During the pandemic in 2020, the turbulent political environment had infiltrated the walls of my bedroom, and the only thing I could shout back into the digital void was a repost of a politically-charged infographic. I initially patted myself on the back for doing my part, but the response to my social media displays was not entirely what I expected. Direct messages flooded in, some in favor of my message, but the only ones that I could manage to respond to were the hateful, filthy and derogatory responses. They came not from trolls on the internet or spam accounts but from boys that, just four years before, I had been playing four-square with.
Though I had removed myself from the world of online political discourse, I still maintained a view from the edges. I wondered what changed so quickly in the minds of those I once knew. The answer revealed itself to be the content of male influencers, drilling impressionable young boys’ minds with ideas of masculinity and power. Our friendship is now tarnished due to misaligned political views. It is but one instance of the outsized impact that influencers have on the public through social media that continues to change the dynamics of our society.
What I saw when I looked deeper into the structure of each of my failed relationships, a concerning pattern of common language and ideological differences began to emerge. Faces of Ben Shapiro, Joe Rogan, Jordan Peterson and Andrew Tate became a constant cast of reappearing characters. They held my attention, as they do to many, but they directed their appeal toward a human aspect that I did not possess: masculinity.
Now, I reminisce about the days of Steve Burns, when “Blue’s Clues” was the sole media consumption of my generation. With varying sources of entertainment, it feels as though my peers and I are no longer on the same page, TV channel or even the same world.
Most social media algorithms are tailored to what we, as media consumers, would like to see, but what happens when a figure, idea or organization becomes so popular that it is forced onto our devices through the “recommended” or “for you” sections?
Influencers arise through many social media platforms, using different methods to gain and maintain a loyal audience. They are a relatively new phenomenon, one that expands past the boundaries of celebrity stardom and into the online world, where they can share as little or as much as they’d like. To say that some influencers are harmless is a tricky statement and is contingent on whether you view certain kinds of advertising or overconsumption as harmless.
For example, Alix Earle has quickly become a popular name on TikTok. Her honesty about her battle with acne and her college life skyrocketed her to social media fame. I will be the first to admit that I’ve bought products she has recommended, the most well-known being the Drunk Elephant Bronzing Drops. But as Earle grew, so did the lines at Sephora — not with adult consumers, but kids no older than 12.
Sometimes, I can barely see them in the aisles, craning my neck to make sure I don’t run a 7-year-old over while she’s sprinting to the Sol de Janeiro section of the store. It is troubling enough having to watch my own step in a cosmetics store, but the inconvenience of having children in what used to be a big-kid space proves the idea that the mass consumption that is plaguing social media is quickly and uncontrollably spreading to the younger generations who have no clue how to use a TV remote to get to Disney Channel.
Are we responsible for providing platforms to these disruptors of social order? We are simply the consumers, the cogs in the machine turning for no purpose other than to produce capital for its owners. The promotion and visibility of these people only exist due to the conditions created by those at the very top, and whatever these “role models” sell only turns a profit for themselves or others behind the curtain.
Not only are we exposed to the media frenzy, but children are no longer waiting weekly for their favorite show and instead opt to scroll on TikTok. Omitting the obvious developmental issues that this may present, people who are too young and inexperienced are let into a completely different world.
And they’re not forcing their way in either; they are ushered and corralled like the rest of us. Many of us follow and praise the same influencers they do. Young girls see an upward trend of attention shifting to cosmetics and skincare, and they think that’s what they should prioritize. Young boys see grown men shifting toward right-wing politics and the “traditional” concepts of masculinity, so they follow.
A “role model” is defined as a person or figure that people look up to, aspire to be and subscribe to the ideas or advice they espouse. A role model is typically imagined to have lived an admirable life: They may have aided in a humanitarian crisis, grew a company from the bottom up, helped their community or survived a difficult experience. Now, the shift in who people look up to has diverged from this. It has become influencers.
Because of the idolization of these influencers, many young kids have begun to aspire not to pursue higher levels of education or make a valuable impact on their community but to go viral, move to Los Angeles and create daily “get-ready-with-me” content.
What comes along with this is a severe shift toward hyper-consumerism and materialism, where the way something or someone looks online is more important than anything else. “Cool” or “edgy” compilations or highlight clips of politicians will go viral and earn more praise and support while their actual policy and plans tend to take a backseat. Creators will flaunt hauls of expensive clothes and display luxury cars and viewers flood the comment section, writing of how they aspire to be like them, attributing happiness to wealth and physical possessions.
What messages are we sending to the next generation? Does allowing kids access to these apps expose them to adult topics too soon? Are we presenting them with a warped perception of what it means to be cool, happy, successful by digital standards? Companies everywhere can rejoice — they have discovered a new consumer demographic. They are more impulsive, less aware of reality and might be affected by screen exposure more than we can predict.
The majority of us are unable to achieve the level of fame that many influencers do. We are also part of the problem, and I cannot forget that while I have my critiques, I am also in the big-kid stores, consuming just as they are. We also doomscroll and are obsessed with many online figures. Many of us put influencers on a pedestal.
In an effort not to conclude on a pessimistic note, we still do have the ability to influence the next generation. We can become the role models that we look up to for them. We can put our phones down, be present, spend consciously and try, at the very least, to minimize the damage.
Nia Calais is a first year journalism and international affairs combined major. She can be reached at [email protected].
