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256 pages, Kindle Edition
Published September 19, 2019
Something deep inside of me screams that the image of the woman is still not our own. I fear that our false sense of empowerment is a temporary high from an ego-rewarding consumerist society. I fear that the benefactors from the image of the woman still lie in a heavily patriarchal system where our bodies are owned in order to be exploited. I can’t confidently say that creating gender balance in the corporate world makes things better if the original framework for capitalism remains the same.
On the surface, our empowerment in the types of bodies we can showcase and honour feels like a beautiful step towards women feeling confident in the skin they are in. Women can find role models and communities where they feel truly represented. This is something to stand up for – a truly remarkable feat – but for who? The underbelly of this accomplishment is a true reflection of the consumerist society we live in. We feel the need for all media and advertising to represent us because we want to participate as consumers, and thus we’ve allowed a world to exist where corporations rule the images we see before us every day. Is this empowerment?
The reason I posted the photo [of myself crying] was because I was trying to be honest in a dishonest digital world, and yet there was an element of phoniness to it that I later regretted. I very much want to destigmatise mental health and to encourage people to share difficult feelings, because if you keep those feelings inside they can harm you and those you love. But was feeding Instagram my own personal sadness the right way to do it?
Among the 66 comments was one from my bikini waxer, a woman I trust implicitly, who wrote, ‘Every single person experiences mental health, babe. Some like to express their feelings, some don’t.’ I felt embarrassed, like I’d been melodramatic.
How much do you really want your colleagues and bosses, or future colleagues or bosses, to know about you? In this digital age, this question has evolved to become: how much do you want any stranger on the internet to know about you? I think it comes down to how helpful your experiences can be to others. And to how you’d feel if your personal essay went viral – or if the only three people who read it were your mum, your future boss, and a stranger with whom it resonated deeply.
The model in which [influencers] work will evolve. It’s a new form of media: a new way we’re being sold things; and a new way we engage with things. I think it will become much more transactional. I think somewhere down the line, we’ll have two forms of social media – ‘I want to go on holiday, so I’ll go on social media and research it there and book it within the app’. And then friends, memes, and lols will be somewhere else. Right now it’s masquerading as one thing, but I think it will split.
The idea of social being an unstoppable force, a valuable tool for expanding our worldview, resonates with me. After seeking insight from various shamans, gurus, and muses, I turned to myself to ask why social media’s role in spiritual growth makes me so uneasy. I suppose it’s unsettling to think that the soul-enriching and life-saving activities I’ve long valued could be a fleeting trend.
But by posting spiritual experiences – regardless of our underlying intentions – we are ultimately promoting a global culture of peace, not violence. We are celebrating self-evolution, not stagnancy. We are advocating healing, not inflicting pain. The willingness to be an open book and expose fragility takes depth, strength, and courage – and also encourages others to be more open. How we decide to use social media is in our hands.