In Defense of Heavy Instagram Usage

Man Repeller dissected the upside of Instagram in regards to interpersonal relationships and we have thoughts about it.

Snapshots of the authors from Instagram stories. How very meta.

Taylor Coil:

Holy crap I love this conversation.

Georgette Eva:

Yes! I meant to read this earlier and didn’t have time so I’m glad we can chat about this.

Okay — so I actually have been debating this a lot and it was lovely to see (“hear”) what I was feeling about Instagram articulated with other humans. Specifically with Instagram being a channel where we can express our layers and how we see ourselves.

I’ve been hearing so much negativity or “friendly” gibes when we see people pose on the street, snap pics of their food, or try to take a video in public, and I get frustrated because:

1. Doing that is brave to me. I’m always embarrassed to be seen doing it and I commend those doing it. And
2. Why? They’re clearly having a moment (be it they love their outfit, they think this thing is cool, or they want to share something with friends).

I dislike the negativity of it. I smile and think, good for you, person. I wish I took time to do that.

Also it makes them happy. Just like snapping my coffee makes me happy because coffee is always a treat to me (yes I still get 30% caf and 70% decaf at Pret.)

Taylor:

I love the framing that snapping a moment of joy in public and sharing it is brave. I’ve never thought of it that way.

I, too, feel deep shame if someone catches me Instagramming in public. But the notes in the article about how perhaps we’re gaslit into thinking that’s superficial have me rethinking that shame.

I don’t use Instagram to pretend my life is more interesting or more fun than it actually is. I don’t ‘gram a boring party pretending that it’s a blast. I share moments that mean something to me and that, I think, is the opposite of superficial.

It’s human connection, and what could be more complex and deep than that?

And yet. Sharing those moments often fills me with guilt and shame. I’m truly questioning why that is.

Georgette:

Why do you think the sharing those moments making you feel guilty or shameful? I wonder, too, why I feel guilty or superficial if I’m caught snapping a photo of my ice cream. But damn it! I want that photo of my ice cream.

In those instances I think I feel semi shameful because here I am making a big deal for nothing and making my life look something it’s not (I don’t eat ice cream all the time? Just most of the time).

But, I reason that these photos are actually for me. I love that photo of my overpriced ice cream. I feel fancy and it makes me happy that I ate that. I love that photo of my coffee, because I’m always trying to quit coffee and when I get one I’m celebrating myself. I’m not sure. Could also be full of myself.

More importantly, I get so bogged down in the things I’m not doing for my life — looking at you investment portfolio. So when I snap pics and share something of myself, small as it may be, I feel like I’ve produced or created or did something with my time.

Not that I’m always doing something or tracking things. I do not snap pics when I do laundry. I wish I did, though. I like complaining about laundry.

Taylor:

I think that’s speaking to the point of authenticity. The people I follow are raw. Often in a beautifully presented way, but it feels honest.

With honesty, even the banal is meaningful in that context — like laundry and ice cream.

Each photo in my feed is meaningful to the person who posted it. I’m witnessing a moment — and that feels reverent, almost.

Georgette:

That’s very true. I follow people I want to support, some people I want inspiration from, and some brands that I want to keep track of.

I think it goes into the materialistic, dangerous part if you’re not on top of what you’re consuming and doing with the platform.

Taylor:

I think that’s what it comes down to. Intention and curation.

Georgette:

Weirdly though, I don’t prefer the pace or algorithm of Instagram. I like Twitter much better!

Taylor:

That’s exactly what I think. When I deleted Instagram I seriously missed some people — watching their stories felt something like hanging out with them. Looking at you, Katherine Sauer.

It’s not a substitute for in person connection. I think that’s key. It’s not a replacement, but it is a lovely addition.

Georgette:

That’s true. I personally always feel awkward sometimes when I’m reconnecting with friends after a while. I never know where to start with asking questions and it’s sort of nice way to see what you’ve been up to and I can slide into your DMs and interact with you. Or I’ll have some things I can bring up later which is nice.

That being said, I also do not assume people have seen my stories. I always say they’re for me to watch and laugh/be happy at myself first, Matt second (because I make him).

