Algorithm, please stop encouraging me to develop insecurities
It shouldn't be too much to ask, should it?
I have found one of the most unpleasant elements of life in the 2020s to be the all encompassing power of the algorithm. The shift away from chronological feeds to psychological manipulation designed to extract as much money from users as possible.
Were it possible to be a social media recluse, play only the gigs that appeal to me and simply promote my music via the medium of the newsletter, interspersing serious posts like this with ridiculously edited clips of Phil from Eastenders, niche UK sitcoms and daytime television, then I would.
Proponents of the so-called ‘dead internet theory’ might argue that this will be most of us, before we know it. And although I am not a full believer myself, they probably aren’t too far off. After all, who without a business would actively want to visit social media each day in 2025, and why?
The main reasons I can think of are to keep up with the news, to learn new things (if lucky to encounter a genuinely educational post with no ulterior motives) and to be entertained by amusing videos and celebrity gossip.
But we aren’t just anonymous vessels who consume this content. To the algorithm, we are men and women who have worries, stress and insecurities. We are the person who searched for a health concern, or spent a few too many seconds looking at a video of someone showing their skin up close, wondering subconsciously if we ourselves look ‘better’ or ‘worse’ than the face on screen. We are human beings trying to make our way in the scary, unstable 2020s.
And I am someone with OCD the algorithm may know I’ve got, but isn’t clever enough to adapt itself to. Navigating these ‘explore’ or ‘for you’ sections can be, on bad days, a deeply unpleasant experience for me. One in which I’ve no idea what is round the corner, and how it might make me feel - potentially for days, weeks, months (or if it’s particularly sticky) years afterwards.
The algorithm can’t tell me when something is misinformation, scaremongering or pure lies. It can’t tell me what’s a cruel joke, or even if the people commenting or posting are real or not. It can’t explain to me in the moment that a post may be what’s referred to as ‘engagement bait’, or ‘rage bait’ - content that’s designed to elicit strong emotional responses and in doing so increase the amount of money made by the creator, who is often paid by the number of views or impressions they receive.
This particular trend of quasi-bribery on the part of the platforms for its users to stay on board has also created another element of the race-to-the-bottom. We’ve long known that there are a hell of a lot of people who will do almost anything for money. We now know that they are also willing to pretend to believe things they secretly do not, and comfortable with upsetting, angering or worrying others in the process as long as it leads to a payout.
Not only have we had to travel back in time to remember the types of queries we inputted into Ask Jeeves in order to transfer them into ChatGPT and the like because search engines are no longer working, we must also act in ways that intentionally train the apps we use to show us the content we joined in the first place to be shown. Liking, commenting and reposting things like robots ourselves simply because we want to drill it into the damn machines that this is what we want to see.
Most of the time these days, due to being burnt simply too many times, I have a lot of my own boundaries in place in an attempt to avoid being triggered by these apps. I have my notifications switched off on pretty much everything, and I try not to linger. I limit my time spent outside the confines of the profiles of people I follow and engage with. I try to scroll as quickly as I can past content that triggers me, and on bad days I know not to visit the likes of the ‘for you’ page.
I can do this to some effect because I know the many triggers and ‘obsessions’ of my illness. But I was surprised to become quite affected recently by something that generally isn’t one of them.
Last year, I turned 30. As I have previously discussed, I felt a lot of emotions surrounding the milestone. As women we are taught to fear the turning of this decade, to desperately race to settle down and get our ducks in order before our fictional expiry dates in the eyes of the more backwards parts of society that still exist. With very little media representation on offer of 30-somethings who aren’t also completely obsessed with finding ‘the one’ and marrying them ASAP to avoid the dreaded fate of being left on ‘the shelf’, I have seen many women I have known throughout my life go through uncharacteristically drastic changes over the past couple of years, and I can understand why. It can be alienating to be the outlier, actively choosing to prioritise yourself and learning to be OK with not being someones ‘pick’, and planning ahead for a life that may well never be in partnership with someone else. Just as there was once social pressure to have a party lifestyle, now it has shifted to early bedtimes, nights in and remarking on how tired you are these days. It may not surprise you to know that I have been writing a lot of music within this realm recently.
One of the things I knew, long in advance of this age, would be most difficult for me to process personally is the changing nature of our skin.
Ever since I can remember, I have been perceived as much younger than I am. I have never been able to fully pinpoint exactly what it is about me - I don’t look in the mirror and see a particular vision of youth - but to this day there is not a soul I meet who isn’t shocked at my age. For many years I have guessed - is it my small head? My generally petite demeanour? My voice? Or a combination of all of the above?
Because I want you to know, reader, that I have dark circles, sporadic acne, hooded eyes, tonnes of texture and what are often referred to ‘11s’ that seem suspiciously likely to develop into permanent lines one day.
