If you don’t have one, you’re following one: the “fake Instagram,” better known as the “finsta.” Ironically, such profiles offer more “real” representations of girls than we’ve seen online in a while.
When I first noticed the trend, I was confused. What could you possibly need another account for? Is your life that interesting?
Upon reviewing some friends’ newly made finstas, I noticed a couple things: 1) The movement seemed almost exclusively led by girls. 2) The profiles just seemed like more personal versions of their “real” counterparts. And when I made the connection between these two observations, I began to see the true significance of the finsta phenomenon. The only place where girls are subjected to more social pressures and expectations than they are in real life is online.
Photos of the perfect girls everywhere you look -“#goals”, one might say. Flat tummies, tiny waists paired with inexplicably boundless curves, eyeliner so sharp you could cut yourself on it, big eyes, big lips – all effortless, all “off-guard.” Part of how we respond to these standards is through our carefully crafted online presence. The pictures that make it online are only one of many, vetted for the best lighting, angle and a plethora of other details so miniscule that anyone else would hardly know the difference. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to present yourself in the best light – if there’s one thing 21st century teens have learned by now, it’s that anything you post online never really goes away. But the constant barrage of quasi-models and idealized representations of female life takes a toll. It’s easy to forget that those images aren’t real life. We wonder why our own lives aren’t picture-perfect and we’ve been wondering since the beginnings of popular social media. Some might argue that the recent proliferation of finstas just serves as further evidence of teenaged girls’ obsession with social media.
But I think the finsta is the 21st century girl online’s declaration of imperfection. I see girls posting about being tired, sick, sad, lonely, and lost. Pictures taken for the sole purpose of sharing a moment, and a feeling even those of the most unglamorous variety.
And even more striking, I see girls connecting with girls over these feelings.
Supporting each other, diverting from the long-standing tradition of girls one-upping other girls. We’re finally letting our guards down, and I think it’s incredible—even if it’s just to a carefully monitored audience through a private Instagram account.
But this isn’t to say finstas are just virtual pity parties – far from it. In fact, some of the funniest pages I follow happen to be finstas. There are girls I’d been going to school with for years whose unexpectedly crude humor I’d never been lucky enough to see until the finsta movement. Finstas strip away the filters. And this means everything that makes a girl truly herself- her thoughts, her feelings, her sense of humor, no matter how socially unacceptable – are being shared and appreciated. There are battles ahead as we face an administration hostile to women’s rights. But maybe this is where we start – by realizing that the less photogenic parts of female life are not moments to experience alone and with shame; rather, they are how we connect.
