Winter break: the optimal time to browse Instagram. Who went out where on New Year’s Eve? Who spent their weekends in a tropical country sipping coladas? Who returned home to an elegant dining room lined with china and an uneatable amount of food? One does not wonder for long, rest assured it will be posted on their story. I am not one to criticize this practice as I am nosey and partake myself. However, the endless feed of holiday photo dumps exhibits the lens our generation sees the world. Perhaps subconsciously, many of us are perpetually searching for an aesthetic and postable moment. I felt this phenomenon the strongest while studying abroad in London. All too aware of the passing hourglass, I needed to capture everything for the sake of my memory, to share with loved ones, and of course my Instagram followers. A formidable art work or delectable dish was not just an experience, but an opportunity to photograph, preserve, and share something beautiful. Most of us experience this inclination to see reality through a camera lens, and it may detract from the present moment, but I do not think it seriously hinders enjoyment of life. However, there is a significant difference between a typical Instagram girlie posting for her friends, families, & mutuals, and an influencer who relies on providing content for their income and career progress.
I have not stopped thinking about influencer’s relationship to content after listening to an episode of Binchtopia titled “More Like Dumb Phone :(“. Binchtopia is a transformative podcast for the intellectual girlies who want to learn more about social phenomena, not through academic jargon, but through ‘slays’ and ‘yases’. The brilliant and entertaining hosts, Julia Hava & Eliza McLamb, will wrap you into a parasocial relationship within the first episode. Their episode on social media applies Karl Marx’s theory of capital circulation. Capital circulation identifies three stages of production starting with capital. One uses their capital (typically money) to purchase the material necessary to produce a commodity. Next, labor turns said material into a commodity, granting the item value. Last, because the product is now valuable, it can be exchanged for capital. The takeaway from this theory is that a commodity is nothing without the laborer who gives it value. Now think of social media. When Kevin Systrom launched Instagram, it was simply a social media platform which enabled users to post content. However, the app itself is nothing without the content provided by users, not by Systrom. Through this lens, social media is reliant on its users to do the labor, create content, which makes the app desirable. Without content, Instagram loses its value.
Many aspire for the flexibility and luxury of influencer’s livelihoods. The most popular earn massive amounts of wealth, receive free items from brand deals, and are their own bosses. But, is it worth it? With Marx’s theory in mind, aren’t influencers under the clock 24/7? I discussed Gen Z’s habit to constantly search for their next story post in everyday life. Now, imagine this ability to find or create picturesque moments supported your livelihood. A stylish outfit, lavish dinner, lively night out, or beautiful vacation: an experience or a content opportunity? Can influencer’s experience reality without looking for ways to commodify it? A popular fitness influencer responded to a question on how to stick to a diet while out to dinner. The influencer replied with a three minute video walking the viewer through each course, and how she made health conscious food decisions despite obstacles. The video included multiple POVs of cocktails, appetizers, entrees, and her guests which spanned the entire night out. I could not help but wonder how much of dinner she spent with phone in hand and diet in mind, instead of quality time with friends. Would I do the same if my career and income benefited?
An exploration of how social media creates harm is not a new article concept. However, in the wake of the New Year, I am grateful to be harmed less than others; to be the influenced, and not the influencer.