I used to think I wouldn’t bat an eyelid about getting botox and the like at some point (and who knows, if lines ever make me look angry or sad when my face is resting, I might still), but having spent so much time in this hellscape era of social media, I am finding I am becoming increasingly opposed to doing anything that might pander to the paranoia spread through the algorithm.
A few days ago, I felt the tipping point. A woman appeared on my TikTok feed, her face wrinkle-free, with (to paraphrase) a caption that said “maturing is realising that a cat eye no longer works on your wrinkly eyelids”. To my embarrassment, I often click on such videos (and yes, I know this encourages more to be displayed to me, I’m sorry, ok?!) to examine whether anyone, anyone at all in the comments points out an alternate view or highlights the increasingly unrealistic standards people are setting for themselves.
The worst thing is, in most cases, almost every comment is in complete agreement. Some even remark on how they ‘suffer’ from the same ‘imperfection’, and offer each other tips of which work to get or describe with great dramatic flare the moment in which, just 24 hours after looking completely different, they suddenly no longer ‘saw themselves’ in the mirror.
It makes me want to scream. To shake the person who posted the video, and every person in the comments and say “DON’T DO THIS TO YOURSELF! I LOOK LIKE YOU AND YET ON AN EXTREMELY REGULAR BASIS I AM MISTAKEN FOR A LITERAL TEENAGER. IF THAT IS FOR SOME REASON WHAT YOU ARE LOOKING FOR, DO NOT CHASE IT. NOT ONLY IS IT IMPOSSIBLE AND WILL LEAVE YOU FEELING EMPTY, BUT YOU WILL NOT BE TREATED WITH ANYMORE RESPECT.”
I also want to ask them, desperately, WHAT IS IT THAT YOU ACTUALLY CONSIDER TO BE AN IDEAL OR DESIRABLE FACE? WHAT ARE YOU AIMING FOR? YOU ARE ACTUALLY AWARE THAT MOST OF THE OTHER FACES YOU ARE LOOKING AT HAVE HAD UNDISCLOSED WORK OR ARE USING FILTERS? YOU’RE AWARE THAT LOOKING YOUR AGE IS FINE? THAT BEING YOUR AGE SHOULD ALSO BE FINE?
For someone like myself who has already been dealing with many worries and emotions surrounding this decade and is trying their damn hardest to choose JOY and EMPOWERMENT even whilst pursuing a sustainable career in one of the most ageist industries on the PLANET, it feels like battling against an endless tide of doom stories I never saw with such intensity in my 20s.
And if not about skincare or body parts, they are about everything that is now going to ache forever, or your diminishing fertility. God forbid you have had a bad back since childhood and don’t see yourself becoming a mother. What will you worry about THEN?
Sadly, I can also answer that. The algorithm tells me that in this case, I should switch to being concerned with food ingredients, microplastics, my gut, tiny dots that could be Skin Cancer and the rising rates of (insert scary disease) amongst under 50s.
And if that still doesn’t worry me? Well then, there’s a backup. Simply worry about how the clothes I enjoy wearing and the words I enjoy saying might not be ‘gen z’ enough.
The counter to all of this? A rehashed video about how someone somewhere was vaguely in their thirties when they released a good album or something.
In these times of enshittification, it feels like an act of rebellion to see this content and say “No thank you, I don’t agree,” or my preferred ideal reaction, a laugh and roll of the eyes. It’s hard to do, but we must - otherwise, what time will we have left over from this endless analysis of ourselves (and I haven’t even touched on analysis that extends beyond the superficial, for that would take another 50,000 words) to take on the world and make a contribution to our corner of it?
If you are confused as to why, therefore, clips of the new hollywood pairing of Liam Neeson and Pamela Anderson is suddenly now interspersed regularly between this endless crap, and why women in particular are finding so much inspiration in Pamela (and #LIAMELA) - even if they aren’t actually dating, it’s because in this endless sea of self-deprecating content and surprise celebrity facelifts, one of the all time ultimate beauty icons and inspirations has stood up and said NO MORE. I am going to wear nothing on my face, have my hair however I like and wear whatever I want. I’m not going to try and look impossibly young any longer, and you’re going to accept it.
And these acts, although small, are enough to give us little pockets of inspiration to believe that actually, it isn’t so scary to fight against the tide in our own tiny ways. Because beauty is about so much more than having a Blepharoplasty or wearing the new Skim’s sleepwear thing for your jaw.
So thank you, to those that help me to remember I’m not so bad, actually. And that if I feel good, that’s what matters.
But the algorithm can go in the bin.
Cheers!
Things I’m listening to/enjoying:
Liz Phair - Never Said
Chappell Roan - The Subway
Lola Young - d£aler
Lorde - If She Could See Me Now
My Playstation 2 (always, until a new era of gaming in any way rivals it for me. Currently trying to get 100% completion on GTA San Andreas)
#LIAMELA
Not so bad? You're great, actually.