You’re Just Like Us - Until You’re Not. Being "relatable" is a trap.
I’m not an influencer, at least I don’t consider myself one, but I do exist publicly online, and some of my dearest friends are influencers, content creators, whatever word de jour you want to use. And as a chronically online person myself I’ve noticed this little innocuous comment “you’re so relatable” which dropped in a comment section like a treasured gift from the masses.
This phrase communicates: “You’re one of the good ones”. “You won’t let us down.” “You’re just like us".”
But then a badly executed trend video gets published, an old tweet resurfaces, a little truth slips and the mob turns fast. “You’re so out of touch". “You’re tone deaf.” “Not everyone can afford the luxuries you have.”
“She’s not like us.”
I’ve noticed this happening on substack as well, at least in my little corner of fashion substack where people are sharing their outfits, their treasured pieces, styling tips, and latest purchases. Then the comments start rolling in…
“Don’t contribute to fast fashion”
“Be sustainable and buy for life”
“No but not like that, that’s too expensive”
“You need to share affordable dupes”
“Why are you telling people to buy low quality shit?”
“You’re just contributing to consumerism”
It’s the cycle of criticism that’s never ending.
As a money coach I find this fascinating, because as I see it “relatability” simply comes down to 1 thing: money.
“Make your content match my budget” the masses demand.
And like most things in life, there seems to be a mathematical bellcurve to this demand.
It seems that the accounts who showcase unapologetic frugality are not being bombarded with demands to share expensive investment items, and on the opposite end of the spectrum accounts who showcase unapologetic wealth aren’t being hounded for lower price point dupes. It’s the unambiguous middle that becomes the breeding ground for mob mentality.
The people who present themselves as a blank economic slate. You don’t quite know how much money they have, and therefore you can project yourself onto them and convince yourself they’re just like you - down to the amount of money in your bank account.
So when those people show you in any slight way that their money doesn’t match your money - it feels like a betrayal, and the mob rejects them.
At the end of the day relatability tells us far more about US the consumer, then THEM the creator. It’s a mirror reflecting our complicated relationships with money, class, and aspiration. When we demand that someone be “just like us,” we’re really asking them to validate our choices, our struggles, and our worldview.
At the end of the day, this is partially explainable by our very human survival instincts. Our ancestors passed down to us the desire to find our tribe as a means to survive. This ancestral wisdom is still very helpful and true to this day - but our ancestors never had access to hundreds of millions of peoples opinions online before.
So I ask you to consider: why we’re so quick to turn connection into criticism? After all, the internet’s love is fickle, but our capacity for empathy doesn’t have to be.
xoxo
Rich Mommy
Thank you for this. Really well-written and on the nose . . . for me it was a little cathartic to read! I am an influencer who has been at it a long time (I started doing this in 2010!) I've experienced all of this firsthand. Slowly building a following, leaving my corporate job to go to a startup, leaving that startup to work for myself. Going from living in a studio in Murray Hill to a 1-BR in Brooklyn to eventually leaving New York and buying my own house. Being put on a pedestal as "one of the good ones," "soooo relatable and real" during the pandemic to being so "out of touch" when I bought my house in Charleston just a couple years later. Suddenly, I had "changed" when all that had really changed was that I was no longer saving up to buy a house and I had more disposable income.
Anytime I wear something more expensive, if I show it on social media, I feel like I have to mentally prepare for negative comments. Arm myself with affordable dupes. Be prepared to explain myself. Etc. It can be a lot. I painstakingly source products for my blog and socials across all points, but if I wear something considered to be "too expensive" by a follower, there we go . . . it's time for a lashing.
The same goes for the pressure to post things that fit an audience's budget -- sometimes it feels as though everyone wants something that is under $100, totally sustainable, and completely originally designed. A unicorn object that (while I wish it did) does not exist.
All of this to say, thank you. What you wrote was very relatable (ha) to me. xx
I admit that this is something I’ve REALLY struggled with and your perspective was super helpful. The reason it was helpful is that you seemed to point out the “why” for me; which is that tribe mentality. And it’s been easier for me (when feeling rejected from my tribe because of spending disparity) to put the blame elsewhere. As I mature-hopefully- I’m learning that I don’t want to critique anyone’s choices; hers, mine or otherwise.