The Performative Spam

Follow request after follow request, I am exhausted by what the Instagram spam has become: performative. Why does my friend’s second cousin want me to follow their supposedly private account?

I created my first spam account in 2021. Like everyone else, I gave in to the pressure, making my most private moments a sacred space available only to those who really knew me enough. While Snapchat’s private stories were fun, the “Finsta”— a fake Instagram account —was a holy space where some sort of esteem was placed among peers. The Finsta was a place where I could truly show myself to the world through curated posts, long paragraphs, shout-outs to those who made my day, and revelations I made about the world around me. My spam felt like a representation of who I truly was.

But lately, it is hard to recognize spam as a space for authenticity. More often than not, I find myself receiving notifications from spam accounts of people I barely know. In fact, some spam accounts have hundreds of followers. And while this isn’t about numbers, it feels contradictory to call something private when everyone’s invited.

One of the most fun parts of friendship is the slow build-up to see another person in their totality. A spam serves as a way of accessing these parts of someone, but when it becomes universally accessed, its true exclusivity evaporates.

Aside from losing its exclusivity, the spam also becomes performative when everyone is let in. How can you be authentically yourself with an audience of 128 watching? It becomes a game of proving yourself to be more curiously quirky, mischievous, and fun compared to everyone else.

I fell into this trap, too. I allowed my spam to be accessible to almost all who requested it. I started caring more about likes and comments than sharing authentic moments with my friends. I realized I was no longer posting for me, but for my audience. The space that was once my journal became similar to a theatrical stage in which my posts were the performative pictures I now despise. After a period of detox and reflection, I realized I needed to purge my spam from the side characters who didn’t know me enough to gain access to my most genuine moments. This space needed to go forth as one that was authentic and a space that could serve as a social intersection between all of the special people I find in my life.

I truly believe that the Finsta is one of the greatest cultural gifts social media has to offer. It allows an exclusivity and an intimacy with one’s friends, but it is something I believe should be reserved for those who know us best. It’s time to restore the lost art of the private and personal spam account.