Fieldwork for the Flawless

Instagram is rampant.

The number of hours I spend on social media, especially Instagram, is consuming. At this point, it’s like a reflex to check my feed after a couple hours or even a couple minutes. While I know it has no profound importance, I still incessantly open the app.

Idealistic photos flood my feed and explore page. These photos are so aggressively ‘perfect’ that I feel like they’re screaming at me: photo after photo after photo of people at grandiose parties, picturesque weddings, monumental sporting events, or glowing music festivals.

There is so much energy exerted into how one presents oneself on social media, yet no one seems to know or care about the biggest part of it all: none of it matters. You still got a haircut even if you didn’t Instagram it. You still donated to charity even if you didn't Instagram it.

It feels as though our generation never seems to be satisfied; it’s always about wanting more than what you have. Yes, this may mean we’re driven, but this mindset also spills over into other aspects of our lives. Somehow, Instagram is there through it all, invoking this endless cycle of envy.

These ‘perfect’ photos, most problematically, encourage me to think that perfection is inherent – that everyone is innately philanthropic, smart, beautiful and fit. This facade of intrinsic perfection makes me question myself and perpetuates the omnipresent ideas that money and physical looks feed into true self-worth.

Money and physical looks are, in most ways, the most worthless things about a person. But when it comes to physical looks, this truth that I know is true gets blurrier and blurrier each time I open the probing app.

I’ve always wondered why it’s Instagram in particular that irks me so deeply and, at times, makes me question myself. One conclusion I have come to after conducting incessant ‘fieldwork’ (aimlessly scrolling, that is) is that Instagram has an elevating quality. People can become “Insta famous,” often based on looks and feed aesthetic. No one is Facebook famous. If you have millions of followers on Twitter, you were probably famous to begin with.

The other day, I asked my friend Isabel how Instagram makes her feel. She told me,  

“Social media makes me feel trapped. I obviously do indulge in it and enjoy it, but I’ve gone through a lot of moments where I want to denounce it all but feel like I can’t. Because so much of real life depends on online life, you can’t really cut it out. So then you have to take the good (communication) with the bad—the bad being things that affect your happiness or make you look at yourself as lesser. Social media can be really positive and powerful and make big changes, but I think we use it in the wrong way.”

Another friend of mine, Alison, put it simply, “Entertained but also fat.”

These ‘flawless’ photos are entertaining and laughable in and of themselves, but admittedly, Instagram bothers me because it incites jealousy. I have found, however, that collecting my thoughts through writing has been therapeutic. Over the past few months, it has helped me put Instagram and how it makes me feel in perspective.

There is undoubtedly something to be said for posting on your Instagram to fuel positivity, spread awareness, or simply because you look damn good that day. But when does this boundary get blurred, when so often we post photos to illustrate an unrealistic and sought-after self-image? And when that does begin to happen, what should we do?

I say keep your personal truths close. Don’t let them get muddied by everything Instagram and its overzealous influencers have to say. In the end, who even knows how much longer Instagram has to live in our world of infinite social media. But these truths you hold will ultimately prevail.

By Victoria Eavis

Ansel Adams by day, Jane Austen by night