"I hate myself." Or the trap of personal branding online.
Some content creators or influencers regret past choices shared on social media.
The media coverage of influencers tends to be dichotomous: on one side, there are success stories highlighting certain inspiring narratives (such as "Tube Girl" or business-oriented stories like Chiara Ferragni); on the other side, there's a series of articles about the pitfalls of the influencer market, exemplified by French rapper Booba's criticism of "influvoleurs" and his recent indictment.
Enable 3rd party cookies or use another browser
An article in Bustle titled "Help! I hate my brand" sheds light on a crucial underlying issue: as we all become more or less influencers, and our connected lives inevitably become more public, we are relinquishing control over a part of our identities to external parties. How do we maintain control?
The story of Sofia Elizabeth: a dissonance between individual and community
Sofia Elizabeth, a 21-year-old with 3.6 million TikTok followers, is experiencing a genuine identity crisis, as described in the Bustle article. While initially gaining recognition in concert photography, she was advised by a manager to post more "sexy" videos at the age of 17. Although this direction helped her amass a considerable following, it was far from what she wanted to convey. She now regrets that choice and is attempting to regain control of her public persona, especially through her photographic work. Her video, where she talks about this shift in editorial focus, is fascinating—a bold act where she fully acknowledges her desire to completely change the demographic and type of audience following her, as reflected in the formulation "Recreation of the Seen - a retelling by Sofia Elizabeth." However, many subscribers feel deceived, as they followed her for what she initially offered and now feel dispossessed.
This case, far from being isolated, reminds us that nothing is free online: communities can act as true shareholders in an internet personality. In a positive sense, they can help discover talents and support new initiatives. However, negatively, it involves losing control over what one might decide to do or share—analogous to TV show characters facing criticism, scriptwriter liberties, or inconsistencies. The difference is that on social media, real humans are involved, who, even though they've fictionalized part of their identity, are still real people, and applying such harsh scrutiny to a 17-year-old seems unjust.
A maelstrom of conflicting demands on social media
Many studies discuss exposure to unwanted content on social media. In the UK, 56% of 11-16 year-olds have seen "explicit" content, according to Middlesex University. However, few studies demonstrate the pressure to produce content at the borderline of sex and flirting. TikTok announced new features in January 2023 to restrict access to certain content (live or not) to an adult audience, emphasizing it targets humorous content, which highlights the extent of the problem even if the platform claims otherwise.
This pressure is indirect: an injunction to reveal authentic content, encouragement to provide live content, and statistics that rise or fall. And of course, the famous trends that allow users to skyrocket their popularity. The "That Girl" phenomenon is the archetype of the problem. This viral well-being trend encourages participants to embrace the best version of themselves but quickly leads to a form of escalation: creators feel compelled to undress or strive to demonstrate their performance (a thinner waist? a more attractive body?). It also gives rise to more critical content. Algorithms overweight such content, seizing user attention without them realizing it. As Rosa Luxemburg said, "Those who do not move do not feel their chains."
Subscribers are faced with a choice: tap into what will quickly attract followers or establish a very long-term strategy, allowing them to grow with their community while also allowing themselves time to grow personally.
Growing with their community while giving themselves time to grow personally.
When they voluntarily become influencers, a point worth noting. But at 14 or 15 years old, are they capable of having such reflections?
Personal brands and marketing: rights, duties, excesses?
The Korean entertainment industry has been repeatedly criticized for the monstrous contracts it establishes with idols: enormous control over the type of relationships they maintain, highly restrictive details on the right to an image, and multi-year planning of the celebrity's image. Is it a sign of morality returning to marketing? Not at all. It's a desire to control the most crucial capital of personalities: their digital liveness. By precisely managing the personal brand of signed talents, brands can avoid pitfalls by setting the "rights" and "duties" of future fan communities. The back cover has changed significantly.
In August 2023, a leak started about a supposed relationship between Kendall Jenner and Bad Bunny kissing during a Drake concert, and in September, the romance was consecrated by a brand, turning into an advertising campaign for Gucci.
Reaching the point of hating one's personal brand can lead to self-loathing; it's uncertain that we have measured the impact, especially on young girls.