
By Rhian Kille
To be a woman on the internet is to witness the same pattern of events over and over again. You watch your beloved female role models be introduced to you through a wave of popularity, then eventually be torn down in a similar wave of controversy, criticism and “discourse”. The internet giveth, and the internet taketh away. Or does it? In the midst of watching this pattern repeat itself, I’ve found myself thinking about all of the emotions that this involves – the nuances and discomforts.
What it means to be a role model has been deeply changed and complicated by the rise of social media, and its immediate and permanent modification to adolescence, becoming a significant part of coming-of-age. This world wide web of new relationships between inspiration and inspired, admired and admirer, or influencer and influenced, has created the parasocial relationship. Something I’m sure most of us are intimately familiar with, or at least I hope so. If not, please don’t think I’m a freak for caring too much about the people in my phone! I want to explore the emotions that characterise the attachments that form from these connections of influence created by social media, and how they are complicated by the nature of distance between creator and follower.
The female role model, as it exists beyond one’s family and local community, is a fairly new concept, especially considering the state of abundance it exists in today. In the 20th century, the birth of the modern celebrity in Hollywood and the invention of film photography permanently changed the construction and presentation of a role model. These developments provided increased access and ability to perceive public figures, the first frontier of feigned intimacy. Over time, this has evolved into allowing the public to gain enough information to form a connection and attachment with strangers, for their talent, appearance or achievements. In the 21st century, female role models changed radically, from Marilyn Monroe and Jackie Kennedy, to Emma Chamberlain and Brittany Broski. The social media influencers and content creators that make up a large number of role models for teenagers and young adults, myself included, are people who are admired for their personalities, more than their achievements.
What triggers feelings of admiration is now much more personal; the abundance of information about their thoughts, feelings and lives can create a powerful attachment through this form of digital intimacy. Watching someone every day and coming to feel as if you know them is how parasocial relationships form. This one-sided relationship assumes a power dynamic where idolisation is common. The distance that breeds the power imbalance, and the absence of real and equal intimacy, leaves room for an admirer to fill in blanks and forget that their narrative is not necessarily the truth of their role model.
The illusion of truly knowing someone, and the kind of attachment that it creates – the imitation of closeness alongside admiration, can result in imitations of other feelings, like betrayal and disappointment. I’m sure most people have their own personal or pop cultural examples. A large spectrum for the actions that generate these feelings exists, with a wide range of severity of excusing criminal or unethical behaviour, to differing levels of validity, or subjectivity, in criticism.
Realistically, if you put someone on a pedestal, they can crash back down to Earth through simply failing to conceal their humanity. This can result in a lot of complicated feelings that we didn’t ask for from our one-sided relationship with our sources of inspiration. It’s sometimes easy to forget that despite how authentic people seem, that source of admiration is a product that they have created. I myself am very guilty of forgetting this, I frequently become attached to a narrative of creators I have co-authored, and when they deviate from this, it becomes uncomfortable and disappointing. I feel self-conscious for experiencing this discomfort and conflict because I logically understand these pitfalls, but I just can’t seem to break the habit. I’ve recently seen criticism online being levied at YouTuber Brittany Broski for not using her platform to speak out on the ongoing events in Palestine. My internal reaction was initially defensive and then moved toward an icky discomfort, guilt and disillusionment. I was conflicted given how much I have admired her, partly because of her perceived staunch values, which she seemed to be deviating from. What do these feelings say about the relationship that I have with her, or more accurately, her content? Do these criticisms change that relationship? Ultimately, it made me think a lot about discerning both ends of this attachment, restoring her humanity and dispelling that illusion of intimacy on my end. I considered the products that I gained from her content, like a model of self-confidence for example, that her content produced and reinforced in me.
The 21st century female role models that stabilise us throughout our adolescence and new adulthood are built upon less tangible qualities. What someone now looks up to is more difficult to pin down: whether it’s a way of holding themself, a style that would make them feel more like themself, a permission to take up space. Role models are an important part of the process of self-actualisation, particularly potent in a culture of individualism and capitalism where inspiration and example is now a commodity and service. Even though I feel self-conscious admitting it, creators like Brittany Broski and Drew Afualo have been incredibly important to me during hard times where my self-esteem has been particularly low. My constant access to their content supplements the example I am set by my closest friends and family, reminding me who I want to be and who I am. Role models like them remind young women to strive to make their idols in kindness, intellect, creativity, comedy and confidence their equals. What can be gained from content like this cannot be diminished by a creator’s mistakes and flaws, as ultimately, they only act as a reflection of something that existed inside someone already, but had never seen externally before. The sentiments we gain and love were born from our own values and desire to self-actualise, our own ability to admire. Parasocial relationships cannot be changed in their nature but as always one’s relationship with themselves always can be, especially through examining the standards we build them up to.
I remember having a different group of favourite Youtubers every year or two through my adolescence that reflected my interests, values and aspirations at the time – a collection of women who I wanted to be. This has ranged from toy reviewing channels when I was very young, ‘Booktubers’ (it was the vibe at the time), study channels, video essayists and numerous personal lifestyle creators as well. I still see different fragments of myself and the woman I want to be in the people whose videos I watch, in the idea of themselves they put forward to their audience. I have and continue to be stimulated, stretched, taught, challenged and encouraged by people who do not know I exist beyond their one extra view or stream.
People say you’re the average of the 5 people closest to you, and I think similar conclusions can be drawn by the people you allow yourself to be influenced by online. There are wonderful and important things to be gained from having access to near limitless sources of personality and expression-centred role models during female adolescence. It fuels the diversification of modern womanhood and moves us away from the limitations of only having access to the convention of womanhood embodied by our mothers and their peers. However, there is an essential companion process of careful deconstruction and demolition as women come into their own adulthood. We have to learn how to dismantle the pedestals we have built for our role models, with our own hands and the help of the of the wider culture, while still knowing to not beat ourselves up as those people and pedestals come crashing down.
Image: Chris Wiediger via Unsplash