I met Finsta at exactly the right time, and I am endlessly grateful.
Finstagram is a relatively new phenomenon where millennials create a separate account on Instagram for close friends and trusted peers only.
I made my Finsta in mid-July. I had one month left before I launched my big move from the Southwest to the Midwest, and that last summer before college was a strange, wonderful, and anxious time.
I realized that once I left, my relationship with my hometown (and likely the people in it) would be forever changed. I felt pressure to make as many memories as possible, to spend as much time with my friends as possible, and to get to know myself as well as I could before I would be uprooted.
I purged my Facebook and Instagram, committing time to grooming my virtual self while simultaneously committing time to understanding my actual self (trying to solidify my interests, identify my core values, select my major—you know, the stuff college is for).
I starting wondering if social media was even something I wanted to participate in. I still spend a lot of time on that question. Social media, at times, feels very toxic. It felt like juggling separate selves, like a competition and comparison and a whole lot of work. Finsta is exactly what I had been looking for in social media, and it couldn’t have come at a better time.
Finsta showed me the side of social media that at least for me, has been seriously eroded: a sense of community, an honest portrayal of reality, a way to communicate and stay in touch with the people who matter most. A platform to express yourself, instead of a platform to maintain an image.
It’s true that Finsta is a place where people discuss drinking, drugs, and sex. But what do people talk about far more often than all those things combined? People talk about their day. People talk about their feelings. With Finsta, it’s completely normal to ask for advice on personal things such as your relationships, or things of less importance, like the color of your prom dress.
Take a poll on loose leaf teas. Become well-versed in memes. Share bad snapchat selfies from the archives. Ask about ways to unwind when you’re upset. Let your friends share in the hard times, the good times, the times you don’t remember, and all the times in between.
I think what’s most amazing about Finsta is that it really embodies the ancient proverb, “Everybody has their shit.” Finstagram often functions as a safe place to talk about mental health. Finsta helps you kiss your sad friends thru the phone. There is an unspoken understanding that what happens on Finsta, stays on Finsta. (Obviously, choose your followers wisely if you want that to hold true.)
While I do carry several anxieties about the space it takes up in my life, I’m not anti-social media. I really love my “Rinsta.” I think even years down the road I won’t be completely finished ironing out my thoughts on social media. It’s a complicated relationship with pros and cons that I don’t fully understand yet. But I think Finsta is a healthy, genuine tool for introspection and connection. It’s an important outlet, and in a time of transition, I was able to talk honestly and openly about my experiences, while keeping the most important people up to date on my life. It has been a worthwhile experience to construct a narrative one day at a time with a group of people I love and trust. Long live the Finstagram.
Image credits: Justin Bieber, Instagram, Emma Derstine, Pexels