Facing Forwards: Why I’m Done with the Insta-Fame Game

“Shall I take a photo of you?”

It’s a sun-soaked day in early June, and I’m walking through Shoreditch with a group of bloggers I’ve never met.

In my hands I’m clutching the newest Huawei P20 phone; we’ve each been lent a handset for the day so we can practice our phone-photography skills.

I know full well that impromptu portraits are on the horizon, so I’ve been expecting a question like this. In fact, I’d already prepped that morning: clean hair, a touch of liquid eyeliner, a dress I know I feel confident in. And yet the major thought which races through my head?

“I’m not like those Insta-girls. I’m not good at posing for a picture.”

The rise of the Instagram Girl

If you’ve ever used Instagram, you know the Insta-girls I’m talking about.

Our feeds are filled with their wide-brimmed hats, elegantly poised feet, long flowing skirts, hands artfully cupping the back of their hats, tumbling curls, or flower-crowned heads.

For a while, I never saw these poses happening in real life – just on my phone screen. But the more press trips I went on and the bigger the trend grew, the more common it was to see my fellow Instagrammers posing ‘for the gram’.

And so I started attempting to do it too. 

Whenever I’m on a trip with social media creators, the same thing now always happens. We spot the same alleyways to walk down; the same hillside viewpoints to stare longingly out at; the same brightly coloured doorways to pose in front of; and we know exactly what to do.

While mumbling, “Could you please take a photo of me?”, we hand our cameras to each other and race into position, dutifully taking turns to get the perfect ‘Instagram-worthy shot’.

There’s a fine art to the Insta-pose. You can probably imagine what it looks like.

We now know that a full-length pose with our face to the camera isn’t the optimum shot. Insta-girls are the aspirational aesthetic for would-be travellers the world over: we need to be faceless enough that every girl who sees the photo can imagine themselves standing in our place. So it needs to be shot from behind, preferably with our hair down, our hands delicately held out and our eyes looking upwards.

We smile, despite it being invisible to the camera. We take a slight half-step forward, lifting our back foot and raising our bodies in expectation of a walk which, sadly, never comes.

So if it’s so generic, why do we keep doing it? Sadly, because being an Insta-poser achieves exactly what you might expect.

If I post an image of myself on Instagram, it immediately garners double the likes, double the comments, and double the attention than a shot without me in it. And with that attention comes a rush of endorphins. I’m liked! I’m popular! People care about me! YAY!!

Yet whenever I pose for these Insta-friendly photos, I’m squirming inside. First off, I don’t feel like I’ve provided any real value for anyone scrolling through their feed.

And secondly, I get really self-conscious.

A self-confidence crisis with being photographed

When I was a child I loved having my photo taken, and my mum always obliged. But when I hit teenagehood and suddenly realised I wanted much less of the spotlight, it was too late. My mum was way too accustomed to recording every moment of my life, and I couldn’t work out how to stop her.

It was only at my recent retreat in Spain that I realised how much I still hated ‘being seen’. During a week of intense soul-searching, memories resurfaced of being repeatedly forced by my mum to grimace in hundreds of photos, and there was a distinct horror at how awful it made me feel: something I couldn’t yet vocalise to her when I was fifteen.

Since my mum’s death, my self-confidence has taken a knock. If you’ve ever lost a parent, or someone who helps define the very essence of who you are, you’ll know how grieving can affect you. Huge portions of your life have been validated by the existence of this loved one: they champion your decisions, support your successes and comfort you in times of insecurity.

When they die, every benefit of that support system suddenly vanishes. Instead, you’re the one responsible for being your own champion, and for building up an internal sense of support.

Despite that lack of self-confidence, I’ve still made great strides in how to feel comfortable in my own skin. I barely ever wear make up. I don’t shave under my arms. I hate wearing a bra. ‘This is me,’ I think to myself, and I feel fiercely empowered by these decisions about my body and my appearance. I don’t care what anybody else thinks.

Until Instagram tells us that we’ll get more engagement if we’re in our photos – especially if we’re young, pretty and female. Especially if we align ourselves to this stereotype. Suddenly my disinclination to wear make up and to shave is no longer a proud, fiercely feminist move on my part: instead, it becomes a hindrance to looking female. To looking Instagram-worthy.

