The Uncropped Share Fallacy
How do we convey authenticity in a world of filters?
NB: This piece is part of ABC, an online “book club” for interesting articles. Please visit this link to join the club and participate in the discussion.
Last week, I announced my brithday to the world with a selfie. As if Zuckerberg’s push notifications weren’t enough to remind my network that I exist…
I spent the afternoon scrolling through “likes” alternating between feeling loved and straining to remember how the hell I know Garret from New Jersey (sorry Garret, Birthright 2012, #neverforget).
At the end of the day, I wound up to write my annual, “Continually humbled by the outpour of love and support from the fam. Here’s to another revolution around the sun!” post. But then for some reason, I deleted it.
The truth is, the last year was the worst year of my life. 25 held of steady bassline of professional angst, failed relationships, and the anxiety of not feeling needed by anyone or anything.
That’s what I could have written.
I could have used the candlelight to show it’s okay to be vulnerable. I don’t have to only share the photos that make me look skinny and the articles that make me look cultured. But instead, I chose to go with a selfie and systematically like every post on my wall, so my friends could know that I care.
I think we can all agree that sharing filtered versions of ourselves online can be extremely damaging. But what I’m still trying to reconcile is the doubt that surrounds me even when I want to share the full picture. If everything isn’t all hunkydory in my update, will they think I’m a try-hard? An attention whore? No one wants to hear about a quarter life crisis or a mediocre day at the office. Even the “it’s okay to be sad” posts are perfectly cropped and come with a hashtag.
At the end of the day, there is no such thing as an uncropped share.
Online or offline. With a stranger or a lover. We choose the frame for everything we unveil about ourselves. We are constantly making micro-choices on how we choose to present.
I have this utopian vision of an Internet where my online self is a direct reflection of the complex, cookie-loving goober that I am offline. But in actuality, my online self is the Barbie whose boobs are too big to stand up in real life.
It’s really hard for me to admit, first to myself and then online, that I’m in a bad mood or that I’m not entirely sure gentrification is a bad thing or that sometimes conservative political rhetoric reasonates with parts of me. But I never share any of that stuff because it feels off brand.
When it’s always easier to share the flattering side of me, I’m unsure of how to present in a way that still feels authentic.
So instead of ending this post with sweeping didactic advice like I do in most everything else that I write, I want yours. How do you think about what you choose to share? Do you believe it’s okay to only share the good stuff?
I’m just going to leave this thought here, half-baked. And maybe you can validate some of the insecurity that I’m feeling, so in my next revolution around the sun I can do a better job of knowing what I like, and not having to prove it.