Taylor:

That makes sense. It’s for you first and foremost. It’s a way to add to a moment, and if others also appreciate it — great!

Georgette:

Have you ever caught yourself running your own brand? I realize that for me I’ll say “no, that’s for Twitter” before I post something and switch platforms.

Taylor:

Yeah. I even took a personal branding class in college. I kind of try not to brand myself these days, and just document what is true.

Which I guess is a brand in itself.

For me, raw personal moments are for Instagram and thoughts on business are for Twitter. You’re more inclined to post funny asides on Twitter, special moments on Instagram, and the raw on Instagram stories.

Georgette:

It’s sort of funny because I personally don’t want to brand myself on my off hours. I want to rest! But it’s just in our natures to do it, I guess.

You’re right on how we use each. And Facebook is for groups and to let my family know I like their children!

Taylor:

AMEN.

You asked earlier about why I feel guilt and shame when I post. I didn’t answer because I needed to think about it.

I think it’s twofold:

1. A question of identity. I don’t want to be the kind of person who posts a thirst trap, for instance. I am comfortable in my own skin, however, and spend a lot of time in a bikini during the summer. Those are joyful moments and I want to share them. The end result looks quite similar to the aforementioned thirst trap, which is why shame seeps in. I’m not that person, I think to myself. Again — it comes down to intention. I post to share my joy with the world (or share a moment of vulnerability, but usually joy — because my life is really quite happy), not with the intention of showing off. That’s it — I feel guilty when documenting joy feels like bragging about how great my life is.

2. I think we’ve been somewhat conditioned as a generation (society?) to see social media as bad for us, as toxic to our personalities, as destructive rather than formative. I challenge that assumption — obviously, given the topic of this conversation — but I can’t pretend that conditioning doesn’t impact me. I’m supposed to be spending less time on my phone, because that’s what we’re told we’re supposed to want to do.

The second point is what I’m questioning after Haley and Harling’s disagreement with social media as a superficial indulgence. Like fashion, like “chick flicks,” like vocal fry, like anything associated strongly with femininity. It’s dismissed by default.

Sure, social media has downsides. But I’m kind of over the argument that it’s vapid full stop.

For instance: our friendship would suffer without social media. It might not have blossomed in the first place. The fact that it did, with Instagram’s help, is a beautiful and meaningful thing.

That’s not fucking superficial.

Georgette:

I can understand that about identity. It’s the same thing about people who want to take selfies in public. I’ll see people snicker or laugh when someone’s trying to get a good shot. And I don’t want to be thought of as silly, materialistic, or (worse) not living the moment.

I think there is a tendency to do that with Instagram because I want to document it, even the little things. As far as thirst traps go — I’m sort of laughing quietly because I think my lattes are like literal thirst traps. Look how grown up and how well I’m doing, suckers.

That’s not my intention. It’s still for me to lust over later.

Taylor:

YES on “not living in the moment.” I’ve written about that before — I think sometimes taking a picture helps me appreciate the moment instead of pulling me out of it.

That’s not a perspective anyone wants to hear.

Georgette:

Oh! As far as social media or maybe Instagram being more feminine. It reminds me of that genius notion that teenage girls are the best weathervane for trends. I think people have a tendency to scoff on something up and coming and new, because we inevitably hate change. Whereas there’s a force of us who want to try something new and see how we can use it, why is it interesting, how does it make us feel.

Teen girls were right about the Beatles and they’ve steered us right ever since.

Taylor:

And yet the things teen girls love are dismissed as frivolous 100% of the time. Even by (especially by?) former teen girls.

Wasn’t there a podcast episode on that topic? I think I remember listening to an analysis of this very subject, but I can’t remember which podcast did it.

Georgette:

I agree photos in the moment actually help me remember the details. I gloss and romanticize moments already in my head. Why can I take a really “ooh cloud” photo of the moment that matches my mood about it?

Yes! There was a Strong Opinions Loosely Held episode about teen girls running the world.

I wonder why former teen girls (haha adult women. I want to change my Twitter bio now) scoff at these things being frivolous.

In my worst, I left a restaurant to take a photo of milkshake because the lighting was so bad. I only did it because my sisters egged me to do it, making fun of my tendency to photo my food. So out of the moment or part of the moment?