Because however much I stand by these choices I’ve made about my appearance, I can’t help comparing myself to the girls who look Instagram-perfect.

And this is the mindset I want to change.

How to get out of the aspiration trap

When I step back from my Instagram feed, I realise I’ve fallen victim to the same social media ploys as everyone else.

Instead of using it as a place for creation, I agonise over what Instagram images to post because they don’t fit in my self-dictated ‘pattern’ for posting, or my editing isn’t great. Even on Instagram Stories, I disregard posting for days because I’m a sobbing mess and I’ve barely left my bed. Also because I’ve avoided washing my hair for way too long so I look a bit like a greasy sea creature.

But isn’t this channel supposed to be about sharing with an audience who’ve chosen to follow you? Surely it’s OK to actually be honest – both with that audience, and with yourself?

So in an effort to stop aspiring to something which makes me uncomfortable, I thought I’d reel off some good old-fashioned home truths about who I actually am (and why I was never destined to be an Insta-girl anyway).

I’ve never been someone who’s into fashion. I haven’t got an extensive wardrobe which changes each season; in fact, I still wear clothes I bought ten years ago at university. I know virtually nothing about make up, and I only bought my first ever bronzer and set of brushes this year. I own more pairs of hiking boots than heels, and I still don’t have an Instagram hat.

I’ve never known how to pose. My right eye never opens as wide as my left, one of my eyebrows always seems to go higher than the other when I smile, and I have way too many outtakes with my eyes closes and mouth half-open. Combine these factors with a distinctly non-dainty natural stance, and an inclination to put up both thumbs when I feel self-conscious…

Neither taking nor editing photos has ever been my main focus. I don’t use the fanciest camera and I always forget to take photos in RAW format. I’ve never got the hang of Lightroom and Snapseed has been my sole editing tool for years.

And the clincher: I actually prefer photos of me looking genuinely happy than of the back of my head.

When facing forwards is the right step 

Earlier this year, just after I turned thirty, I decided to treat myself to a photoshoot with a professional photographer. It was an absolute act of self-care: even though I was deep in the grief process at the time, I still felt strongly that I needed to record and celebrate that period of my life.

And it was the right decision.

Spring cleansing 💫💮💛 There’s something uplifting about this time of year. Perhaps it’s the daffodils blooming everywhere, one of my dad’s favourite flowers; perhaps it’s the air, which suddenly feels fresh and light; perhaps it’s the extra hour of light each day. Or perhaps I’ve finally reached my limit of indoor bedrest, curtains drawn, sobbing silently into my duvet. Grieving for five months straight has taken so much out of me, but it’s also emptied a space I get to re-fill. Last week I stood amongst the spring blossoms in Peckham Rye with @alizejireh, hoping my years of internal awkwardness didn’t show as she snapped photo after photo of me (this outing a thirtieth birthday present to myself). We talked about how beautifully vulnerable a photoshoot can be, and as I stared out over this green space I’ve known my whole life I felt something inside me shifting, something quiet yet monumental. Spring is the time for a new start. A stronger, more determined, live-your-life-with-passion start. I feel like spring is wiping me clean and making me happy again.💛

A post shared by Flora The Explorer (@florabaker) on Apr 4, 2018 at 10:58am PDT

The morning I spent with Alize was eye-opening in so many ways. She made me feel beautiful and she made me feel seen, but more importantly, she captured something honest and true about me.

I look like myself here. I look happy, hopeful, and real – which is exactly how I felt that morning.

So what are we really looking for on Instagram?

After that photoshoot, I have no doubt that I’d prefer to see more of these kind of images on Instagram. This realness. But what about the wider purpose of Instagram itself?

It’s taken me a long time to realise that my focus has never been on creating a perfectly synchronised Instagram feed. It isn’t about creating a virtual self who’s way more visually aspirational than my real self, either. In my heart of hearts, I love communicating: feeling like other people get me, feeling like I get them, feeling like we have some kind of relationship. I want to have a community on my Instagram feed.

And when I say that out loud, it fills me with so much more eager childish excitement than the perfect Instagram shot has ever done for me.

