Mollie
18, VIC (AUS)
Pictures taken on August 8th
“What if I can never get unstuck”
The emergence and integration of social media into navigating daily existence has profoundly altered the way in which we view ourselves and others.
Instagram, snapchat, tumblr (and whatever other corners of the sphere you concern yourself with) encourage self publication and curation-but do so under a myriad of strict (unspoken) laws.
We are urged to promote the best aesthetic version of ourselves yet are condemned for narcissism and superficiality. We are pushed to demonstrate artistic and intellectual merit yet are often censored as pretentious or obnoxious for doing so. Posts preaching of kindness and charity are discouraged, ignored and “likes” rather donated towards selfies and good ass pics.
Today there seems to be a fine and often indistinguishable line between self love and self indulgence. One controversy that is consistently prevalent is the conversation around the sharing of emotional and mental health issues. We are all culpable of judging people who post passive aggressive or cheesy/generic quotes or just blatantly cry for help (or acknowledge their nihilism/depression in a non-meme form).
Naturally it is hard to understand the context of these acts if there is an absence of personal connection. With the decoration and distraction of first world life, we have all been guilty of amplifying trivialities at some point, and often do so frequently and repeatedly.
So how can we fairly decipher if someone is asking for attention or asking for help on a platform that is severely blurred in it’s ambiguity? Some assume sincerity and respond with empathy, whereas others chastise and resent. But perhaps instead of questioning the sincerity or validity of the person’s expression we should ask ourselves why we so fervently discourage assertion of emotion?
At some point in time it was deemed appropriate to be devoid of vulnerability and immune to the drastic fluctuation of human feeling. Cool detachment has become preferred to empathy and enthusiasm. Young women who share their grief and anxieties fall victim to the age old categorisation of “female hysteria” and young men are labelled weak, feminine, “pussies”.
One of the greatest gifts evolution has granted us is the capacity for insightful communication, yet we spend so much time following scripts and adhering to the conventions of what we should and shouldn’t say, how we should and shouldn’t look, be and feel. Perhaps instead of instinctively judging and dismissing posts of heavy content we should work on re-sensitising ourselves to connecting with others and appreciating them in their weakness and emotion and not just in achievement and full colour.
An unsuccessful venture left me returning home defeated, despondent
and tired; of moving and interacting in plastic/pretend streets
and tired of trying to be. Some days you can’t prevent collapse.
The following photo series is of me in that moment, amateur and poorly self captured, ugly and displeasing in texture, but honest, because this face I wear every day is as important as the one with mascara and composure intact. The intention of these pictures is to reveal vulnerability and humanise, because we all cry (and rightfully so) too much to perpetuate the stigma associated any longer.
