Within the past few years, social media has taken off. Websites like Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter are continually the most commonly visited sites on the internet, and they are being matched by newer platforms that turn listening to music or going on a run into a form of social media. With this increase in sheer number of people present on social media has come an increase in the audience that views a single post. For instance, when I post a photo on Facebook, I can be sure that my mom, my aunts and uncles, and my 11th grade math teacher (if I’m lucky), will all see it. The same is becoming true for Instagram, as many adults are confidently mastering the art of Facebook statuses and moving on to more daunting tasks: deciding between the Clarendon and Lark filters on Instagram. With the general increase in presence on these social media platforms, many young adults are finding ways to evade the extreme publicity that these sites invite. One of these evasion methods is the increasingly-popular Fake Instagram, or “Finsta.”
A Finsta is essentially a private Instagram account that people create to post their most embarrassing, funniest, or least-mom appropriate stories that they want their close friends to be able to see. Finstas generally range from diary-like memories of someone’s everyday activities to short snippets when people are out with friends. While I don’t want to spend an entire article dissecting the different types of Finstas that exist, I think that their existence is interesting in itself.
As comes with any type of media, it’s interesting to witness how, over time, people find new platforms to do the same things. For instance, one of my mom’s favorite stories from college is how the upperclassmen would have a pamphlet with the faces of the new freshmen, a literal “face book” if you will, to invite people to parties (yes, I know that’s really shallow to invite people to parties based on looks, but blame the 1980s, not me).
Finstas, as a secret platform to publish stories about oneself, remind me of pen names for authors. If you know anyone with a Finsta, their username is probably some funny/uncomfortable/random combination of their favorite animal, celebrity food, nickname, number, etc. Essentially, Finstas are meant to be unrecognizable to the average Instagram user – no one, usually, is supposed to be able to tell whose Instagram it is without knowing them.
(gif courtesy of giphy.com)
So, what?
Authors such as Dr. Seuss, Mark Twain, and J.K. Rowling adapted pen names at certain points within their careers to hide their identities or take on other identities that might appeal to more readers. For instance, some female authors would adopt male pen names.
With the continuing tradition of anonymity that has adapted to new forms of media, publishing has taken on a whole new meaning, as many articles are now published online (like this one) instead of in physical books or papers. In some ways I think that this is more dangerous, because we’ve all heard that once we post something on social media, it’s there forever. Imagine running for office one day and your opponent pulling up a screenshot from a Finsta you posted of a late night out at the local pizza shop. Doesn’t look too good.
(gif courtesy of giphy.com)
I’m saying this as someone who may or may not have multiple Instagram accounts, but I think the changing nature of publicity, security and online profiles put an interesting twist on what our reputations will be filled with in twenty or thirty years. If Hillary’s emails were a scandal, I can’t wait to see what comes out when our generation is running for political office.
(gif courtesy of giphy.com)
(cover photo courtesy of giphy.com)