This will come as a shock to no one, but I’m not much of an Instagrammer. I often wonder if this clearly lazy and careless approach to social clout has a devastating effect on my friendships or potential career opportunities. I am keenly aware that my life is oh-so post-worthy. I live in Manhattan with glittering skyscraper views waiting to be snapped from the rooftop of my building. I spend ample time in New Zealand, the land of snow-peaked mountains, glacial lakes and vast horizons. I wear cute outfits, drink coffee, buy artisanal croissants, pet fluffy dogs and shop for fresh veggies. I sometimes even bake my own bread. Yet none of these noteworthy life moments get a mention in a story with squiggly font and seldom make it into an actual post in the grid.
Maybe it’s because I’m not too confident about my photography skills. Or afraid of being judged. Or envied. Or maybe it’s because I’m not millennial enough, having been born just on the cusp. But despite these shortcomings, once in a while I get bursts of inspiration (eh.. succumb to self-imposed pressure) and am moved to make a digital appearance. And like a hit of adrenaline, it feels damn good.
Yesterday was one of these days. I got nominated for a “challenge” to post a black and white photo with the hashtag #WomenSupportingWomen and something in me leaped. My previous post was a black heart on #blackouttuesday. Are you sensing a pattern here? Clearly, I’m in tune with the times and suffer from a serious case of digital FOMO. I figured since I followed a trend once, floodgates were open. I was up for another.
It took a couple of tries to get the right selfie in portrait mode but within 15 minutes of receiving the challenge my picture was up and the likes started pouring in. Each one felt like a little heartfelt reunion. Long-ago friends from the Pacific coast. Ex-colleagues from somewhere in sunny Europe. Almost strangers from brief encounters in coffee shops. All of these lovely people from somewhere in their busy lives took a second to send a little well wish my way. Because I post so rarely, these tiny interactions felt inexplicably significant, rich with meaning. Hey, you! Right now, in this very second, I’m thinking of YOU!
And then the New York Times ruined it. A condescending article reported hours after the posting commenced, pointed out how trivial and vapid this “challenge” is. How women just want to post pretty selfies and gorge on likes. How Ivanka Trump did it and therefore the whole thing was now tainted.
The past couple of months have been emotionally exhausting for many and I haven’t been spared. Unexpected things have come to pass. Things I haven’t fully processed and am not sure I ever will. And somehow this tiny outpouring of digital love felt like a soothing salve. Like the clouds parted and I was suddenly seen. I didn’t care if these fleeting connections were just feeding my ego and I didn’t set out to save the world with a hashtag. But after months of isolation, it felt good to say hi to those out there and get a little love right back.
And no, New York Times, you can’t take that tiny moment of joy away.