Fakeness Overload
FAKEgram. That’s how I would rather call an app like Instagram. The instant element of the platform vanished in a distorted world of edited selfies, exaggerated captions and trending hashtags. As I scroll down my Instagram feed, perfect faces with extra white teeth smile at me. Toned bodies and exercise routines make me regret the donut I just ate. I take my daily dose of Instagram fakeness and I ask myself, “Am I the only one concerned?”
A New York Times article I’ve recently read says that there is no room for concerns. “Just don’t follow accounts or hashtags you don’t like,” Geoffrey Morrison, the author of the article, suggests. According to him, users are the masters of their Instagram fates and it’s all a matter of personal choice. If you dislike models and beauty tips, stay away from them. If dogs and cats make you happy, go follow and like all of the animal pages out there. “Filter your content,” that’s Geoffrey Morrison’s tip for Instagram survival.
Choosing wisely my content was the last thing I thought about when I first downloaded the app. I was 13 and everyone around me was posting, tagging and following. Everyone except of me. When I finally created an account I was overwhelmed with curiosity. I wanted to explore every single side of the Instagram world that seemed to be infinite. Models, singers and actors started popping up in my feed. Hashtags such as like for like and follow for follow became my main priorities. The Instagram game was so easy to play. I had to simply follow the main rule. No flaws allowed!
We can restrict the content we see but can we restrict the content we create? Instagram-ready, that’s how I used to call the photos that followed the common pattern. The starter pack consisted of an unnatural posture, a flawless background and extra effects. There is a reason why people say fake it ‘till you make it. Instagram is the modernized, brutally literal edition. The desire to achieve physical perfection is haunting us and that’s statistically proven. A 2017 American study, conducted by the photo and video verification platform Truepic, found out that 64 percent of the interviewed retouch their shots before uploading them. Controversially, 81 percent of them distrust edited photos on social media.
My 13-year-old brain was so obsessed with the app that there was no room for suspicion. How do you distrust your idols? I used to wake up and fall asleep, looking at photos of Victoria’s Secret models. Or I should better say angels. The same angels that took me to my hell. My big desire to be physically perfect sent me to the prison of constant doubts, dieting and losing weight. “You need to filter your content,” Geoffrey Morrison will probably say to me.
Even if I decide to unfollow Victoria’s Secret now and cleanse my Instagram feed, it will be too late. I’ve already suffered the damages. As a person who has experienced the symptoms of the Instagram virus, I believe that the most effective cure is being aware of the fakeness. Limiting your content is the pain-killer that will only numb your symptoms for an hour or two. What our society needs is a long-term remedy.
Education experts in the United Kingdom seem to have it in store. A recent article published in The Sun reveals their plans to include social media classes in elementary schools. According to the professionals in the field, lessons on selfies and vlogging will raise awareness and warn the youngsters against the overloading fakeness of the industry.
I truly wish that there were someone to educate and warn the little me on time. Even though I was good at Math back then, I couldn’t calculate the risk of the overloading fakeness. I thought that like plus follow equal happiness. Now I know that they equal a complete disaster.
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Yoana Blagova studies journalism and political science at the American University in Bulgaria. She despises the social media fakeness.
