I unfollowed you on Instagram, sorry not sorry

I remember the rush I felt when I first downloaded Instagram as I tried to come up with the most epic, humorous, yet brilliant, username my little tween self could conjure. I believe I settled on @sarahtheawesome1131, 11 being my favorite number and 31 being the day of my birth. I was absolutely thrilled to be sharing with my sphere of influence (the 50 kids in my grade, the 10 people on my club volleyball team and my cousins) only the finest that Versagram and iFunny had to offer. 

I have been on the app for over a decade at this point. There is absolutely no way that Sarah the Awesome (still relevant, I think) could have imagined the digital wasteland and advertising powerhouse that Instagram is today. For both brands and those who brand their persona, Instagram is feasible as a career. From the plethora of influencers (micro and macro) to those deemed A-List celebrities, having a digital identity is commonplace, if not sometimes necessary. 

While there is much to be said about Instagram, “social media is bad and toxic” isn’t exactly a groundbreaking revelation; however, even so, our overstimulation and overexposure to media through apps like Instagram, Twitter and TikTok continue to permeate much of our day-to-day lives for a multitude of reasons. One that isn’t discussed as much is the fact that we are exposed to the lives of a plethora of people whom we may not ever meet in person.

When entering a college sphere, it’s completely normal to feel anxious and feel a desire to assimilate into the population as quickly as possible. Thus, just as ubiquitous as being down for a chill night in but also a fun night out, is dropping one’s socials in a college Facebook group of thousands, as well as anyone within earshot the first few months one is on campus. However, the more nefarious phenomenon is the first, of following and being followed by droves of people due to the sole commonality of what — assuming we all pass — shall be our alma mater. 

We gain ideas of people we have never, and may never, meet or only know peripherally based on how they create their public social media personality. This growing web of interconnectedness has created a culture of unnecessary voyeurism. Why have I witnessed the entire life of a girl I followed on Instagram from a Facebook group freshman year through social media, while never meeting her face to face once? If I have, there is absolutely no chance there was a verbal greeting. How are you supposed to introduce yourself to someone you have “never met” when you have seen an aggregate of their life through a curated collection of content? I’m sure many of you, myself included, have introduced yourself to someone you have digitally been in contact with — bridging an awkward tension of knowing yet not knowing. But then, do you want to be the one ousted for remembering such an ephemeral interaction?

With this, there also exists this belief that if you won’t follow someone on Instagram, or if you unfollow them, it brings about this air of superiority, which, at times, can be valid. Yet, on the flip side, if I don’t know you, if you don’t know me, why should we watch each other live our best lives (as that is all that’s going to be palpable to a general audience of one’s Instagram followers)?

So no, while it isn’t easy to limit these empty online interactions, I won’t feel bad unfollowing you if I have never met you. Or, at the very least, if not desiring to so harshly sever that tie, I will mute your posts. Why must energy and limited brain space be filled with someone’s life who does not pertain to mine or those I love? I’m a brave soldier, I know. But someone has to do it.