In 1993, The New Yorker published a cartoon of two mutts in front of a computer screen. They’re staring at each other, eager; the caption reads: “On the internet, nobody knows you’re a dog.” The idea was that anyone could hop online and construct an identity entirely separate from the one they inhabit in the “real world.”
“When we look at the internet, we (may) look at it as a safe haven for all people to be themselves,” said Assistant Professor of Communication Michael Blight. “But we also simultaneously have people who look at things like Instagram filters or they look at things like being able to delete or edit messages after the fact as being particularly problematic because with the editable content that we curate, there’s that question of authenticity.”
Blight considers the idea that one’s cyber identity, although possibly different from who they are in person, may be an extension of their true self — but that their truest form of self-expression may not be safe to share when they log off.
“My apprehension is always, you know, there are some people that are not allowed to be themselves face-to-face as a byproduct of any number of things,” said Blight. “You live in a small town, you’re a part of the LGBTQIA+ community … you can’t be yourself in person, so you turn to a tool like the internet to connect with people who share similar ideologies or have (the) same gender identity, right? That you don’t have access to in ‘real life.’”
According to an article written by Leanna Lucero for the Multicultural Education Review, the appeal of social networking sites isn’t necessarily the ability to be anyone online but, rather, the “invisible” audience reading and receiving the content being shared. This, maintains Lucero, is “particularly inviting for the exploration and construction of LGBTQ youth identity.”
Furthermore, Blight argues that just because something happens offline doesn’t mean that it’s inherently genuine.
“I think we have to be very cautious to say that face-to-face is definitively authentic because it happens in real-time versus the internet is inauthentic or fabricated reality because it has this editable feature,” said Blight. “I think that both are fundamentally flawed as platforms.”
In the book “Girlhood and the Politics of Place,” Connie Morrison asserts that claiming space and navigating identity “is no more straightforward in an online context than it is in the hallways of a high school.” Blight agrees that honest self-presentation, regardless of the medium, is difficult to define.
“If it takes me two hours to take a bunch of selfies and you only get one version of that, is that true self-presentation?” said Blight. “And the answer is a definitive shrug. A little bit of yes, a little bit of no. I think you could make a compelling case in either direction.”
Assistant Professor of Journalism Sabryna Cornish says that, oftentimes, one’s online self is aspirational rather than fully biographical.
“I think that we live our lives a little bit differently online where we’re kind of going for our ideal self as opposed to real-life where you are what you are,” said Cornish.
A study conducted by Pew Research in 2018 concluded that 37% of American teens “feel pressure to post content that will get a lot of likes and comments.” Cornish believes this performative way of conducting oneself online can be exhausting, if not damaging, for the individual.
“If you’re going to put an identity online that is supposedly perfect, you’re going to feel like you have to be that way in person, and no one is,” said Cornish. “I think that it messes with our idea of reality and what is realistic for us.”
Student Melanie Schmidt, ’20, also believes that oftentimes, social media makes other people’s lives seem a lot shinier than they probably are.
“You don’t really have to have an interesting real-life to appear interesting online,” said Schmidt. “You’re only showing the highlight reel of your life online; you’re not showing the bad parts necessarily.”
Blight wonders about the “ethical dilemmas” of users consuming certain digital content and then considering that content to be representative of society as a whole. He cites Erving Goffman’s extensive research in “The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life” as evidence.
“The thought with, let’s say, technology is that it is this highlight reel and it’s so much the highlight reel that we are sort of becoming delusional as humans (into thinking) that what we see on the internet is actually an accurate depiction of the universe,” said Blight.
But there’s been a shift in the material that fills the average Instagram feed. Influencers are starting to abandon the old standard of exclusively posting totally polished photos and videos for something a bit more down-to-earth.
“There’s this phenomena right now in the influencer community, which is my main body of research, where influencers or YouTubers are now sharing personal stories,” said Blight. “They’re basically pulling back the curtain and talking about mental health and their struggles and now we kind of have this resurgence of content where it’s not this perfect, buttoned-up picture.”
According to the Atlantic, online creators like Emma Chamberlain, Jazzy Anne and Joanna Ceddia have rejected the “curated feed” and have adopted a “messier and more unfiltered vibe.” They’re simply not interested in cultivating a persona on their own platforms that isn’t true to themselves — meaning, who they are every single day.
“So we’re seeing this really weird duality of presentation online where now there’s a premium being put on the stuff that we were complaining wasn’t there,” said Blight.
There are infinite ways in which a person may present themselves online, and being in control of that image can be empowering. Cornish thinks that social media has allowed us to explore oneself and the different ways in which people can be themselves, like never before.
“And so, if we’re gonna say something positive about social media, and we should, I think it has helped people connect in ways they haven’t in the past,” said Cornish.