Taylor:

We scoff because we want to be seen as legitimate and worthy, and because society rewards a certain type of signaling. It takes a specific genre of guts to do the opposite.

Georgette:

That’s very true. Creating a hierarchy is in our nature, so we’d naturally scorn anything that looked less serious, less legitimate. But it’s so funny because we’ve all had that moment on both sides. I’ve scorned Facebook when all of my friends joined and yet here I am on Facebook.

Taylor:

I notice it most with language. Today, I type “v” instead of “very” with regularity, but I scoffed at those who did not too long ago. Though I can’t believe “v” took so long to take off — Bridget Jones was using “v” decades before it became a mainstream colloquialism.

Interesting posit: is a moment shaped by the very desire to document any less authentic? Any less of a memory?

Georgette:

Oh! Oh! That reminds me of an argument I had with a friend who said “it seems wrong that Instagram makes you do something.” And I pulled out my soap box.

I don’t necessarily see how it’s wrong if you do something for the ‘Gram, in the sense that it sort of shapes the moment, helps you get out of your comfort zone. It’s not less of a memory at all.

Taylor:

Right. Tech is so integrated into our lives. Why is it necessary that we continue to compartmentalize? Why is a tech-centric moment so vilified when that moment is one of genuine connection?

I don’t know if you listen to The High Low, but they often talk about how we tend to see people as wholly bad or wholly good in today’s zeitgeist. There is no room for redemption nor a small mistake. I think there’s a version of that same black and white framing with social media, and tech more generally.

Because aspects of social media are problematic, we tend to throw the baby out with the bathwater.

Georgette:

I just listened to an episode of The High Low! I’m very behind — all of the news they were talking about was a few weeks ago — but I really enjoyed it. It’s aggravating because I want to chime in!

Back to Bridget Jones: I remember reading v in journal writing — I was super into reading journaling type of books as a kid — and I remember adopting from there too. I was also very into correct, staid and true grammar and no short cuts, but funnily enough, I was reading how someone edited a Jane Austen manuscript of her unpublished work and my lady Jane shortened everything. For some reason, that loosened me up.

I guess because someone I upheld was saying it was okay to shorten very and full names, etc.

Taylor:

It’s social proof! And gets back to the idea of legitimacy. A teen girl is not a legitimate linguistic source. Jane Austen is.

But WHY isn’t a teen girl legitimate? Because she’s young?

Georgette:

Hmm, I think so. It’s societal nature that we wouldn’t take teen girls’ seriously. Weirdly, It think it’s associated with how fast we want them to grow up (we don’t do the same for teen boys).

Maybe when teen girls act their age, it’s ingrained that they’re supposed to be the more responsible sex?

Taylor:

And thus frivolity is all the more unforgivable.

Georgette:

Yes. But only if it appeals to a feminine base.

Whereas when I see men in their twenties pick up an app, device, or go on and on about Soylent, I think it’s dumb. But for some reason those indulgences are framed as more legitimate in the media.

Taylor:

We celebrate male frivolity, for sure. Look at the Rotten Tomatoes ratings for action movies versus rom coms.

I think we’re at a stopping point.

I guess what we’re both getting at is that opening Instagram during a meaningful moment doesn’t necessarily deserve the inevitable sneer. And some of the tendency to sneer comes from Instagram’s strong association with the feminine. Fuck that.

With intention, Instagram can be so very additive to daily life. And it gives you and I, as long distance friends, a tool to strengthen and maintain our bond from afar. The Divine Feminine, as it were.

Georgette:

Yes! I’m always so pleased when we tag each other, too. I’m not there at the moment, but it’s nice to see that I’m pseudo-there.

Taylor:

You’re always here in spirit. And ditto, friend.

Georgette:

❤

Taylor and Georgette are marketing professionals maintaining a long-distance friendship. We met at a coworking space on 23rd and 5th in early 2017 and have been kindred spirits ever since. Instagram is a primary tool we use to maintain our bond.

We wrote this post via iMessage.

If you want to chat about Instagram, feminism, or the intersection of the two, leave us a response.