What do you see? A seasoned Instagram model, or a girl with self confidence issues?📸 Although I tend to hide it well, I’ve long battled with not feeling good enough. Internally I can embrace my spot-scarred skin, my inability to understand makeup, my general sense that I’m not as feminine as I could be — but when I’m amongst other social media ladies who seem to have these InstaPoses down? I crumble just a little. Because I don’t know what I’m doing, I feel like an ugly duckling and get embarrassed in front of the camera. When the attention is directly on me, I fervently wish it wasn’t. Except whenever I scroll through Instagram and scoff at all the posing, there’s still a little girl inside me who desperately wants to be pretty like the others. So one day in Antigua, when we’d arrived at a gorgeous hotel and been given keys to our own little villas, I hesitantly balanced my camera on a side table, hit the timer and stood frozen in the doorway, staring up at palm trees until I heard a little click. And magically enough, I felt a little thrill of pride to see this photo of a girl like all the others I secretly admire on the screen. If you’ve ever shared these feelings, know that you ARE good enough. All of us are. If you want to act pretty and pose on Instagram, there’s nothing wrong with doing it. Sometimes it’s the little self-confidence boost you never knew you needed 💛✨

A post shared by Flora The Explorer (@florabaker) on May 7, 2018 at 2:09pm PDT

We all want to be liked. We all love that endorphin-filled rush of an Instagram notification. But being liked shouldn’t be a one-way street.

In order for those likes to mean something, we need to actually engage with each other. We need to take the conversation further.

I’m making my Instagram feed more honest

For a long time I’ve been acutely honest in my writing on this site, to the extent that it’s now second nature for me to be vulnerable with my words. That’s been the best way I’ve found to foster a conversation with people online, as I’ve learned that showing and sharing your vulnerabilities allows other people to open up.

It makes sense, then, that if I want to build a stronger, more responsive Instagram community, clearly I should be just as honest and vulnerable there, too.

Which is why I went on a walk through East London with a group of strangers and I asked them to take photos of me with a new, borrowed phone (which has a fantastic portrait setting!). I made sure that they held the shutter down regardless of what faces I made, or what awkwardness I felt. And despite getting a few problematic shots, there were still a good few which I loved.

All of which show me facing forward.

Who cares about Insta-Fame anyway!

We live in such a visual society that it’s becoming increasingly difficult not to feel demoralised when comparing yourself to someone else.

But it’s redundant for me to feel ‘lesser’ because I don’t automatically pose in travel locations wearing floaty dresses and wide-brimmed hats. It’s just not me. True authenticity can be spotted a mile off, and if I don’t feel comfortable trying to pose when I know I’d much prefer to be caught unawares in a candid moment, then I’ll hope for those photos instead.

(And along those same lines, I’m still not disparaging any Instagrammers who do choose to pose that way, as they’re putting tons more effort into what they do in front of a camera than I ever will. You do you!)

As a writer, I’m using Instagram as a micro-blogging platform – which is what I always wanted to do. I’ll write stories. And they’ll probably accompany images of travel scenes and images of me, whether I’m smiling, laughing or grimacing. Sometimes I might be wearing a dress, but more often I’ll be in the comfier clothes I usually wear.

Screw counting likes, counting comments, and counting followers. I’ve spent too much of the last few years obsessively refreshing my accounts, all the while forgetting that social media is meant to actually be sociable.

We all love human connection and interaction. So if you’re looking for a community on Instagram then please come interact with me! And while I’m humbled by the idea of being aspired to, I don’t want to be faceless. So from now on I’m going to try and focus on the genuine, and the honest. When I post photos of myself, they’ll show me how I’d actually like to be seen.

Facing forwards. Not back.

A post shared by Flora The Explorer (@florabaker) on Jun 9, 2018 at 8:04am PDT

What’s your take on Instagram? Do you get self-conscious or are you a pro at posing? 

Disclaimer: Some of the above photos were taken with the Huawei P20 phone, which Three kindly lent me for an afternoon of experimentation. I don’t think they expected such Insta-soul-searching as a result though. 

Pin this article if you enjoyed it!