I'm Beautiful, Right?

Social Media Once Represented Us; Now It Only Rejects Us 

By Samantha Rosenberg 

Photograph by Hannah Sender

I love Instagram; I won’t apologize for it, but I don’t get it. 

Why do I idolize these influencers when they make me feel insecure, insufficient and ugly? I recognize that they may not be showing off their authentic lives, but that doesn’t change anything. I dream of being their friend and living their perfect, celebrated lives, all while receiving millions of likes. 

I could be embarrassed to admit this, but with over 2 billion users on Instagram, I’m confident I’m not alone. 

I remember the day I got Instagram. It was my 11th birthday, and I probably posted 20 times: my homemade birthday cake, the dog playing tug-of-war, selfies with my cousins. I felt so cool! 

I immediately followed my family and friends. But as I grew up, I discovered Taylor Swift, then Ariana Grande, and it wasn’t long before half the people I followed were influencers, models and actors. I idolized their flawless skin, fun friends, coveted bodies and designer outfits. 

Seven years later, I still admire them more than I should.

Instagram used to be a messy scrapbook, with blurry photos of friends laughing, candids from recent travels and nostalgic childhood memories. It was chaotic, fun and most importantly, real. 

But not anymore. Every morning when I wake up, and every night before I go to sleep, I scroll through one varnished life after another, all the while feeling a mix of envy, admiration and the

quiet sting that I will never be them. 

It’s exhausting. I idolize these celebrities, not only because their lives look effortless and perfect, but because it gives me a dream I can chase after. 

There is an unwritten rule that you don’t post pictures of yourself looking tired, sweaty or upset. Even if you are brave (or foolhardy) enough to reveal your true self, the algorithm would be sure to bury the post.

I recognize the artifice that is Instagram — that it’s as close to real life as cherry candy is to cherries. Nevertheless, I still love curating a perfect post. I take my time, scrolling through hundreds of my pictures, arranging them in the perfect order, and coming up with a clever caption so that it represents the elevated, yet authentic me. 

Like so many, I willingly get sucked into this hyper-edited world of superficial beauty, but I also can step away just long enough to remind myself that beauty was never meant to be recognized through likes or followers. Beauty is found in the way we express ourselves, how we laugh with our friends, and in showing up as who we unapologetically are. 

It’s in these honest moments when we can say to ourselves, I’m beautiful, and truly mean it.