Although the rise of influencers and full-time content creators has largely turned social media into a fuel for consumerism, an emerging “counter culture” has formed that seeks to reject consumerism altogether. There has been a rise in discussion of building and relying on physical communities in recent years; a trend that stands in resistance to Western individualism and capitalism. Furthermore, the idea of “de-influencing,” especially as it relates to the beauty industry, poses a resistance to the growing trend of rapid over-consumption.
Over the past number of years post-COVID, there has been an increasing discussion online surrounding the concept of relying on our physical community. In M.E. Savard’s article “I Want to Start a Queer Commune,” they observe how the pandemic “has blown illuminating holes through our picket fence individualism. Many of us who’d been relatively comfortable minding our own were suddenly confronted with the reality that we’re vulnerable without each other.” The importance of relying on our neighbours in physical space has gained traction as we’ve watched global infrastructures dissipate. Backlashes to ads encouraging us to not inconvenience friends for airport pickups and moving days have sparked retaliation from friends who want to be inconvenienced. Being able to rely on each other strengthens the fabric of community. When global infrastructures truly dissipate, who else can you rely on besides your neighbour?
These discussions have also aligned with the discourse of modern society’s rising loneliness epidemic, with the lack of friendships people in cities make as adults. In this way, a pocket of social media has been used to stand in resistance to Western capitalism. As Savard writes, we have been socialized to individualist values of home ownership as they hold the promise we’re “not just buying a house, but also buying into the promise of safety, stability, and comfort that can apparently only be secured with a mortgage.”
Many of the principles of community building circling social media, come from intentional communities and queer ethics, as queer people have historically navigated the practicalities of living in alternative family structures. On intentional communities, Savard notes that the residents of said communities’ “politics resisted assimilation and oppression and were rooted in inclusive feminism. Many were activists and organizers in other leftist movements; the houses were an experiment in mutual aid, honest communication, and non-punitive measures for addressing harm.”
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In Anne Helen Petersen’s article “You’d Be Happier Living Closer to Friends. Why Don’t You?” she posits how relying on neighbours can bring significant ease to our lives. She references a 2008 Harvard study published in The BMJ, “that friends living within a mile of each other are 25 per cent more likely to feel happy.” Petersen suggests this may be due to having, “all the convenience that comes with knowing your neighbours (borrowing spices, tools, limes, a pair of pull-ups, a roll of toilet paper, the list goes on); you get more adults to help with the kids and more kids to also help with the kids (kids distract kids).”
However, a study on communal housing from The University of Leeds (“Beyond Affordability: English Cohousing Communities as White Middle-Class Spaces”) reveals what groups are excluded from this narrative. Those who benefit the most from intentional communities tend to be white, middle to upper-class, post-secondary educated women. Cynthia Dettman’s article “Queer, Person of Color, or Low-Income; Is Cohousing Possible for Me?” comments on how co-housing in America prioritizes those who are “white, middle or upper middle class income and background, educated, liberal, with a strong tilt towards older folks and older women. There is a small sprinkling of non-white people, but very few are African American, Latino, Native American, or Asian.”
This trend can also be found in efforts to build community in cities. As queer people, we often hear about the importance of building queer community. However, those who are more likely to adopt these principles already exist within racially homogeneous environments, are well educated and financially stable. How can principles of community be inclusive for those who exist outside of these bounds?
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Content creators on Instagram like @christabelmintahgalloway and @connectwithoumou address the topic of building community from the lens of immigrants and people of colour. They speak on the importance of allowing discomfort and repairing ruptures in interpersonal relationships. Their content confronts the conversation for making space for those who don’t look or act like you. If community is truly meant to be inclusive, it doesn’t end when things stop being harmonious or easy. It’s crucial for members of a diverse community to be taught relational skills and have the courage to enact them. Being intolerable of conflict and differing perspectives, which will likely arise when coordinating a community of people from different backgrounds, creates an exclusionary and insular space. We can post about community care on social media when it’s easy to, but are we ready to face the difficult work of honing relational skills?
According to Vogue, “deinfluencing” is “a rapidly growing social media trend that purports to ‘educate the general public on the need to divest away from obtaining or upholding an excess of products that are not needed in our [daily] lives.’” Social media users, particularly those on TikTok, are becoming aware that they are being asked, cajoled and subconsciously influenced to buy things that they do not necessarily need, and at a rate unsustainable for the average consumer. TikTok user @sadgrlswag can be credited for popularizing the term “deinfluencing,” creating a video in 2023 in which she cautioned: “Do not get the UGG Minis, do not get the Dyson Airwrap, do not get the Charlotte Tilbury [Beauty Light] Wand, do not get the Stanley cup, do not get Colleen Hoover books, do not get Airpods Pro Max.” TikTok’s influence on the market is palpable — Bloomberg notes that “the most successful…creators are able to quit their day job in favour of reviewing Amazon products…and brands that catch on among users…have seen their revenue soar.” An entirely new field has emerged in which the more engagement a content creator has, the more a brand will pay them for targeted advertisements and promotion.
“Deinfluencing” posts often cite the need to refrain from giving in to hyper-specific, niche trends. Take, for example, “brownie glazed lips,” “clean girl makeup,” or specific products like the Dior Lip Glow Oil or the Dyson Airwrap. The first trend was popularized by Hailey Bieber when she posted a video sporting dark brown lip liner and clear gloss, captioning the post by saying that she was “ready for all the fall things, including brownie glazed lips.” Brown and Black creators were quick to point out that the look has been a well-known lip combination for decades. The beauty community thrives on fads, even ones that have been repackaged with a different name to try to encourage people to purchase a $27 peptide lip treatment rather than a $5 gloss from the beauty supply store. This example is just one reason that “deinfluencing” aims to encourage people to think before they buy and convince fellow users that they don’t actually need the items inundating their feeds. In a digital space marked by Shein and “hygienetok” hauls worth hundreds of dollars, counter-TikToks are being made, revealing makeup collections and wardrobes with a select few, carefully curated items.
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Considering consumer fatigue and consumer guilt in the context of today’s political landscape, it’s no surprise that people, especially young people, are seeking an alternative. With the addition of TikTok Shop on the U.S. version of the app, it has become all too easy for mindless scrolling to become mindless, habitual shopping. Younger generations continue to look for ways to contribute to causes that they care about and rebel against overconsumption and commercialism. How one spends one’s money, and the refusal to do so, is an age-old form of resistance that “deinfluencing” aligns with. By advocating for “deinfluencing” using the same language, platforms and techniques as traditional influencers, social media users are ensuring that they can capture the same audience’s attention while disrupting the norm and creating a new status quo.
Social media and digital communities play a pivotal role in connecting people across physical boundaries and allowing users to pose their own forms of resistance, whether it be against a Western standard of imperialism or capitalism. Despite its shortcomings, the power of social media to create discourse that seeks to unite and re-educate in the face of adversity cannot be overlooked.
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