On Narratives, Curation, and Authenticity

I wanted it to look a certain way. I took twenty photos. Carefully inspecting each one between shots. Not quite right. Not yet perfect. Finally, one I was happy with. 

That was the one I shared.

Social media is like that. It’s curated. Even the ‘real’ is. Behind each post lies a carefully crafted frame and they each serve to shape the way we perceive the world around us. And yet, we talk about sharing authentically. I wonder if there is such a thing. 

I’ve talked about this before and, periodically (frequently, in fact), I find myself puzzling over the “truth” of sharing online. This time round, I find myself thinking of narrative in all aspects of life. Because isn’t telling stories what we do?

For instance, I have a slightly morbid habit. Before I leave the house, I like everything to be just *so*. You know, in case some sort of tragedy befalls me while I’m gone. I am particularly obsessive about this before going away for an extended period. Years ago, I listened to a true crime podcast episode that described a deceased woman’s home. It was immaculate, the host said. Not a speck of dust, nothing out of place. Ah-ha! I thought, that’s what I’d like my home described as if I ever met the same fate. In other words, I’m looking for a posthumous control of narrative.

On a more reasonable, realistic, level, when friends come over, I like the house to be organized and clean. Actually, I like it that way all the time, but that doesn’t mean it is. So, is my pre-visit organization and cleaning the crafting of a narrative for others, or is it the framing of an environment that presents my preferred state of being? Also, I can’t help but wonder what role perception plays in all this. I want to be perceived as someone who is neat and orderly and loathe a reality in which that might not be the case. 

The other day, a friend and I were chatting about social media. We discussed a particular social media personality who often shares content from their kitchen, which seems to be in a constant state of chaos. I couldn’t do that, my friend said. And I agreed. So, is our predilection for a tidy space curation or is there more to it?

Let’s be honest, despite the best of intentions and a deep-seated feeling of being authentic, real life is curated just as social media is. Whether we wish to or not, we engage in the constant construction of narratives. From the stories we tell ourselves to the stories we tell others, we are constantly constructing narratives that reflect and reinforce our chosen sense of identity. I can find myself in a bit of a funk when I reflect upon this too much. What does it mean to be truly authentic? How do we navigate the tension between authenticity and the curated versions of ourselves we present to the world? Is it even possible?

Maybe being authentic means owning the fact that whether we like it or not, selective representation is a fundamental aspect of human interaction. We choose what to share and with whom to share it. I have an unfortunate habit of using too many words to describe a situation. I spare no details. I let it out. But even in doing this, there are details that I omit. It’s not a conscious decision. It’s an intuitive process of sifting through the clutter of memories and impressions, distilling them down to their essence. It’s not just about leaving things out. In the subconscious construction of a narrative, we highlight certain details to emphasize themes and emotions. 

I value authenticity. I value it in others and when interactions feel too over-the-top or too forced or just a little too friendly, I retreat inward. And I value authenticity in my own posts. I feel strongly the profound responsibility that comes with sharing online to a wide audience. On social media, it’s easy to construct a perfect narrative. I can use frames and clips and take photos twenty times over for that perfect shot. But behind all that lies the struggle to reconcile my authentic self with the more polished version I want to present to the world. I feel I have a responsibility to be authentic and this includes embracing vulnerability and imperfection. It includes sharing experiences, even when they just don’t quite fit into the narrative of success and happiness we’re conditioned to aspire to. 

 There’s a newish phenomenon on social media: images and video footage of people crying. It’s not just people filming themselves in their most vulnerable moments, it’s people sharing these moments online. Sometimes with hundreds of thousands or even millions of followers. I don’t know how to feel about this. On the one hand, I think the authenticity is laudable, and on the other hand, I sometimes wonder about the motivation. And then I wonder about the motivation of it all. Of social media. Of the stories we tell. Of the interactions we have.

Maybe motivation is what it comes down to. The motivation to have a clean house. The motivation to share tears and challenging moments. The motivation to take the photo over and over. Maybe it’s about acknowledging that I work to have something look or be a certain way, rather than simply presenting it as-is. Maybe it’s about being honest about the curation. About the complexities of being a multifaceted human being with struggles and insecurities. Maybe it’s about showing up rather than showing off. 

There are so many things I find profoundly discouraging about social media. Perhaps the most significant is the detrimental effect it can have on young people, particularly young women and girls. The standards – beauty, body, financial, and more – depicted on social media are overwhelming. They remind me how grateful I am to have grown up in the days before all of this. They also remind me that I have a responsibility to take stock and to reflect, regularly and with intention, about my own role on social media platforms. About the way I show up and the motivations behind what I share.

I acknowledge that I’ll continue to value an uncluttered space and pictures in which my hair falls nicely and my eyes are open and my smile is wide. And I’ll also remember the power narratives have in sharping our understanding of the world and ourselves.