Performing for an Audience That Isn’t There

Seeing a series of dotted lines at the top of my Instagram Stories used to mean that I was on vacation, or fulfilling the duties of a Brand Trip. What my audiences didn’t see were the several hours that were spent in preparation for the “real time” Stories: the outfits, the font and color scheme planning, the various apps researched for specialty layouts. Often, when using my platform to speak on politics, especially in 2020-2021, it was because I was attempting to shine a spotlight on social injustices both local and nationwide. I was very careful with this kind of content and hours of historical research, fact-checking, researching quotes, etc., went into them; I didn’t want to get something wrong or use the wrong language. But no matter the intent, if I am honest with myself, I will concede that there was always an element of performance.

Not that that’s a particularly negative thing, but performance isn’t my natural at-rest state. I am always aware of being seen and being perceived. That very performance became a part of my “online persona”. As content creator - former, retired, or somewhere in between - who mostly crafted lifestyle content, there were hours of creation - the lifestyle was 24/7. As a result, it created a constant mode of “being on”, and a continual internal dialogue of narration. The mundane of every day was viewed through Instagrammable potential: if I cropped that object out, shot from this angle, and wore the new dress, it would be perfect. A Moment.

What was missing was my ability to step back and process my life without the feedback loop: I was allowing social media to hold the mirror through which I interpreted myself. I had forgotten what it was like to have experiences or opinions without the need to document them, or provide others access. Even today, my Inner Narrator seems to do just that: narrate my inner thoughts. And it’s speaking in the First Person...but who else is in here with me? To whom am I speaking? And why am I not alone? I am still in performance mode; even with myself.

In January I stepped back from social media, but mentally I still perform for an Audience. The ghost-limb of wanting to create and be validated through an algorithm and online community is still present, and it aches. I’m discovering that I have pent-up creativity and I’m unsure what to do with it. I am unsure of how to “be seen” without performing for the attention I feel that I need in order to be seen in the first place. It’s a very uncomfortable place to be.

For years now, when I am in a moment that makes me smile, I will often record. Part of it is to save the moment; to be able to return to it and re-experience the joy. But there is still a part of me that also examines the moment through reel-potential: just this morning while on the farm, gathering hay for the goats at sunrise, I found my Inner Narrator telling me to set up the tripod; to capture me crossing the fields still fresh with frost and dew, the warmth of color washing across the sky: “This would be such a poetic visual for a post about experiencing a slower-paced morning, no?” You could start the voiceover with ‘as daybreak’s first birdsong rang out across the sun-drenched horizon…’”.

I’m not entirely sure when my Inner Narrator arrived; or whether she was always here and social media gave her a microphone. But one thing I can tell you: she gives a lot of interviews. She likes to talk about her creative processes. She is witty and charming, and sees beauty in so many things. If I could reproduce the artistry that she can see in the world, all of my - wait. We’re back to performance.

My content creation wasn’t all vanities: it was an income generator that was very close to freedom. I do miss (and mourn) the creativity that it brought to my everyday life. It also left an important part of me untouched - the me that was unseen; not just by my audience, but by me. And my god. How I have come to realize just how badly I desire to be seen. Not by my outward appearance, but...actually SEEN.

Being seen on social media was great. When it was good it was very good. To receive validation of my thoughts and view points in real time was a feel-good feedback loop that shot me full of endorphins. My posts often sparked conversations that educated and entertained me. As a Creator, social media wasn’t empty noise for me. It was community built on shared ideals. It allowed me to use my creativity -and it was becoming a lucrative side business.

And, hear me out: I like my constructed self. I enjoy who I am on social media. As a content creator I was curated, and worldly, and I was continuously open to having “uncomfortable conversations” on race, sexuality, gender, and politics. I’m not on an apology tour for who I was or how I portrayed myself online. But the thing is, with every post I had time - days even, to think of a caption, the ability to edit out my mistakes, and even delete and re-post if needed. It was calculated.

Real life doesn’t allow us to live only in the Highlights. I want to know who I am without scanning a comment section to see if I “got it right”. The performance of social media doesn’t have to be something to be ashamed of; but it was never meant to last forever. The real world will always be waiting.

I’m learning to face it without an audience.

Additional reading:

The Light Beneath the Door: Our Longing for Authenticity

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May 11

In the coming down from my last essay: Performing for an Audience That Isn’t There, I have been wandering the hallways of self-exploration, wanting to understand the why-because of how social media crept in so deeply in the first place. And I have found some answers. In a word: Art.