The Science Underneath Self-care
As a millennial woman, it seems that my newsfeed has reached a peak saturation around the promotion and branding of our individual wellness routines. Self-care was something that once felt banal and was completed in the privacy of our homes has now been transformed to be a central feature of our social media personas.
We are no longer strangers to posts featuring sparkly bath bombs, displays of several supplements on countertops, the large Olivia Pope like glasses of organic sulfite-free wine, or selfies at the hot yoga studio — we’re recreating these visuals and messages in our profiles to signal to others that we have embodied these things not only as routines but values for how we should live our healthiest lives.
When we begin to think about why this particular facet of our routines has become commodified and routinely displayed to an audience, we can begin to understand the deeply rooted link between self-care as a facet of the wellness industry and the patriarchal expectations of beauty. Wellness and self-care are extensions of a beauty industry that promotes and rewards those who prioritize physical presentation and physical attributes, especially when used as a social currency.
Everything from our workouts, to our plates, to the curated websites focused on the beauty routines of famous women, it is as though everyone is determined to package and promote that they too are taking care of themselves. Even our choice of water sends signals to our networks that we are consuming with premium health in mind.
But what I have come to observe is that the self-care industry at its most basic level is a kaleidoscope of products, cleanses, and workout routines that have become a constricting and performative idea of aesthetic health maintenance. This comes as no surprise, since the self-care industry is a facet of a larger beauty and wellness industries. We have been reinforced through an onslaught of likes, advertising messaging, and publications that expensive facials take social precedence over our yearly skin cancer screening with our dermatologists.
This is not to say that these routines, choices or products are solely self-indulgent or purposeless beyond their aesthetic measures. They do offer us necessary outlets, tools, and time to disconnect and reflect. For many, the adoption of these routines is a welcomed escape from our mental responsibilities, overflowing social schedules, and demands at work. Without these periods of regeneration and relaxation we would be burnt out and stressed at much faster rates than we are already seeing occur. (Often these elaborate routines of self-care can contribute to burnout, itself another routine and responsibility to be accounted for.) Ultimately, taking care of ourselves should not be seen as frivolous or solely surface level, but its definition can not be so limited to exclude a larger framework of our health and our health outcomes.
What is missing from mainstream self-care narratives and is often overshadowed, is how science and medicine at their fundamental core are rooted in health and are equally, if not more important in our self-care routines that are rooted in our more topical or aesthetic choices.
This of course, comes in many layers of responsibilities as we consider this as individuals, patients, consumers and female identifying people.
Owning and understanding your personal health isn’t as easy to promote and can be scary to face. It is a complex network of symptoms, appointments, insurance and billing that in its entirety falls nothing short of overwhelming. At times, it can feel easier to substitute a face mask instead of taking the time to call and make an appointment to talk to a healthcare professional.
We have been conditioned to think of the act of applying a face mask as purely rewarding (dewy skin and instant relaxation) and the scheduling of routine check ups as a nuisance, a to-do item we can never find time for. There is a reason of course why embossed journals and sweaty selfies perform better on Instagram than the waiting rooms of our gynecologist’s office. Self-care relies on our self-image of our health.
And yet, understanding the implications of being anemic or scheduling yearly mammograms are critical pieces of information that remain relevant even after we step away from our screens and out of the isles of department stores.
Most importantly, it is the conversations we are having offline and behind closed doors with our doctors and healthcare providers that will in the long run be more beneficial to our longevity and our health. We must work towards finding an equilibrium where we are well versed in our test results and the ingredients in our facial serums.
It is not to say that we should not go on a dissolution of the self-care industry as some sort of pseudo-health propagator — but we need to make sure we are making space for things like preventative care, medicine and public health concerns to remain equal in weight. When we push for alternative narratives and more inclusive ideas of self-care that include these things, we will benefit not only as consumers but as patients, too.
