Attention Seeking Insta-Thot: An Analysis
The other day a follower DM’d me on Instagram and asked this question: Why do you share the pictures you do on social media and write about the things you write about?
Basically, why are you posting pics of yourself in your chonies and writing about intimate things that most people don’t even want to revisit in their memories let alone write about?
My first reaction was to respond with some troll-y defensive quip: Because your mom politely asked me to while she was gargling my dog’s balls and giving me a reach around. Super rude. And imagistic in the worst way possible. There’s a special place in hell for people like me, I'm sure.
But then it got me thinking, why the fuck? It’s not art for the sake of art. Or expression for the sake of expression. If that were the case then I would write in a fucking journal, frame a picture of myself, put it on my nightstand and call it a day.
BUT WHY? It can’t be that I’m just a vain piece of shit, that’s the easy answer. Or maybe it is the answer and I just don’t want to admit to myself that I’m that daft… NAH.
Finally, after what felt like eternity but was really just a night of tossing and turning, I was able to piece together a more cohesive, satisfying answer. It’s a combination of how I choose to live, validating my lifestyle choices, and expressing myself as a creative.
My lifestyle choices are questionable. I was raised in a proper Chinese household where I was taught to act like a lady, educate myself, and abstain from anything considered "devious". I educated myself alright— I went to college and promptly did the opposite of everything my parents taught me, but still graduated with decent grades- so really, what the fuck could they do? I lead this hedonistic (but well intentioned?) lifestyle in part because I truly believe that we’re only here for a finite amount of time before we go back to where we came from to begin with, which is nowhere. It sounds pretty morbid but not really because it gives me a pass to live and express myself freely without having to worry about eternal consequences. That being said. even though I'm not scared of god's wrath I'm fucking terrified of my Mom.
Which brings me to why I share and write about my (sometimes) mess of a life. As millennial trash-- and yes I am because I think mainly in memes and emojis-- not only do I feel the need to do whatever I want and express myself however I want, I also want an audience. Have you ever heard the saying, "If a tree falls in the woods and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?" Well the saying is much more relevant now if we change the question to "if there's no one there to tweet/gram/Facebook (Actually, who really uses Facebook anymore besides your mom. Yes YOUR mom and not mine, because mine barely speaks English). The same idea applies to how I feel about my experiences— what's the point of wrecking shit up (mainly my own life) if it's not acknowledged by an audience. Yes folks-- like, subscribe, thumbs up, thumbs down, comment, hate, ENGAGE IN ANY WAY POSSIBLE so I feel validated. Please?
So to combine these two ideas— I am only able to justify/validate my wacky ass life if I share and write about it. Casual sex? Sure! Write a story about it and now it doesn’t seem so meaningless. Awful break up? Boo hoo, put pen to paper and now it’s cathartic art. Drug use in (mostly) moderation? Yessir— for the story, of course. Or else it’s just sad. It’s just me fucking up relationships, embarrassing myself, and making grand mistakes. All for nothing. Unless I make it into something.
So you see, it’s really a self defense mechanism. It makes me feel like I have purpose, even if it's just something that I've artificially constructed. By using my experiences as a form of self expression and actualization, it becomes art. And in order for my art to have meaning, I have to share it.
As for why I post sexy pics on IG, the answer is pretty simple. The less clothes I wear, the more people follow/like/engage. The idea is that if even a fraction of the people that follow me for fap material click on my website and take a look at my blog, then that’s still exponentially more people I’d reach than if I had tried to engage them through my writing alone. It's the whole, "Came for the tits, stayed for the substance.. but also tits" concept. It’s a cheap, lazy model- but effective.
I'm also a dirty, fucking capitalist. And that's where monetization comes into play. As a pretty girl who doesn't mind showing skin, there are a million avenues for me to make money.
That’s my answer.
I realize at this point some creatives are shaking their heads and tut tutt-ing me from their high, artsy fartsy horses. Well shut the fuck up and stop lying to yourself because you care about being noticed just as much as I do. Go take a class at the College of Self Awareness, chumps.
I later found out that the reason he asked me why I behaved and shared the way I did was because he is thinking about starting a family. He's worried about raising a child in an age where Cardi B, clown rappers and Insta-thots are normalized and even glorified. And he doesn't understand it. That's a valid concern, future worried Dad-- I wouldn't worry too much. Yes, we live in an age where our existence is in large part validated through the virtual space and sharing is an integral part of who were are as people. HOWEVER, there are plenty of food bloggers, fully clothed fashion models, and wholesome influencers for your children to look up to. My brand is specific to me as an individual and how I choose to exploit— errr express— myself.