how I typically work.
Certainly, the backdrop of how I presented myself in this post is one of a particular type of privilege and freedom that can come from working remotely.
The coffee shop is also a stand-in for buzz-worthy ideas around small business, local economy, individuals who purposely patronize this type of place — millennials, hipsters, entrepreneurs, yogis, the people who can afford to live downtown, etc. — my supposed “target audience.”
The components of my work life, my everyday life, the audience I want to reach, and what I want to achieve are all there, laid out in front of me.
But the performance isn’t authentic in my eyes because I’m embodying someone I’m not.
The lifestyle here isn’t exactly my lifestyle.
I do not believe the performances we display or the facades we dawn, whether it be digitally or physically, are inherently evil, insidious, or predatory.
Instead, it’s the persona of others we wear in place of constructing our own, which weighs us down, burden us with superficial gratification, and garner desperation in making ends meet in analytics and engagement.
On social media platforms, we post the highlights of our lives, and maybe that’s because we want more of that in our lives. I, for example, wish my workdays looked more like this one here: carefree, romantic, a la how does she do it?
But we all romanticize our own lives from time to time. I do not think it is all ill-intended.
Just as a nonfiction novel has some exaggeration and embellishment, omitted and imagined details, we use social media as another way to shape the narratives of our lives.
The only harm I see is shaping a narrative that is not our own story, putting on a performance that is not of our own creation, adopting a digital persona we did not make uniquely for ourselves.
Hey, I’m River!
Thanks for reading.
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