Beauty in the Age of Social Media

I have not posted on social media in four years. It began as a simple detox (just a week or two) but soon after the thought of returning terrified me. On one hand, the time I had spent away had distanced me from the art of it all- the posing, painting, tilting, the exact curl of the fingers and the delicate balance of one foot in front of the other (to give the appearance of longer legs) and the way that the light must filter through the lens, best do it at sunset (for the appearance of glowing skin). I had never practiced skills like these, and the golden hour of time in which it is socially suitable to try and fail had passed. I was eighteen. I should have already learned. I would not let others watch me fail.

Furthermore, I was suffering from an intense wave of insecurity (one that still washes over me far too often). I was self-conscious to the bone. I could not stand the thought of being alone with myself- so how could I do it in front of others? In front of the world? I was cynical. I hated social media as much as I feared it. I rejoiced in being apart from it as much as I desperately wanted to be in it. I still visited Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat, and all the others but I would watch from the outside, scroll aimlessly through my friend’s feed and comment when it was required, like a post when it was warranted. 

There is a strange paradox to social media. A single picture representing one moment is entered into this collective time capsule, becoming a part of the great web of lives: wedding pictures, homecoming, football games, dance recitals, family reunions all spread before us waiting for some response. Waiting for reflection, comment, approval. Always in our pockets. We have become nostalgic for things that have not happened. We plan events with the foresight of remembering them. This is not a bad thing. It is a gift to be able to return to all these places through photographs, meet all those old friends through pictures. How else do we remember? The file cabinet of memory has never had enough room to tuck away all the important moments of our lives. We have always had to let things go. That is, until now.

I do not believe that we ever really let go of beauty. It is never ours to keep, but it is certainly as much a part of this world as it is a part of us. The very act of living is a beautiful thing. This exchange of breath for life and sunlight for warmth is one of the great wonders of Earth. So long as we live a life that reflects what we know and what is right and what is good we are beautiful. It does not fade. Yet, appearances do. There is a certain pressure to be young and beautiful. The idea that now is the time to live because we are young and not yet wrinkled and gone gray. To not enjoy it would be to waste it. 

These pictures, selfies, and photoshoots are capturing moments of our lives that hold no real permanence, yet they are being uploaded to platforms that will exist, as far as it can be projected, indefinitely. Beauty is no longer an intimate thing. It is meant to be shared. Can we be beautiful if no one sees it?

The last thing I posted on social media four years ago was a selfie. I remember posting it. I remember getting likes. A few comments from friends. I remember returning to it throughout the day, refreshing the page. In that moment, I measured my self-worth in likes and comments. I felt beautiful because people told me I was. The power of validation cannot be underestimated. For a moment, I had felt seen. I know that the attention was superficial and passive. Yet, it felt so good.

Since I have stopped posting on social media, I have not stopped taking pictures of myself. Each time I do, I wish, if only for a moment, that someone out there would see it and tell me that I was alright and I was beautiful so that I could feel that I was. I take these pictures in part for myself yet always in the back of my mind I think of the day when someone sees one of them and sees me the way I sometimes do when the light filters in through a window and for a small moment I love myself.

I do not hate social media. I think it is a wonderful thing. In many ways, I wish I were better at doing it. It connects people. Individuals can share glimpses into their lives, into their passions and creativity. It makes me happy to see what people do. It makes me happy to see others feeling good about themselves, seeing their own beauty. It makes me happy even just to watch from the outside. I would never want to insult the things people are passionate about, especially when my fear and discomfort with it is a result of my anxiety and experiences. For many, social media works. My fear is that there is a pressure for it to work for everyone, all the time.

Social media is powerful. It can do good and yet it also has a tremendous force to destroy self-image and self-love. I think that as a society we need to recognize that we are so much more than our appearances. That appearance is impermanent, but we are always beautiful. Most importantly, it is enough to be beautiful alone.

 

• beauty
• instagram
• self image
• self-love
• social media