what you got there
The Social Gaze: On Watching and Being Watched
“Today everything exists to end in a photograph.”
– Susan Sontag, On Photography
Sontag’s remarks were deemed controversial in the late 70s. In the digital age of image saturation, however, she’s the disseminator of the gospel truth. Everything today from our casual interests, beliefs, interactions across mediums, and even our personality – exists to end up in a 1080 x 1080 pixel and 4:5 aspect ratio photograph, nestled in a thoughtfully curated grid – for the feasting eyes of the other.
The malleability provided by social media platforms to alter our identities has been a matter of discourse since its inception. Our online personas have never existed in a vacuum. As social creatures, we’re in constant anticipation of the outsider’s gaze, in both awe and fear. The inherent need to be seen is always accompanied by the fearful clasp of judgment tight around its neck. The human herd instinct to seek approval makes most of our behaviour in social settings performative. From the clothes we wear and the movies we watch to the opinions we hold more often than not arise from the need to achieve a sense of belonging – the one slated third in Maslow’s hierarchy of human needs[1].
While the performances persist, it’s only human to slip up at times.
Entrée the power of social media.
Social media platforms like Instagram, Snapchat and X (formerly Twitter) allow us to not only create a production out of our existence but up the ante as well – we get to control who views our performance, along with the parts they get to see.
Here’s a thought experiment. Imagine you’re (doom)scrolling through Instagram when you come across a post by a conventionally attractive, white woman. She’s seated in an outdoor cafe. The sunbeams bounce perfectly off of her black sunglasses. Her profile faces the camera as she peers into her phone’s screen, carefully reapplying her lipstick.
Seems cool enough right? What if you zoom in just a bit?
Those sunglasses are the coveted Tom Fords in Whitney, and her lipstick is the classic Rouge Dior. What else, the bottom half of the picture seems to cut off a pack of Marlboro Lights and what appears to be an incredibly expensive lighter!
There’s at least a fifty per cent chance that you’ll believe you’ve stumbled across the feed of an heiress out to lunch in Italy. Such is the power of branding. The mere association with brands established as luxurious converts a simple photograph into an identity definer, as Professor Nita Mathur notes, “commercial brands and luxury commodities have come to serve as signifiers of identity in society”[2], allowing individuals to construct, deconstruct or reconstruct their social identities.
References
https://psychclassics.yorku.ca/Maslow/motivation.htm
https://sk.sagepub.com/books/consumer-culture-modernity-and-identity
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=14JGQ1JWSgc&t=632s
https://www.forbes.com/sites/forbescommunicationscouncil/2023/01/26/why-and-how-to-implement-social-media-branding/?sh=3c975389793b
https://internetprincess.substack.com/p/standing-on-the-shoulders-of-complex
https://academic.oup.com/jcr/article-abstract/32/1/171/1796334?redirectedFrom=fulltext
https://www.wired.com/story/business-gen-z-social-media/
https://creative.salon/articles/features/is-social-media-over-for-the-younger-generation
https://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/life-and-relationships/new-nihilism-how-gen-z-is-embracing-a-life-of-futility-and-meaninglessness-20231016-p5ecra.html
https://www.businessoffashion.com/reports/news-analysis/the-state-of-fashion-2024-report-bof-mckinsey/
more from this issue —
I tuck the pendant with six points and ten sides, under my crochet sweater, I
Had sworn to never let the silver chain leave my skin
And I keep my promises.
Hiding away in the soft fabric lay a star ashamed, and
Me afraid,
to dishonor it.
I let the passengers pass, and
Receive a vast glance from the officer
Who most definitely, due
To the obvious tuck-away, knew
I was hiding something…
He waltzes to my seat on the vacant bus,
Plants himself beside me, I
Watch his body language shift towards me, lay
Down his hands quite awkwardly
His knees now see,
My own
Only the thin sides of my chain had shown
He indicates towards my shirt
“What you got there”
I put a stop to my blinking
Keep fixated on the ground
Lift my arms, allowing him to pat me down
After his hands search my sides,
And the only thing he finds
Two blue patterned tampons in my pockets
His face glows red
His eyeballs wide in their sockets
And I receive the sincerest of apologies.
I look around, admiring the loose and free crosses
Hung so proudly from passengers necks
Laughing my shame and tears away
None of their identities turned them to recks
Yet here I am.
My eyes glassy, a guilty nausea rising deep in my core
lift my chain, cleaning the small gems with precision
Ignore the streams from my eyes, the pointless cries for,
The only thing that I was hiding was my religion
I know not to do that anymore.
Appears in —
Casey Law
Casey Law is a 15-year-old queer, neurodivergent, female, and Jewish poet who was born and currently resides in New Jersey. She has published a teenage mental health poetry book and her work has been published in Brownbag.online and cultofclio.com. She has upcoming work in poetrynation.com @writenowlit @bullshitmag @gencontrolz @_intersections @deaths_dormant and @inertiateens. She is on Twitter: @cjlaureate:
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