That kind of scary stage beyond selfies

What's up with young women urging significant others to take hot snaps of them for Instagram?

I am old enough to have watched the dawn of the selfie age.

You could also think of it as the end of another age — one in which young people had cameras and enjoyed taking lots of photos of beautiful places they visited and the people that they encountered.

I’m prejudiced, of course. I was a journalism professor — in Washington, D.C. — when students began arriving with mobile phones that were phones and when it came time to take photographs they used real cameras.

During the decade of the four-week Summer Institute of Journalism, which ended in 2005, most students went home with amazing photos of architecture, historic sites, unique neighbourhoods and other memorable sights inside the Beltway. This trend continued into the early years of the full-semester Washington Journalism Center.

But soon mobile phones had cameras and then Apple’s Steve Jobs delivered That Speech in 2007 and Facebook gained popularity on campuses nationwide. Almost overnight, photography ended and selfies arrived. Few students had photos they wanted to share with old people at our program or, I assume, those at home. What they had were thick digital files of close-ups of one or two smiling students, perhaps with the U.S. Capitol in the background.

That’s my old-person introduction to an interesting, but rather sad, After Babel essay by the London-based Freya India: “Your Boyfriend Isn’t Your Camera Man.” The focus here is on Instagram and other more advanced forms of social media — programs that rather like the early smartphone era on speed.

This feature starts with a video posted on X of sun-soaked moments at a swimming pool, where it seems that every young female is posing for “hot” pictures, with her boyfriend, live-in boyfriend, fiance or (probably not) husband capturing the still images or videos. Here is useful info from the URL-packed overture:

We’ve all seen it: a guy taking pictures of his girlfriend or wife, getting down on the floor, adjusting to find the right angles and lighting. She takes the phone and checks through the pictures, isn’t happy, and he tries again. 

This has become normal now. Enough so that we have articles about the “The Instagram-Husband Revolution.'. Men’s magazines provide tips on “How to take a photo of your girlfriend” (“Don’t just take one! Stop doing exasperated sighs!”). Meanwhile, girls are told, “Don’t date boys who won’t take pictures for your Instagram,” and taught “How to Train an Instagram Boyfriend” (“He is the key to documenting your life, growing your brand”), as well as how to thank them properly (“thank you for going on adventures with me to find the perfect spot to take a photo”). There are even Facebook and Instagram pages called “Boyfriends of Instagram'' dedicated to capturing this phenomenon. Plus endless TikToks about boyfriends never getting it right, along with memes and articles about why they suck at it. 

The basic question is this: Who are these pictures framed to impress, attract, woo or defeat? Are these pictures expressions of strength, anxiety, aggression, self-actualization or narcissism? All of the above?

Long ago, a talented female student explained the basic equation to me: The purpose is to impress female friends. The flip side of that was the ability to put other women in their places. The process isn’t about the current guy at all.

As India notes, this is ultimately about lives framed by social media. Read on:

… There’s nothing wrong with your partner taking occasional photos of you. I can see how it might make people feel more connected to each other’s lives. But I think there is something wrong, there is something worth talking about, with this compulsion to get pictures. There’s something wrong with a compulsion that can ruin the moment; with judging every experience in terms of likes, leaving it joyless, and with demanding your partner document you, over and over. Of course, we don’t all behave this way, but many — more and more of us — do. …

I don’t mean to mock here. I think Gen Z has every technological and commercial incentive in the world tempting them to do this. They are told that their faces, bodies, and personal brands are of paramount importance. They are taught to tie their self-worth to virtual validation. Of course it’s become normal, and it’s no wonder we defend it. But when we really think about what’s happening here, when we zoom out a little, I don’t think this is trivial. 

What’s the bottom line here? This India line is memorable:

I don’t think it’s trivial that the compulsion to document the perfect memory can degrade the memory, turning it from that time we watched the sunset together on the beach to that time we argued after I demanded Instagram photos and you couldn’t get the angle right.

Can you say “dystopian”?

For me, the central theological question is whether the driving force here is the sin of pride or the flipside of that coin, which is anxiety and even shame (must-read book here by Father J. Stephen Freeman).

Once again, here is my Rational Sheep question for the day: Who are these pictures framed to impress, attract, woo or defeat?

I will leave parents, pastors, teachers and counselors with this After Babel passage:

For many young people, Instagram IS reality. At the very least we’ve all had times when we care more about capturing the perfect picture than living our lives. In those moments, who cares what your actual relationship is like! Or if the actual experience is enjoyable! … The virtual world is what matters. The real world is just in the way; it’s an annoying loading screen.

Comments? In addition to (of course) the thoughts of women who read India’s essay, I would be interested in hearing from boyfriends, live-in boyfriends, fiances or youngish husbands.